Immediately after reading an absurd portrait of Elon Musk written by Douglas Coupland for the Guardian – yes, that of Generation X – in which the entrepreneur liquidates workers’ rights, celebrates colonialism on Mars and comes out as a cross between Stephen Hawking and Kurt Cobain, I have a moment of panic: I think I have never understood much about cryptocurrencies and I can’t read anymore Grimes’ statuses on Twitter.
Grimes who has also been my portal to some post-internet, comic and glitch music, she is so emo, industrial and pink. To make fun of Coupland and rebel against the dull grunge, I run to find a record that makes fun of its out-of-time postmodern gravitas and covers me with alien fluorescence. And so I recover (DANCEЂ), an independent anthology that emerged from the Italian hyperpop / glitch / breakcore community. These are words whose contours I can sense, but which do not belong to me. What a relief to listen to a record and not know everything, what a relief not to share a language and get your nerves scratched like the trap did in the beginning.
Fourteen pieces written by artists between the ages of fourteen and twenty-two similar to hieroglyphics drawn with chewing gum, dialogues that seem taken from the slightly less sophisticated teen series of Dawson’s creek. All the melancholy saccharin and the space-time channels lead to every bedroom in the world, each of them recognizable but replaceable to the other, and compress these pieces into a single song, in which you are without understanding anything, feeling great. Today it is better to get stupid like this.
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