Crushed Flowers in Skeletal Hands
June 21st, 2016
“music has a remarkable way of moving people. we can see it physically – typically people, when digging on what they hear, will dance or at least bob their head. if they don’t like it, they’ll move right outside of the room. music moves people emotionally. how many times have you been out and encountered the annoying gaggle of girls who erupt when “my jam” comes on? said jam puts them in a good headspace. other jams (or maybe that same one) will make you wish temporary deafness was a thing. music can even move you to a different state of consciousness, making you feel like you’re somewhere entirely different. the way you experience things, see them, feel them changes completely. it can move you to another place that only exists within the depths of your mind. you’ll swear you were dreaming. good music, some of the best music, can do all three.
this album will do all three. anybody that knows me can tell you about my affinity for humping air so i won’t go into how i was moved physically. you will move. this album will make you feel things. you might go off like a firecracker. you might be confused as to what your feelings are. you might be downright uncomfortable. you’re going to feel something when you hear this. the title of this project alone instantly took my mind to another place and time. what will the future of desperation and destitution look like? could it be the cold and ruthless mechanized tyranny we’ve been fearing for so long? organic life is all but extinct – the last remnants are crushed flowers in skeletal hands. and thus i could categorize this piece. this is trap music but not the kind that’s been misappropriated by frat boys. i’m sorry, it’s more like trapped music. like you’ve been encased in a 3x3x3 carbon steel cube with a jagged air hole cut in the side. this is what happens VIKI whoops Will Smith. this is what happens when Skynet takes over. this is the 8-bit dystopian hell that Alex Murphy won’t be coming back for. humanity falls victim to its own devices. it’s now a plague that needs to be minimized and eradicated. you’ve found yourself in the world of futureslum.
it’s corroded metal on metal. automatic cannons blasting twisted car frames into the ground, creating showers of sparks and shrapnel. on the recoil, they whine a heavy sigh of relief. ig-88 is hacking up a proverbial lung two bus seats over. you wonder how a droid could possibly have an upper-respiratory infection and whether or not you have a ricola to offer. of course you don’t. any hopes of ever attaining any resemblance to sustenance were paved over years ago. at the heart of this world beats a yamaha psr keyboard that was dropped through an electromagnetic meat grinder. every pulse sends a shockwave through your body and call me masochistic, but damn it hurts so good.
you will not find any titles, and lyrics, prose, or words of any kind. binary is the preferred method of communication. you won’t hear a whole lot of melody in this world. what most humans find to be the most pleasant aspect of music is unsurprisingly absent here. machines which can create such immense and impossible beauty have no concept of doing so on their own. yet through the new laws of “nature”, we now encounter this bittersweet electromechanical symphony we can only identify as the soundtrack to our dismal existence. it’s all the same songs of struggle and faint whispers of hope we’ve heard before. this time the melodies have been replaced with 60 hertz hum and dirt bike motors; the harmonies by power drills and burglar alarms. that old demo song is malfunctioning. even models of perfection can be fallible. how else do you think you’re going to make it out of this mess? take the futureslum route and blast your way. this is no cool tall can of truck stop hip-hop. this is a brutal onslaught of crushed electronic rhythm designed to move you.”
-Alex Borozan, Already Dead Tapes, 2016
Edition of 60