Thursday, April 29, 2010

i suppose an explanation for my absence is in order...

with sawtooth nerves woven parasitically into the studio sub's voice coils, and arteries pumping a slurry of pure amphetamine and liquid uncertaintly, the symbiotic audio infection known only as ILLOJIQUAL spread its fibre-optic tendrils wide into the bass swamp of Perth's underground dance music scene; plucking from the chaos internationally renowned hardcore master Auscore and dumping him in a flask of anhydrous ammonia with the rogue doctor of WA psytrance, ergo__t0xin://

the full ramifications of this mad aurochemical experiment are yet to be seen; but already illojiqual have defined their place in modern electronic music with a corrosive glitchkrieg of meaty kicks; cruelly ambient bass and neurolytic rhythms guaranteed to short-circuit the synapses and draw out the malleable; snaring them on the dancefloor in a gravely immersive ego trance

exclusively previewed here is a teaser clip of '0pacity'; the magnum opus of their debut EP, to tweak the synapses and get your hearts cramping for moar.

Monday, April 19, 2010

core values

new project in the pipes... Possibly my most important musical work to date.

Updates promised

:/remote data transmission received from field transponder [ergo_tel]

Saturday, April 10, 2010

i am not the best people

I don't know how to stop the ringing in my ears, or the pounding grind behind my eyes.

The dull crackle of electricity somewhere in the distance... I think this is what it must feel like when you realise you haven't been GOING mad, you've been mad all along - and that your daily struggle to keep the reigns on the 'sanity' you clung to as a last hope for a better future - has been as futile as trying to catch ash out of the wind.

You see, it's a ghost I'm chasing. An empty echo on the bootsector... But to suddenly realise that this intangible white sail on the horizon... Is nothing more then dead light in the back of my eyes?

I feel like I have been here before. Deja vu - what was it? That means they changed something?

Nothing's changed.

Nothing lasts but nothing is lost.

I can't remember what I did the last time... I don't know what to do.

If anyone out there is still listening

Have I... Have we... Danced here before? Once, or twice, or more?

:/remote data transmission received from field transponder [ergo_tel]

Thursday, April 8, 2010

doctors log; circa 2023

Years later, when the government jackboots stormed my compound in the final great clash of the signal wars; my work would be seized and I was branded a war criminal for my help with Project Namaste.

They burnt everything to ashes - all my notes, hard drives and glassware. They poured bleach and lime into the prion spawning cells, set thermite charges in the memory banks, and melted down the voice coils on the vast subwoofer batteries I had lined the sea floor around my offshore data mining platform with.

All that remained of my work were what few vinyl backup crypto platters we'd put into cold storage, and the scattered nostalgia of a million jaded souls that we had dared to try and reach through 145bpm hypnosis - a kind of vague, psychedelic trance-like state of peace and divine wonder.

:/remote data transmission received from field transponder [ergo_tel]

Monday, April 5, 2010

Do you know how infuriating it is

To have a beautiful, clever girl you always wanted to sleep with when she was dating your friend; turn around and say the same once she's single and living on the other side of the country?

God is playing games with me.

Do you ever feel like you're living in a movie? It seems to happen altogether too often these days...

When it does, I just light another smoke and remind myself;

"There is a man, at a typewriter..."

:/remote data transmission received from field transponder [ergo_tel]

Sunday, April 4, 2010

train dance

I met roger while travelling from melbourne to Ballarat, in preperation for Rainbow Serpent Festival 2010. It was about five in the morning, and I was sitting on the steps of Southern Cross station, smoking a cigarette and listening to Bob Dylan, relishing the cold morning wind - I love cold mornings awake, and you just don't get them in perth any more. So it was special.

He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder and glasses balanced down the bridge of his nose, so he could glance over them or through them as the situation required. I passed him my pouch, unplugged my headphones and we started to chat. Watching him roll, his fingers movwed twitchily but with practiced confidence, twisting together a narrow, tight thread of a cigarette with no filter. He rolled like he was in prison, or at least, had been for a very long time.

He told me he was catching the train to Ballarat to go and pick up his car from his wife, who had left him two days earlier. He was going to drive across Australia to try and find himself. I liked that. It's the kind of directionless pilgrimage you hear written about in blues music - Not in the words, but in the notes. Blues sounds like you're hopping freight trains across the continent with nothing but a harmonica and a packet of cigarettes.

He asked me what my plans were, andI explained that I was going to a music festival out in the country. I showed him the flyer, and he nodded knowingly. It wasn't long before the conversation turned to chemicals. "I'll bet you're gonna get pretty fucking high this weekend, aren't you?" He laughed with a cough, having just rolled and lit another of those anorexic cigarettes. "Well, that's the plan..." I nodded and laughed a little, relaxing more. This was a man on the right wavelength to talk about the craziness of life with - His hair was cut short and his fingernails even shorter; he smoked like a prisoner and talked like an ex speed freak.

We walked down to get coffee and he volunteered the information that i'd suspected; that he was recently released from prison. I didn't want to probe, but I guess he wanted me to as he then explained that it was for Greivous Bodily Harm. Apparently, several years ago, a lesbian had fallen in love with his wife after meeting her through a work function. Unable to take no for an answer, the psychotic bitch had stalked her, threatening to mow down Roger and her children in a car if she didn't leave him. Roger and his wife reported it to the police, but they did nothing, citing that it was probably an empty threat.

Two days later the woman took her car through Roger's suburban street at about 80km/h, veering sharply towards where his two children were playing in his driveway. Only Roger's quick actions to grab them and tear them out of harm's way kept them from having their teeth, blood and bone mashed across the grill of the lesbian's Pajero, which sped off into the distance and disappeared. The police said they could still do nothing as there was no evidence of who was driving. The next day, Roger went to the lesbian's house and beat four kinds of mortal shit out of her with a baseball bat.

The train ride passed mostly in silence. I wished I had more to say to him, but I got the feeling that he just wanted to tell someone his story, and that he probably wasn't going to come back from his long drive into the outback.

And I don't think Roger's story should ever be forgotten.

Friday, April 2, 2010

[ ::/SIGINT ]

The radio was kinda fizzing out, but in less then a minute I heard a bracket of chatter on 94.5 that included the phrases "12 Litres of LSA" and "Thousands of abused children", which I have decided to combine as the designated theme for my wedding.

I'm so damn trendy, I blog from moving taxis.

:/remote data transmission received from field transponder [ergo_tel]

Thursday, April 1, 2010

I love this blog

It's gotten me laid, like, four times now.

:/remote data transmission received from field transponder [ergo_tel]