Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Electro, the only music that will survive the nuclear apocalypse, when all other sounds have long turned to radioactive dust... life after mutation. Out in the street, only fallout...
But we're getting ahead of ourselves. It's only 2054, and DJ Stingray, although now an old man, is still touring the world, hobbling patiently from one grimy basement club to another, pulling his records along in a tartan-fabric wheely-basket. All of the vinyl he played in his younger days is long out of print, and even well-worn copies of Drexciya's records now sell for trillions of poscreds.
His hearing eroded by years of headphone and PA abuse, Stingray now barely notices the hiss and crackle that blooms from his cherished vinyl like a complex coral. Neither does anyone else; as someone once said, life has surface noise. And some will know that other, stranger forms of noise flourish deep beneath the surface too, in those darker, less explored places, many leagues down. For the octogenarians nodding their heads to his sets, it's simply the birth of a new sound, the birth of new life.