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Let’s Rescue Industrial!

„I do not understand how some people can be so vociferously critical of one over the other when they are essentially the same thing. Which concerns me more that this has nothing to do with music and everything to do with snobbery, elitism and exclusivity.“ Geoff Lee, Modulate.

EBM Elite Idiots are claiming that Techno was never part of their scene. And certainly not Ibiza Trance. You see, the repetitive and socially conformed dance moves in closed circles of neon-coloured fucktards are all the rage. Cogwheels and Fred Perry shirts that are the standard uniform for close minded  fathers on vacation from after-work counter strike matches. Barefoot dancing tree huggers pitch in.  And let’s not forget the IDM experts  that discuss the “complexity” of badly cut sample loops, unaware it might be all Scooter and VNV-Nation once someone unplugs the Gristleizer. All of these people blaming each other to be the slayers of the the once raw and powerful  “industrial” beast. All of them specialize in demonizing each other. None of them are good to party with. Not even when drunk. Collectively they form a major group of people going to industrial nights in my area and are the simple reason why I‘d rather stay at home on Fridays. To the rescue? Isn’t that fruitless?

Why ride a dead horse?

Because it’s actually not the horse that died. It’s the riders that are down. Today we focus our effort on these high and mighty riders and their silly arguments which tend to circle around why riding was more fun back then. How boring. Whilst every EBM Sector, cyber elitists and weird anti-something groups were talking bullshit about who is “in” and “out” there was a club of people, we decided to  actually ride the horse:

Paying  groupies with Modulate hoodies, getting kicked out from more hotel rooms that were booked, magic  massage experiences in hotel rooms we didn’t book, no sleep even though a hotel room was booked.  Drinking shots of fish drowned in vodka, a $200 bill for black latex stains in a Hot-Tub. A stage invaded in underpants. A unicorn that was lost in  Gothenburg traveled to Hildesheim to attack Faderhead. Ahoj Brause in Los Angeles, amazingly sexy molecular biologists, sleeping on the Yale Campus, freaking out christian protesters by public exposition of lesbian sexuality, streamlining through bathroom doors, stupid dancing all night, drinking the good booze in the streets of Salt Lake City and ultimately: The feeling that the international cast of people you party with is actually a Gallery Of Heroes aiming to turn the world into a holiday like the victorious god Dionysos.

Gentlemen, we have the Technology!

The dead horse is still up a good ride and we do not need six million dollars to make this dead horse a robot unicorn on speed. We are already on the road. Traveling destinations are set up and the method is constant escalation. We will change this game, not by changing them, but by leaving them behind and by inviting everyone else to follow or to go ahead. We have a plan. And you should be a part of it.

More on that soon.

 

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  1. […] more ranting. No more uniforms. No more fake industrial vs. real industrial. No more stories about this year’s glorious moments. It’s time for a new adventure, and it started last month when my friend Phil came over for a […]