“We’re too old for this shit.” These words of my valued brother and friend Lord Visconti appear cryptic and meaningless to me, especially in context of that rumor that the average restroom of any german goth festival is a geriatric facility, where no one is sure anymore whether catheters signify kinks or health issues. What does all of this even mean? Can we even live long enough to get old enough for that mythic restroom? How are we “still alive” when your favourite hobby-horse-project is dead? Shouldn’t this all be over? Isn’t it really time?
Two weeks ago Leighton James Thompson asked us whether the dead (that’s us) would play just one more show at Resistanz festival 2020. Our answer would have been “no, this project ended, please re-read our last communique”, but the prospect of a hotel room at Resistanz, booked in someones else’s name, a free flight, etc. seemed really really compelling and so we said yes. Yes, without really knowing whether we even can. We didn’t even blink.
When answering Leighton’s request something was suddenly clear: What is any given moment truly lived but the kept promise of doing it once more? One more track. One more breath. One more hit of the kick drum. One more time. One more drink. One more line? You are what you do and inevitably you do what you are. That’s why the “yes” came a tad too easy.
When focusing on the moment we learn that there is no place to go that’s demonstrably better than doing what you are. – So obviously the question of riding a dead horse is actually about the rider’s necrophilia.
Resistanz was about living this moment collectively and so Straftanz will return. One more time. Just to see what you perverts, regardless of age, are going to do with the dead horse that is us.
tldr; Straftanz is back for one more show at Resistanz. Just one. The decision to do that is both questionable and philosophical. It boils down to the question of riding a dead horse turning out to be not about the horse but about the rider’s necrophilia.