Sound-traveller of the impossible, Fusiller Aka Jo Tanzprocesz returns
(his umbrella under his arm) for a new lesson of super-sonic elegance.

Melancholic nerd blast from the future ruins of another world.

10 tracks (untitled as always) of throbbing arpeggios, broken by modulations of excess.
Condensed noises, dazzling, liberating harmonies. 1 K7, 2 abruptly loaded sides for a post-dystopian ritual continuity. Direct expression of thought,
implacable, epic, sentimental!
Reminiscent of L'étoile Bleue. Destroyed materials merge. Annihilated life forms coalesce.
Collapsed cities startle. The impression of living scrap metal glittering in the night,
of luminous cyber-bugs whirring and reclaiming their rights. A vision of a ghostly train speeding
through the night without a captain, full of bodies and baubles clattering against each other.
The speed, the rails that communicate, the electricity that cuts in and out, the breakdowns, the flaws, the jolts. A feeling of a bug in the matrix, which several forces are trying to resolve collectively.
We connect all the cables, all the circuits, to get the current flowing, to get a DIY version of the
world going on again. And then there are the phantasmagorical voices, the distant moans, the lamentations, like the dawning hope of a return to humanity ?

The dronesque hums and distorted tremolos of elsewhere, patched together with poetic scales,
are a reminder of the incredible sonic vivacity of the living world and its unequalled omnipotence.
A reprieve through sound. Beautiful, bizarre, like doll-like installations, morbid, marvellous.
The harmony of a deconstructed whole. Les Cités Mémoires, where we all dance with the shadows.

Texte by Margot Coursaget & H Z/\MZ/\M