who am i? where did i come from? why am i making this music? what motivates me? am i normal or am i strange? am i cool or am i fake? is my data available or am i mysterious and aloof? am i just like you or am i different? are you peeking through my net curtains?

a child locked in a car in a car park. my parents were shopping for important consumer items for hours. i walked in forests with tv soundtracks. crumpets and vivaldi. the boy who stole my gun made me give him a lift to a spiral tribe party and my ears were peeled. suddenly little jazzy quiff boy was electronic robot with orange trousers and extendible naughty pockets, falling over 4 ft high fluffy dice, rolling by some strange chance into the deep end of an emptied swimming pool. storming beats, hard dark bleeps, menacing girlies with gorgeous tight maneuvers. but no-one was anybody and everyone was nobody and i can't remember it all. who made this music? who cared? the dj opened his mouth and we thought he was singing. ddrugs. music with movement. music with dimension. the blank faceless crowd... a long way from top of the pops... a long way from gary numan. there was no drunken ranting fart on the microphone trying to wreck his employability. why not? i remembered friedrich and fell into a deep spell, watching electricity pour from my fingers into the soil... into the depths of my passion... the toucht one. the men in suits say disco invented techno. but they didn't see the nervous people waiting in the dark forest and that led me into the clearing... trying to bottle a skew. the disappearing nobody punk people made tekno... not the stupid plonkers who sold alcohol to kiddies and turned up the heating. to be honest i was always making other stuff... always uncomfortable. electronic poems, surging brain waves, wooded men with electrical wheels. they haunted me, like sgt pepper, taunting me into something more. now, finally, we are here, in their exit...

interview with the artist

    Q. who are you?
    A. who are you?
    Q. i'm the questioner
    A. i've told you before. i was just walking home. i can't remember how this blood got on my hands and boots
    Q. what color gloves am i wearing?
    A. please will you loosen the knots, they're hurting my wrists

© cjmonks 2012