So yah, I’ve gone once again and changed the name of these music entries. It’s not that this was ever intended to be a music blog, but that’s the way it’s been going. It’s only the name that hasn’t come together. There is no more quarantine, really. It’s not quite about COVID-19 or the pandemic either, so… Dystopia.
Radio Dystopia, and who better to open up the new name with than industrial pioneers MY LIFE WITH THE THRILL KILL KULT? I’d figured (before hearing them) that it would more along the lines of Ministry or White Zombie or anything that could appropriately soundtrack a Russ Meyer film, but that’s not quite the sound. The vibe is there and it wouldn’t be out of place, but it’s not quite the same. You can see for yourself. It’s free.
The more I get into this, the more I like Radio Dystopia. We’re not about light, summery sounds here. You may or may not believe we’re sliding down the dystopian path, and you may not, like me, believe we’re there… whatever. It works for me. The sickness. The politickness. We’re in a weird place. It’s a zombie movie feeding frenzy minus the literal bites. Funny how right at home I feel in this. Almost vindicated. Not quite but almost. It’s more one a sort of hate to say I told you so smugness and yah I know that’s not going to do me any good because if you’re fucked then so am I, but…
dot dot dot
Maybe it’s the hangover from spending a week inside a giant casino in Nevada, but if that doesn’t make you feel the soul sickness nothing will. I wasn’t outside for more than 15 minutes total over the course of a week. The best metaphor for how stupid we’ve become is that inside the casino there is a mask mandate to protect from COVID-19, but smoking is still legal, so what you get out on the gaming floor is a crowd of cowboys and Northern California/Bay Area skells with masks hanging off one ear and cigarettes hanging off the lower lip. It’s just a cloud of nicotine infused corona virus.
Well fuck me proper…
One of our crew did come back with a case of COVID-19, or maybe she got it here. Who knows, but she’s got it? The rest of us went out for tests yesterday. My Rapid Test came back negative and the jury is out on the PCR. The result is supposed to come in by tomorrow night. Fingers crossed. I’m asymptomatic but still a bit nervous. It’s crazy that it’s not even a fear for my own health but dread fear of having no mobility while self-quarantining. Fear of infecting others? Well, yah but sadly it’s more about me. I want to be able to go out and move. I’m a selfish prick, I guess.
Reno though. What a mess. The balance was different there this time around. There were fewer families and more of the… edgy sorts. By Friday night it actually felt a little dangerous. Dangerous in that fuck around and find out way. Not that running your mouth is ever a good idea. It’s not nice for one. But Reno by 10pm on Friday night was about the last place in North America that you’d want to flap your jaws and say something stupid. I decreased the odds of that twelve years ago when I quit drinking so you can insert a laughing emoji there, but the odds were further decreased by going upstairs to bed after dinner. I probably decreased the odds of coming home with the ‘rona too!
Radio Dystopia, I’ll be your DJ. It’s madness out there in the Americas. A cesspool of bullshit and lies. All the bad emotions. A lot of shitty instincts. The music is banging though, so the club ain’t so bad.
Just shut up and dance.