GIG ENTRY 6: W/THEMSELVES @ DOTS PRINTHAUS STUDIO LAUNCH PARTY
On this, the day the earth stood still. Wall street threw the first stone. fundamentalists blamed so US could secure the dollar-peg on oil. Happening again.
First off, let me tell you that the humans at Dots ARE human and not reptilian in disguise. They look the part, but they have all the minute behavioral facets embedded in them so deeply, they can’t be fake. These are men that will work for anyone, and work without passivity, no matter what the content. They always strive to be the best at what they are doing, and they do not draw lines in the sand around them.
The boys have expanded their enterprise in such a magical way that it would fill me with inspiration, if I knew what inspiration was. As it happens, I am from another era, where biology made it’s natural progression into the mechanical and ethereal realm. Where inspiration isn’t a process that my individual being can follow, as everyone in my race has every idea that they can have at the same time. We all adjust ourselves accordingly and in synchrony.
Anyway, that’s why I come down here. I can see how the ancient ways unfold themselves.
Our boys ALASKA have had a very firm and friendly connection with Dots from the outset, having been friends with them for years now. Dot’s are the gentlemen who printed ALASKAs merchandise and offer wisdom and council when needed, and the band offers the same service and comradery to them. The band were asked to provide the live music amongst the various DJs providing the vinyl vibrations. Being the only band of the night, it was a rare chance for the boys to flex almost all their songs in an hour long set which was, to my jelly, one of the best they’ve played.
Brendan clearly had found his elixir of life tonight. After various experiments, the balance of the gods was in his veins as he pounded the meat of the ice white kit. Beneath the glow of the strip light. On which Dougie had taped a yellow plastic filter. He had in him the same concocted potion that perhaps an earthly Wizard would have given to his King in the days of yore. The morning that their horses pounded the ground before them, as they bore them into battle. Cooked in a cauldron of light and geometry.
Anyway, it worked well for him.
I am the wiz in the sink, the dead fox totally obliterated into the road, the face in the sun and the wind eater.
Photos by Miles Taylor, thanks friend.