Put the EDM in your guns
GR: Are you ready? Light dinner and double coffee as the discos reopen. I took a look at the site that schedules all the clubbing events, from Trieste down: there is not even a DJ I know, and to say that before I was very well prepared, I knew the Plastic and Love teams by heart. Where do they come from, where have the DJs trained in these two years of closure? While I was following yoga tutorials on YouTube or how to make focaccia at home, was anyone playing around with Ableton preparing for the debut?
AP: Eccerto, how are you wrong? We here re-reading Foucault with Alice Coltrane in the background, and those over there never stopped. Everyone cheering Blanco now, the new Eros Ramazzotti and also a little Billy Idol, the coccobello of record companies – diolistrafulmini we thought we were free of it forever and instead. But resent it Paranoid in quarantine on SoundCloud: “I got sick and last night’s dinner is back / my ass burns like fire / it’s blood red I burned my underwear.” Something like dlztk, digicore music. And what alcoholic Brianza, what ultras bresciality. What a waste. The dialogue with the mother, after: “Are you normal? I do not know. It doesn’t seem so much to me, huh? “. Very pure connection of Who has seen (and with this I also pay homage to the humanity of Donatella Raffai’s claws). Not like this the other day where they were broadcasting the images of the surveillance camera that filmed the escape of the reckless son. We are the worst of it. I hadn’t dubbed.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_O6ffi7TsU
GR: My unrepentant raver friend tells me that everything was seen in the lockdown: illegal basement parties, techno droplets, provincial sheds celebrating. Anyway, I went to look for these new DJs on MixCloud: a lot of 90s house, but darker, more acidic, it will be the spirit of the time … Ah, always him, the friend who always runs in an Australian suit, also told me that last months, as soon as he could, he left for Russia, Lithuania, Ukraine, there the clubbing scene has never stopped. Not even now that there are tanks at the border. Indeed, an old Ukrainian amateur video from 1997, with a child dancing in a disco, seems to have returned viral. There are also gifs, some kind of disco girl’s peace holy cards, like “put the EDM in your guns”.
AP: Speaking of travel, now I’m very interested in San Marino. Have you read that Tananai and Achille Lauro would like to be chosen as representatives of San Marino to go to the Eurofestival? Good. To me the idea that in San Marino, that is around the corner and not in Santo Domingo to say, you can have the second chance in life seems brilliant to me. I would go further, and imagine the fortress as an Ariosto moon, a fantasy video plot: the place where – locked in a secret warehouse – are all our wrong choices, the sliding doors, loves, lost sunglasses, stolen championships. Things like that. A San Marino. And now we repeat together: “There you will never find / teams with champions / top stadiums, pressures / You are people without balls”. Do you know who he is? Mourinho, San Mourinho in the hall after Inter-Roma, who tells him to stay comfortable in Serie C if they don’t have balls and so on. Tell me now who do you prefer: San Mourinho or San Marino? Serie A or Serie C? Toxic chauvinism or pappamulla fluidity with an emphasis on schwà? I have no dubbing.
GR: Okay I understand, I’m at home again tonight. I cook a soup, open a biodynamic and put on the last of the Animal Collective, Weather skiff. Madonna that nostalgia, it seems a century ago Merriweather Post Pavillion and it was only 2009: the hipsters, Brooklyn, the barber shops, the plants in the house, the hype of Pitchfork – then if Condé Nast took it – fixed gear bikes, I even bought them, stolen after two weeks. It looks like prehistoric times, right? Now that refined and stretched cultural universe is almost shivering, cannibalized by the collections of the Pitti Uomo clothing brands, by the advertising of gels to soften De Rossi’s beard, by the trash of Rete 4 with Bargiggia and Borgonovo. The black box of hipsterism is Classthe novel by Francesco Pacifico, and the Animal Collective are scattered between North Carolina and Portugal, meditation, perhaps a bit of microdosing so much à la page among the neo psychedelics: they have aged like all of us, even better.
AP: I am writing to you – as you well know – from our Brooklyn: Tropico del Pigneto, the island below the old rusty elevated ring roads, like Ballard but the food is much better. Here Animal Collective we devoured it. And we plan to do the same with the return of Calcutta in about ten years. Meanwhile, we console ourselves with the video by Francesco Lettieri, honorary citizen of East Rome, for the good Giovanni Truppi.