You mix it, you pour it, you set it, you pound it.
Palace Lido, aka Graeme Swinton, takes a jackhammer to it, the heavy rhythm of destruction filtering through equally dense dance tracks. Heads nod as the dust flies, and who woulda thought chaos would be so much fun?
Palace Lido is the tectonic shift cracking the crust, the surface, and once we get our footing we’re able to survey the upheaval. We dodge waves of magma as the Earth repaves everything for us anyway.
All that was flat becomes a relief map, and cross-sections of the history of human progress reveal themselves to unfathomable depths. Palace Lido takes a tectonic jackhammer to human progress and reforms and reframes it as midnight electro carnage. We pop it in our Walkmen for convenience.
We run down streets of solid rock, as free as our Walkmen allow us to be, hurried but blissful, excited but pensive. Concrete (czaszka (rec.)) cuts right to the center of us, the layers of our bodies demolished as the soundwaves penetrate.
These streets are still alive, but for how long? We’ll tear them apart and build them anew.
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