Yo, out here they call me the Neofuturist Hieronymus Bosch: and I’m coming from the year 2666 to drop some knowledge. Have you decided to join us, the Neofuturists, or are you one of those vintage fellas, what with a love of old automobiles, cowboy hats, tattoos, and big trees? Put your zarf on your americano, kiddo, and let me tell you a couple things. First: The Illuminati does exist, and they have since the Big Bang. Second: the Deep Web grabs your ankles and struggles you into its depths when you listen to brostep. Third: the point of life is to do what you love whilesuffering. There simply isn’t any other way. You must write from the worst situation, aka: finish that novel on the surgery table while you wobble your consciousness into linguistic freedom.
Fourth, and most important: listen to Sprint & AMC Theaters. This release, Custom Mobile Dream is a sonic caveat. It leaves us shocked by the atonal psychoanalysis of digital ontology, i.e., it comments on how life nowadays mimics the raw data-transfer of computer networks. I want to stress, with as much plangency as possible, that that is a bad thing disguised and consumed as a good thing, which tricks the masses into doing things almost 100% emotionally instead of logically. Watching a bubbly Sprint commercial or going out with your girl/boyfriend to a romantic movie at an AMC Theater should spark intense aesthetic nausea, but instead, most people put their best foot forward—you never know what can happen, can you!—and when the event ends, breathe easy, because nothing did happen physically, but mentally, all kinds of signifiers screamed out before their eyes, but they knew how to deal with them, they knew how to get used to the positions they found their bodies in, and what their eyes saw, and what their ears heard; they processed the phenomena into little kindergarten cubbies of familiarity.
Do you know what the fuck I’m talking about? Before you burn your tongue on that coffee, let me say it in another way: this music by Sprint & AMC Theater complicates the simple truth of how the blood-curdling world of television commercials, iPhones, Google searches and MacBooks brainwash us into zombie-like automation. They call this hell iHell, or G-hell, and all this time we didn’t know we were walking into its password-protected, cloud-storage friendly fires.
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