Implosionworld
Mall music never sounded so good! Here lies the mask.
Materialised from the wallpaper of playlistification.
Through the hand that turns the meat grinder,
The milquetoast tastes like truffle.
But beware, for the pop canon has turned serpentine.
With the detonation comes the collapse of the scaffolding holding us together.
Climb the hierarchy of needs so that all that remains is self-actualisation in the form of chimes on loop.
A loose sanguine thread dances on the wind.
The romanticism of the midlands dissipates into abrasion.
The following track should be ripped and clipped out of an unbranded speaker in Camperdown Park.
Don’t be ashamed, wear the sonics as armour!
Nayraqat jutir luririnakarux yuspägarapxsma.
Thanks to the creators who have come before us.
***
Implosionworld drops its souls into a dizzying cacophony of noise, set against blue skies. Through the settling rubble, an epic collage of pop singer-songwriting opus, Taylor Swift, chimes in and is unphased. The morning alarm abrades the listener out of the false lullaby and awakens them to world affairs. Meanwhile, the melodies keep blankness towards perception.
The use of Aymara is owed to Chuquimamani-Condori’s influence in the creation of this project. Their sonic worldbuilding, dubbed cinematic, dense digital collage, re-moulds pop culture with a sense of urgency and danger that I feel deeply. Aymara also juxtaposes with Taylor Swift being a signifier of colonial USA.