Last month, I found myself in the mossy green arms of the N.E. seaboard, on yet another adventure into 21st Century Bohemia, where I got the chance to jam with experimental darkwave group Cyranoid, headquartered in the heart of darkness of Brooklyn.
The improv musical session resulted in this song.
Yes, that’s me on vocals. Yes, I know, I sound like a tart.
Just to make it clear, I’m technically not singing on this track. I’m more or less using my “boots of shiny, shiny leather” voice, which disturbingly sounds like a teenage strumpet with the extracurricular activities of Laura Palmer. No, you cannot read my diary. (Or are you reading it now?)
Cyranoid is comprised of Pharwolf and Mr. Nothing. I’ve known these assholes for what seems like an eternity. You may have not heard of these motherfuckers here on Earth, but they are huge on Mars. HUGE.
What’s interesting about Cyranoid is that everything we taped (yes, with a cassette tape) was live and improv’ed. No computers were used. Just a synth, a sequencer, a twenty dollar microphone, and a confluence of all the grimy, shiny things that flowed from our gray matter and guts. All roughness and feeling — you, know, like in the olden days when life was as black and white as our television sets.
Pharwolf puts it this way, “Cyranoid has always had a complex relationship with the technology of electronic music. We are interested not only in using synthesizers, computers, samplers, and sequencers, but also competing with them, struggling against them, and rebelling against them, as we were inspired to do by the literature of movies of science fiction.”
Other themes involve paranoia, surviellance and the push and pull of humanity against the tide of technology. Does it make our lives better? Oppress it? Oh, fuck it: “We choose not to attempt to describe it but rather to experience it intensely in cyborg music sessions where the sound of man and machine painfully and gorgeously merging are explicit.”
Cyranoid’s usual vocal artist Mr. Nothing, not breaking character, had nothing to add.
I guess you can think of Cyranoid as Cyrano de Bergerac, but really, really paranoid about digital surveillance. So, forget receiving love letters in your inbox. Not with all those eyes without faces.
Look out for a follow-up post about the story behind this song. Yes, yes. There was a sacrifice.