This jumping, wall climbing sheep is freaking Otis out.
Astronaut Anna Fisher
Always gonna reblog this photo.
Last song off the latest Daft Punk album. The album is good, it’s solid. It’s not the second coming and it’s not going to change music and it’s not even really going to be remembered as the robots’ great comeback, I feel.
BUT THIS FUCKING SONG. THIS ONE MIGHT CHANGE MY OPINION ON THE WHOLE THING. This one song shows that the duo still have a certain magic to them, a strangely universal and cosmic command of digital/electronic production that utilizes sampling at its finest: sometimes it isn’t a 1970’s hook or an early riff off an obscure power-glam album no one cares about, or, in this case, a 1981 Australian band’s strangely prog-rock ballad, sometimes it’s about setting a scene with simple commentary. I think the two are at their best when they hear something that’s already been given to the public, but maybe at the wrong time, or maybe in the wrong setting, so they appropriate it for a wider audience, for a new mood, and it’s something that I can only look on and say: Dammit, thanks for that.
Digging this so hard, oh lord. It’s so good I’m probably going to lose sleep over it because I’m just too stoked on it. At 0:55!? When the song just comes in the way you want it to?! The way it’s… supposed to!?
Untitled, 2013, Image
Idleness in a facsimile[d] era
to the flowers
I sent while
digesting cubic idolatries:
apologies are a neo-infiltrated must this summer
gallivanting to the
triathlon fantasies of iridium &
gossamer; friends of a facsimile[d] era
/art by Pope Saint Victor/