- The new-age underbelly
- club scene
- is perhaps,
- an unsuspecting one.
- Most of us
- have not a clue it exists,
- yet it is
- everywhere
- under our noses,
- undulating about.
- The electronic epilepsy,
- of synthesizers spitting,
- the sensation spinning
- of a hundred-and-fifty
- beats per minute.
- The trepidation…
- or so I would call it
- of ‘techno’
- and ‘trance’.
- A place where
- the lesser-known
- lingers about,
- the noxious night-gatherings,
- seven days a week,
- plotted about the city
- like pharmacies
- or fresh co.’s.
- the manifestation
- of mapquest made red.
- Virtually everywhere…
- a mass-assemblage
- of nocturnal nefariousness.
- Double-down dementia,
- a destitution of
- dumb ass dance moves,
- dust-devils
- twisting and turning,
- to a kind of
- drive-me-mad
- deviation of reality.
- To rave…
- a reminiscence
- of psychedelia
- and synesthesia,
- murdered a genre
- and beheaded
- the beauty of it all.
- Curdles to know
- the cult catching on…
- multiplying,
- like a growth
- or cancer…
- the scurrilous reproduction
- of rat after rat.
- the revolving door,
- spitting out
- more and more…
- commitment
- to this sub-versed
- subculture.
- Tell me how…
- how is it…
- an exciting thing,
- to listen to
- a dissonant harmony.
- a collection of
- continuously-chimed
- choruses.
- Re-iteration
- upon re-iteration,
- of ‘relish’.
- Green,
- viscous,
- shit.
- Words
- with no bearing,
- like “pump it”
- or “hit the floor”
- over and over
- as if repetition
- were something
- of a ’rad’ thing.
- What ever happened to…
- Jazz?
- and Jimi?
- And…
- Blues?
- The Beatles?
- “The connoisseurs of trance”
- IF…
- it is true
- and
- the legacy
- does die
- with the legislator
- like the ones
- who outlawed
- the California
- ’sunshine’…
- and forced people
- to go underground…
- Then maybe,
- it’s time
- to fence-off
- the dungeons
- air-out
- the fog machines
- discontinue
- the pre-set
- pulsating lights…
- and perhaps,
- return to
- the realm of natural
- luminescence.