Or the fragile connections we make in todays muddy world of clouds, ego harvesting and AI driven augmented-realities. Where choices are subtly made for us, deviations are the norm and our minds are hi-jacked and jacked into the insatiable googol-headed beast that consumes and commodifies our time, passions, friendships and analog existence. Sacrifices we make willingly on the altar of the touchscreen as we swipe to the Great Manipulator in the Sky, an unforeseen and perverse consequence of our never ending quest for comfort and gratification. By turning the everlasting orgasm into the apex of evolution we have become the architects of our own obsolescence.

But before we dance into the reactor to the gurgling pulse of the dirty brown goo we might depose ourselves with a few of the old high notes, a reminder of simpler times and perhaps an echo of sanity in our future light cone.

Let’s not insult whats left of our dysgenically challenged intelligence with the usual lame blurbitudes from the catalog of label cliches. This is not legendary, essential, cutting edge, relevant, revamped or welcoming into the fold and it’s already been prepped.
Let us instead goose bump at the sheer coherence found in the diversity of this marginally sanitary reservoir of house-, techno-, electro-, post- and proto- whatnot, and celebrate it as one of the last stalks of grain we can cling to while it becomes more and more apparent that Theodore Kaczynski and the Borg had a point - if only they had made it differently.