several people have responded to my email saying that they didn't get the
FSOL message. it's not very long, and obviously not a personal letter, so
for the benefit of the idm community, i present it here:
From: LANDMASS <fsol@fsol.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Re: ISDN (fwd)
******************************** F S O L ***************************************
Somewhere thousands of miles away people were gathered to hear us -we knew
they needed to feel that we were physically here in Dollis
Hill seperated only by an ISDN line. We turned it over hundreds of times
during the week - funnily enough the only way was to stare the very
thing we were trying to escape squarely between the jaws - we had to talk
to them.We'd come full circle - back to glaring lights, indiscreet blow
jobs in chauffeur driven limos and all the things we thought we no longer
needed.A cursory 'stop flashing those fuckin lights' sufficed and then
we submerged into 40 minutes of noizic - 50% control 50% chaos - multi -
tracks fusing with vomiting samplers all held together by a stoical
Yage .It was 3 in the morning we were knackered,the last shops had closed
hours ago and there was nothing to do but watch Pins collection
of old top of the pops footage which only worsened the feeling that our
great vision for dynamic entertainment had somehow misfired.
Somehow it helped as well - since most of the performances held by the
bastions as icons of modern pop seemed remarkably stale in hindsight -
maybe we could keep our resolve amidst the misunderstanding .Half an hour
to go and we started making random calls to relieve tension -
Mason Bentley put in a call using the Brighton prefix instructing the
bemused recipient that 'the horse had bolted and that we would take the
usual top floor suite at the hotel with allowances for a power entourage
of sixty',Bugs high on valium found this especially amusing.
Finally it turned 4 "we're ready for you' and we emerged somewhere to
strange bodies somewhere in New York- .Out of a reverb 'come fly the
teeth of the wind' into this lonely landscape of our own creation -
unsignposted -trying to keep the ability to objectively feel if this is
working.
Ultimately we felt nothing-maybe we were too aware that this is how we were
expected to feel-
Radio was different - there was no bodily gathering and therefore no
allusion to rock n'roll - just millions of people being touched as remote
units
dotted and uncountable.We knew people hadn't lost the ability to conjure
atmospheres and we knew they were lurking out there in ways too
complex for stalwarts to imagine- open to suggestion far greater than
through traditional means - we needed to push beyond this period of
feverish technological know how - 'if I was as clever as these people
impose I'd be hacking banks '"where the fuck have you been " Yage took
offence and stalked out I ran after him - nothing - just a wet Dollis hill
with the mild possibility of a booting .He was gone and the transmission
went on without him.
Jon Drukman
jsd@cyborganic.com
I can tell you're cool because your water costs more than your beer.