Cyber Country

a2503941384_10Cyber Country to wyimaginowany soundtrack do acid westernu zza żelaznej kurtyny, przygotowany w coraz bardziej duszących oparach współczesności i codzienności. Elektroniczni cyber-kowboje snują się na antypodach post-industrialnego życia. Wciąż mają swoje rozterki i demony, a ich nomadyzm przeniósł się do wirtualnych saloonów i na ubitą ziemię bitów informacji. Echa inkorporowanego country – swojego subliminalnego, muzycznego dziedzictwa, zagłuszają coraz silniej dudniącymi bębnami nowych plemion i ich syntetycznych aparatur. Cyber country powstaje na nowych mapach starych westernowych uniwersów, karmiąc się powracającymi mitami nakładającymi się w dystopijnym porządku na nasz aktualny moment świadomości. Sentymentalne gry polaryzacyjnych układów wschodu i zachodu, indiańskie rebelie, zgniły Hollywood i jego psychodeliczne rubieże, radziecki rock’n’roll, John Wayne i Akira Kurosawa, cyborgi z Westworld, frankensteińskie eleusis z Rockstar Games osnute zostają w płaszcz rzewnych ballad i lekkiego galopu pośród prerii.

Polax Acid Cowboys

Duke of gutter raised his hand and said come on, let’s get on board
He was smiling like a vulture with his teeth all shiny gold
And he pointed to the streets, he said so many came to make a stand
And he said I’ve got a ship for you, if you’re not inclined to land

King of suburbs heard the call and he came riding on his trains
To the docks where as he’s heard there’s gonna be an escapade
In lands as of now unexplored, not to be found on any maps
And he said I’ll give my wealth and ship and silver to the majesty of tramps

Well the tramp arrived quite slowly with a hatchet in his eye
He said part me, I’ve been fighting for the will of who and why
With a young barbarian soldier sent upon me by the jurisdiction’s fear
That our little enterprise endangered world peace, did some harm to politic ears

So the tramp sent for his lady known for solving harms like these
She broke hearts and stood undone in front of poorly gifted priests
Now the accidental martyr, he stands there watching as they drool
Singing honey, you’re so priceless and defenseless but it’s hard to get to you

Now they’re questioning the tramp he says I swear I never dream
But they try to run his fingers through a sewing machine
Finally breaking he admits, yes on occasion, I do sometimes sleep
Since that’s all I’ve got to say, you may start drilling in my teeth

So they set off in the end without the tramp who stayed ashore
With some holes drilled in his teeth and a book his conscience wrote
When they tried to make it scream in hope he’ll finally start to speak
He was only getting ready to set sails on next year’s ship

Cyber Country is the imaginary soundtrack to an acid western from behind the Iron Curtain, made amid the increasingly suffocating fumes of contemporary everyday life. The electronic cyber-cowboys maunder around the antipodes of post-industrial life. They still face dilemmas and demons, but their nomadic life has now relocated to virtual salons and the paved earth of information bytes. Echoes of incorporated country and its subliminal musical legacy are drowned out by the rising rumble of new tribes with their drums and different forms of synthetic apparatus. Cyber country arises on new maps of old universes of the Western, feeding on recurring myths that superimpose themselves in a dystopian order on our current moment of consciousness. Sentimental games involving the polarizing systems of East and West, American Indian rebels, decadent Hollywood and its psychedelic borderlands, Soviet rock ‘n roll, John Wayne and Akira Kurosawa, the cyborgs of Westworld, and Frankensteinian eleusis from Rockstar Games become interwoven in a cloak of tender ballads and a light gallop through the prairies.