“…the avant-garde without the popular can be rubbish, the popular without the avant-garde can be rubbish…” - Trish Keenan
FUNNY
Ripping the thread of unity, chalk on the sidewalk holding a certain semblance a semblance certain of déjà vu turning ominous clouds crimson, clouds in the coiled wires of time of seconds forgotten, forgetting I forget what, to forget or is it forgetting what has been forgotten? Distortion bells chasing hills over umbrellas black with winter, a soft whisper washes away with je ne sais quoi, an ah-ha needle holding balloons on silver laced winds, color me in. Balloon hands holding a limited string stringing by proxy what it cannot quite bite or be left without swimming into explosions of air unbreathable. Erupt it does anyway, into crestfallen objects of love in the sky, bruised and slipping, but man is not a bird anyway, the thread is the only evidence that a cloud even existed, wildly, feverishly cease and desist the notice and grok the joke.
an ode to dada and comic relief as the foil to entropy; to the avant garde pop pastiche of Broadcast’s approach to music-making, how ‘ha-ha’ sounds when produced versus expressed (ah-ha), ladling the surreal from the ethereal into the cosmic vestiges of cultures at large.
if you are confused or bemused by FUNNY then perhaps i’ve succeeded in this experiment. to grok the joke is to live like the fool. there’s an element of pithiness when writing in such unfettered form that highlights things i otherwise may miss when employing proper punctuation or syntax, which is antithetical to pop. i tried here to capture the anatomy of ‘haha’ via objects and motion, the spontaneity of the string, the foil of meaning. weaving into these prose i wink at the album Haha Sound itself, a pastiche in the form of collage, a crossword, an anagram.
this is very good