while i suspect that, in the future, pop music will evolve into a terrifying blend of prodigy and japanese squeakypop, i'd like to be optimistic and hope that our tastes will be more in line with the music the kids listened to in those eisenhower-era shorts about Life in the Year 2001.
thankfully, people are writing that music and some of the kids even listen to it. wobbly's clearly down with the recontextualism scene and seems to have a special place in his heart for the digital errata that have corrupted the minds of people like david toop and the fonts of those twenty bucks per issue design magazines. thankfully, the intellectual rigour and obligatory glitch worship have been tempered with an accelerated pop sensibility that, despite its hyperactivity, manages to keep it all sounding coherent. you can only write so many essays about having nothing to say (with half the words struck-through) for so long before it gets boring. wobbly, happily, is an expressive cat with something to express, so his pairing of messiaen and wolfgang voigt-style crrrks and thumps sounds Just Plain Goddamn Great, rather than Utterly Fucking Egregious.
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