Dario Matta’s sound crawls under your skin like an itchy little spider in a technocratic body suit, tickling the inner and outer senses with its tiny claws of fine electricity. It’s only just the beginning as when the fine creepy crawler had laid its eggs there will be so much more music to escape freely.
The opening of these sound eggs are sounding like a smooth process, establishing a nice warm pastry that buzzes nicely throughout the veins and mind, creating ‘empty landscapes’ in the established blood flow.
When they reach the head, outside radio sounds are being captured by the mind. It’s as if the hairs on your head are the antennas and your mind the radio receiver and speaker at the same time. When this ebbs down little bugs will be knocking in your inner systems. They are going for a slow chase to get rid of all the healthy blood-cells with a nice synthetic pulse that will satisfy the one whose bloodstream will be altered. It’s like a mysterious disease, slowly infecting the entire mind, body and soul; creating some kind of ecstasy that feels like a pleasant flubbing take-over.
Once the slow chase had done its thing, a speedier version is implanted in place: Giving the voluntary victim a funky dark groove of pure synthesized bacteria. The chase is superbly freaky, giving the diseased a reason to dance in every backbone of its drained human body. This is one of the finer effects an infection can have.
The now grown up electric bacteria begin to turn into your creepy teenager electro spiders; hanging out in their self-made arcade ex blood vessels to hit the arcade machines under freaky circumstances. Some play while others watch and freakily dance. It’s a little punk-ish party of celebration while the host of it all is left with ‘the music’ generated by the internal happening.
When the infected person sleeps the creepy crawlers go down in an easy form, playing an ode to the middle of the night, like a deranged harmonica player next to a lit candle in the lonely wind of thoughts. When the morning arrives they music-bacteria will have enough energy for a final chase; one so bad ass that they will nicely illuminate all that has been left from the happy smiling, half defunct host in which the infection has been going on. After all the spots had been emptied from healthy normal blood and oxygen the little music creatures fall in a romantic mood. They hold claws and cuddle while looking around for a next victim? Will you be next? Click here to invite them: