• DECODER (1984) directed by Muscha & starring: FM Einhert a.k.a. Mufti (Einstürzende Neubauten), Bill Rice (The Offenders (1980), The Big Blue (1988), Manhattan Love Suicides 1985, Coffee&Cigarettes), Christiane F., Genesis P-Orridge (Throbbing Gristle, Psychic-TV) and featuring William S. Burroughs (Naked Lunch, Junkie, Queer, Drugstore Cowboy, Dead City Radio) whose writing was an inspiration for the film.
  * The film featured this month is very avant-garde, subversive and punk-af. It is not meant for children under the age of 18 years of age and contains images of nudity, drug use, chaos magick, surgical footage, sexual situations and ideas of delinquency and anti-authoritarian themes.
  Language: German with Spanish subtitles.
  
  

In 1970 the collection of essays by Beatnik and Underground art icon William Burrough was published. In it Burroughs meditates on the written word and its evolution into the spoken. That language is something unique to the Human experience as it can exist both in image and sound. That the written language can enable the writer to cheat time and space and project thoughts, ideas, emotions, through time and affect readers in the future. Language regardless if it’s written on a medium or spoken has power; it is magick; no different from the sigils in a magician’s grimoire or the crystal ball, energized and imbued with power. How with the write configuration of words, images, sounds and their meaning can influence, control, infect and gestate inside the psyche very much like a virus.  

Decoder is a 1984 West German cyberpunk film that you’ve probably never heard of. I was fortunate to find it one late night while in one of my insomnia periods.

The story follows FM as he works for a fast food chain to make ends meet but, spends his evenings making compositions of abrasive industrial music. When FM starts noticing how passive and docile the customers at his Burger joint are when the Muzak playlist is cycling over the speakers. He figures that perhaps there might be something in the Muzak that’s making people compliant. That it’s the muzak that’s lulling people into submission in a world where visceral reality is almost a cheap thrill (a kink), something you tuck under your mattress when the relatives come home; a world where we just accept subjugation into an authoritarian corpo system where fascism bridges the gap between military and corporate corruption. FM also spends his free time with his girlfriend (Christiane) a peep show girl that works in the red-light district.

One night while working on music, FM starts to manipulate one of Christiane’s frogs and records the screams. FM realizes that he can use abrasive sound to instigate destructive impulses in people that listen to his music and cancel out the corporate muzak. He strategically places tape recorders, like sonic I.E.D.’s, at different well-known fast food establishments armed with his music. These subversive recordings cause riots, destruction of property, violence and social upheaval. After sometime these terrorist incidents earn the attention of the corporate overlords who hire an assassin (Bill Rice) to find who is creating these tapes and execute him. Bill Rice’s character a weary hitman more preoccupied with haunting the red light district and infatuated with a peep show girl who just happens to be FM’s girlfriend.

DECODER is low-budget, analog, cyberpunk with a Cold War edge to it. Lush lighting and a noir dread drip heavily here. The soundtrack features SoftCell, Psychic-TV, THE THE and Einstürzende Neubauten. The basic plot of the film is summarized here in this review so all you have to do is follow the visuals and vibe. Not suitable viewing for anyone under-the-age of 18.

Stay dangerous, stay underground, stay out of sight, stay away from bootlickers, magahats, democrats and anyone that tows the company line, puts blinders on, shuts up and takes it right up in there deeply (and without even a kiss or dinner to eat), drinking the government kool-aid. Stay aware, stay armed and get angry and keep your G*ddamn finger on the REWIND button.

Movie:

https://youtu.be/vdCXssmZLdw?si=PDidB4yL53XRVpXv

Bonus: Soft Cell – Seedy Films (Official Video Release HD)

You can’t say that Spielberg doesn’t know how to make an arresting intro to his films. In contrast to its predecessor, Temple of Doom opens big with a logistically impossible but rousing song-and-dance number of “Anything Goes” at a Shanghai nightclub in 1935 (we’re entering prequel territory). Here Spielberg introduces our leading lady, Willie Scott (Kate Capshaw). The scene is followed by a smooth, stair-descending entrance of Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford), dressed like he stepped out of a James Bond film. Given the origin of George Lucas’s character, it makes sense; he is an American-bred Bond who relies more on intelligence than luck. Soon, a double-cross situation with gangsters unfolds, followed by an escape through the window with Willie in tow and a meeting with Short Round (Ke Huy Quan), the second sidekick who, unlike many films featuring young performers, doesn’t irritate the older audience members. They’re soon on a flight to India, where the rest of the adventure takes place—perhaps destiny brings them to a downtrodden village to the titular temple of doom, and from there, the ride on the reel rarely slows down.

This plot sounds like exciting material for a new adventure for a beloved character, so what are the complaints and issues that have been lobbied at the film? Let’s first look at the “Willie Scott problem.” We know that Willie Scott is no Marion Ravenwood; however, why should she be? Yes, Willie is shrill, lacks toughness and adaptability, and is often plain annoying. That’s what a pampered nightclub singer would be like, dropped into the remote regions of colonial India. Yes, Spielberg did exaggerate her character traits during certain sequences. However, how would we act if we saw strange dining, insect infestation, and ritual sacrifice carried out by supernatural means? Somehow, I don’t believe that most of the audience would have the calmer demeanor of Jones and Short Round.

This brings us to the next often-raised criticism of the film: the depiction of Indian culture. First, this film is a spiritual sequel to the Cary Grant-helmed Gunga Din of 1939. Just as the villainous Thuggees (the etymology of the commonly used “thug”) of that film don’t represent all Indians, neither do the Thuggees and the evil leadership of the superb villain, Mola Ram (Amrish Puri), represent anthropological studies either. Critics will often protest the banquet scene, mentioning that most Indians have a vegetarian diet, but then they will fail to reason why it’s there as an introduction to the palace’s atmosphere. It’s not there to portray the average Indian as bizarre diners, but it’s to show the audience that something off and nefarious is going down at Pankot Palace, though the influence is then unknown. Let’s not forget that this picture is a throwback to the adventure films of the 1930s. Those films were of a different period, often quickly plotted, and didn’t allow much room for nuance. We’re not watching a documentary with Temple of Doom. Furthermore, the more serious-minded Gandhi came out two years before and won multiple Academy Awards, but you can easily guess which film is being discussed decades later.

What issue is with Temple of Doom? I believe that Spielberg felt that the film was too thematically dark during the production process and not after the release. This is why I believe there are too many humorous elements that are incongruous with the sinister atmosphere and deeds of the villains. While Raiders has incidental comedy, tinged with irony, it feels that Spielberg put in superfluous gags to lighten the mood, and most of these deliberately call back to Raiders. Thus, while Mola Ram is intimidating and perhaps the singular memorable villain of the series, his lackeys often seem to be just fodder for the sequential shenanigans. When Mola Ram is not on screen, opposite Jones, I never feel that our hero is truly in danger. Somehow, Spielberg has turned the menacing, cult-like presence of the Thuggee followers of Gunga Din into a weaker performance, resembling Three Stooges antics. Maybe he was adding another 1930s genre to the earlier mix of adventure, screwball comedy, and musical.

Harrison Ford’s acting is impeccable, even when confronted with silly antagonists. Because he’s accompanied by two companions with differing personalities and he’s brought to his lowest point in the series, he must display a range of emotions through body language and facial expression. Although Ford appears more comfortable portraying a stoic disposition, a sly grin, or righteous indignation in his roles, he is capable of going beyond these expressions to take Indy on this character-changing journey. Compare the scenes of the spike pit booby trap, when he realizes the dire situation of the enslaved children, and when he comes under the influence of the “blood of Kali”—it’s no wonder Ford was later praised for his roles in less fantastic fare, such as Witness and The Mosquito Coast.

Finally, John Williams’s score contributes much to propel the characters through the film’s various set pieces. The memorable scenes of the inflatable raft escape, journey to the temple by elephant, Mola Ram’s Kali ritual, mine cart chase, and the climatic rope bridge confrontation would still be lessened without the music. The “Raiders March” will always be the most identifiable Indiana Jones theme, but pieces like “Short Round’s Theme” and “Slave Children’s Parade” bring a new sense of grandeur and wonder to the adventure.

I remember when Temple of Doom was verboten by my parents. There was a time when I was at Montgomery Ward, and one of the electronics displays showed the film’s ending, followed by the credits rolling a few minutes later. I ran to my parents, excitedly telling them that I had just seen part of the film. Soon after, I watched the film in its entirety at a friend’s house. The mystery and ambivalence around this entry still exist in the world, but time has diminished those sentiments. Spielberg may no longer appreciate the film, but the viewer must acknowledge it when a creator goes in a new direction with a popular property, especially when contemporary family films have become numbingly safe.

The film begins with a common trope of 80s teen dramas: the move to a new city. Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) and his mother, Lucille, are westbound from New Jersey to the “dream destination” of Los Angeles. Dream destination for Lucille because she has a hot new career; more of a nightmare for Daniel as he’s leaving the familiar Italian American East Coast culture for a world of blonds, beaches, and bullying. (It may be surprising to youths today, but there was a time when California was imagined as a new world, almost separate from the rest of the U.S., instead of an off-putting land that people are escaping from to return to their roots.). By drawing the attention of dream girl Ali (Elizabeth Shue) at the beach, he invites the wrath of her ex-boyfriend Johnny (William Zabka) and his gang of fellow karate students, who are trained by the no-chill Cobra Kai dojo owner Kreese (Martin Kove). Daniel knows some karate, but not enough to make a difference. Fortunately, after multiple instances of violence against him, a friendly maintenance worker, Mr. Nariyoshi Miyagi (Pat Morita), who has gotten to know Daniel and his mother, intervenes, and thus starts a journey where not only does Daniel develop his skills to defend himself, but he grows in qualities that are important even if he loses interest in karate.

What makes this film interesting is less because of the action and more because of the characters’ personalities and relationships between the characters. The director John G. Avildsen doesn’t direct sports films. You may be saying to yourself, “Hey, didn’t he direct Rocky?” Yes, he did, but Rocky is not a sports film. Yes, the MacGuffin is Rocky’s boxing career and his shot at the Heavyweight title, but the meat of that film is Rocky’s relationship with Adrian, Paulie, Mickey, and himself. We even find out more about Rocky and Apollo outside of the ring during their pre-fight interactions than we do when they’re pummeling each other through the rounds. Similarly, while the fight sequences are competent (I prefer the two action sequences where Daniel is targeted by the bullies to the end tournament; there’s only so much you can do to make points-based, contact-limited martial arts tournaments exciting), the heart is in the dramatic scenes. We see Daniel as a sure, street-smart kid on first arrival to California, but it’s hard to forget his humiliated look following his first takedown by Johnny, when he’s been abandoned by his new friends and is left to be diminished, as he sees it, in the eyes of Ali. Another emotional scene involves Daniel’s trashing of his bike after another beatdown: it’s short, but it conveys all that Daniel hates concerning his situation—he’s a stranger in a strange and privileged land, and there seems to be nothing that he can do about it.

Ralph Macchio is not the only one that gets to give a good performance. In fact, one might say that Pat Morita as Mr. Miyagi often steals the spotlight. Being a film featuring martial arts, Mr. Miyagi could’ve been portrayed as an unworldly, mystic master, especially since such archetypes were predominant up to that point. However, while Mr. Miyagi is wise, he’s also human. His relationship with Daniel is often more like that of a father and son than sensei and student. It’s not through specific karate skills that he teaches Daniel self-discipline but through household chores. Only later does Daniel see how such mundane activities contribute to his martial arts training. Obviously, the centerpiece scene is Mr. Miyagi’s drunken breakdown due to his reflection on a tragic (personally and nationally) event from decades before. A son would usually not want to see his father in such a state, and a father, especially one known for self-discipline, would not want to put on such a display. However, Daniel and Mr. Miyagi have both opened up to each other at this point. Mr. Miyagi is no longer just the firm teacher or provider of quips but is a person of vulnerability just like Daniel.

Even the antagonists have depth that a lesser movie might skip in exploring. Yes, the Cobra Kai are relentless in the tormenting of Daniel. However, we come to see that this aggression is fomented by the teaching of Kreese. (Daniel also doesn’t help himself by his cocky attitude at times). Why might Kreese have been so angry? Did his military experience in Vietnam inform him? (I haven’t watched Cobra Kai, but apparently, it goes more into detail about his past, and my speculation is confirmed). We see levels of compassion in Johnny’s fellow Cobra Kai when Johnny escalates matters, and by the end, he no longer has complete faith in Kreese’s teachings.

No film is perfect, even “perfect films.” I did find it convenient that every activity that Daniel was interested in, Johnny and the Cobra Kai were involved in. Daniel meets up with them during soccer tryouts; he’s already had some karate training while they’re all members of Kreese’s dojo; he rides a regular bike while they roar through the scenes on motorbikes; and Johnny just broke up with Ali, and she is ready to be on the rebound with Daniel at first sight. It’s understandable that there need to be scenes for conflict, but it makes Daniel seem more than fated to walk into trouble no matter where he goes in Reseda. Speaking of Ali, Shue gave a decent performance with the material given. However, there’s not much there. It’s hard to see what she sees in Daniel at first besides his being the opposite of Johnny in almost every way. People were surprised when she didn’t return for the sequel. Given the nature of high school relationships and the love-at-first-sight attraction between the two, I was not.

I’ve not said much about the music and don’t have much to say except that it’s adequate for the film’s aspirational nature; the pan flutes are a nice touch and don’t overwhelm the atmosphere, unlike a lot of Asian-themed movies. Most people remember Joe Esposito’s “You’re the Best,” but I believe that Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer” best epitomized the L.A. culture. Too bad it wasn’t included on the soundtrack album.

Today, moviegoers can watch all types of martial arts styling. It’s often included in typical action and comic book movie fare. What you don’t get is a story where karate is not an end, but a means for self-development. There are a lot more exciting tournament movies that you can watch. Here, the tournament is the dessert, the logical conclusion of a journey that begins when Daniel arrives unwillingly in Reseda. The meat and potatoes is the growth of Daniel under the paternal guidance of unassuming Mr. Miyagi, and this is still relatable years later.

« Nostalgic, dramatic and not short on synth, my 2nd album is the kind of album that takes you on a journey to cosmic space stories and to the brave new world, this planet is becoming these days. »

To anyone with any leftover apprehensions towards the Sovietwave sound, ‘1984? Нет!’ is yet another impeccably produced chance to fall in love with the sounds of interstellar nostalgia.

‘1984? Нет!’ is out now via Bandcamp.

But not too tame. It’s still pretty bonkers.

ALCATRAZ II

Microdeal, 1982

So there’s no doubt about it… prison sucks. Even without all the darker parts of prison life (which we don’t need to detail; pop culture can and will do that for you), you’re still locked up. You’re not free. One of the worst was Alcatraz, just off the California coast, an island prison fortress that was meant to be nearly impossible to escape.

Well, since people kept attempting (and possibly succeeding, as in the 1962 attempt), Microdeal decided that Alcatraz needed a sequel. A meaner, iron-clad, merciless follow-up.

With a goddamn minotaur in it.

What immediately strikes me as strange is how cool they both seem about the situation. As if they had a conversation beforehand, free of rancour or posturing.

“Okay, so when you bolt down the hallway, I mean, I’m a fucking minotaur, dude. I’m gonna chase you.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m gonna run like hell, so don’t worry too hard about it. I’m not.”

“You know, I’m glad we talked about this. Thanks.”

“Yeah man, oughta be a good show.”

GOODY

Opera Soft, 1987

This is some straight-up Bakshi shit. A lot is loosely implied here, at least to me, and it’s done in that way that creeps in at the seams of the mind and leaks inward. I think this one deserves an itemized list.

• the policeman commands the power of the Moon itself to avoid a very, very “happy” gorilla gazing up at him.
• That bird (buzzard? What fucking kind of bird is that?) looks suicidally depressed. Or maybe I’m wrong and it’s just seen all this shit before. In any case, a city with birds like that flying around in it can’t be a cheerful place for humanity to thrive.
• Goody (is that this dude’s name?) seems to be wearing a coat, but are those his hands gripping it from behind, near the collar? If so, how the fuck do you pull that off, and if not, why isn’t he alarmed by it?
• That woman could be one of two things, going by how tropes work in this kind of media: a newswoman or a hooker.
• Wait, Goody’s an ape too, isn’t he? That woman’s trying to get it on with a gorilla.

Normally I’d go on a quest across Wikipedia and the Internet to find out more about this game, but I’m shook. Too shook to even open Google.

CASH MAN

Microdeal, 1984

This is what the working man’s day is like, represented by symbolism, I guess? Let me try:

You go to such great lengths (or heights) to earn your living. You grab and reach – everyone’s gotta struggle a little when they work for a living, right? Keeps you tough. Keeps you on your toes. The rank and file military man, he knows what it’s about; you have more in common than you might think.

Then the fucking vultures show up: the banker, the bill collector, the loan shark. Just as you’re starting to do well for yourself, you gotta deal with all this.

The title/logo being crafted weirdly out of smiley faces is a slapping contrast to this dark scene of class warfare and defeat. Also, I’m already noticing a theme with birds. The men and women involved in creating these games must have found birds supernaturally terrifying. Or they were just easy to justify as dickheads in any scenario. Because that’s true. Birds are absolute dickheads.

PIMANIA

Automata, 1982

Little preface for this one: there was a period of time in my early to mid 20s when I played around with psychoactives and hallucinogens a lot. I don’t think I did any serious damage to myself (though some people may enthusiastically disagree), but I did experience some… well, interesting things. I remember very clearly the tail-end of one LSD experience, sitting on my back porch and watching the grass visibly grow and recede before my eyes, as the sun was rising. Once it occurred to me that I could see the sun’s light, but not the sun itself, I froze with panic. Then, over the course of another hour or so, I kept carefully positioning myself so that the treeline or other solid objects would obscure the sun’s full disc from my view. I was convinced that a full look at the sun would drive me mad or destroy me.

I’m pretty sure this image is a good approximation of what my mind was expecting.

End note on this one: man, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you brought a telescope, a saxophone, a rubber ducky and a live snake, not to mention you are totally nude. Best of luck.

MR. DIG

Microdeal, 1984

Microdeal must have had a stable of depraved and insane artists on lock during this time period. Mr. Dig’s eyes aren’t eyes at all but eyespots; he must have echolocation or sense his way by tremors in the ground. He’s clearly in some hellish system of tunnels, and has just found an apple with more mass than himself. An underground Hadean giant apple. His face betrays no emotion. He’s… he’s thinking this one through. If Eris’s golden fruit wrought the discord so told in legend, what will a bite of this one do?

Also, it’s hot as fuck down here in those footie pajamas. He’s thinking the hardest about that – going back and changing clothes.

Thanks for joining me on another sojourn through the outsider art of the fringes of retro gaming. We may do this again. I’ll leave it on that note. A note of menace. Stay Retro!

Written for his daughter, “Little Angel ” is the final passionate track of FM Attack’s set – and the final track of the Human Music 2 synth festival.

It’s an odd feeling – being nostalgic for a moment happening in the present. The melancholic realization that something beautiful is about to end.

Three days earlier I awoke with a start.

Late. Shit!

A quick, cold shower – the flurry of clothes flying into unpacked bags – a gag of artificial stimulation and a final pat of the pockets – and I’m ready for my nine hour drive. I have to make up for lost time or I’m likely to catch rush hour near Philly, a special kind of hell. Peeling away I remember some things I’ve forgotten – but there’s no time to turn back now.

It’s not until I’m a hundred miles away that I begin to feel truly awake. Running on empty, I make a quick stop for gas and splash of water on my face. I’m jittery – perhaps a bit too much of the stimulants. I shrug my shoulders. Better to be too awake than tired.

Soon again I’m back on the road, screaming down I-70, with Gost’s “They” pumping through the speakers as loud as they’ll go without clipping. Just as I settle into my seat, I realize the car in front of me is nearly stopped. I slam on my breaks a second too late and have to squirm into the burm to make sure I don’t rear-end the poor fucker in front of me. Suddenly I’m thankful for my jitters.

Deer. At Noon. In the middle of an eight-lane highway.

Quickly the hooved rats pass and traffic starts up again. It’s rare to see them out this late in the day – and on a highway this size. A glance at my rear mirror reveals they’re heading back towards the road. As the minute mark nears on “They” and the high pitched horror synths begin to peal, I watch as a ruby red semi slams full speed into the creature – which in turn explodes into a literal mist of gore and viscera. As the darksynth swells I wonder if this is a bad omen – or a good one. Then I remember I don’t believe in omens.

The rest of the drive is relatively uneventful – though as I hit New Jersey I’m reminded that everyone here drives like they want to die. Soon I pull into my friends garage. I’m late, but I’ve made it.

DAY 1

Click Here for a full gallery of photos from Human Music 2!

The next day I arrive to the venue a bit late as well. QXT’s sits on edge of the industrial Ironbound neighborhood and on the corner of the street – the perfect spot for a venue dedicated to “Alternative, EBM, New Wave, Industrial, Darkwave, Goth, and Punk.” The outside walls are made of ribbed concrete and painted a dutiful shade of black – save for a large set of double doors which are braced open and manned by a well-built bouncer. I give him a nod as I make my way inside, were brick and mortar walls exude a gothy industrial vibe which plays well off of cyberpunk transhumanist art which has been prepared for Human Music 2. The venue staff are extremely caring – and the only thing more marvelous than them seems to be their liquor prices.

Photo By Matthew Sperzel, Artwork By Jen Biro

The artist meet and greet is winding down as I don my various wristbands and grab a drink. I decide to make the most of the leftover time and dive in. It’s always fantastic to put a face to a name. In a scene where much of the correspondence happens online, I had already spoken with probably half of the artists in attendance – but never met in person. Being able to communicate face to face instantly changes my perspective as for the first time I feel a real sense of community.

For now though there’s only time for brief introductions before the lights dim and and portent plumes from the fog machines signal the show is about to begin.

When the lights come back up, a wash of soft technicolor illuminates the stage and the stunning artist GlitBiter from Los Angeles along with it. Her beautiful blend of dreamwave and synth begins, the intro followed with lush soaring vocals – the perfect start to the festival. I have little time to dawdle and soon I’m snapping photos with an older DSLR which I borrowed surreptitiously from my dayjob.

“It was so much fun and such an honor to play with so many incredible Synthwave artists. Human Music brought together so many people (both fans and artists) from around the world, and I’m so grateful I was able to be apart of it.”– GlitBiter

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Her set ends with a great applause, and it’s only a few minutes before the next artist – just enough time to step outside for a cancer stick. The first thing I’ve noticed is that the sound in Q’s is absolutely pristine – somehow even sounding better than if I were listening through a pair of headphones. Before long I hear the next act announced and scurry back inside.

Next on stage is Korine – a duo from Philly that specializes in a solid mix of energetic synthpop and gloomy new wave. I haven’t heard them before and I’m instantly a fan. This set is filled with a palpable emotion that fills the venue and really gets the audience moving.

“Human Music was an amazing experience. So much unique talent in one room. It was great to meet fans and artists alike in a truly humbling and exciting atmosphere.”- Korine

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Next up is New Jersey based The Encounter – the first act that is more traditional synthwave. He has a wealth of material to choose from with various influences, and he chooses his tracks well. Each piece flows into the next perfectly, bringing an unbridled energy to the dancefloor. He announces halfway through that his set that his mother is actually in the audience – to great applause and whoops from the crowd. In a genre that capitalizes on nostalgia, I can think of no greater challenge than playing for family. He absolutely kills it.

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Aeon Rings takes the stage. Hailing from Brooklyn, this is the first taste we get of the darker side of synth. This sound is a deft blend of synthpop, new wave and darkwave that really gets the crowd amped. They’re dressed to kill and bleed cool. The animated duo are no strangers to performance and consistently strike fluid, engaging poses, stoking the spectators to a fever pitch.

“Human music is a great festival that Damian Hrunka has worked very hard to organize and give synth wave fans and dark electronic music fans alike the opportunity to see some of the best bands in the scene all come together for a 2 day fun in the sun Memorial Day weekend. The comradery amongst the fans and bands is incredible and I haven’t seen that much support in a long time. It gives a chance for lesser known acts to get the boost they need to expose themselves to a proper audience that is open to their art. Would love to see it keep going and growing for sure. They work hard on it and the curation is top notch.” – Aeon Rings

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Next on stage is the bombastic Belgium based Neoslave. His set is unbridled energy and the first to really delve into pure darksynth territory – though there are elements of outrun and disco interlaced. Veins bulge in his face, threatening to burst as the synth grows deeper and more intense. His arms swing back and his form exudes pure energy. His sound is fantastic, and the crowd is electrified as his set draws to its conclusion. The audience releases an amped applause.

“Human Music 2 was a BLAST to the past, retro-futuristic goodness wrapped up in the perfect setting that is QXT’s. I was thrilled to be a part of this sick fest that embraces both darksynth and synthwave and hope to be back soon! Shout out to all involved.” -Neoslave

Photo by Andrew Zistler

The marvelous Cali based Protector 101 is on next – and he dons the stage wearing his eponymous mask based on the horror film “Chopping Mall.” Twin red beams stream from his mask, targeting the audience for dance this time instead of destruction – and he succeeds greatly in this prime directive. At times the venue is so filled with fog you could only see his mask and the beams emanating from it – a radical sight to behold.

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Cooling things down a bit with a return to OG retrowave is Pittsburgh based Betamaxx – and boy is he fucking thrashed. Full disclosure – it’s probably my fault – I’d bought him more than a few drinks. Any worry is quickly dispelled though as he rocks out an astounding set that connects deeply and emotionally with the crowd. For many of us Betamaxx is some of the first synth we heard, and his fingers seem fueled by our nostalgia, racing across the keyboard and never missing a note. His newer sounds are just as good as his classics – and the end of his set is marked by emphatic shouts of joy from the audience.

“My experience at human music was a blast, as it was my first year playing. I got to meet some really amazing artists for the first time, and catch up with some old friends from last year. My highlight was getting to meet and hangout with Shawn, from FM Attack. He’s always been one of my ultimate favorites in the scene, and he was a super awesome guy as well. I really enjoyed all the performances, and the fans were all really into it. Needless to say, I will be back again for Human Music 3.” – Betamaxx

Photo by Andrew Zistler

The final act of the first night is Timecop1983 – who hails from the Netherlands. Filled with romance and a truly cinematic feel, the audience reaches a fervor-peak during his set. The vibe is overwhelming, and for a time I forget I’m supposed to be taking photos. Swinging from sentimental to groovy and everything in between, he rocks the house. The applause echoes in our ears as the first night of Human Music 2 winds down.

Photo by Andrew Zistler

But the fun isn’t finished yet – it continues late into the morning with NIGHT.WAV afterparty – a monthly synthwave dance party usually held at Saint Vitus Bar – but exported to QXT’s especially for the Human Music 2 festival. These folks absolutely kill it, showing off some expert mixing and production skills. As I slink deeper into my drinks, I find myself wishing there was a monthly like this in Ohio.

DAY 2

I wake up the next day facedown on a cold wood floor, back stiff but surprisingly not hungover in the least. I’d made it back to my friends apartment. Picking myself up, I start to go through the photos I’d gotten the night before. The day is a warm fumble of Indian food and street vendors in China Town and it eventually ends in a quick nap before I’m back at QXT’s.

Photo By Matthew Sperzel

Everyone seems a bit worse for wear after the late night that ended just over 12 hours ago. The conversations are a bit sluggish but you can tell there isn’t a soul there who would rather be sleeping. The best cure for a hangover is more booze – and the bar is serving up hair of the dog like cucumber sandwiches in a fat camp.

As everyone settles in, Shredder 1984 takes the stage – guitar strapped to his back. If anyone was drowsy before they certainly aren’t after his music starts. A mash of cyberpunk, darksynth and metal, this Frenchman rocks the stage with some fantastic guitar work – truly expert riffs. Halfway through his set he pulls back his hood revealing a large mane of righteous black hair  which he windmills in proper metal fashion. Brutal is an understatement.

Photo By Matthew Sperzel

After the last guitar chords fade, Tokyo Rose rises to the stage. Wearing a mask with his eyes marked as two big X’s, he performs his first ever live set and absolutely destroys it. His themes range from darksynth to outrun and dreamwave and nearly everything inbetween, but somehow he retains his own fantastic sound. The melodies he deploys swirl into one another with seemingly effortless ease – infusing the audience with adrenaline. He dismounts the stage to a cheering crowd.

“Human Music 2 was definitely a fun experience. It was an honor to have performed my first live show at HM2. The love and support from my fans and artist was out of this world and I would love to do it all over again!” – Tokyo Rose

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Soon after Virginia based The Rain Within takes the stage. Their sound is a heavy synth pop deliciously drenched in new wave vocals – really groovy stuff. Partway through their set their mohawked frontman activates a laser gauntlet which streaks neon through the dancing onlookers. If looks could kill we’d all be dead.

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Teeel is next to bat at the synth extravaganza – and their setup is truly an amazing thing to behold. Numerous synths old and new line the duo in a semi-circle, backlit by their own light setup. Donning the stage in sunglasses and cool, their guitarist rips licks for the crowd like he’s breathing – his bandmate beside him belts out some fantastic retro vocals as he rips up the keyboards like only a professional could.

“I’ve waited in anticipation all year since the first Human Music Fest to rock out again. Where else can you hear so many amazing Synthwave artists under one roof? I had an absolute blast playing and watching all of the other artists and hope they continue this fest into the future. QXT nightclub sounded fantastic and the staff rocked. The highlight to the weekend for me was seeing FM Attack. We’ve been digital friends for years but it was amazing hanging in person and his set was phenomenal. I can’t wait for next year.” – Teeel

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Arcade High, another duo this time from Pittsburgh, takes the stage side by side with an array of radical controllers. The light show for this one is truly spectacular, blowing beams of colored cool through their concentrating faces. The lights are nothing though – compared to the their signature arcade chiptune dreamwave sound and the clear fervor the artist have for their music. This set is fills the room with passion and draws a clamor of ecstatic shouts from the crowd.

“We absolutely adore Human Music. Its currently the largest US synthwave show, two years running, but yet it’s a very humble affair. Artists are expected to rub shoulders with guests and get up close and personal throughout the whole event. You can’t go five feet without meeting somebody who’s supportive of you, or that you’ve known online for years and never met in person, whether it’s a fan or an artist.” – Arcade High

Photo by Andrew Zistler

Before Human Music 2, I hadn’t listened to much Mr. Kitty. I found myself photographic a particularly interesting looking person dressed in all white – with no idea he was about to play a set. His white attire seemingly absorbing the lightshow, Texas based Mr. Kitty is hardly still during the set – his particular blend of blend of electronic synthpop exhilarating the audience and even himself beyond belief. As he leaves the stage sweat drips from his brow – but not a bit shows through his inhuman jumpsuit. The energy in the room is almost crackling.

Photo by Matthew Sperzel

The second to last set is Makeup and Vanity Set – hailing from Tennessee. This synth titan has been quiet and reserved for the past day or so – until he dons his signature balaclava mask. Anyone familiar with MAVS will know that his sound quite eclectic – so much so it’s hard to pin down a description. The set he plays is intricately complex and engaging – all while juxtaposed against Weebls Stuff’s Badger Badger Badger animation. It’s a special kind of nostalgia only accessible to those exposed early internet. These visuals are mixed with a nearly unmatched virtuosity and make for a set I will forget anytime soon.

Photo by Andrew Zistler

The final set of Human Music 2 is performed by FM Attack. As he takes the stage everyone gathers closer. He’s wearing a simple white button down a black tie, standing in the center of the stage. Neon lights dance over his form – but he doesn’t move, completely absorbed in mixing together and playing his tracks. The set is powerful – for a moment everyone in the room feels connected, not by some superficial high but by a sense of shared memories and emotions only the expert tones FM Attack could produce. The final beautiful track he plays, “Little Angel,” was written for his daughter. The speakers bleed their last warm nostalgic tones as the festival draws to a lachrymose close.

Photo by Andrew Zistler

“Human Music 2 was a truly special event for those in the scene. Personally, it was great to see old friends, meet new ones, and meet those in person — finally — whom I’ve been chatting with on Skype or facebook messenger or text since 2014. In that way it was a bit like a family reunion. That alone made it memorable for a lifetime.

But if we’re getting down to the music — which is the most important part, right? — the music was just top-notch quality. Each of the artists put on amazing performances that would defy the stereotype that synthwave live is just a boring person behind a laptop. When you attend Human, it’s pretty clear it goes way beyond a laptop and some Ableton sessions. These were engaging and captivating performances that variously involved dancing, synths, v-drums, guitars, and yes, computers; often paired with laser-wear and theatrics. It was a blast.” -VEHLINGGO

Photo Credits
Matthew Sperzel
Andrew Zistler

Click Here for a full gallery of photos from Human Music 2!

Co-sponsored by Plague Productions and NewRetroWave

Today I am going to write out of shame. At least that’s what it seems I am capable of doing right now. It is not a silent shame, which usually makes faces of some little scamps burn, after they have been caught stuffing the exhaust pipe of their grumpy neighbor’s car with a couple of plums. It is not the one petrified with guilt either – too grave to forgo all the self-explanatory possibilities. Dodging potential names and avoiding conclusive classifications, it more or less resembles the specific type of embarrassment which occurs when we are bound to confess that we have been peeped while sharing an intimate moment with someone and the vision of acknowledging our self-disclosure by the interlocutor (with all of the uncalled-for, one-dimensional, bawdy mental representations popping up uncontrollably in his/her mind) tramples us down into the pit of nauseating edginess. I am already feeling giddy due to the oncoming violation of my sense of privacy which I have tied up with everything The Unbearable Lightness of Being consists of for me. I am stuck between a rock of an unquenchable urge to expose myself totally (unfortunately, ‘naked’ letters are prone to contract ‘pneumonia’ of pretense in the blink of an eye) and a hard place of curling up and hiding behind the cover of Kundera’s masterpiece, blushing like an old spinster.

Torn between these two extremities, left at a loss for words of the golden mean, I am opening the novel to a random page. Just like during our first rendezvous, the letters are immediately beginning to caress my wholeness as a warmth of dream lover’s breath enfolds a cheek with its delicate breeze only seconds before landing on an earlobe as a passionate whisper. All at once, my shame is tamed and I realize I was wrong from the very start. I will write straight from the inside of my intimate relationship with The Unbearable Lightness of Being which is one of those ultimately ‘close’ novels the reader cannot help but simply fall in love with them.

I definitely wouldn’t avoid wearing sackcloth and ashes, were I to reveal any crucial details regarding the plot of Milan Kundera’s renowned book or to present thoroughly four main characters whose direct and indirect interactions are fuelling the possibility of affection between the reader and the text. Moreover, such a leak would be pointless anyway, because in order to uncover above connections, there needs to be someone who is actually reading the novel in the first place, not a lone ‘peeper’ (like the one I am trying NOT to become right now), who is indiscreet enough to take some exposed ‘propositional photographs’ or to write a few peeled ‘photographical sentences’, loaded with probable vivisections of how should interpretational so-and-so’s and what-if’s arrange themselves on the ‘premises’ of book’s appearances. Giving hints like that is unforgivable, because The Unbearable Lightness of Being should be left just with you, The Potential Reader of Kundera, for a subtle, flirtatious, enchanting tête-à-tête in a surrounding silence of everything else.

So I keep asking myself, what can I actually write about the novel that would reveal as little as possible about its matter? Shall I remain in the superposition of disclosing and not disclosing at the same time or would I rather try to overcome this feeling of being Schrödinger’s Peeping Tom?…

Czech author’s piercing, whiplash-sharp observations and notions of various existential issues – possessing a quotable thoughtfulness, insight and versatility of not only a thinker but also, and above all, a person who is deeply concerned about the contemporary human condition – are the main flywheel of the novel’s true inclination to unfold itself before the reader. Kundera’s masterpiece takes care of our honesty of thought, reciprocates the open-mindedness – or better yet – the open-heartedness of the approach towards its pages, fires up a knack for philosophical speculations, gives a comforting pat on the back, gently hugs our compassion and empathy, when dramatis personae are facing shifts from the overwhelming weight of existence to the titular unbearable lightness of being. And we catch ourselves being dragged along their metaphysical vertigo too. Having perceived our surprising participation, we try to gulp back the tears of emotional outbursts every time we experience the humane (and I really cannot stress the word “humane” enough!) warmth of Kundera’s prose. But there is even more to it than that!

From the very first page the reader is engulfed by the profound meta-impression of getting around in a ‘territory’ of a philosophical treaty which has taken shape of an existential novel. Keeping in mind the fact that a paraphrase might be calling the shots now, Gilles Deleuze wrote that the philosophy is the creation of concepts as intensive multiplicities. As we are immersing ourselves in the events which comprise the lives of Tomáš, Tereza, Sabina and Franz, we are swept off our feet by the unexpected notion that Kundera has actually written a philosophical work, which presents a remarkably impressive set of relations regarding human existence, using numerous already-coined terms and phrases on various levels of their significance or – putting it in a more bearable vibe – their lightness and weight. Starting from Nietzsche’s “eternal recurrence”, he sheds light on the whole chain of concepts, to name but a few: “betrayal”, “body”, “parades”, “strength”, “necessity”, “coincidence”, “soul”, “smile”, “cemetery”, “kitsch”, which are not only constituents of the human’s life motion alongside the main existential polarity “weight – lightness”, but they also depict the subsequent realization of the aforementioned movement, in this particular case mainly inside a reality of the country from behind the Iron Curtain – Czechoslovakia. All these nuances assemble an exceptionally convincing summarization of the contemporary human beings, whose unbalanced ‘dance’ of weight and lightness cannot be overshadowed even by a fact that the writer used already existing “intensive multiplicities”. Frankly, I suppose it is precisely because of this unmistakable formation of concepts working in an ‘already-being-here’ mode that the intimacy between the reader and the book is possible at all. Or is it just me?…

Leaving the above for you – My Dear Probable Reader of Milan Kundera’s Tour de Force – to mull it over, I must admit that I have never been caught in such a crossfire of the exposing lightness of review and the imposing weight of silence. I have an unbearable feeling that I must have gone too far with the former option. I am not sure whether or not the resulting text should be called “the unforgiveable weightlessness of writing”, but I’m certain about one thing. I overcame my shame and wrote straight from my intimate relationship with this brilliant book and I wish you developed as close a connection with this or maybe the other work as the intensively multiplied concept of “novel affection” has been a quintessence of my passionate romance with The Unbearable Lightness of Being for the past couple of years.

Amonne Purity

Don’t let the hording meandering of acrylic keyboard social justice pounding tell you that “strong female protagonists are a rarity in cinema [whiny voice]”. If you’ve heard something like this in person, I can guarantee it’s from a mouth that’s never enjoyed the satisfaction of a med-rare porterhouse steak or pulled a drag from a Camel cigarette inside of the bowels of a local video arcade or billiard hall while gripping her brass knuckles in the holster of her front-right Levi’s jeans pocket; they… are dunce capacitors. They are nincompoops. They bit the big one and can’t differentiate their vacant Aqua Net hair-hives from their cerebral glands located just below the pilonidal sinus. Female protagonists kick ass and have been around for decades already. Just look at the Horror and Thriller genres.

Merry Christmas, everybody!! Come gather round the yule log and stay warm by the fallen one’s light. It’s Christmas time; or Holiday time; or Hanukkah time. Or Kwanzaa, sure. Overall it’s my favorite season of the year.

So let’s come together and celebrate togetherness during the Pagan festivities with this month’s Retro Movie of the Month – 1984’s Night of the Comet. Night of the Comet, directed by Thom Eberhardt and starring Catherine Mary Stewart (Last Starfighter, Weekend at Bernie’s), Kelli Maroney (Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Ryan’s Hope, One Life to Live), Robert Beltran (Lone Wolf McQuade), Mary Woronov (Silent Night, Bloody Night), Geoffrey Lewis (10 to Midnight, Salem’s Lot) with cinematography by Arthur Albert (Surf Ninjas, Happy Gilmore) and released on November 16th 1984.

Set in the wasteland that was the nineteen eighties Los Angeles. It’s Christmas time and there’s not a valley girl in sight. At least not yet as the earth passes through the tail of a comet for the first time in 65 million years. The last time happened during some extinction event (foreshadowing).

Reggie Belmont works at a Movie Theater. She’s an avid gamer and dating the dunderhead projectionist, Larry. She has a younger step-sister named Samantha who is always bickering with their stepmother Doris. After being punched in the face by the she-wolf Doris, Sam spends the night in the backyard shed like a castaway on Big Brother.

Large crowds of people all gather outside on this special night to witness the celestial light show in the sky. The next day however is something strange as the streets are empty. Not just the streets but houses, jobs and abandoned automobiles are without people. The emergency lines are off. The whole towns a ghost town and not like the SPECIALS song. It’s as if everyone just disappeared. The only thing stranger is the now crimson sky that has enveloped the entire planet’s atmosphere.

After a pump n done night of sex between Reggie and Larry, Larry is killed outside by a pipe wielding zombie when he walks outside half asleep and unaware of anything peculiar about his surroundings. When Reggie goes looking for his schlepping ass, she is attacked by said zombie but, unlike her dimwitted boyfriend, she escapes. She returns home to find her sister unaffected by the stranger things going on. And they go out on an investigation into the wasteland that is Los Angeles to find answers and whatever.

Atlantic released Night of the Comet in the US on November 16, 1984, earning $3,580,578 in its opening weekend. It stayed in theaters for six weeks and grossed $14,418,922 total in the US. Rotten Tomatoes gave the film an 83% based on 29 critics’ reviews; the average rating is 6.4/10.

I’m not the biggest fan of the Walking Dead or of the zombie genre period… okay maybe not even a centimeter of a fan of TWD. But, the zombie apocalypse for me is like Turkey; yeah it’s good once in a while but, in recurring portions is downright boring. This however, is good and entertaining. I like how matter of fact it all played out even with the dated humor. The people act like people would act. At least, the few survivors we see during the story. The soundtrack is not bad and sparse. It’s good and the chicks that kick ass. Yeah, there’s a guy in this and he’s competent. But, it’s a female driven story and that’s okay. No need to get your testosterone pumped camo-panties all crunched up about this… ever. Film is art and there’s enough art for everybody.

So fringe your hair, commandettes. And strap your boots, boys. Keep it cool and chill and keep your damn holiday fingers on the Rewind Button.
 
 

Do you ever watch Japanese Anime and see the guy jump into a mech suit? The suit conforms to his body and plugs in mechanically to his biological tendencies? His physical hands and legs control the state of the art machine, but his mind controls the nuances, reactions, and timing. Do you ever wonder what its like to feel like that hero? I say to you, wonder no more. 

As digital and analog worlds combined in the 80s, the technology bled into other aspects of life, including the automotive world. 

As with most of our 80’s cars, the Oil Embargo was still on the mind of manufacturers. Toyota wanted to create something fun to drive while still being economically feasible. Toyota theorized that a mid engine layout would add a sporty feel, while giving balance for increased gas mileage. The SA-X was developed and then debuted at the Tokyo Motor Show as the SV-3. As the car was in test production, Toyota brought in famed Lotus engineer Roger Becker to help with the handling. The end result was the 1985 Toyota MR2.

And what a result it was. For the fraction of the cost, the common man can experience mid engine handling with sporty performance. The MR2 was extremely well received and made Car & Driver as well as Road & Track top 10 list for years. It also won Motor Trend’s Import Car of the Year. 

Superior handling even by todays standards make this car an instant and famous classic. Sitting in the cockpit with the front lights popped up show you just how short the hood is, and where the road actual meets the vehicle. The natural low profile of the car only adds to this euphoria. As driver and engine sit right next to one another in perfect harmony, the car becomes the ultimate extension of ones physical and mental capabilities. 

Although only 112 HP in the states, the lightweight frame and mid engine could get the car from 0-60 in the 8 second range. Much faster than even some of the American V8’s of the day. One upping the V8’s again, the MR2 attained 40mpg. However, 112 HP is hardly super car territory. So in 1988, Toyota introduced the supercharged version. The lightweight frame now had 145 HP and could do 0-60 in 6.5 seconds. 

For the looks of the car, little is known about the design aspect. All we know for now is that it was a team at Toyota in charge of the striking lines and aggressive look of the car. Clearly, it was inspired by Italian and British exotics of the day. Some even say that the first MR2 looks like a Lamborghini….. if they made a $10,000 model. 

MR2’s are still plentiful today. For a few grand, you could get one in more than great shape. This author should know, he’s owned 3 MR2’s himself. If you want all the retro looks, with the feel of something totally new, plug into this 

Tonight, we’ll be visiting the grave of a daring hero form far-off Japan. It never really made it all the way west, but it had ambitious beginnings and deserves a place in video gaming history. It was Sega’s first earnest attempt to go head-to-head with the mighty Nintendo, and despite its fall, it paved the way for future success by whetting the teeth of those involved. This entry into the Console Graveyard is… the Sega SG-1000.

A bright and sunny little thing, all too blissfully unaware of its imminent fate.

The “third generation” of console video games began a bit earlier than a casual observer may think. When Nintendo broke its champagne bottle over the Famicom and let it set sail, times were actually fairly lean in the console market. Launching a new video game system, no matter how innovative, could have been seen as a rather bold move. However, Nintendo had faith in their device, and it proved to be well warranted; by 1987, Nintendo dominated around 65% of worldwide video game console hardware sales.

Little do many know that Sega made a valiant attempt to compete with the growing monolith. When the arcade market that had been such a comfortable home for them took a downturn in ’82, Sega began developing the SG-1000. The company had recently sold off some licensing, and was split in to a North American R&D arm and its Japanese corporate branch. The president of the Japanese company, Hayao Nakayama, lobbied hard for Sega to apply its proven clout in the arcade realm to a home console. The end result was the stout little SG-1000, a strange creature that sort of bridged the gap between the Atari 2600 and Nintendo’s Famicom system.

A strange but colorful ad for the SG-1000. I say “strange,” but stranger has come and gone, to be fair.

The first iteration of the SG-1000 was a squat, bright white affair, very simple in its presentation but almost cheerful looking. The controller looked a lot like Atari’s, taking the form of a compact little joystick with broad orange buttons on either side. The graphics gently outperformed the 2600, but couldn’t quite compare to those of the Famicom system, with a modest 256×192 resolution and a 16 color palette. Part of the falling-short could be blamed on hardware component choices; the Zilog z80 CPU and Texas Instruments video and sound chips were the same ones used in the ColecoVision… a then-outdated system. In fact, an unlicensed system called the Telegames Personal Arcade was produced later on that could play both SG-1000 and ColecoVision games.

Screens from Flicky and Girl’s Garden, two of the more memorable titles for the SG-1000.

Despite these shortcomings, the system fared decently at very first, at least in domestic Japanese sales. It was also marketed in Spain with some initial success, but the American market never saw the SG-1000. However, a damning set of circumstances brought about the slow demise of Sega’s new baby. First off, much like some later consoles I’ve covered in this series of articles, Sega attempted to address flaws by simply redesigning and re-marketing the console in new forms. In July of 1984, another corporate buyout was followed by the release of the SG-1000 II. This new packaging included slightly improved controls and the ability to play Sega Card games as well as cartridges, but the console sold poorly out of the gate. An additional computer-keyboard style attachment did little to buoy sales, and the SG-1000 series was discontinued by October of 1985. The series was also badly hit by the crash of 1983, not to mention competition outside of Nintendo in its native Japan. While Sega had lost this battle with Nintendo, they learned a lot, and doubled down on their development of console hardware. The Sega Mark III was released that same year, and it evolved into the well-known Master System, a console that was finally able to compete well in the now-growing market. By 1988, the Genesis was emerging on the scene, and the wars of the fourth generation were in full swing.

Left to right: the Mark II, the 1100 keyboard attachment, and the SC-3000 (a last ditch effort to repackage the system as a personal computer).

While researching this article, I was able to find very little information of much detail on the SG-1000, which leads me to believe it is often overlooked out of hand. However, as we pay our respects at this dusty crypt, we see upon closer examination that we stand at the grave of an unsung hero. I hope at least a handful of our readers discovered something they hadn’t seen or known here today. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and may we never forget the little consoles that fell into the spaces between.

Thanks for reading!

Cyberspace; the World Wide Web; the internet.  Whatever you would like to call the now ubiquitous technology, it’s hard for many to remember a time when humanity wasn’t plugged in and online.  I remember the days of dial-up AOL and Netzero in the mid-to-late nineties, when I was a middle-school student, and technology has advanced much since those days.  What though helped transplant the idea of cyberspace into the public consciousness during a time when most people did not have computers and the internet was almost exclusively for military or governmental use?

 When William Gibson’s Neuromancer dropped into the science fiction book world in 1984, science fiction fans and critics alike knew immediately that it was a seminal work in the genre.  It was the first novel to win the Hugo, the Nebula, and the Philip K. Dick awards—a hat trick in the science fiction publishing.  By the 21st century, millions of copies had been sold, and the novel is still selling well, which is phenomenal, since most people today would likely rather surf the web than read a novel from three decades ago predicting what cyberspace (a term which the novel popularized) would entail for the general populace. Here was a work that married the fashion and attitude of 80s punk culture with the sweep of technological advancement, and we are still being influenced by it today.  Look at the popularity of The Matrix films (or at least, the first one), and try to say that cyberpunk, as Neuromancer heralded, is dead.

As important as the novel is, not only in science fiction, but also in literature in general, does it hold up?  People have been on the internet for years, and what takes place seems more fantasy than reality at times, especially the virtual reality, which is something people have strived for, but still is unsatisfactory in practical application.  I say yes; not due to the description of future technology, which science fiction authors will never get completely correct (though Gibson is a better futurist than most writers), but because of the engaging plot and the intriguing characters.  The host of characters includes regular humans, modified humans, clones, computer constructs of people, and AI (artificial technology).  Unless you’re paying strict attention, you may not know what each character is until the end of the novel.  It can also be confusing at times, especially for readers not used to hard-science fiction, as Gibson uses many technical terms revolving around hardware and software throughout the text.  Moreover, the plot is fast moving, and as we join the main protagonist Case on his mission following the murder of his girlfriend, he gains and drops allies, friends, and enemies, like a person’s weight on a yo-yo diet.  At times, I had to go back over a previous paragraph or page to make sure that I wasn’t lost.  I however believe that the pace/style was deliberate, and thus meshed with the punk sensibility that Gibson was trying to express. 

While most people still focus on the cyberspace/cyberpunk elements, I believe there is another aspect more relevant in the novel.  Without getting into too many spoilers, the nature of AI is one of the principal themes on which Gibson focuses.  Can a machine or a computer have a personality?  Should people allow it to increase in power and intelligence?  Will we continue to manipulate computers? Or will the computers learn to use us for their own ends?  Neuromancer grapples with these questions.  Scientists, military strategists, and philosophers are wrestling with these questions right now as technology advances, especially in the field of developing AI.  This month, Google’s AlphaGo defeated Lee Sedol, one of the top players in Go, which is considered by many to be the most complex game devised by humans.  Before the match, most experts believed that such a feat was at least a decade away.  So, will machines in the near future think, and if they do, will their thoughts lead to actions that benefit or harm humankind?

Is Neuromancer for the general reader?  It depends.  Those who do not touch science fiction literature at all probably will not have their opinion changed about the genre.  The book is not a casual read for those unfamiliar with technical terminology, and it will demand concentration from you even though it’s of moderate length.  Because it’s a novel that is often featured on reading lists, many likely purchased the book because “it’s one of those books you have to read in your lifetime.”  Thus, of the millions of copies bought, one can’t be sure how many were read to completion.  I do encourage you to try the book, even if it’s just to see how a previous generation tried to make sense of the dawn of the computer age.  If Gibson’s work is not for you, then so be it, but you should still acknowledge his effort in science fiction of shifting attention away from interstellar travel and grand space battles to look at near-future technology and how it would affect the public.

Written by Christopher Fried

http://www.christopherfried.com/