Short story.
‘What even is this?’
‘He’s a Marion.’
‘Marion who?’
‘No, he’s a Marion. You know, like a puppet.’
‘That’s a marionette.’
‘Yeah but he’s full size so he’s a Marion.’
‘I don’t see any strings.’
‘He’s being controlled by something else. Look.’
‘No shit. It’s like he’s possessed.’
‘Isn’t it great?’
‘Everybody fucking hates him. They’re all giving him pelters.’
‘Of course they are, that’s how it works. See that box over there on the stage? It listens to the crowd and turns sound into movement through him. Watch. DANCE, BITCH! DANCE FOR ME!’
‘That’s mean.’
‘It works best if you sound angry. Swear words mostly.’
‘Wait, what’s he doing? That’s insane. Did you really do that?’
‘Hell yeah. Bitch always gets the right arm jabbing like that. I’ll prove it. DANCE, BITCH! You try it.’
‘GET TAE FUCK!’
‘Whoa did you see that? That was like he was wrestling an invisible snake.’
‘Cool, right?’
‘But... Why?’
‘There is no why, boyo. It just is. He wants this to happen. He surrenders himself to the abuse.’
‘That is a world of wrong.’
‘They don’t take it personally. Its all art, man! Try it again.’
‘I can’t think of anything to shout. My mind’s blank.’
‘Just imagine you hate him.’
‘YOU’RE SHIT!’
‘That’s the spirit, soldier! Well, it’s a start anyway.’
‘YOUR MUM’S A COW! Cow seems to make him do a half turn, look... COW COW COW! ‘He’s like Michael Jackson spinning around.’
‘Careful, you’ll make him dizzy.’
‘Who even does this?’
‘He’s probably getting off on it. Yeah, look at his face.’
‘Okay... I’ll maybe stop shouting now.’
‘It started in Berlin. Bands started using The Chip to control synths but the some of the Chip controllers were starting to go haywire and the feedback jolted them around to the music.’
‘You mean they were plugged directly into their sequencers and whatever?’
‘Aye. Controlling them with their minds. A flick of the wrist plays a chord, a touch of an ear controls a distortion pedal, that kind of thing. Someone discovered if you reversed the inputs and outputs you could do this.’
‘So the instruments are fighting back?’
‘Yes! Just think, that bass you’ve been slapping since you were fifteen probably really hates you. Isn’t it exciting that we’ve come so far that instruments can play people?’
‘We’ve come so far… GET OFF, YA WEE BASTARD! That wasn’t so good, it only twitched his ankle. This is oddly compelling.’
‘I saw this cabaret show last week, twenty Marions on stage at once dancing to The Man ‘Don’t Give A Fuck by Super Furry Animals.’
‘Please tell me you have a video of that.’
‘Of course. Sending you it now (blinks a lot).’
Now there’s nothing much to do… but sit and rot in front of televisions… staring back at me... Just waiting for the microwaves to wash you to the sea…
‘Nothing’s happening.’
‘Wait til it gets to the chorus...’
You know they don’t give a fuck about anybody else!
You know they don’t give a fuck about anybody else!
You know they don’t give a fuck about anybody else!
‘That is a work of art. When can I see this for real?’
‘There’s actually something even more out there. It’s on tonight, but it’s extreme. It might take you somewhere you don’t want to go.’
‘What, killing people with music?’
‘Not killing them. The artists take things as far as they can go to the last second. They completely surrender themselves to the hardest, loudest manipulation. It’s called Defibrillator. I can get us in.’
‘As long as no one dies.’
’…’
‘Wait, people can die?’
‘I wasn’t there, but one girl did. Once. She jacked in for too long, and too hard but that’s really frowned upon.’
‘You think?’
‘You have to see it.’
The hashtag area:
More Boxhead: