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Video game tunes, imaginary soundtracks from neverland, and a whole series of sounds produced by fortunately useless machines. Ah, the beauty of copy and paste. And beautiful, indeed very beautiful, this vintage and deconstructed electronic music, blurred yet bright. From the bedroom/laboratory come colors charged with a secret vibration and (fantastic!!!) the mind lights up like a bulb. If the singer is then a robotic sprite, a sort of Teletubbies as the manual says, well, I light up even more. In the kaleidoscope/patchwork, words then whistle between the primitive and the childish. They're phrases like “why does the sun set, why do we all go away” or “I don't want winter, I can't bear for everything to end,” in short, life and death arm in arm with juggling, but like this, as if it were nothing, and only a hint of disturbing unease. And anyway, the freaks have ended up in the playroom this time, and all the mistakes are no longer mistakes but poetic licenses. Be careful, you won’t be able to do without it anymore. Trallallà...
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