Sixthclone
RECAP 1.0 // [要するに]

Why talk about vaporwave in 2019? A genre that has been out of fashion for at least five years, and even if it had made a comeback in the meantime, it certainly has had the time to go out of fashion once more? It’s a good question.

I’m talking about it because when it was the time to talk about it, I didn’t understand anything. When it was time to understand, I didn’t get it. Got it, nikinigaji-klooo-hornykorrea-stigrantakaji? You allowed yourself to understand, in fact, you enjoyed understanding … you amused yourself by understanding, when a large part of mindlessness didn’t understand, or maybe I alone didn’t understand. And today, when there is nothing left to understand, I have understood … I think I’ve understood.

Let’s put it this way, I’m talking about it because I’ve only now managed to savor its effect properly. Thanks to the musings of this Sixthclone.

The scene with Maurizio Costanzo presenting Sgarbi's poems, or Pierobon’s announcement instantly made me feel like a man from the future observing a recovered film of a vanished civilization.

The camera shot that ends inside the engine bay of a Uno gives the impression of being on board a spaceship falling into a black hole.

Reflecting on vapor, it’s a strange thing, made by young people for a rather circumscribed group of not-so-young people, and therefore with an expiration date already built into its premise. You have to have lived certain things to feel its effect. It’s the contrast between memory and the treatment given to it that creates the effect. If there are no memories, what effect can you generate?

And ultimately, it was also a very provincial genre.

The slowed down, twisted theme of the Late Night Show, spread over an '80s commercial, perhaps of a Joe Montana, and recorded by a cellphone while it’s broadcast from a telefunken model siamo-scienza–non-fantascenza, has a different effect in San Francisco compared to what it can do in Busto Arsizio. Around here it wouldn’t work much. Much better a Guido Angeli in cathode tube pixels highlighted like dirty grout between tiles, or Japanese writings in the shadow of Tini Cansino’s bosom, and above a carpet of “presto presto su corriam che comincia bim bum bam” deformed. All of this would indeed be devastating.

We need Italian vapor onanists to make vapor precisely crafted for Italian eyes and ears. It’s crucial for the disorienting effect.

And I really believe we can afford Italian vapor onanists of quality, why deny ourselves? …why indeed?

Do you remember that alessioaleradiano stream of consciousness that was a bolt from the blue … the editorial of all editorials? Wasn't that also a vaporous mockery? A mockery for anything that comes to mind, as long as it’s birthed from a mind that in turn was born by the end of the seventies. If you were born in the mid-eighties or later, you can’t consider yourself mockable in this way, I’m sorry.