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Imagine A.I. amalgamating the last avant-hard sonicists of a future-past for the final anthem: that mad dance of a civilization lost in sunshine ruin. PAKASTEET: the frozen section of the space formerly known as the supermarket. Blender. Tannoy. The void has been filled, but what’s that IN IT? BEING: the refrain. Down the aisle, on the trolley, trollied, legs off the ground . . . BEING: the memory of. ’We’re all busy talking to ourselves,’ groans Charles Hayward (This Heat, This Is Not This Heat, Camberwell Now), man of skins; El Hombre Invisible on the Overground. ‘Everybody’s looking in the mirror.’ BEING: a possible tomorrow, cut and drawn out long by the warbling of the cot and the battlefield: Jussi Lehtisalo (Circle); it doesn’t end, after all . . . is that a theremin, or are you just happy to see me? The void has been filled, but what’s that IN IT? PAKASTEET. BEING. And so completing the labyrinth of the void formerly known as the frozen section, the molten salt SPREADS: Mika Taanila (Swissair), celluloid-wielding soothsayer of Nordic moving-image, returning to his origin in sound through the highs and the lows and the limitless possibilities of ELECTRICITY: ‘The past? Let me tell you about the past: THE FUTURE!’ (Stanley Schtinter)



Inspiried by early Tuxedomoon’s bittersweet melodies, Negativland’s angular collage attacks, looseness of Mark Z. Danielewski’s novel House of Leaves and the mind-boggling short films by John Smith, here is… Pakasteet with Charles Hayward!