Frederic Madre

There is a light that says it's on. There is a hum that says it's on. It says it's cool. The ventilator moves its blades and the old processor keeps cold and ready. The kick start of a key pressed launches the cyberpunk band on and together. One voice. The bus fills with signal. The sound of music. The light says it's on. The hum of the ventilator is covered by the analogue sound of music. It's cool, it's on.

The cyberpunk rockband does not have a favorite color. The cyberpunk rockband is not a star, or it is. The cyberpunk rockband is a machine. The machine should be dead now. A machine should be dead when a new machine comes and is stronger. A new machine is always stronger. And then comes another new machine and another and another. A new machine is new. A new human is young. It works and plays and it sings. Breeds. Loves. Makes machines. Loves machines. Breaks down. Is replaced. A new human makes new machines, new loves, new work. Replaces the old human machine. Sings.

It's the same old song. The new song of youth and rebellion. The song of new being new being the future being now forever and ever being happy forever machines of happiness machines of love songs of work. Pause. The song remains the same. Pause. We loved the song and played it, forever in love with youth and ever beautiful and young ourselves. On and cool. Pause. Work. We loved and bred and a new song came for our young. The new song played for a while. We played the old song from time to time. We sang the old song. It was dead. It meant peace and understanding. What was the other ? It was dead and we still played the song and we still sang the song and we were old and we had to be replaced. New machines, new songs. Repeat. Brand as new.

We walk, we talk. We make and break. We hit, we miss. Singing in the streets. Singing to ourselves the dreams we had, the loves, the new machines we had to play. One voice sings in our heads. It's a happy voice, the new voice we have to play. We walk and talk. The voice sings our walk and walks our talk. The voice talks of us as new, young, happy. The voice talks of our new love. It's sweet, it's cool. It's on. We work, always with new machines, always singing like our voice once said. We were once new, replacing machines as fast as we could, never replacing the voice. Still. Press key.

One voice. The bus fills with signal. The sound of music. The cyberpunk rockband is playing our song. The kick start of a key pressed. The machine, replaced, the voice, replaced, the long lost voice of the new, always replaced. The kick start of our youth, replaced with the new youth, forever replaced and trashed, our love. Our long lost love, it hums. Cold and ready, it's on. It's cool, it's on. The cyberpunk rockband is on. It's not a star. I can't interview the cyberpunk rock band. It does not have a favorite color. I interview Alexei Shulgin. He says "[...] But is hard the work like mine . Pause. "now i think the project is very sincere and constructive". Play.