The Walls Have Ears. Robot Ears

This happens almost every night. I can hear my housemate and his girlfriend fucking through the rice paper-thin wall that divides our rooms. I need to do something, step out for a while, drink a beer on the roof or just drown them out as usual, with a pair of headphones plugged directly into the infinite sea of entertainment possibilities that is the Internet.

Some kind souls have taken to posting feature length movies, broken down into easy to digest pieces on YouTube. Bless them. As a result I've been watching David Cronenberg's 1981 classic "Scanners" in 10 minute slices. Like most of Cronenberg's movies, Scanners feels septic. Equally though, like most movies set "IN THE FUTURE" from 1981, it has that grainy porno vibe that adds to the oily sense of unease in ways that they couldn't possibly have predicted when they made it.

I feel similarly when listening to Kraftwerk. Much like watching "Scanners", listening to Kraftwerk in 1981 must have been a mind-fuck. Both opened windows into hypothetical futures and neither looked very bright. Could "Scanners" be right? Would there be a telekinetic underground uprising, reducing us to slaves under the whip of those with extrasensory capabilities? Was there truth in Kraftwerk's vocoder filtered words? Would we all turn our backs on our humanity, choose isolation and give ourselves over to computer love? From their beginnings in 1974, Kraftwerk's visionary style laid foundations so solid, sprawling and intricate that all electronic music that followed owes them a debt of gratitude. So ahead of their time, their often mournful, synthetic melodies, bleeps and squeaks paint a picture of NOW so prophetic that, like that poor bastard from the beginning of "Scanners", thinking about it makes my head feel like it's going to explode

Kraftwerk - Heimkomputer (Live) - 1981 (Mediafire)