3 Days Of Solitude

I dreamt that Michael Jackson was at my party, dancing to a Michael Jackson song I had never heard before. I hid my face in the sheets and watched the guests arrive, but they could see me seeing them and I felt ashamed--but simultaneously proud that my party featured Michael Jackson--so I closed my eyes but I could still see them seeing me and they smiled at me knowingly. Beneath my eyelids I crept to a dark place to find solace and there I found three things: 1. Nostalgia, 2. a pair of black socks I had lost two years ago and 3. an unreleased, never-before-heard Michael Jackson beta tape. The nostalgia was a pole you could swing down to take you to the fire engines and I did that and found myself listening to some old tunes that remind me of the façades of 18th century Nancy and its environs--Laxou, Tomblaine, Jarville-la-Malgrange, Malzeville, and of course, the unforgettable Dommartemont borne from the veins of a larger concept, as an after-thought, being the least populated. This was the result of the first:

Test Icicles - What's Your Damage (Alan Braxe and Fred Falke remix)

Hot Chip - My Piano

Gudrun Gut - Move Me