Notes on "I Am Not"
by Bradley Eros and Alison Nguyen

Out of the chaos-cloud of sonic assault, tumbling in reverse comes audience applause and public speech: a pontificating male politician, talking S D R A W K C A B, our very own Herr Prez D.T. (Delirium Tremens) in his jocular mumbo-jumbo, de-trumped de-dumpty.

Arising in opposition to this dense mesh comes the calm locution of a replicant’s voice, an automatically-articulated robotic litany of manic denial, a disavowal of extreme psychotic states, in a programmed, un-ironic diction. The speaker then unknowingly goes off the skids, glitch-driven into the code of its own makeup:

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returning, without missing a beat: . . .“demonically possessed,” where the repetitive breakdown, involuntarily reveals the coded structure, calling into question the voice’s hyper-normalized identity. This robotic-reversed crypto-jacked report-rant, unhinged or pried loose from a metronome’s hit-and-run hysteria, confirms that “the positing of the “I” is a process infused with its own upheaval” (Kristeva).

The sound-bed in which this eerie female vocal resists integration is a tangle of propulsive rhythms, shards of broken glass, sharp metallic stabs and brief tears in the disintegrating fabric of a fevered collage of musique concrète samples. The faulty connection of a guitar amp plug resembling the cocking of a rifle and the high-pitched slash of violin strings establish the texture of violence re-asserted by the over-modulated granular command to “Kill!”

What is the accumulative effect of this shambolic locution? A warning shot? A rant of resistance? A hyena hijacking the hacking? A fevered refusal to lie down and take this present-dented inanity and accept the hysterical trump-of-the-will?