beatrixweapons in convo with torre alain underground flower

beatrixweapons makes sounds that feel like images smooth to the touch on alien skin with the sudden fades and insistent rhythms of a resynthesized and algorithmic world. i've wanted to speak with them since i clicked my way into the micro-world of their track Λᄂᄂ FᄂΥIПG (new Sky) with umбra early in 2020; when things finally come to the moment, language always breaks. i decided to mostly speak in code; likewise in their new ep, extrahuman, words and sounds are destroyed and half-reborn as something that echoes in our wizened yet hopeful hearts. these tracks are like tools to me, something material we can grasp and feel, with which we could forge a new and transformative idea of self and future that finds itself unfurling back beyond ancient time.

beatrix: we are in a different world we can hug until we can cry velvet and pink water no one will be able to seperate us from the beginning of all time we are creatures about to be born again and fear will never be able to shake us again we are bright and calm we have annihilated our former selves and now we are invincible

halo: the reclaiming of free sky which like a trench catches so many puddles the languages of clouds the messengers’ apparitions underground the restless workshops of chemistries like songs the rain’s demands its crude tingling like a ruminating shell

b: we are above the terrestrial. now everything is supernatural and illuminated precious and colorless mutation. i was thinking for a long time about the end of the final catastrophe. we all looked at each other calm and bright. we had turned and embraced higher creatures. you are the evolved. precious and colorless mutation. what if we are not on invented land? why don't we kiss the silence forever? precious and colourless mutation precious and colorless

h: sacrificing now to other instincts the adamantine insistence impossible landscapes raw to my senses and the flower's triangle engraved in my pupil and the land velvet with glowing dust and a lost soul’s dwelling-place and so many others and so many others

b: help help 45. ableton help help help 45 ableton live our little children are crying and they dont want to drink. they have splashed our apathy and our life fades in their hands. look look look look im an insect im a monster in need of expansion. i want to destroy my soul and not be born again. just save me just save me. xxccvv salvation3500zccd1155x. help help help help 45. ableton help help help ableton live

h: the deep piercings of peaks the endless horizon the sensitive pulp of truth and all I understand and in which I no longer believe the clot of what I couldn't understand rising in my throat

b:we've faded to the beginning of all time we have decomposed the stature where we were standing none of this had happened. now we have time to decay to the most intense rain before seeing the sky more immense and shaken, when we all come to appreciate that this is all an illusion and that your eyes do not belong to any habitable human being that we know of. the reconstruction of our cables finally sounds like scrapped metals and materials flying over our infinite minds. we are going to become that which does not exist yet and we will grow four devastating wings newskynewskynewsky

h: and now our eyes guide the cyclone dusky bright intentions the giddy salvos of the stars the wind coughs to the limit where death lays down its load in our numbed consciousness thunder waterfalls of echoes when the earth remembers and tosses its suffering

b: with all the broken windows we can neglect our arteries flying and bleeding, approaching our most forgotten and late past. now is the time to return and love. the gods give the most uncertain kick and we all embrace each other discolored and ungry in the square of oblivion. there is no longer fear. there is no more fear. there is no more fear there is no fear ͔̳̕ṱ̴here ̷̮̗͈is n̪ͅo͓͢ ͡mo̷re͉̤̯ fear͉͓̣̞.̶̳̞͖ ̶t̥ͅhḙ́re̖ ̞is n̛͓o ̀mor̬̻e f̞̩͉è̦ar t̷̯here̝̭̤ͅ is n̲̟o ̵͚f̼̜͢ḛ̛̹̞a͉̪̤͙r t̼͙̠h̨̰̙̲e̗͕̞ͅr͓͎e ̝̗̹is ̷̝n̗̠̻͟o̖ ̵̻f̯̰̗̯ear ̬t̻̟̙̜he͈̪̕ ̵̯ͅcit̸͈y ̥͍̗̣is͈̬ i҉nve̯̯͕̮ǹ̮̣̙ṯe̟͔d ̖̖͓th̴e͇̭̝ ci̞̱͈ͅty i͇̳͙̺s ̨t̲͈͡he new ̦̝͠city̺̦̦̜ ̲̕is ͔͉͢t͏̥̝h̲͓e n̴̩̦ew ̶̙city͈ ̭͕̩i͍̥̬s͙͖ ̢͔̯̠th̳͈e̙͚ ̶͍n̗̜̪ew ͔̳̕ṱ̴here ̷̮̗͈is n̪ͅo͓͢ ͡mo̷re͉̤̯ fear͉͓̣̞.̶̳̞͖ ̶t̥ͅhḙ́re̖ ̞is n̛͓o ̀mor̬̻e f̞̩͉è̦ar t̷̯here̝̭̤ͅ is n̲̟o ̵͚f̼̜͢ḛ̛̹̞a͉̪̤͙r t̼͙̠h̨̰̙̲e̗͕̞ͅr͓͎e ̝̗̹is ̷̝n̗̠̻͟o̖ ̵̻f̯̰̗̯ear ̬t̻̟̙̜he͈̪̕ ̵̯ͅcit̸͈y ̥͍̗̣is͈̬ i҉nve̯̯͕̮ǹ̮̣̙ṯe̟͔d ̖̖͓th̴e͇̭̝ ci̞̱͈ͅty i͇̳͙̺s ̨t̲͈͡he new ̦̝͠city̺̦̦̜ ̲̕is ͔͉͢t͏̥̝h̲͓e n̴̩̦ew ̶̙city͈ ̭͕̩i͍̥̬s͙͖ ̢͔̯̠th̳͈e̙͚ ̶͍n̗̜̪ew

there is a sense of annihilation. it is precious; i welcome it. flying and desolate, moving toward each other with impossible hands, glowing softly, pulsating with a brutal ecstacy.


sounds by @beatrixweapons | convo by Beatrix and Halo (Torre Alain)