Lemme tell you about our forthcoming LP, The Birdwatcher's Guide to Atrocity.

It's an album about rage, resilience, burnout, ecstasy, suicide, healing, magic, and the making of new worlds within and without.

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Details first!

The team behind it included

• me (Alex—former singer of ThouShaltNot, author of Assimilate: A Critical History of Industrial Music, songwriter & theorist at Ithaca, NYU's Clive Davis Institute, U. Florida)

• Aaron Fuleki, drummer + producer

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• Sarah Hennies, percussionist & co-producer

with contributions from Bill Drummond (yes, THAT Bill Drummond of the KLF), Sarah Maag, Laura Bienz (of Lorelei Dreaming), Suzannah van Gelder, Morgan Decker

It's Seeming's 3rd LP, the followup to SOL: A Self-Banishment Ritual

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What's it sound like?

bombastic domesticity
a dissection of goth pop's athletic corpse
your mistakes all grown up
chamber ensembles having nervous breakdowns
a New Orleans funeral of future-past-future
dysphoric euphoria
weaponized postpunk
radical softness
vengeful botany

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If what you want is a straight-up album of <insert genre>, our new LP is here to punish you.

And then tend your wounds.

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Imagine something bigger and smaller. A brutalist world whose building blocks are mossy worlds themselves. Zoom out and it's a jungle. Blink and you'll miss it. A thousand-foot mushroom in the shape of the political obverse. It rains primates here.

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These are pop songs, sure. Struggling against their own limits as pop songs. The album's biggest shortcoming is its failure to glacialize and terraform. But it does manage to assassinate, celebrate, and speak in tongues.

That's something, at least.

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The old critique—that music was too much about image—was never fully reconciled. 21st-centurty capitalism merely fed us amnesia, and we forgot the argument altogether. The Birdwatcher's Guide to Atrocity sets down its binoculars and closes its eyes. It is postvisual.

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At times it becomes post-aural, too. This happens when the haunting is complete. When a ghost rips the sky and reminds us it's only sky.

You know when theatre lights overlap, they make unexpected colors? It's like that.

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All of this is certainly egomaniacal. But I'm trying, in my neurodivergent cardinality of elseness, to communicate (both in these tweets and on the album) what it's like to behold every particle as dire, every word as too much, all without buckling under the cosmos.

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The album comes out of a naïve hope—interrupted by squawks high above—that a better world is possible. A world marked by its continuous motion, its queer unfolding in timeless perpetuity, its kissing chasms of punctuated change.

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Everything is more and less than it seems, and at once exactly what it is. Buzzing with potential, simultaneously hot breath and cold meat. We keep going because our blood is full of iron, and because our architecture is full of soul.

The drums sound really good here.

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It's planned and careful, but also wholly spontaneous. A punch in the gut, an arrow through the head, and a surgery of a thousand sonnets. Hip-hop at the edges, utopian synthpop as a mask, the rose-colored memory of post-post-industrial.

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Do you miss that moment when music meant something more to you?

And at the same time do you curse nostalgia itself for its fascist trimmings?

Vexed thus, do you sit in quiet desperation? Do you throw bricks at glassy skyscrapers? You're all welcome here. It can change.

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Let's make meaning. And meaninglessness. And unmaking. And let's dance.

Pre-order The Birdwatcher's Guide to Atrocity here:

http://bit.ly/SeemingLP3 

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