Underworld – Moaner
from Beaucoup Fish (1999) /hardball techno grind/
everyone is smiling, the smiling is pushing it around
is pushing it around like the shadows – in the evolution in the dark
and the super boys
where time is old, when time is everything, when time of all this started
as we turn to earth – earth wind and fire
get the sun in your head
black metal walls are falling
i am the hunger above your town, a little sound in a little amp
i am dubious
i am metal
i am stainless
i am milk in your plastic
i am wrapped in ribs and left alone on a full moon
where the only thing i could do lying awake on the floor at night
the ocean between us opens
the silence is indifferent
A claustrophobic muddle of bodies shoving against each other, moving across toward opposite ends. The bright white sun cursing down over their sweat and frustration. And then. There it is. Focus on. Red bandana against blurred backdrop, threading through downturned noses and cell-phone chatter. It’s him. And then. Against the tide. Body turned sideways. Slip through an opening. Next one’s too small. Wall of bodies. Quick glimpses of red. The teeming plaza. And then. Body turn inside out, shed its mass to flow above the mob. Not likely. Stuck in the wet heat. Dirty hand clawing from behind tattered cloth. Try to climb. Temporary neighbour’s knee’s not so much a foothold. Lurching. Sprawling forward. Skinned knee. Stand up. Go on. Glimpses of red. And then. It’s crushing in. Louder. Shoulder viciously in the face. Stinging, reeling. But lip curled. Teeth clenched tight. Determination. Force it now. Just force it. Through the mass of bodies tighter and tighter. Push. And then. Eyes closed. Glimpse of red. Hands out. Stance bent pressure forward. Tear the next opening. Fuck me? Fuck you. Shove back. Move it. Against the tide. Like a serrated heavy iron barricade pressing closer. Press back. Against a steady hurricane flinging insults and armpit stench. Follow the red. Keep on. Living muscle, bone and cloth, nails and butted elbows. And then. A hint of lighter air. Eyes open. At the edge. The throng behind and in front the fresh and boundless air stretching and flowing. And then breathe.