
Matt Walsh's newborn label Clouded Vision asked Shadow Cabinet to remix The Countach's acid-techno tune 'Melvin Never Made It.' Shadow Cabinet remixed The Countach's acid-techno tune 'Melvin Never Made It', and it can be downloaded exclusively here.





Versus video man Dialect and Versus contributor/FACT curator Heather Corcoran are representing the good ship Versus in Japan this week, out and about eating sushi, playing video games and getting weirded out by Maid cafés..However tonight they are heading out to Hiromart Gallery to check out "Celebrate The Celebration" a new solo exhibition by artist and lo-fi rock legend Jad Fair.
SOME SVENGALI YOU TURNED OUT TO BE
The last permutational prose poem I will ever write
We were applauded just for being alive. The adult attempts to saw the world in half. The child obeys him.
We were applauded for our ‘fallen into a toybox’ look. The adult attempts to justify the harshest cruelties and egotism of his friend through a sincere examination of his own conscience. The child pushes him into a shark tank.
We were applauded for our no nonsense take on the infantilism of our generation. The adult is left blank for your own message. The child is SORRY YOU’RE LEAVING.
We were applauded for our delicious stuffing mix. The adult cannot remember for the life of him why he went downstairs and has gone upstairs to jog his memory – or was he downstairs in the first place and must go back there to jog his memory about why he is now upstairs? The child has remained stationary throughout and is wearing your spectacles.
We were applauded for not taking you too seriously when you said our whole practice was built on bogus foundations. The adult just said his first sincere thing today at twenty minutes past three. The child will be right with you after he finishes reading comment number 16 under an Amazon review of a novel he hasn’t read, but suspects has been poorly served by its amateur critics; ‘What tributary,’ he mutters, ‘to what run-off pool have I channelled my thoughts?’
We were applauded for our bogus foundations. The adult snaps a chocolate bar in half and admires an edifice. The child kicks over a city.
We were applauded for self-loathing and self-publishing. The adult’s favourite question is ‘Any thoughts?’ The child’s raised eyebrow is more than sufficient.
We were applauded for diminishing returns and doing the washing up. The adult takes work where it can find it. The child carries all your furniture downstairs, piece by piece.
We were applauded for the inherent limitations of our craft. The adult was killed in an explosion, the child is skilled at exposition.
We were applauded for endless repetition. The adult attempts to compose herself, the child outruns its own programme.