Ultra Magnus and DJ SLAM! are dead. At least as far as you and I are concerned. Why did Magnus Opus take so long to create? Was it the careful re-appropriation of samples and beats? Was it the curation of the arrangements of melodies? The meticulous scribing of rhymes and phrases?
No. Due to the current tumultuous political climate, as the world prepares for a Trumpening, Magnus turned to SLAM! and said,”Let’s build a rocket and get out of here while we still can!” And so they moved on to the next habitable planet, and left behind their greatest work: highly intelligent, bio degradable, 3D printable, cybernetic clones of themselves. And from the new planet they inhabit they beam intricate code to their Dopplegangaz, via a relay of satellites that only ever orbit each other once a century and lock signals once a millennia.
On Sept 2 the duo finally deliver their message as the planets and satellites align. The sad and vacant look on SLAM!’s face washes away and he grabs his vinyls to methodically make beats happen. And Ultra Magnus abandons his dead-end job to the bewilderment of his coworkers, and rockets appear from underneath his heels as he launches off into the stratosphere. SLAM’s vinyls spin so fast that they rip apart and become turbines propelling him upwards. The two clones, now receiving the signal in full, rendezvous on the moon and record another album.
And so the duo, one last time, make music for babies, the unborn, virgins, Hilary Clinton, Ilana Glazer, your aunt, your best friend in second grade who taught you how to swing on your own,veterans, ex-ISIS members who left behind their caliphate to pursue Buddhism, white males between the ages of 15 and 99, No. 99, and you. Yes, you too can enjoy the passage of air through the throat of a man who understands just how fake all of this is, and the gentle sampling of a man who probably has something better to do, like sleep on the dark side of a new moon he discovered. Enjoy!
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