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Artist
Charly McLion
12+ albums
about
In the mid nineteen-nineties, as the acid house boom began to become codified and regulated - much like the period of systematisation experienced by the wandering tribes on their return to Israel, a period in which much that was free and liberating about their movement became closed, much that was improvised became subject to rules and much that was transcendent grew clogged with analysis and discussion - many clubbers became disenfranchised. Among them was Mick Jagger, who, having read an excoriating satirical editorial in Tatler about club culture in the late eighties, had decided to try it himself, and had scoured the fields and fens of England in his Lamborghini Marzal searching for the beat, and had found it, and himself, over and over again, repeatedly; dancing out there in the darkness, the sky above him like a vast platitudinous canvas, the colour of hot Vimto. But Jagger, like so many others, saw what he had loved done down by the rise of superclubs, pills stamped with Mitsubishi logos in sweatshops by German children and the glut of records designed by men to make other men take their tops off and nothing in their frequencies or rhythms that connected the listener to any one of the four cosmoses. Jagger though, whose Spenglerian view of history allowed him to see all human history as a series of cycles of transcendence and codification, did not mourn the decline of acid house, but saw in that decline an opportunity for a new rebirth, a chance to turn the wheel agai
