I have never been so uncomfortable, thought the hacker as they strained to match the wires in the fusebox, their head inches from one of the combine’s many potentially lethal harvesting blades. The lookout’s shadow was barely visible against the hangar door. Straining to clip the blue wire into the scanner, they heard a soft call and nearly lost an ear before remembering their uncomfortable position.
The specialist carefully manipulated the waldoes linked to the robotic arms in the front of the submersible. The pilot peered out of the top dome, the glare of the spotlights illuminating the complex structure of the oil rig but the visibility of this part of the Gulf of Mexico not allowing much to be seen past the first couple tangles of girders. A single wire tethered the craft to the surface, its sole purpose safely delivering the radio signal carrying its obscure music and coded instructions past fathoms of seawater. The robot arms clasped the watertight bale of Oaxacan tamales tightly. The mission was only half over.
The Thievery Corporation has institutionalized the plagiarism of genres, and this week's dub-influenced opener is no exception.
I really love Khruangbin, despite the pronounciation quandary they plunge me into whenever I play one of their songs.
Beach House's music always rings as the soundtrack to some brain-warped too-much-party film montage. WIth "Drunk In LA", their song titles are catching up with the vibe.
lacking.org