A Review

For wandering minds.

My bare feet walk across the fleshy, squishy, warm tongue of a floor as I’m forced to explore the walls of a white whale. (“A Sea of Love”) I think something is coming, I really do. I could very well be talking to one of my tentacle friends from Nausicaa. As long as I don’t let my heart race, hold a mental connection for too long, surely the beings around me will continue on their way. Maybe I could settle here…. build a family here… Understand love……. Is that really the most important question I need to answer? 

(A review and interpretation of For Those Of You Who Have Never (And Also Those Who Have) by Huerco S.)

There’s this figure… you want me to follow you? You want me to bring… what do you mean spray of resistance? (“Lifeblood”) Where are we going? So many branches were hacking through, no clearing in sight. The ground is becoming unsteady, like rocks soon to become avalanches. I’m being spoken to by a floating, centered, talking wolf/dog head, who’s making eye contact with me but also surveilling the surroundings, with no words coming out. It might be a floating 2d head. Follow the school of wolves, I believe it says. So let’s do that. Carry on behind the pack of listeners. I’m still not really sure why he brought me here, but he cleared the path for me. Least I can do is follow in.

Ah the gravity cavern. Objects drip back and forth from ceiling to floor, back to ceiling again. (“Hear Me Out”) It’s happening to me too, the back and forth, and somehow I’m not nauseous. Layers and layers of droplets falling up, then down. Up, then down. I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of it. Manually punching in these records, that’s the work most Objects seem to. do in the cavern. We zoom out to see It’s showing up on a screen at one of our space stations. I don’t know how the monitor agent isn’t glued to their screen, watching this. Instead, they’re having coffee. A shame this generation is.

HUAGGGHHHP, I’m gasping for air, my head breaks the surface (“Kraanvogel”). I’m spinning, and spinning and spinning. Still spinning. Where am I? am I being spun, is the world spinning, or have I had an incorrect grip on reality this whole time? This and that, that’s what it feels like I’m working for, because nothing could ever possibly overcome this slow, seemingly never ending spinning. But wait It’s starting to clear up, I see the loading bar. Someones’s internet is reallllllly slow. I’m getting dizzy being a loading bar. 

Take me to the river, literally, as this song is called (“On the Embankment”). Not sure if he’s riding the waves of an ocean, or inter-dimensional travel. Maybe crawling through a tunnel at the underbelly of the ocean. Medicine for the weary is what I would call it. It’s the same sounds but different all the way through, and the further he goes, you can’t help but be chris as to if something will change. Take us through to a string of stars, carefully being plucked by God himself. 

Peter piper picked the last straw, is what this should be called (“Marked For Life”). Playdough is quickly formed into something that starts to look good, wholesome, healing, then is quickly thrown on the ground or smashed by various other methods. Whatever method the headmaster asks of us. Ouch, I’m being whipped to keep trying, to make a better mold than the last. But it’s never good enough, and I’m forced to start over. It’s a whole factory of us, actually. Accompanied by one, single, sentient machine, in the form of some kind of cube of course, with an arm for every one of us workers. I can’t wait for my gruel break. Oh no, they took Sarah away.

But now I’m off “work”, if you could call it that (“Cubist Camouflage”). I’m the main character, I’ve always been. And these piercing droplets of acid rain ain’t got shit on me. It’s one of those anime scenes where the protagonist (or maybe antagonist) is running up a flight of stairs, except the steps are light pedals, formed instantaneously as they step up into the air. Foes watch; some are eating, some working.

I’m brought to the question, what can one single, lone man offer (“Promises of Fertility”)? I feel you Huerco, it’s a good question. Something you can only really ponder sitting at your desk with a pillow clutched between your pits and chest, and it has to be 5am. There could be so much good? If there is suchh a thing. It’s mostly aimless, though, my efforts.

Woah there, stardust. Flying through the cosmos a little too fast for me, I haven’t even set up my saddle properly yet (“The Sacred Dance”). You move so slowly, you know that? Yet you cover so much ground, er, I mean space. It’s funny how you still gallop, like a flying reindeer, even though you don’t really have shape.Or color. Thanks for taking me through Galaxy 8, i feel like I can trust you now. I’m snake dancing in my seat. Counting all the shards we collected, The Grand Community will be pleased. Probably the part in the movie where something really bad happens though. And it’s really bad because it happens to such a beautiful dimension. I mentioned that, right? Stardust is one of the dimensions, like the 6.5th dimension or something. It’s a half, but a special one because it’s the only one that is finite. 

If you read it this far, thanks. It reminds me there is a cadence to everything, and to ride it when you’re within it. 

Huerco S. has been one of my best friends (not that I’ve ever met him) for the past year, and I’m glad to be have shared his work with you through my lens.