Paperhouse

One day on the Cut this autumn I was scritchin’ and scratchin’ — you know, you know, professionally beat matchin’ some vinyl — when a shadowy figure loomed before me. I squinted my eyes and saw what appeared to be an android bearing an anthracite guitar and a glowing red 2001 iMac monitor on his head. He said no words; rather, he tilted his head, and white buzzing squares on the screen began to race. Slowly he spit out two CDs from his palms and handed them to me.

He turned and began to leave without saying a word. I couldn’t allow myself to see him leave without knowing his name, so I quickly slipped, “Wh— Who are you?” In a bitcrushed tone he crunched back, “Robot Cowboy.”

Robot Cowboy — Dan Wilcox: a futuristic, expatriate American space ranger who combines wearable computing, MIDI guitar, and live energy to wander the digi-range playing for dying astronauts. This is a low-fi guitar show with algorithmic balls from a devospud, laptop-stomping idiot wearing exposed electronics.

His mission, you ask?

“You are unwittingly controlled by your machines; I feel obligated to return the favor through sonic variations in time and booty shaking. I will protect you from the arcane sonic forces which threaten your very existence.”

He’s roaming on campus somewhere. You should find him and ask him for a demo on how to masterfully use PureData.

Want to hear what he’s got in store for you, cosmonaut? Type this universal resource locator into your Internet browser: www.robotcowboy.com/category/media/

Bisous,