Occupy your definition

Occupy - verb (used with object)

1.

to take or fill up (space, time, etc.): I occupied my eveningsreading novels.

2.

to engage or employ the mind, energy, or attention of:Occupy the children with a game while I prepare dinner.

3.

to be a resident or tenant of; dwell in: We occupied the samehouse for 20 years.

4.

to take possession and control of (a place), as by militaryinvasion.

5.

to hold (a position, office, etc.).

The power of position. Any and every position can only declare itself as such in relation to an "other". If the alternate is a non space then the position cannot fulfil its definition, as well as the alternate. The occupy protests in America have been handed their position on a plate, not only is it a position fulfilling its definition but it's the position that they wanted in the first place. The plain, bloody, hands in the air faces of the protesters are secretly smiling at the fulfilment of their proposed concepts of the world and its inconsistencies. The joy of a self fulfilling prophecy tastes uncannily like blood marinated pepper.

Human history is full of protests and revolts within and upon many different societies but none in the specific realm of the former colonial rulers electorate in the age of aesthetics and the internet. Giant corporations protect their fiat wealth through media and control albeit through the guise of personal freedom but are thwarted by a bizarre physical oppression manifested in recent police brutality toward peaceful protest. (This intelligence) - http://rememberhuman.blogspot.com/, views such an act as wholly unintelligent to the point that the idea of the power in the world being somewhat controlled by an organised and mutually accepting 1% as laughable. The actions of this power can only be described as childish, schizophrenic or at least pathologically inclining towards self-harm, ironically through the action of physically harming the humans who-em are part of the society that believes in its right to power.

The Occupy movement in London is a much more stationary affair. Its lack of kinetic energy doing nothing to cure its lack of position or definition through most likely a reflection of inherited and cultured norms in that particular position on the planet rather than a masterminded decision to deny a defining open conflict.

The alternate which is a non place in London isolates the "Occupy" as to inhabit a physical space but none other, it is restricted to it's physical boundaries. Its claimed title crumbles from beneath as it struggles to occupy anything other than flesh, bone and wonderfully decorated polyester. Such a primitive organism (56k) could possibly survive in a previous age. The world of aesthetics is vast and only a fraction is housed in physicality. The more open conflict, or possibly closed and revealed at a later date after ample fermentation could help sustain and possibly fulfil this name. Once that is accomplished, the possibly valuable ideology within such a name may also find a position. Moving from its previous abode, the liminal socialist housing complex.

Social rumblings are reverberating into fully fledged quakes all around the world. Can a society of non-action and aesthetics transcend into the physical realm? Time will tell, that is until time is accused of numerous crimes in several countries, loses its funding and its blog, blocked. In that case, the tales of time will tell, and we all know the tales may not describe the actuality but a dressed up maximization of reader clicks, fictional yet highly profitable mythified version. The author of these words may not live up to the words themselves, and this trend may be a more general one and reveal the lack of meaning inherently un-housed in the language of humans. Only one thing can be sure. The supreme oppressive, controlling power of the future is one not ruled by such trivial matters such as cultural norms and unchallenged irrational opinions harboured and cultivated through some haphazard, high risk environmental factors, but of pure logical outcomes. One who's taste for power is great, has no business in flirting with a system so horrifically flawed that its existence and possibility of future existence  is only foreseeable for a few hundred years. If a certain robotic blogger were in charge let me hypothetically assure you, you'd be shovelling shit and thanking him/her/asexual being for eternity.

Battles; through the eyes of a robot

Battles' long awaited second album "Gloss drop". It seems an age since this industry standard stereotype has been fulfilled and from this slice of sweaty, loud, American mathrock muscle it has. Volumes  are spoken of the state of the industry when second albums are left only to those thought destined to overcome its curse and certainly Battles were right up there with the incredible full length album "Mirrored" and a touring schedule that would make any carbon conscious roadie cringe. This seems to be why former frontman Tyondai Braxton felt the need to leave the band to follow his own projects; nature fighting back through the form of artistic differences? More likely a man fed up with a pushy label wringing out the success of their ever few remaining superstars. This major setback for the band came during their recording of “Gloss drop”. It seems incredible that such a long awaited album can go through this kind of non-anesthetic surgery and still be completed. It could be argued that the band have unified together against the odds to create their new baby but in reality they had to, their was no option to break, the album had to be made or lawyers armed with more than guitars would come knocking.

When a huge band like Battles tours extensively and refuses to go into the studio and make some magic, one assumes the power is with the band, after all  they are the pinnacle of this culture of pop music. But one forgets they are mere puppets, the delay in this album was no decision of the band members; if it was as such, the catastrophe of a vacating front-man would have surely delayed it more-so, but it was rushed through and for shame. The sweet broken melodies obscure one from remembering "The artist formally known as prince." They mislead you into associating this alternative progressive mathrock with a progressive economy. “Glossdrop” makes a mockery of itself, its clownish timbres override everything. The question I ask is why.

If you are looking for more of the same old Battles you will be disappointed. This offering is more math-jelly than math-rock. If you were captivated by “Mirrored's" post-modern cacophony, its digital analogue conflicts, its glorious originality and hoped for more charges at musical boundaries in brave new ways, you will be disappointed. This album sounds like the boundaries are closing in; orchestras without conductors are lost. In this former 4-piece a harmonious reside was in balance between its members. Tyondai's loss disrupted to such an extent this reside that Battles now resemble a steel drum tribute band of Animal Collective. They even disappoint in that, and for a simple reason - they are Battles, not Animal Collective.

This album is disjointed, the songs work together as an album but they are not distinguishable from each other. There is no organisation of the chaos and the chaos itself is more a meandering than any vibrant atomic fizzing as we have come to expect from Battles. "Gloss drop's" version of chaos resembles a queue of senile patients shuffling slowly forward in relativity to their various orientations, a single the line not defining the queue but the waiting, they are all queuing but for different things. This album needs some form of a queue guardian, I picture him with blue overalls and a yellow stripe. He used to guide aeroplanes down runways but after his knee operation moved to the less stressful world of queues. 

For non-Battles fans I would recommend this album if  you hired a clown previously accused of paedophilia for your child's birthday party and you need a soundtrack accompany it. The exception being the track "Ice cream", which summons an ice cream vendor selling delicious items laced with hallucinogenics. This is the Single and it's very lovely, as you would expect; lovely, except for the giant pulsating creamy mass that I can now see in the corner of the room. I better stick on some marching band music.