By pushing its limits too far, humanity had been sucked into a spiral of self-destruction. Whatever form this predicted apocalypse might have taken, it had taken place and we would have to live in this world of the day after.
Laurent Bardainne knew that his Tigre d'Eau Douce was safe and sound, even if he was far away. He also knew that he would find it later, but for the moment, it was with Etienne Jaumet that he had found refuge in this studio populated by analog creatures with black and white keys. At the cost of makeshift cables and clever connections, electricity reached the duo's lair in a haphazard way. More than necessary, it was vital to the functioning of their machines. In a world where emulators had not survived, where the science of drum machine programming had been lost for a long time, only they still knew how to decode the red diodes of the TR-808 and decipher the orange hieroglyphs of the LinnDrum.
They remembered the mambo, chacha and jazz rhythms. From this starting point, they digressed their minds, listened to the sounds mutate, let the complex connections distort the sounds as much as the space.
At the end of these raw and spontaneous sessions, the air saturated by the heat coming from the saxophones' bell, the tandem resolved to half-open the shutters of their cache, even if it meant finding an atmosphere saturated with mercury and becoming suffocating. To their great surprise, the sun had never ceased to shine, nature reigned there without sharing, only the lapping of the waves was heard. Before going out to breathe the fresh air, Bardainne and Jaumet rewound the VHS...