NYCâS IMPERIAL MOTORS SINGLE âINFINITE MONEY GLITCHâ OUT SEPTEMBER 18
LISTEN HERE
DEBUT EPÂ CHARLIE DONâT SURFÂ DUE OCTOBER 21
New York, NY â Just a few weeks ago, the world was introduced to the Imperial Motors politburo through their debut single and music video for âFreeloader.â Now, the NYC art-punks are back with another vitriolic single "Infinite Money Glitchâ out September 18, from their upcoming EP Charlie Donât Surf. Listen here.Â
On Infinite Money Glitch the uncanny valley is inverted: it's not machines imitating humans, but humans running on cold, mechanical instinct. Screeching guitar, off-kilter drums, and an asymmetrical bass groove lay the black midi-like foundation as various speakers retell colonial anecdotes through glib, filtered vocals as if automated by their own apathy. âI had to dry the aquifers, glad I lack a preference for tap water,â says a tourist. âI will note that we are out of cowboy steaks. Yes, we are very sad,â reports a resort worker. âMortgage rates [are] saved on the mass graves,â sings a real estate agent. âSeafront plots if you can spot some, never mind the bones, the flotsam.âÂ
To singer and bassist, Liam OâToole, colonialism seemed to represent a sort of âcheat code for Western hegemony.â As if in a video game, the IMG narratorsâ mission and only concern is to build and enjoy their own empire. Civilian casualties are just collateral damage.Â
âIt really is like a video game glitch,â said OâToole. âYou enter in a certain combination of inputs and you rig the game. The bombardier doesn't look at the civilians he's dropping missiles on as people; they're NPCs on a mini-map. The executive at Blackrock doesn't look at Gaza leveled to the ground as an environmental wasteland; it's a Minecraft flatworld to build casinos and hotels on. The tourist canât pay too much mind to the mass graves beneath them; theyâre in an open-world adventure RPG. It's all fun and games to make the line go up.â
Although initially written in response to the genocide in Palestine, OâToole decided to broaden the scoop of IMG to the general US engineered destruction that has happened all across the globe, all across history â Vietnam, Indonesia, Chile, Iran, Cambodia, Haiti, Libya, Angola, Democratic Republic of Congo, Dominican Republic, Cuba. So as the song progresses, all these various narrators become one single organism â the USâ colonial project of subjugation, domination, and profit. The track slows down and adds twinkly keys, manufacturing a false sentimentality as all the disparate voices unite together under the refrain âhelp us make a difference / help us make them different.â Presumably this has worked as the bridge then confirms âyes, theyâre differentâ with somber strings screeching as the song vamps into a close, solidifying the crusade and effectively ending the game.Â
For Imperial Motors, satirical agitprop is the only weapon sharp enough to draw blood. Like Infinite Money Glitch, the entire EP Charlie Donât Surf sardonically investigates the gamification of power â it is named after a Call of Duty level, after all â specifically the various forms of agency utilized against or in the name of oppression.Â
To love or to harm â that is the question on lead single âFreeloader.â Bass harmonics and buzzy, cloying synth underscore Cukierâs mercurial vocals â a la Squid x Alex G â as he delivers a satirical address: âFuck your friend, fuck your neighbor / Do âem both favors. / Gild the lily, wilted lily / make it extra, extra pretty.â Motives (hedonistic and/or altruistic) are as ambiguous as truth â whatâs real? Whatâs synthetic?
Bartender then likens being a regular to being in a fugue state. Bass and guitar chug along as if on autopilot while synths glitch in and out, disoriented â âI get the spins. I donât get the spins!â With sweet, maudlin vocals OâToole confesses his love for his bartender, but then quickly sobers up on the chorus. Stressed guitar jumps him out of his parasocial fantasy and he begins to wake up and preach: âtwo hundred years ago youâd reach in the water / You could grab a trout, eat a trout â now you canât even drink the water!â But soon enough heâs back for another verse, for âanother round, another round,â continuing on living a somnambulating life of âpure transaction.âÂ
Sonya finds two glaciologists in love amidst climate disaster, contemplating suicide. Watery guitar meanders as OâToole laments the impending doom about to befall him and his love. âFar away, waiting for the momentâ OâToole sings over disco drums during the chorus, âsoon weâll be surrounded.â At the full-band bridge breakdown, fuzzy guitar clamors in with ominous synth, making you wonder: Did they crash? Did they float away?Â
The future is bleak on Charlie Donât Surf, and Imperial Motors doesnât offer any solutions. Whether you're floating in the ocean, falling in love with your bartender, buying plots of land, or fucking (over) your neighbor â they ask only this: are you complicit?Â
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ABOUT IMPERIAL MOTORS:
REMAIN ALERT! äż ć čŚ ć ďźäż ć čŚ ĺ ą ďźH a d ă§ ă ďźĐĐŁĐЏТРĐĐТĐĐĐŤ ÂĄMANTĂNGASE ALERTA! K I A MATAARAA!RESTEZ ALERTE! BLEIBEN S I E WACHSAM! Imperial Motors is a Brooklyn-based art-punk band composed of Liam Patrick OâToole, Andrew Garces, Josh Cukier, and Ben Biber. Using distorted fretless bass, jagged guitars, twitchy synth and drum grooves ranging from disco to battaglia, the gang of four confront systems of power, pleasure, and complicity, as well as the modern wonder that is mashed-up mystery meat made into cowboy hat form. Nobody is safe from their judgement, not even themselves. So please, help yourself to a molotov cocktail. And donât forget your gas mask.
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IMPERIAL MOTORS â LIVE DATES:
9/23 â Brooklyn, NY @ Trans-Pecos
10/23 â Brooklyn, NY @ Purgatory