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On Wednesday night, following a gigantic turn-down from the part-time career as a disk jockey, Dominique rebelled against herself. The workers of Munchhawk textile were too exhausted and manipulated to be patient through her set. The turntable was a train crash. Dominique started out with sheer optimism clearing their heads out with Talking Head’s “Road to Nowhere” to get them warmed up. A neutral response was all she received, this was going to be a tough one knowing the look on the worker's faces was a perfect hybrid of a dull day’s aftermath and a lackluster cheer. She could have worked harder on the intro. Therefore she grew more restless. An “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” or an M People mix could save her night. The crowd was definitely not a Modern Lovers type. Not even youthful enough for a Yazoo nostalgia. She somehow immediately lost her sense of direction, rhythm, and attention-seeking. From the middle of the set on, Dominique was no longer herself. The presence of a torrent of shrieking iron from the very morning gave birth to a massive disturbance focal point.
A few hours later, the abandoned set, a new chaotic pattern of chairs passed out on each other, a haunted front yard anticipating a mass-return of half-life underpaid overworked jaded assembly line workers and warehouse patrols. And what do they know about the new Burial EP and new promises? Have any of their children ever…
