A major part of the preparations for Róisearch – the ekstatic dance party that the amazing Róisearch Kollucktíf in Toronto held on 9 July in awe and honour of Ms. Róisín Murphy – was spending time deep in Moloko’s back catalogue and with Ms. Murphy’s singles and collaborations. Her. Lyrical. Power. It got me thinking-feeling about what it might have been to grow up on the dance floors of Mad-chester, about my own accidental relationship with Moloko, about how dancefloors can save you, make you queer, about everything that hangs between creativity and loss.

And then, the day before the party, I listened to the new album and received the gift of “Thoughts Wasted.” Dystopian emotional artchitextures. Navigating the tube. It turned my ear toward the quiet conversations that traffic between mundanity and conceptual efflorescence.

Everywhere I go I see construction. Re-construction. Orange vests. Caution. Be careful. Work is happening here. There is still work to be done. It’s incessant. It’s essential. And to think that any intimacy, any artistry is still possible amid all the dust…out of the din and the gloom.

Eccolà. Per te.

Róisín Murphy’s Masterful fourth solo album, Take Her Up To Monto, is out now.

Thoughts Wasted (Róisín Murphy) + Next Dimension Beauty (808 State) = Wasted Beauty

[I don’t own the copyrights, but I’m hoping the copyleft will smile on the homage.]