The Polish Ambassador at three20south Saturday
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If there’s a spirit that infuses The Polish Ambassador’s presence, it’s humor. Witness the attire, and the interview here included. Still, fans of The Polish Ambassador project, born of Chicago and San Francisco roots, have witnessed a serious multi-year musical journey through the many genres of electronic music. With a shared commitment to “radical self-expression” and participatory experience – including traveling with “The Great Red Hype,” a “crowd emissary” whose sole purpose is to build up the audience – the beat master, along with light show genius Liminus, hit the playa with fellow freaks this summer for Burning Man 2012. And on Saturday, they take their carbon-neutral tour to three20south in Breckenridge. Here’s what the Ambassador had to say:
I’m actually just a fan of poles not Poles. You know, like catheters, ducts, chopsticks and such. Hmm. Not funny, eh? Well, I’m not actually from this planet, so in your human sense, I have no nationality. I owe my allegiance to the fifth moon of the planet Noob. The cinnamon buns out there are sublime. I suppose the best way I could answer your question is to say that, in my earthly studies, the Polish, or those humans occupying the region of “Poland,” seem to be the supreme species of your human race. Thick legs. Steady hands. Monstrous foreheads.
Earth, these days. Specifically Nevada City, Calif.
I am a beat machine from the future dropping warm, analogue dreamwave; mind-altering glitch; world-infused groove; bass-fueled breaks; sexified downtempo; electric lullabies; and psy-fi funk. How’s that for a mouthful? You could also just call it dance music to have fun to.
Have you seen my jumpsuit?
I have machines, and humans rigged to machines that do such things for me.
Once, while rollerblading along the Pacific Coast Highway, I witnessed a rainbow trout named Mohammed and a Coho salmon named Isaac arguing about who has been the most influential Canadian of all time. Mohammed argued it was Mike Myers and Isaac retorted that only a trout brainwashed by celebrity culture could believe such a thing and that Mark Messier was the greatest Canadian to have ever lived. I quelled this debate by letting them know that they were both wrong and that the correct answer is, “Who is Alex Trebek?” They both immediately recognized that I was right, copulated at once, and began to produce a super-race of fish known today as Trebekian Troutmon. That was the weirdest experience of my life.
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