One of the most irritating things dimwits attempting to sound intelligent will do is reduce some facet of the human subject down to a rudimentary syllogism- one of the more popular, and stupid, being that the brain is little more than a computer- reasoning that because computers make calculations and process information, and human brains do the same, Q.E.D., our brains are simply low-wattage computers. Absolutely idiotic. A weapons-grade brainlet level of casuistic officiation. News flash, genius: You are not a computer! Like a hammer is not your hand, a shoe is not your foot- humanity is defined by our extensive usage of tools, a pattern of behavior that does not replace our bodies and minds, but rather augments them on orders of magnitude that make the unimaginable become real and tenable over the course of a single generation, as of the advent of modernity. Ergo, humanity can never be displaced by its creations, not entirely, rather we are perpetually on the verge of rebirth in a world shaped by our collective ingenuity. What does this have to do with an experimental music album out of Mexico? Well, due to the advancement of available digital instruments, it is now possible for the purest forms of our imagination to gain some form of grounding, to be filled with marrow and held up by raw, bleeding flesh. If desire has wings, then the graceful appendages holding our passions in ambiance have extended to the farthest lengths of measurable latitudes. Case in point, The consensus isn't dead, it just smells jazzy fragments and shuffles the planes of jazz and soul to repurpose their osseous matter and proteins in a novel metabolism that reorients and re-tangles what it ingests into an elucidating pastiche, refracting the resiliences of its sources and the pageantry of stirring poignancy in a mold that is both distinctively unreproducible and indelibly universal, without the disclusion of direct linguistic translation or conceits to the treacherous topography of discrete cultural forms. The worm of the processes that produced this record bores through any barriers to consciousness and alignment with intentions that refuce to give way on their own, eating through the rot of intransigent concurrence, the cold hand of resting stone in a shwabble-dabble-glibba kind of pattern, like a steady drip of water on a mountainside, or a worm inching through mulching, tunneling through a first edition of Principles of Political Economy and Taxation, instructing in its progressive path of transformation that the weight of presupposition is little more than a temporary impediment, and often rather serves as a buffet to replenish its replacement. Every revolution of the globe is a new day, and every innovation produces a dawn that stretches beyond the line of sight, breaking only on the shores of infinity- inching ever closer to the sun, and yet never burning.
