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Cyberia 6

SEX

The Story

It is a period of catastrophe and turmoil, chaos and pandemonium, dead dogs and rolled cars, low-tech terrorism and script-kiddy mass-hysteria, extradiction and emigration, loneliness and companionship. Welcome to Cyberia.

Welcome to the real world.

This is the "real Cyberia.

It's not tackling complex computer problems, absorbing new psychedelic substances, or living through designer shamanic journeys. It's not learning the terminology of media viruses, chaos math, or house music. It's figuring out how two people can sell smart drugs in the same town without driving each other crazy. It's learning how to match the intentions of Silicon Valley's most prosperous corporations with the values of the psychedelic users who've made them that way. It's turning a nightclub into the modern equivalent of a Mayan temple without getting busted by the police. It's checking your bank statement to see if your ATM has been cracked, and figuring out how to punish the kid who did it without turning him into a hardened criminal. It's not getting too annoyed by the agendas of people who say they have none, or the inane, empty platitudes of those who say they do. It's learning to package the truth" "into media-friendly, bite-size pieces, and then finding an editor willing to put them in print because they strike him as amusing.

Coping in Cyberia means using our currently limited human language, bodies, emotions, and social realities to usher in something that's supposed to be free of those limitations. Things like virtual reality, Smart Bars, hypertext, the WELL, role-playing games, DMT, Ecstasy, house, fractals, sampling, anti-Muzak, technoshamanism, ecoterrorism, morphogenesis, video cyborgs, Toon Town, and Mondo 2000 are what slowly pull our society - even our world - past the event horizon of the great attractor at the end of time. But just like these, the next earth-shattering meme to hit the newsstands or computer nets may be the result of a failed relationship, a drug bust, an abortion on acid, or even a piss over the side of the porch.

Cyberia is frightening to everyone. Not just to technophobes, rich businessmen, midwestern farmers and suburban housewives but, most of all, to" all "the boys and girls hoping to ride the crest of the informational wave."

Blurb: "Surf's up: Cyberia 6 is here!
Swimming in the post-WTC informational age is a relatively easy task; keeping from drowning involves nothing more than sheepishly going with the flow of one's mundane daily tasks and following the orders of your supposed superiors. Don't think. Do what you are told. Do not question authority. Surfing past the pedestrian swimmers, however, is not restricted to how well you navigate your favourite pointing device through the breakwaters of browser warfare, it's also a matter of remaining anonymous, surfacing only to receive the cookies you so rightfully deserve, leaving the rest of the tuna to be caught in the net. Cyberia mocks a media that attempts to tell you who to find attractive and fuck. Cyberia doesn't care much for Napster, the record industry, nor the .MP3 revolution; it violently ravages them for its own immediate needs. In a real digital world, copies are exact duplicates of the original, creating a 6th day syndrome... Dolly never had it so good! Cyberia 6 was produced across both hemispheres of the real world and infiltrated but the smallest crevices of the virtual one to give birth to itself after 6 months of gestation. Borrowing two months of actual processor time in a world where airport security officers wield more power than those who really pay their meager salaries, Cyberia 6 salutes its five predecessors and those with Utopian visions it aims to supercede. Think!"

The Music

Cyberia 6, the firstborn of a quintuplet, is unjustifiably considered the black sheep of the family -- a blemish on a generally untarnished record... the cum stain on the silken bedsheet. Cyberia 6 is about sex. It is hard and uncompromising and vulgar. It rapes and pillages all that was once holy virgin territory, and it breaks traditions as well as new ground.

Cyberia 6 features the first usage of a synthetic voice and the (im)proper (ab)use of www.mp3.com's services.
It starts off with a laborious, purposely irritating, and overly suggestive and satirical introduction before tuning into full-on, in-your-face Israeli hard-trance and continuing a one-hour session of erect tastelessness before coming to a premature end with the latest remix of Relax. This is the form of ribaldry that makes wallpaper peel when played late at night and at high volume!


0001    Introduction...    02:22
0002 Shperma Pornomatic - Analog Pussy 06:40
0003 French Kiss (DJ Scot Project remix) - Nightclub 05:49
0004 Stripped 2000 (Plug 'n' Play mix) - Moni B. 06:30
0005 Viper Island (Anything Cybermix) - Plasma Pleasure 06:55
0006 Seductions - DJ Rodd-y-ler 06:15
0007 Slut Butt Fucker - Lars Palmers 06:32
0008 Julika (Tandu-Mcloud mix) - S-Project 06:42
0009 Metamorph (Part Two mix) - Saccoman 06:36
0010 Techno Perversion - Shithead 05:03
0011 Relax (Marc et Claude's Respect mix) - Frankie Goes To Hollywood 05:53


The Artwork

A complete re-design from scratch without abandoning its basic layout, this is perhaps the most intriguing re-design. What remains are the key fonts as well as the symbol -- albeit at a smaller and more potent scale.

The Data

Total Running Time: 74:00

Compiled: June to October 2001

Released: November 6th, 2001

Recordable Media: Verbatim

Disclaimer: This compilation © 2001 8007L36 R3C0RD5. The copyright of this compilation and artwork is owned by 8007L36 R3C0RD5. Individual tracks may or may not be owned - partially or in full - by their respective copyright owners. Unauthorised copying, hiring, lending, public performance, broadcasting or even ownership of this recording are strictly prohibited by the recording industry. Enjoyment by private individuals is, on the other hand, highly encouraged by 8007L36 R3C0RD5. Constructive criticism is welcome. Snide remarks are frowned upon. Music Piracy is still illegal. Made on Planet Earth.


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