Boston Unscene

With everyone waxing and waning poetic about this infobahn, the infinite and intimate neighborhood that exists beyond the dimension of distance and time, in the immediate electronic digital zone, I'm tempted to digress from my localized cause. I have my own fantasy about how the country is put together. My map of the US looks like a long distance carrier phone company commercial. Lots of shimmering fiber optic lights crisscrossing over a matte black field. Instead of discrete states and road sign borders, I envision the country and the world over as a vertically striated system of overlaps and overlay districts, meshed and interconnected, each sustained along zones of intensities. The magnetic fields surface in the underground music community which has no boundaries, only reference points and regions of difference and distinction. In my image of this national well-strung network, the community is one on-switch, sparking a circuit of interstate routes linking indie rock enclaves through cross-country tours. Boston's unscene is a stellar sonic view from the double-decker indie truck tour of rock.

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