Imagine the opposite of a snake shedding its skin: a body slithering among the debris of 21st-century music; a porous, viscid body, its skin an adhesive, lodging onto itself bits and pieces along the way. Some are scraps, rusted, discarded parts. Some are the jewels of crowns, unglued and fallen from grace, now re-attached on this makeshift contraption. Where does a body end? Does it end where these prostheses begin?
Jay Glass Dubs’ Soma (“body” in Greek) is a palimpsest. Look closely and you can find all sorts of DNA microarrays on the body’s skin – Bristol voices, Detroit electro hums, the amen break, the all-encompassing dub haze – but, as with all palimpsests, they are simultaneously one and a multitude. The body lives, its prostheses live.
The body moves.[info sheet from distr.]