Dream Affair: “Syndrome”
High on black nail polish and shredded fishnet S&M, the Saturday night club scene is drag for two barely twenty-one year olds (one dude/one dudette) looking for melancholy dance kicks before their last week of summer school ends and their fall semester week begins. Long lines at the woefully stocked bar and a malfunctioning fog machine gummy up the one good Bauhaus dive in town so the couple text a few friends and organize an impromptu house party. Two cheap twelve packs of Lone Star beer and a bottle of tequlia still warm from the trunk of the slightly older dude’s hand me down Corolla arrive at the overpriced (great location tho) bungalow just east of the main nightlife orgy streets. Fifteen glum, but well-loved by their doting parents, kids start awkie talkie in the kitchen and the living room. Someone crate digs the bungalow owner’s vinyl, cassettes and CDs. New Order. Suicide. The Cure and The Smiths (on tape). Early Ministry, Depeche Mode CDs and some pig fuck 7″ obscuro hits the stereo. The kids loosen up, start swaying, shoulders twitch and raven colored bangs start beading with sweat.
Claude, the Corolla driver, (“Claude” isn’t his real name, but that’s what he tells the girls in his studio art classes) removed his leather jacket cause he’s feeling the beat. His tight stripped black and white tee is damp from dance and one hastily downed tequila shot. He tells Jeanne, his plus one, that he’s sick of the D.Mode and wants to hear something new. A friend of his whips out his smartphone and cues up a new streaming tune from a band his Brooklyn brother saw live about a month prior. Dream Affair is their name. “Syndrome” is their jam. Thick as a brick drums introduce the song as slashing guitar harmonics lead the way for a driving, no frills lead riff straight outta the 80s. The song is thumping enough to wake even the passed out lovers sharing a corner recliner. They shake their asses to the guitar and synth lines of Dream Affair. The band’s vocalist must be a time traveler. His post-punk singing is a little on the “been there, done that” side of the scale, but the kids don’t seem to mind. The three and a half minute song is on repeat for 2am party come down. Everyone’s either throwing up or going home or making love half conscious. A good time was had by most.
Aborted State is out September on Nostilevo.
Written by Jeff Daily
