  Lullabelle,
a six member collective, combines both electricity
and elbow grease to create a singular experience:
delicious beats married to wonderful noise.
By the beginnings of the 21st century, oral and traditional
cultures have been almost totally supplanted by modern
mass culture. All discovered are the unknown places,
mokele mbembe has left the jungle, his promised land
all tied up in escrow...
Imagine a generation of children, a fidgety mass
of boys and girls, falling over each other, weaned
on pure random information, bumping into each other
as they grope through static, searching with their
remote controls for 24-second emotional fulfillment,
for spiritual validation through product identification.
The nervous generation. A new strain of child: isolated,
uninspired, unreconciled, a member of the unwhole
community; the cheerless and unshockable. We are they,
babysat by television and video games.
Lullabelle, like so many other social clubs, covens,
and other meaningless niche organizations, is a temporary
talk-down from the ledge, a safety valve, a kind of
coming home.
Lullabelle is built on the foundation that, no matter
how hard we try, no matter how long we search, no
matter how many clever, self-referencing, self-important
moments we share, we can never be saved.
Once that's accepted, the rest is easy.
So, we make a merry din, carelessly fusing the worlds
of noise, big beats, and emotional melody, acting
like ninnies, waiting for evolution to pass us all
by and flip us the finger.
Lullabelle's sweet fury - songs for a new wilderness,
songs for the falling sky generation.
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