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1. Sissy Hypno
Angelica Rottingdam White
Sissy Hypno
2025
Sound; 15:xx min., found images, text
I was watching a short documentary on the song “Icy Lake” by Dat Oven and learned of the track’s glorious history. How it was featured in a random YouTube video of a late 1990s Midtown ball. Gay men are stripped down to just their pants and shoes, pink lighting making the crowds of drunken stupors glow in the darkness of the club’s architecture. Kevin Aviance is praising all the butch queens that dare walk. And the thumping four-on-the-floor beat of an almost downtempo considered track is cut into nothingness by the resident deejay, Junior Vasquez. For 45 seconds, the girls chant his name, begging for more, and just when you might have given up your spot on the dancefloor, he hits you with it. A three note loop bisected by 8-bit laser firing noises, glass breaking, a cheeky voicemail, a hard-clipping 32nd note trill, building into floor toms galore, and under all this muck, is a blasting kick drum that ties it all into a bowline hitch.
“I just thought I’d call before I throw myself into the Icy Lake.”
Similarly with “10,000 Screamin’ Faggots,” found no more than 4 minutes away from “Icy Lake” and lambasting a memorable voiceline, I can always recall the first time my ears finally perked up and were able to translate how deep these tracks sink in my psyche. They’re enough to provide a shot of insulin, a dose of caffeine, a slice of a bhut jolokia, enough to make me rise up from the dead—the somnolence of my cushioned folding chair I borrowed from my parents’ caving garage.
The truth is that these tracks have been collecting dust in my hard drives and on my back-burners. I could never achieve a perfect balance of wanting to hear them again and wanting others to hear them, maybe for the first time.
I don’t want you to miss a second of this shit.
It’s what the girls want and so with that, mama will provide.
