A long time ago a movie called Peeping Tom put an end to the career of one of the best film directors Great Britain had ever seen. Michael Powell was killed by his critics. And so it goes. Alan Dunn’s Super 8 can be regarded as grandson of peeping Tom, much friendlier, but still with its creepy side. His composition works like a camera focussing on parts of furniture. Sometimes it recogizes something, sometimes it is just blurr. After a while you start noticing that something’s not right. It seems that all the fragments you hear are captured in a past, where they still live on, without you.

Alan Dunn puts it this way:

“A super 8 soundtrack for a sad city centre pub on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. The old jukebox is filled with Roy Orbison, Rod Stewart and Phil Collins. Super 8 sounds of old table tennis games, Guided by Voices and sounds of cutting up vinyl record sleeves.”

“Don’t care. Nobody cares, exemplified by classic interviews with Elvis, Jam, Minor Threat, Bow Wow Wow, Sex Pistols and Siouxsie. Metal Machine Music and the sound of the artist’s name (All undone).”

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