Curse Mackey‘s remix of Jet Cemetery’s Melt Away from The Canary takes the track into a smeared, fluorescent zone where the beat seems to have learned how to levitate while still dragging one boot through the dirt. The track carries the chill of Fever Ray, the low-lit pressure of Massive Attack, and the sleek narcotic drift of Air, but its bloodline runs deeper than reference points. Jet Cemetery’s world is built from Detroit techno’s Black joy, sci-fi dread, fantasy portals, and indigenous meditations on the border between life and death, and Mackey treats that material like unstable matter glowing in his hands.
“Remixing Jet Cemetery was one of those rare experiences where I became a conduit for something that was already waiting to be uncovered,” says Curse Mackey. “The process carried its own momentum, as if the remix already existed somewhere and I was simply helping bring it into the world. What emerged was a dreamy, delightful ghost of the original.”
Mackey has pulled Jet Cemetery sideways, into a room where the walls breathe, and the floor keeps time. The remix moves with strange grace, bruised glamour, and enough psychic static to make Melt Away feel reborn under alien lamps. Mackey keeps the body of the song moving, yet everything around it feels slightly unmoored: vocals drift through the mix like a signal from a closed club on another planet, rhythms bend and bloom, and the production gives each texture the uneasy glow of a memory trying to mutate into prophecy. There is an acid-bath elegance to it, a silvered throb that makes the remix feel both ceremonious and beautifully damaged.
“This remix is Jet Cemetery in another dimension – in Curse’s universe, which runs parallel to our own,” say Jet Cemetery. “Curse is an artist and producer that we have a deep admiration and respect for, and we are honored by his creation. We envision more collaborations in the future.”
The video, directed, filmed, and edited by TaSzlin Trébuchet, follows Jet Cemetery and Mackey through a psychedelic travelogue of performance, tour motion, and strange arrival. TaSzlin Trébuchet and Lars Wolfshield appear caught between stage presence and astral tourism, wandering through collaged images that behave like dream fragments: places glimpsed through a dirty windshield, faces dissolving into color, bodies suspended in the blur between destination and hallucination. The result has the loose fever of a road movie shot by someone who trusts distortion more than exposition.
Watch below:
Listen to the original version of Melt Away below and order The Canary here.
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