A self-described “mutant artist,” Dot Wall straps themselves to industrial electronics as though bound in some dystopian experiment. Pleather, silicone, and chains might restrain the frame, but the music writhes away: minimalist mania sparking against razor-sharp electro beats from this Albuquerque alchemist. From sci-fi minimal-wave to pulse-quickened EBM, the setup conjures dancefloor chaos staged with unnerving precision, each performance delivered behind a mask of anonymity.
The new video for Orbit, drawn from the forthcoming self-released EP Formulate (out September 19), pushes Dot Wall’s hybrid further into satire and strangeness. Shot with glitchy lo-fi bravado, Wall stalks the frame in a yellow hazmat suit, a leather BDSM harness, and oversized goggles. The effect is both absurd and magnetic, echoing Devo’s stiff postures while smuggling in the kitsch menace of bargain-bin sci-fi. The result is bright, cheap, and strange…a collision of punk prank and art-school shenanigans.
Humour, even a touch of giddiness, runs through the distortion. Smoke, glare, and improvised costumes operate less as props than as coded signals. Orbit isn’t parody so much as an exaggeration of everyday struggles inflated into spectacle. The video entertains with a sense of unsettling dread, dragging the pressures of self-image into a carnival of absurdist theatre.
Watch the video for “Orbit” below:
“I wanted to personify body in EBM and communicate the frustration of body dysmorphia, addiction, and the deception of physical imagery that social media influences,” explains Dot Wall regarding the Formulate EP. “The video for Orbit is meant to be ironic, with the overuse of smoking and analogies of addiction, self-persecution and condemnation. I want to give satirical content with an overall body-positive message, while depicting self-blame and other obstructions we deal with mentally. The imagery, I wanted to pay an obvious homage to bands like Devo and Falco.”
That quote frames Formulate as more than a club-ready dispatch. Dot Wall turns the human body into both subject and weapon; an instrument reshaped by pressure, presented with irony but loaded with personal stake. The EP’s approach marries minimalist circuitry to corporeal anxiety, grounding the industrial machine in lived frustration. By hammering themes of dysmorphia and addiction against strobing beats, Wall speaks in a language of satire that cuts close to the bone.
Albuquerque may not be known as the capital of EBM, but with Dot Wall on the circuit, it’s suddenly the launchpad for a strange, future-tense transmission.
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