Meinschaft sails a leaking vessel through the stagnant swill of Western decay, a ship patched with irony and steered by indifference, its course set toward the great abyss of progress. The winds of indulgence howl through its sails, whipping the waters into a vortex of spectacle and ritual, a delirious dance toward the inevitable. They call their creation Nu World, a name scrawled in advance, as if to warn or to welcome whatever comes next.
The Tennessee experimental outfit’s latest perversion of pop—a fevered, feral take on Faith Hill’s This Kiss, lurches between madness and menace, stripping the song of its gossamer and leaving behind something raw, ragged, and teetering on the edge of collapse. Imagine Tilt-era Scott Walker crooning from a collapsing funhouse, Nine Inch Nails tearing into saccharine sentiment with rusted nails, Type-O Negative smirking through the wreckage, Skinny Puppy gnashing its teeth.
It isn’t about euphoria. It’s about the descent; the slow, sickly spiral of reason unraveling, the vertigo of bliss turned to horror. When lips meet, something is lost. Something is broken. And trust us, you aren’t ready.
Haoyan of America returns for a second descent into delirium with Meinschaft, this time clawing deeper into the unholy, the unspeakable, the grotesquely seductive. A fever-drenched hallucination where flesh flickers like static and desire glitches through a virtual void, the video thrashes against the limits of taste and decency, barreling into a spectacle so strange it might shake loose the last hinges of reason.
Slow-motion blasphemy drips through every frame, a digital delirium that feels less like a music video and more like slipping headfirst into the half-lit horror of the 1995 film Strange Days—where sensation is stolen, sold, rewired, rewound, then played back until pleasure rots into sickness. Romance here is a malfunctioning program, a touch that short-circuits, a kiss that burns through pixels and leaves the screen smeared with something you can’t quite wipe away.
Goggles on, stomach steeled—this isn’t meant to be watched so much as endured. Wash your hands. Wash your soul. And if you dare, press play.
Listen to This Kiss at the link below and order It Was A Very Good Year here.
Follow Meinschaft:
Or via: