“…those who experienced the future-rush euphoria of rave as their birthright, never dreaming that it could burn out like fried synapses;”
Savage Messiah is written for those who could not be regenerated.
They are the unregenerated, a lost generation, ‘always yearning for the time that just eluded us’: those who where born too late for punk but whose expectations were raised by its incendiary afterglow; those who watched the Miners’ Strike with partisan adolescent eyes who where too young to really participate in the militancy; those who experienced the future-rush euphoria of rave as their birthright, never dreaming that it could burn out like fried synapses; those in short, who did not find the ‘reality’ imposed by the conquering forces of neoliberalism livable.
It’s adapt or die, and there are many forms of death available to those who can’t pick up the business buzz or muster the requisite enthusiasm for the creative industries. Six million ways to die, chose one: drugs, depression, destitution. So many forms of catatonic collapse.
Ghosts of My Life
First published by Zero Books, 2014
Text copyright: Mark Fisher
ISBN: 978 1 78099 226 6