In our capitalist hellscape, one of the greatest and dumbest frustrations I have is my inability to pay for things I really want. Like, I cannot purchase even a bare-bones DVD copy of the Wachowskis' Sense8, part of my personal queer canon and a series that was incredibly expensive for Netflix to make, but that has never gotten a physical release (even internationally!) No matter what, I can't buy a new washer that doesn't have some sort of fancy touch-sensitive buttons that will die long before the rest of the machine. And worst of all, six years after "Sonini" Simmy can drop yet another in a long line of stunning collaborations with Sun-El Musician and there's no chance I can import even a CD-Single from South Africa, even if I was willing to pay $30 shipping, which I would. "Amazwe" is an embrace of a song, gloriously warm and tender, a comforting revelation. Sun-El Musician's production washes over you; Simmy is soft and precise as ever, her voice swirling and swooping. "I’ve been around the world, but none compares to you," the chorus says. The sentiment is simple and direct, sweet without being saccharine. I want to be able to play it on a turntable and drop the needle back at the beginning every time it ends, but I'd settle for a cheap cassette if that was an option too. Spotify won't last forever and who knows how long Soundcloud has left. Where will some of this era's greatest love songs live once those places are gone?
You most certainly can purchase a washing machine with zero digital features! it's a Speed Queen, I bought one last year. It's probably the best purchase I've ever made. Whenever I scroll past the end of my Instagram timeline I get posts of people cleaning things, especially front load washing machines. My Speed Queen replaced a front load washer -- those things are nasty. By design they manufacture and breed mold and that mold will spread all over. In a dark, unventilated space like a basement? Fucking horror! Anyway, I got a solution for your Simmy problem, too. You gotta Lomax it, DV! Spend that $30 to ship yourself to South Africa instead. Track down Simmy and Sun-El Musician and get them to sign off on a pressing of "Amazwe." Film the whole trip and post it to YouTube -- the curse will be passed on to whomever is unlucky enough to watch your video.