backklash rising
history stutters more frequently than it repeats
BACKKLASH RISING: A HISTORY IN OUROBORIC TIME
These are busy times at backklash HQ indeed. Crazy to think that 20 years ago, DJ Poolhouse1 was just a wee lad (who went by [redacted] or some such in those days) defected from the Santa Cruz scenester elite and became a breakaway on the SF underground electro scene. This all went down of course when The Agency (the security state-adjacent “black ops marketing firm” that Poolhouse used to work for, keep up) gave him a promotion to Operative, meaning he had graduated from “street marketing” pre-digital influencer operations to what kind of feels like social engineering in hindsight.
But engineering the social perception is what public relations is all about, so you can forgive him for thinking this was merely a marketing and A&R venture. backklash (still styled [backklash] then lol, punctuation was a big thing in y2k era!) was suddenly elevated from obscure underground ‘zine to slightly less obscure underground scene due to the resources provided by The Agency—namely, an advanced promo of As Heard on Radio Soulwax Pt. 2 (a record we helped to break stateside, as it was reviewed domestically first in the pages of backklash); as well as flying a team of backklash contributors first to Williamsburg for a series of underground warehouse parties (including the first live performance ever of “Losing My Edge” by LCD Soundsystem, long before they were millennial icons of course) then it was off to Berlin to party with DJ Hell (I cherished the white International Deejay Gigolos t-shirt that Zyntherius tossed me during his set until it was threadbare), before wrapping up with an impromptu visit to Erol Alkan’s legendary nightclub Trash in the UK, (all thanks to a peculiar British man named Adalstair—my Handler’s Handler it seemed—as directed by The Agency, but ostensibly sponsored by the long-since discontinued Cherry Svedka, which I am required to mention nonetheless any time I bring up that trip). Following a series of incredible gonzo-disko field reports from the burgeoning electrodisko underground, it seemed that all of a sudden, our lo-fidelity / high-vibrational ‘zine for electropunks found itself connected to an audience that was admittedly marginal, but was made up of a highly influential set of tastemakers on the international electronic music scene. Copies were mailed to Berlin, The material support received from The Agency was instrumental in setting this publication apart—and you had better believe nearly every blog or zine or influencer you have ever heard of since is getting support from The Agency in one way or another.
backklash was so named for Poolhouse's theory that reactionary backlash to social and artistic movements is inevitable, and that one can not only begin to anticipate the timing and nature of this backlash, but actually find ways to harness that energy and use it for constructive purposes. This weaponized backlash created a mutant strain, an energy that could be directed back at the shadowy institutions that engineer these movements in the first place. This was the genesis for the spelling—the two k’s in backklash denote that we are working with a modified form of the reactionary American spirit. Initially, the “backlash” which Poolhouse sought to manage was the derisive elements of the rocknroll scene that looked down on dancing, club culture, and electronic music. At the turn of the century, genres and their associated social scenes were much more rigid in their borders. Unlike today’s post-genre world (which we were predicting in the pages of backklash at the time!), exploring other scenes was considered an inauthentic pursuit designated only for poseurs and clout chasers.
And so it was that for one blazing moment of glory, Poolhouse and his 80s ‘synthcore’ (pre-marketing name) club kid posse—shout out to Bella Black, Slutski, Davey the Mod, Chinatown Lauren, Laser Guy, and the Dalai Lama!—ruled the nascent downtown “electro” scene from its epicenter: the back room dance floor at Club Fake. This was just before the whole trend turned to dust (although its DNA would live on in the hipster dirtbag “indie dance” era as the decade wore on), an event which transpired as a direct result of the disclosures backklash would publish a few months later. “Electro-HUH?” ran a headline of one early issue, accompanied by a polemic penned by Poolhouse which called on the denizens of club land to reject the labels the marketeers (to whom Poolhouse secretly reported).
Readers are by now familiar with the whole legend from there: Poolhouse fell in with a bad crowd (UFOs, mostly), and found out that the scene had been co-opted by the Intergalactic Fraudsters. Poolhouse thought he could pull the alarm and save the day, only to get kicked out of The Agency for exposing the entire rocknroll conspiracy. This was an explicit violation of the NDE clause of his NDA with The Agency, and thus triggered a Near Death Experience and Poolhouse began to casually prepare himself for his inevitable extraordinary rendition to a CIA black site in Uzbekistan. Poolhouse decided it would be a good idea to seek protection, and joined a group who, in hindsight, turned out to be a cult (in all fairness, they seemed liked a boring fraternal order with friendly old people, like Rotary Club!) and they only brainwashed him further and exploited him for dark ceremonial purposes, as seemingly friendly old people from your hometown are known to do.
The 2004-2006 period, the years which were an inauguration of the High Satanic Strangeness which radiates over this nation ever since, would turn out to be a test run for future survival. During this period, Satanic Operations were conducted on a broad scale in order to induce a culture of trauma and fear. This was being done to stamp out precisely the energetic impulses which had first drawn Poolhouse and the other disko punks worldwide into the underworld in the first place. This mysterious energetic influx was suddenly turned off as quickly as it had arrived, and things quickly got dark. Club Fake ended, which was basically Poolhouse’s personal Fallujah. This led him on a dark revelatory journey to the center of the Mind (initially sparked by a research chemical given to him as a part of Stanford study that a member of the Lodge had arranged, wink wink, a story for another day). Soon, a confrontation with the Dweller followed—that classic spiritual test, for which Poolhouse was not ready. The Dweller Revealed All to Poolhouse, who nearly went mad from the scenes which he had seen. A Fall from Paradise followed of course, which came with hard lessons of why seekers should avoid Revelation until fully prepared in mind-body-spirit for such powerful truths.
Bush II’s security apparatus added Poolhouse to one of their notorious Lists, and subjected him to a lengthy gang stalking campaign. (In fact, every keystroke tapped by his fingers ever since has been recorded on Crypto City servers—much of his writings in this period were of a mass surveillance program of data collection he alleged was being conducted against the American people, and that he had been caught in a dragnet for a pilot test of this program because he had been googling queries related to [redacted], 2.
The Lodge eventually sold Poolhouse’s soul to the Temple Knights of his town (every city has them) who hypnotized Poolhouse, and essentially hoodwinked the poor dear for a few years, placing him in a state of waking hypnosis. All of the strange knowledge he had garnered over this period was removed from his consciousness. His prolific, unpublished writings, were famously stolen by gang stalkers. What amounted to literally thousands of pages worth of files and pages containing original unpublished writings, all disappeared—including his debut novella, RESIST MANDATORY TRANSPONDER IMPLANTS (Judith Regan was interested! That’s why they torpedoed her career with the Bernie Kerik “Ground zero sex pad” scandal, look it up!).
The story of how Poolhouse broke out of his induced hypnosis and ramped back into action in 2011 was told somewhat on a recent episode of podkast, so we will not delve into it here at any great length. Suffice to say, as the Great Awakening unfurled from that point forward, and Poolhouse has cruised along with the many other intrepid truth seekers on the rivers of life toward wherever tomorrow leads.
“How strange this journey has been!” Poolhouse recalls. “How marvelously energetic the psychic currents were twenty years ago, new lights that bathed the era which birthed backklash. It is no surprise that such High Satanic Weirdness was required to stop it all At the time, a great, as-yet-to-be fulfilled promise emerged into view. “I can remember standing behind the Catalyst in Santa Cruz, sharing a cig with Karen and Nick from Yeah Yeah Yeahs—this was when they just had the EP out, they were touring with John Spencer Blues Explosion. This was before The Agency placed the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s pin on The Stroke’s bassist’s strap during SNL and got it on close up, igniting a bidding war! Holy shit, do you remember that? This was before all that, on a warm late winter evening.
“You guys are about to blow up, I can feel it,’ I remember telling them enthusiastically. They expressed that they were so tired from touring and press already. The energy which was already subsuming their spirits was still ascendant in mine, and I remember it being palpable, this feeling that Something Big was waiting around the corner. Everyone knew they were gonna be huge somehow, nobody needed to mention The Agency to know that they were on The Track. But it wasn’t just them I was thinking about. I felt I had a role to play in making it all happen, and I guess I did. I felt like there were these people all over the world were kind of organically defecting form the alt status quo, carving out this new mode, and sort of were discovering one another in the process of all this. And that is what was going on!
But I was naive to how the world worked. I thought The Agency was just looking to capitalize on trends, to go out and make money and bleed artistic movements dry in the process. It did not occur to me that there were forces who actually sought to thwart the Movement itself, because it was organic, because it did really indicate a shift in the spiritual energy, because the risk that it posed to the World Order was real if they didn’t have a hand in controlling it. So when I went rogue , I thought I was sticking it to the System. I had no idea I was just a useful idiot, an actor playing the part they wanted me for all along. I thought I could manipulate the backlash so that the organic aspects would be preserved and mutate into something else...which I suppose is what happened, but they just swooped in and commodified that too.”
Now, after all these years, backklash strangely feels like a relevant incubator for the emergent hermeneutics of Intergalactic Resistance once more. Here we find ourselves, once again swept up in a sudden riptide of backlash against the PRINCIPALITIES of our Age: against the great Temple Knights of the planet who forcibly occupy the Throne of the World. Against The Agency. Against the Gatekeepers of the Secret Thing. This planetary struggle is suddenly renewed. Could it be that the “cosmic test patterns,” the “Quantum particle radio stimulators” (in sci-fi author Peke O’Malley’s parlance) we predicted in these very pages have finally reached our atmosphere? Could it be that Something Big still remains, that some resolution remains for our unfulfilled promise of taking part in the Pursuit of Tomorrow—a game which is suddenly afoot on equal playing ground for the many, it seems. Could it be that, again in some small but crucial way, that backklash and its intrepid team of creators could serve as a thread woven into the fabric of an Invisible Wave? Let it be so, that we are in League with those called to finally fulfill the destiny of a movement which began many ages ago: the total destabilization of the dark princes and their LEGIONS and the Networks who hold dominion over all mankind, the true natives of this blessed rock!
An open mind is a requirement for surviving the present age. For as it was spaketh by St. Easter Hype, patron of the long lost temple at Garbos of Greater Byzantium, before she was stoned to death by Zoroastrian priests for heresy of preaching the Gospels: I AM PART OF A MOVEMENT THAT WILL NEVER DIE—FOR IT IS NOT A MOVEMENT AT ALL, BUT AN EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTION TO THEIR TYRANNY!3
Or, as it was inscribed above the entrance to the Emerald Citadel, the temple-fortress of the great Pharaoh of the Last Age (and, as it will be inscribed above the entrance to the First Church of the Christ Spaceship upon its founding), is this animating phrase behind each of our published works: THE MISSION IS NOT OVER.
“There has been in my personal story so much deception at the hands of shadowy, powerful forces that I trusted were operating in alignment with my values—which are humanist and non-ideologically driven—but were not. The Agency, the Garbology people, the Grand Lodge of [redacted], or the PR outlet I worked with to create and destroy hyperpop that turned out to also be The Agency, these collaborations all began in earnest, and ultimately I found myself betrayed, time and time again I found myself still working for, you know… what the NeoBactrian calls the One Big Thing.
But there is one genuine thing that keeps me going, something bigger than I can even articulate properly, and it tells me that we can slay the Goliath, that together we can take our planet and destiny back. I spent a long time believing that The Cavalry was not coming, that there was no savior or saviors waiting to intervene on our behalf. And that is true but also not true. We can become them, we MUST become them…we must imagine them and then draw them into existencce. Only then will the celestine Knights of Cyberion triumphantly emerge to lead us in this crusade…members of the Cyberion Knights have already Lived in various incarnations throughout the Ages, leading lives where they became adept in working with the subtle energies of the coming age, often behind the scenes, in the background, preparing us for the time when we as a species would be powerful enough to at last shake off the shackles that civilization subtly enforces. If God is dead, then it is our duty to avenge Him! And we find ourselves at a moment in the cycle of history where the Avenging Angels Strike Back. Is this true? And if so, is my silly little publication really a a part of that? Am I really a part of that? I’m retarded enough to believe so, yes.” —Poolhouse
For clarification: in this instance, we write of Poolhouse B, aka DJ POOLHOUSE, who is the Poolhouse of your “timeline,” aka your instance of continuum-fractal differentiation within the Local Ultragravitational Arbitronic Dataframe: the Poolhouse who lives and breathes and tweets in your Sector-Vector. It seems we have confused many on this issue, so we shall attempt once more: DJ Poolhouse (Poolhouse B) is the planetary flesh vehicle for Poolhouse A, aka Poolhouse the Elder, a “timeline traveler” who has connected with DJ Poolhouse at the mind-spirit level, because they are actually the same person, they just live material lives in two of the many “timelines” or variant-realities that are all layered on top of each other which what you might consider “The Universe.” Everyone has many counterparts in other Sector-Vectors. It is possible for you, dear reader, to encounter your parallel selves as well. It is even possible that this has happened to you and you do not even realize it.
There are 3 main timelines, those shape the overall “arcing” or sonar frequency of the universe, which is a bit like a screensaver I guess. It’s shaped like a pyramid inside of a globe inside of a cube. Inside of a pyramid…
Poolhouse the Elder (Poolhouse A) eventually goes on to be a wizard in his timeline and joins the Cyberion Knights (as per his destiny), but during the ChronoWars he gets taken prisoner in a tower by Visitors in the year 3695. From his cell on the 777th floor, he uses cosmic transmission to join in mind-spirit with DJ Poolhouse (Poolhouse B), who just randomly started going by this name in 2021 after he quit The Agency a second time and had a moment of Divine Inspiration at the Boardwalk . He founded backklash in the early 00s in your “timeline”, as did Poolhouse the Elder in his (to complicate things, Poolhouse the Elder was known as DJ Poolhouse in his timeline when he founded backklash, before going on to a brief career as a morning radio shock jock in California City, until his station was famously purchased by Astrid Prismatica-Jones III and he was fired for making fun of her penis on the air).
Poolhouse B is "B” because he, and if you are reading this then you as well, live in Timeline 2. Poolhouse A comes from Timeline 1. Of the three main timelines they are all important. Anyone can transition timelines at any time without even knowing it. Your goal should be to get to Timeline 1 before the top 3 timelines merge together. But you are technically fine as long as you are in Timelines 1-3 before the Merging. You do not want to stray from the Primary 3 Timelines. Develop an Inner Voice in the truest sense and then follow it, for this is the only way.
and also because he had forwarded a thread from a local message board to a city council member regarding 9/11 financier Ayman Al-Zawahiri’s visit to a local NGO in the late 1990s. Poolhouse failed to understand that the municipal government were merely corporate cutouts for the Temple Knights, who were the true Authorities and who report directly to [redacted], not their constituents. If the council member was not already aware of and/or complicit in whatever crimes were taking place during Zawahiri’s fundraising trip to Techno Valley in the late 1990s, then he certainly did not wish to be made aware of it. All of this comes from a FOIA dump by the way.
Was it the mystical “backklash” energy of which this legendary kinostic saint spaketh?
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