Queerdo Rage

Queerdo Rage

Sometimes it bubbles up — that itch, that static burn under the skin. Anger, irritation, the whole kaleidoscope of fury. For one it’s the homophobic neighbors muttering poison through thin walls, for another it’s the endless cascade of “errors,” bugs, digital ghosts. Then there’s the carnival of corruption: fucked-up politics, police brutality, racism, misogyny, every phobia lined up like rotten soldiers on parade.

And then — boom — we slip into RAGE mode.

That’s what detonated last Sunday morning in the iconic “moins 1, man’s cave.” Five hours of unfiltered discharge: strange tracks that clawed at the ceiling, beats that didn’t just hit but gnawed, spirals of anger laced with sarcasm, and yes — sparks of joy flickering like neon in a blackout.

Thank the queer cosmos for music — our bloodletting, our exorcism, our celebration. And the best part? Most of it born from other freaks, mutants, outsiders, wired into the same pulse. That’s “Les supers-viseurs.”