“AB (The Mineral Identity) is the bloodiest of the four, a narcoleptic and ethylic shock: it starts with aluminium contrasting the mountainous smell of cloves and grass. Like a bad trip you reflect upon, it is so highly chemical extremely citrusy, yet spicy, transporting you to artificial nightmares. Like the foes of Decadentism, it is over-stylised and smells of an alien place. Picture the sea house, the rocks and the eerie mist of Brittany, or an android trying to boost his/her/its eroticism in a deserted landscape somewhere. As metyl-grapefruit and green pepper come through, the image of forgotten creatures emerges: perhaps a centaur. AB is tangentially masculine, utterly dandy, drag: intoxicantly male and disgustingly sweet in its aftertaste, too feminine to be male, too masculine to be female. AB, like its blood type, is all about ambiguity, the impossible communion between A and B, the grey mirror to the other blood types.”
Poetics of Squalor: Autumn
Enki Bilal Hues & Blues