Diamond Black Hearted Boy was absolutely nothing like my cursory Myspace investigation might have indicated. He was on some serious low-fi art-damaged retro-apocalyptic post-Nintendo glam Afro-Futurist rock star business. He had the MJ jacket and the Prince dance moves and the hi-top fade, and he played what sounded like a 20-minute warmup to a dance party that failed to materialize (either musically or literally). It was Afrika Bambataa multiplied by the weirder ends of the Digital Hardcore spectrum
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