Sometime in the late 1970s, before the internet but after the birth of the analog synthesizer, a mysterious TV broadcast aired exactly once and was never archived. Or so the legend goes.
Recently rediscovered on a glitchy VHS tape, this surreal interview with MDK — a band that technically shouldn’t exist yet — captures the trio in full cardboard-robot regalia, confusing and charming a public access TV host under flickering studio lights.
We now present to you:
📺 “The Sound Circuit” — A Late-70s Lost Public Access Music Show
[INTRO MUSIC: analog synth stabs, a vocoded voice moaning “Sooouund Circuuuit!”]
Host: (mustache, polyester suit, slightly overwhelmed by the smoke machine)
“Good evening, ladies and gents and signal modulations! Tonight on The Sound Circuit, we bring you something truly… electronic. A band that spans continents, confuses genres, and possibly worships old cassette tapes… Please put your wires together for… M—D—K!”
[Audience claps politely, then goes a bit wild when three musicians in obviously handmade robot costumes made from cardboard and silver paint shuffle awkwardly on stage. One has blinking LEDs stuck to his sunglasses. Another has cassette reels glued to their chest like medals. One is holding a banana, but it might be an instrument.]
🎙️ INTERVIEW BEGINS
HOST:
“Welcome, MDK! First off… what are you? Who are you? Why are there wires coming out of your ears?”
[K (CardboardBot 1), speaking with a slight German accent, voice processed with a ring modulator]
“I am Kai of MDK. We are not a band. We are a concept. An experiment. A reflection of your time… distorted through jam sessions and sample layers. Also… D made us dress like this.”
[Audience laughs. M’s robot helmet falls off and he shrugs.]
HOST:
“You release a full album every week. That’s more than most bands manage in a year. Are you okay? Do you sleep?”
[M (CardboardBot 2), twirling a patch cable like a lasso]:
“No sleep. Only jam. Only mix.
We meet every Sunday through The Network. Sometimes strangers join us. Sometimes… the machine joins us.
And when it glitches? That’s not failure. That’s collaboration.”
[Audience gasps in mock-horror. Someone claps in 5/4 time.]
HOST:
“You’re located in Germany, Tlaxcala, and Morelos. How does that even work?”
[D (CardboardBot 3), holding a puppet version of a modem]:
“Jamulus, baby. It’s like a séance but for audio packets.
We meet on the internet, jam in real-time, and then someone edits, mixes, names the tracks, and writes something poetic or absurd. Then I feed it into the AI machine until it spits out a cover that makes me laugh or cry. Or both.”
[Puppet modem says: “bpssssZZZK”]
HOST:
“So… genre-wise. What do you call this music?”
[K solemnly opens a scroll that unrolls across the stage floor. The scroll says: “Sampledelic Noise-Improv Drone Funk with Optional Jazz Ghosts”]
[M, quietly to audience]:
“Also… we steal from everything. Lovingly. Respectfully. Like cultural archaeologists with delay pedals.”
HOST:
“Okay but what’s the point? Are you chasing fame? Are you trying to overthrow the mainstream? Or is this just some elaborate tax evasion scheme?”
[D, dramatically pulling off one glove (even though it’s cardboard)]:
“We’re not chasing fame. We’re chasing the moment.
The moment where three strange humans and a few hundred odd samples make something…
weirder than we expected.
And if someone hears it — and thinks, “wait, this is music?” — then… we’ve done our job.”
[Audience gives a standing ovation. Someone throws a floppy disk. The puppet modem sheds a tear.]
HOST:
“Final question. What’s next for MDK?”
[All three cardboard robots speak in unison, lights flickering ominously]:
“Live concerts in three places at once.
Collaborations with ghosts.
Glitch as religion.
Weekly music drops until the internet melts.”
[Cut to psychedelic end credits while a looped sample of a kettle boiling plays rhythmically under a modular synth solo.]