POPSCREEN: Black Kids

From the moment the five members of Black Kids set off in their animated roller coaster car into the terrifying Tune Town tunnel, we know we’re in for a treat—and boy, do we get one! Floating past cartoon guitars and keyboards—just like the ones they use!—their yellow seats burst apart and the gang is thrust into an entirely new dimension—where light shoots in columns, winds rush from nowhere, singers wear outfits that are made of metallic purple plastic and sleek leather, and vicious guitar-playing Muppet-hunters flaunt their kills as their garb. In this world, rocking out is mandatory.

Yet still, in this “Heavy Metal” meets ColecoVision universe, Black Kids find meaning in the madness. Frontman Reggie Youngblood is suddenly transplanted to a dramatic cliff, preaching his heartfelt message of eye contact. He is at home in the untamed wilderness; as gazelles prance around him, he lets his voice and perfectly tousled locks fly free. Meanwhile, two bandmates navigate a spaceship through rings of lasers in endlessly deep black space, and a fourth races a flying Delorean—what an insane idea—on virtual roads as smooth as Reggie’s voice.

While it seems as though this world just couldn’t get any wackier, more challenges confront the Black Kids. They battle skull-headed demons with force fields. Their two-pronged swords of light flash against the darkness. They even manage to find a glowing volume of spells flat in the middle of the desert. Theirs is a universe where the unreal is realized. The band’s name is even seen in lights not once, not twice, but four times. In short, they “don’t care what you’ve been taught.” In this hip trip, you can live whatever Technicolor dream you like.

Underlying the whole crazy experience, though, is a theme of burning love. It doesn’t matter that battles are raging and bodies are raving: “Sure I know it’s apocalypse,” Reggie sings, “but can’t it wait till I kiss your lips?” This, then, is the true takeaway: when your love life is uncertain—you’re “tired of kissing, shooting and missing”—there is only one thing to do: stop, drop, and rock. While we may not all be lucky enough to see the wonders the Black Kids have seen, at least we can all relate to this.

—Antonia M.R. Peacocke