Hello, Aiko reporting in. Allow me to re-introduce myself to any newcomers. I’m playing ambassador to the alien known as King Tut, representing them to the human world, and the human world back to King Tut.

Soon after their arrival in 2017, I agreed to accommodate, document and disseminate their musical creations - efforts they colloquially refer to as ‘Human Music’. It's some tragic mix of strange rock, fever dream pop and claustrophobia.

So now...

They’re back with a big ole' album. Mahoosive trip. I often wonder if KT realises they lack a fan base. Still, it’s good to see them going so hard. Coming from ‘Bop-It’ samples and songs about wishing asphyxiation on others to this.

King Tut from my perspective seems often pained and confused. They’re relentlessly transparent about their doubts and regrets. Makes for good art though. I understand where it comes from; this past year was difficult for us both. Long stories of displacement and doubt. Of facing universal betrayals. Of living out the consequences of our decisions. Of being played and screwed.

I’ll leave you to take in this album for what it is, but I do want to share something I said I would: why they chose ‘King Tut’ as their name in the first place. Turns out it’s not so simple. It’s certainly food for thought. I’ll try be succinct, but there’s still a lot. Please read on if you have a few minutes...

--------------˚-ø----------------≤µ-------------------------------->---------§

ºººTutankhamun, the Pharaoh, is an icon of Ancient Egypt to humans today. His is a life endlessly studied. One that provided a key of insight to a world oozing time worn stories and pilfered riches. The image of his sarcophagus is remarkably iconic and his very tomb helped us understand so much more about the world which he came from.

But the key to our King Tut regards that image of a sarcophagus, which brings him near to the heights of the Pyramids, Ra and Cleopatra. It’s not his own image, words, actions, stories or memories that any of us know, but his symbols.

We barely knew Tutankhamun. Political turmoil surrounded him with opportunity to be written into history, but he died so early, only 19. It is by supposed chance that he is remembered. Many of his kind are forgotten for having been discovered and subsequently looted or destroyed before the historical mercy of documentation. Tutankhamun, conversely, was found by a team of excavators with a mission to rediscover the past. That made all the difference. Thanks to their desire for knowledge and understanding, we reincarnated the name of someone we couldn’t possibly know, and now that name is famous. Well, to a point.

The vessel of this name is something to wonder about. We are not certain on the identity of Shakespeare. Or Jack the Ripper. Even one of the most significant figures of the world, Jesus. We don't know for sure if he was a real person - part person/part myth, a complete person or complete fabrication (though signs point to a lot of mythmaking ever since).

These names represents stories, ideas, images, understandings, desires, beliefs and endless more things. All of these exist in numerous minds, and thus *will* be perceived and interpreted differently many times, especially considering the vast discrepencies in 'amount of knowledge' each given person has on the figure. It only grows in scope as the scope those who consider the story grows. These names are given associations which bounce around a chaotic chamber of human discourse over centuries. Their legacies are forever out of their hands. It is worth also stating - their legacies are in the hands of beholders, both absolutely within a given mind's eye, and tenuously in the ether of the collective mind.

This makes one part of the story.

Over time, facts are learned and unlearned. Opinions and techniques change. The world changes. Importantly, this dance of perception rarely involves the actual human in question. What’s more, understanding is never evenly spread. The wider world doesn’t seek the nuance that the experts might.

And that name. He, the original figure, changed it. Once Tutankhaten, meaning ‘the living image of Aten’, he altered the name to what we now know, and which means ‘the living image of Amun’. So he did in fact alter a small detail of his legacy. But, well.. we barely even call him by that name. His representation in our collective consciousness doesn’t care for that. He’s better known as King Tut. Even his official name can’t even stay the same across languages. It’s Tutankamón in Spanish.

Perhaps I am starting to digress, but I hope I’ve started to effectively reveal the theme, meaning, or lack thereof in a given historical - or mythical - icon. It’s not just what the facts are, or what all the experts who work to uncover things lost into accidental secrecy (what comprises 99% of history), but to what extent the spirit is maintained through the myriad of perspectives that skirt the fringes of familiarity. King Tut is an established symbol, from one culture to many others. The name is well worn, yet by only one figure.

This is another part of the story. There is one more part left to explain.

In part, Ill take the Chinese speaking world as a conduit to explain this. It’s a known practise that a person has different names. Their name may consist of a Xìngshì which would be the family name and a given name, Ming. Similar to western traditions there. There used to be the practise where men would have a courtesy name, Zì, which was used for those outside their closest circles. Again, similar to other cultures, someone may have an art name, Hào, chosen by the person themselves, and for many poets and writers, it’s the name people know them as. Besides the outmoded Zì, so far so similar, but it's worth discussing these in the context of another culture to reconsider ideas we're so used to that we take it all for granted.

It only stands out to us when a name is unusual, just one word, a symbol, or a series of symbols. Though it won't be too long until this happens more often and more famously.

People in the ‘western world’ may notice that someone from the Chinese speaking world has an additional western name. There may be different intents behind it, but most often it is for familiarity and eased understanding. This isn't limited to Chinese speakers, as those from many countries may adopt a nickname in another country where the language of locals doesn't easily adopt the pronunciations of an unfamiliar name.

In the case of King Tut, it’s not that we’d just have trouble pronouncing their name; it’s that, where they come from, that system of identification isn’t used. Apparently we wouldn’t understand the system they do use, so KT won’t even bother explaining it to me.

So, fair enough, King Tut it is.

What turns this interest in the way we relate to each other, those alien to us, to historical icons, and in a way, to ourselves as a latter part of that world, into a name?

History may be written and revised by victors (or merely those with the privilege to teach us) as it happens, but these stories will always be revised through different lenses of varying honesty and ability. When my alien friend takes on this name, they wear all of the above in their understanding. It is their symbol of their perception on how we view others and ourselves in place of a world which has succeeded those others and will eventually, inevitably, succeed us. And how the latter can completely unconscious the latter two are to most.

It’s been two years since we met and I call them my friend now but still, I wonder how well I even know King Tut beyond their chosen name, their sound, their lyrics and their images. And I'm the closest person to them in this world.

- Aiko Rot, Host Human

--∆--π--åß--˚-ø-˙-∆--π--æ---≤µ-------------------------------->---------§

History of the absurd- -Theatre of the absurd- -Journey of the absurd