The ghotic technobeat group Dollheads bears such an imprint of emotional detachment that one can easily agree that their previous name – Necropolis – was really to the point. The music of a large city blinking with its lights in the night, though empty. The emergency lights of a paper shop are on, a lonely trolleybus is drifting under the colonnades of a large bridge marking its way with the bright light of the empty passenger compartment, shimmering of the light on an inkjet printer, which has been left with the power on since the last weekend on the fortieth floor of a skyscraper abandoned by the people. The city is breathing, but there are no people. They have gone to sleep. And in their dreams they will see the synthetic waves with the clouds of guitar vibrations joining them from above and resembling the sounds of the outside world, which sometimes encroach on the dream and interrupt it. The group is using the “fish” [non-existent language] as a matter of principle, and if the “chanson style” is the city song, Dollheads is the chanson without lyrics. It brings to mind the shoegazing – the pop of the British rockers of the late 80-s, which was composed as a contrast to Duran-Duran playing in the nearby school disco or Angelo Badalamenti, who had heard too much of Trent Reznor. Generally speaking, of all the gothic groups I know, of the projects existing on the electronic spaces of the Russian-speaking CIS internet, Dollheads is the brightest, in my opinion, if the word “bright” is at all applicable to the Gothicism.