5.30.2012
5.22.2012
5.17.2012
I was in New York recently and had the profound sensation that what we had previously referred to as the Real has been replaced by the Internet (now a formalized State), and what we are left with in our material reality is an "insectosphere": walking down the street I saw many stylishly adorned appendages connected to exoskeletons muppetlike: the soul sack has been emptied in favor of immanence with the digital plane.
5.08.2012
4.26.2012
Turntablelab Website Redesign
It may have taken 3 years, but I suppose Pete Hahn & Co. figured out that sagging online sales might not be due to the economy but to their website redesign undertaken in 2009. The new site is much cleaner, though it does have 3 rows of headers (1 separate, 2 adjoined without space) and a fugly rollover animation for those menu columns. I think it would be better if "Lab of the Moment" on rollover had a longer, more informative product quote that could actually sell the product. And the "Lab Headlines" section is just a waste of pixils. If this sounds at all negative, maybe I'm just bitter because in 2011 he said that no one would buy this awesome Just-Ice t-shirt Comie helped make.
4.15.2012
3.30.2012
3.22.2012
3.09.2012
3.01.2012
Daytona 500
"Mercury raps is roughed then God just shown like taps
Red and white Wally's that match, bend my baseball hat
Doin forever shit, like pissin out the window on turnpikes
Robbin niggaz for leathers, high swipin on dirt bikes
Voice be metal like Von Harper radio barber
Murder sleep away camp, the fly lady champ
The arsonist, who burn with his pen regardless
Slaying all these earthlings and fake foreigners
In the Phillipines, pick herbal beans, bubbling strings
Body chemical CREAM, we burn kerosene
The conviction of my tape is rape, wicked like Nixon
Long-heads inscriptions with three sixes in
Kiss the pyramid experiment with high explosive
I slapbox with Jesus, lick shots at Joseph
Zoomin like binoculars, the rap blacksmith
Money's Rolex, with sparkles, Chef ragtop is spotless
I'm Iron Man no cheap cash metal I'm steel alloy
True identity hidden inside secret tabloids
Breathe oxygen both sides of my jaw carry oxes
The track hit like the bangers, in hundred watt boxes
Yo jostling these cats while Little J be deli-ing
Sip Irish Moss out of Widelians”
Red and white Wally's that match, bend my baseball hat
Doin forever shit, like pissin out the window on turnpikes
Robbin niggaz for leathers, high swipin on dirt bikes
Voice be metal like Von Harper radio barber
Murder sleep away camp, the fly lady champ
The arsonist, who burn with his pen regardless
Slaying all these earthlings and fake foreigners
In the Phillipines, pick herbal beans, bubbling strings
Body chemical CREAM, we burn kerosene
The conviction of my tape is rape, wicked like Nixon
Long-heads inscriptions with three sixes in
Kiss the pyramid experiment with high explosive
I slapbox with Jesus, lick shots at Joseph
Zoomin like binoculars, the rap blacksmith
Money's Rolex, with sparkles, Chef ragtop is spotless
I'm Iron Man no cheap cash metal I'm steel alloy
True identity hidden inside secret tabloids
Breathe oxygen both sides of my jaw carry oxes
The track hit like the bangers, in hundred watt boxes
Yo jostling these cats while Little J be deli-ing
Sip Irish Moss out of Widelians”
2.29.2012
2.10.2012
1.24.2012
11.26.2011
11.15.2011
11.11.2011
11.07.2011
11.02.2011
From Conrad's "Lord Jim"
"'Yes! Very funny this terrible thing is. A man that is born falls
into a dream like a man who falls into the sea. If he tries to climb out
into the air as inexperienced people endeavour to do, he drowns- nicht
wahr?... No! I tell you! The way is to the destructive element submit
yourself, and with the exertions of your hands and feet in the water
make the deep, deep sea keep you up. So if you ask me- how to be?'
"His voice leaped up extraordinarily strong, as though away there in the dusk he had been inspired by some whisper of knowledge. 'I will tell you! For that, too, there is only one way.'
"With a hasty swish swish of his slippers he loomed up in the ring of faint light, and suddenly appeared in the bright circle of the lamp. His extended hand aimed at my breast like a pistol; his deep-set eyes seemed to pierce through me, but his twitching lips uttered no word, and the austere exaltation of a certitude seen in the dusk vanished from his face. The hand that had been pointing at my breast fell, and by-and-by, coming a step nearer, he laid it gently on my shoulder. There were things, he said mournfully, that perhaps could never be told, only he had lived so much alone that sometimes he forgot- he forgot. The light had destroyed the assurance which had inspired him in the distant shadows. He sat down and, with both elbows on the desk, rubbed his forehead. 'And yet it is true it is true. In the destructive element immerse.'... He spoke in a subdued tone, without looking at me, one hand on each side of his face. 'That was the way. To follow the dream, and again to follow the dream- and so- ewig- usque ad finem....' The whisper of his conviction seemed to open before me a vast and uncertain expanse, as of a crepuscular horizon on a plain at dawn- or was it, perchance, at the coming of the night? One had not the courage to decide; but it was a charming and deceptive light, throwing the impalpable poesy of its dimness over pitfalls- over graves. His life had begun in sacrifice, in enthusiasm for generous ideas; he had travelled very far, on various ways, on strange paths, and whatever he followed it had been without faltering, and therefore without shame and without regret. In so far he was right. That was the way, no doubt. Yet for all that the great plain on which men wander amongst graves and pitfalls remained very desolate under the impalpable poesy of its crepuscular light, overshadowed in the centre, circled with a bright edge as if surrounded by an abyss full of flames. When at last I broke the silence it was to express the opinion that no one could be more romantic than himself.
"His voice leaped up extraordinarily strong, as though away there in the dusk he had been inspired by some whisper of knowledge. 'I will tell you! For that, too, there is only one way.'
"With a hasty swish swish of his slippers he loomed up in the ring of faint light, and suddenly appeared in the bright circle of the lamp. His extended hand aimed at my breast like a pistol; his deep-set eyes seemed to pierce through me, but his twitching lips uttered no word, and the austere exaltation of a certitude seen in the dusk vanished from his face. The hand that had been pointing at my breast fell, and by-and-by, coming a step nearer, he laid it gently on my shoulder. There were things, he said mournfully, that perhaps could never be told, only he had lived so much alone that sometimes he forgot- he forgot. The light had destroyed the assurance which had inspired him in the distant shadows. He sat down and, with both elbows on the desk, rubbed his forehead. 'And yet it is true it is true. In the destructive element immerse.'... He spoke in a subdued tone, without looking at me, one hand on each side of his face. 'That was the way. To follow the dream, and again to follow the dream- and so- ewig- usque ad finem....' The whisper of his conviction seemed to open before me a vast and uncertain expanse, as of a crepuscular horizon on a plain at dawn- or was it, perchance, at the coming of the night? One had not the courage to decide; but it was a charming and deceptive light, throwing the impalpable poesy of its dimness over pitfalls- over graves. His life had begun in sacrifice, in enthusiasm for generous ideas; he had travelled very far, on various ways, on strange paths, and whatever he followed it had been without faltering, and therefore without shame and without regret. In so far he was right. That was the way, no doubt. Yet for all that the great plain on which men wander amongst graves and pitfalls remained very desolate under the impalpable poesy of its crepuscular light, overshadowed in the centre, circled with a bright edge as if surrounded by an abyss full of flames. When at last I broke the silence it was to express the opinion that no one could be more romantic than himself.
10.30.2011
10.20.2011
Music Structure, Music Taste
I posit that
there are deep structures that determine musical taste. These
structures are organized into three levels:
1) Sound spectrum. Any given individual sound.
2) Phrase. Within the song, there are phrases, or bars that are repeated, like a backbeat.
3) Song. The most macro level of the song.
1) Sound spectrumSound spectrum can be represented by any given individual sound in the song. Is the sound spectrum highly distorted or very "clean". For example, this is the difference between a trumpet holding a clean crisp brassy tone and rock guitar holding a highly distorted, reverbed, fuzzy note. This difference between distorted and clean sounds can be quantified by looking at the sound's spectrograph.
2) Phrase
Between the instantaneous sound spectrum and the song itself, the song has a series of subdivisions. For instance, the break in this song repeats every two bars:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Compare that to this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
The tune by J Dilla is no less funky than that by DJ Premier (one half of the group Gangstarr), but where Premier's beat is regularly repeating, Dilla's phrases are chopped up, repeating sometimes over as little as two beats. Dilla's song is less regular, less easy to predict where it's going from measure to measure. In the Premier beat, the repeated phrase has an "open" and "close" to it. The Dilla beat, more unpredictable, seems continuously "open" and driving forward.
3) Song
This strata relates to the simplicity or complexity of the song structure. For instance, listen to Elvis' "Hound Dog":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Given the first couple of bars, you can almost sing the the entire song to yourself, even if you have only heard it once or twice.
Compare that with Charles Mingus' "Haitian Fight Song". This song has a theme, but like all Mingus tunes, its arrangement is more complex, more intricate. You might sing along, but it has not the predictability of the Elvis tune:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
"Blue Moon" would be another example of a "predictable" tune. Anything from Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew" era would be on the other end of the spectrum.
Genre
One can see the dichotomy I am drawing through each of these three strata: complexity vs. clarity; repetition of the same vs. repetition of the not-same; distortion vs. purity. I argue that music genres are marked by certain traits generally conforming to the criteria outlined above.
As a shorthand, I will use "A" as the symbol for complexity/distortion, and "O" for simplicity/regularity.
1) Sound spectrum. Any given individual sound.
2) Phrase. Within the song, there are phrases, or bars that are repeated, like a backbeat.
3) Song. The most macro level of the song.
1) Sound spectrumSound spectrum can be represented by any given individual sound in the song. Is the sound spectrum highly distorted or very "clean". For example, this is the difference between a trumpet holding a clean crisp brassy tone and rock guitar holding a highly distorted, reverbed, fuzzy note. This difference between distorted and clean sounds can be quantified by looking at the sound's spectrograph.
2) Phrase
Between the instantaneous sound spectrum and the song itself, the song has a series of subdivisions. For instance, the break in this song repeats every two bars:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Compare that to this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
The tune by J Dilla is no less funky than that by DJ Premier (one half of the group Gangstarr), but where Premier's beat is regularly repeating, Dilla's phrases are chopped up, repeating sometimes over as little as two beats. Dilla's song is less regular, less easy to predict where it's going from measure to measure. In the Premier beat, the repeated phrase has an "open" and "close" to it. The Dilla beat, more unpredictable, seems continuously "open" and driving forward.
3) Song
This strata relates to the simplicity or complexity of the song structure. For instance, listen to Elvis' "Hound Dog":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Given the first couple of bars, you can almost sing the the entire song to yourself, even if you have only heard it once or twice.
Compare that with Charles Mingus' "Haitian Fight Song". This song has a theme, but like all Mingus tunes, its arrangement is more complex, more intricate. You might sing along, but it has not the predictability of the Elvis tune:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
"Blue Moon" would be another example of a "predictable" tune. Anything from Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew" era would be on the other end of the spectrum.
Genre
One can see the dichotomy I am drawing through each of these three strata: complexity vs. clarity; repetition of the same vs. repetition of the not-same; distortion vs. purity. I argue that music genres are marked by certain traits generally conforming to the criteria outlined above.
As a shorthand, I will use "A" as the symbol for complexity/distortion, and "O" for simplicity/regularity.
|
Sound spectrum
|
Phrase
|
Song
|
||||
|
Country
|
O
|
A
|
O
|
|||
|
Indie Rock
|
A
|
A
|
O
|
|||
|
Classic Rock
|
A
|
O
|
O
|
|||
|
Metal
|
A
|
A
|
A
|
|||
|
Reggae
|
A
|
O
|
O
|
|||
|
Blues
|
A
|
O
|
A
|
|||
|
Broadway
|
O
|
O
|
O
| |||
10.17.2011
10.16.2011
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