8Sided Blog

the scene celebrates itself

Falling from the Clouds

by // Leave a Comment

The Lake During Hurricane Ian

I remember snow in Florida. It happened in a small town outside Gainesville, which, technically, is considered northern Florida. But if you draw a straight line across the Gulf of Mexico, Gainesville is below New Orleans and directly across from San Antonio. So it’s not too far north.

I was a small child, this was probably in the late ’70s, and I was visiting my grandmother’s house with family for Christmas. The astonished call came out — snow! These were ‘snow flurries,’ to be precise. The meager attempt at snow turned into drops of water immediately upon impact. Of course, it wasn’t that cold. But, snow of any kind in Florida? Actually, not unheard of at the time. 

Nowadays, the idea of snow in Florida is the subject of crazy talk. Maybe there are flurries closer to the Georgia border, but I’d bet the reaction would be as if frogs were falling from the clouds. Do you want to know what’s not so surprising? Extreme heat, humidity, and ripe conditions for category 4+ hurricanes. 

Hurricane Ian was a monster hurricane. It was as much a monster as Irma, only five years ago. Both storms were massive and slow — I remember Charly in 2004, which seemed to pass through Orlando in under a couple of hours. Ian stuck around for an entire evening and some of the next day, flooding parts of the city that had never experienced such flooding. And the wind — these may not have clocked MPHs like the violent winds of Irma (that hurricane literally blew my roof off), but Ian’s sustained gusts were no small potatoes. Consider yourself lucky if you didn’t experience these winds.

My home came out relatively unscathed. Despite being beside a lake, I didn’t get any flooding as I’m on an incline. I was without power for three days but treated the situation like a mandatory digital detox. We feasted on veggies from the grill. I kept a big gas generator going. I organized my home office. I finally had time to finish reading The Dispossessed. 

That said, the images of Florida’s Gulf coast — not to mention the aforementioned local flooding — are horrifying and sad. Here are some organizations helping out that would appreciate your donations. And while on the subject of monster storms, the victims of Hurricane Fiona could still use your help, too.

I doubt we’ll get any more snow in Florida, but I’m confident these storms will continue and increase in frequency and power. It’s scary. I’m not going anywhere — if not hurricanes, it’ll be something else — so my options are to stay tense, plan thoughtfully, and maintain the generator monthly. As for Florida, we already see the cracks in the infrastructure, the systemic variety of support for disaster-prone communities, and the stress on this state’s fragile environment. As these storms get meaner and meaner, I’m not sure how Florida will continue to hold it all together. 

Peter Kalmus in The Guardian:

In short, it has been a summer of climate insanity. But even so, this will be, on average, the coolest summer with the least climate chaos for the rest of your life. That is just the nature of trends. It should be terrifying.

Colorfully Aligned

by // 2 Comments

I was pretty excited to see Chrome featured on Bandcamp Daily. The piece is an excellent overview of the pioneering San Francisco duo, revealing more than a few tidbits I didn’t know. The article is understandably from guitarist Helios Creed‘s perspective (as band partner Damon Edge passed a couple of decades back), and he takes a lot of credit. But there is something to be said about Creed’s spiraling guitar lines and bizarro feedback treatments, sounding like nothing else in the late ’70s — someone that ahead of time was likely the main driver pushing Chrome to the, uh, edge.

Chrome has sadly remained under the radar even though their influence is apparent throughout the last forty years of the freaky-deeky side of rock n’ roll. For example, the Butthole Surfers definitely got their hands on a Chrome album or two in their formative days.

I initially found Chrome in my mid-teens through the “New Age” video (probably seen via Night Flight). I was always on the hunt for weird shit™ to help me escape the confines of life in Central Louisiana, and “New Age” fit the bill. The song — and Chrome’s output at the time — was a remarkable portent. It signaled many things on the horizon, both sonically and culturally. Check the cyberpunk current running through the “New Age” video, which also pays homage to A Clockwork Orange and THX 1138.

Chrome - New Age

Around the time I discovered Chrome, I also encountered Cabaret Voltaire’s Red Mecca. That’s not too far off of a connection — Chrome were, in a way, the American Cabaret Voltaire when one looks at their respective experiments recorded in the late ’70s and early ’80s. And as many accept Red Mecca as a dark reflection on England’s Thatcher years, Chrome’s 1980 album Red Exposure (colorfully aligned!) could be seen as a similar reaction to the national mood that brought the US into the Reagan era.

And listen to Cabaret Voltaire’s “Landslide,” taken off Red Mecca. My favorite DJ in the world will be the one who sublimely mixes this with “New Age” in the middle of a packed-out ’80s night somewhere.

Cabaret Voltaire

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

I’m torn. YouTube is a repository of things otherwise impossible-to-find or out-of-print. It’s the only public place where you can hear Kraftwerk’s disowned early albums or watch Keith Levene abuse a Prophet-5 as PIL runs through “Careening.” These things are on YouTube because of fans and super-fans, noting a cultural absence and taking matters into their own hands. But no one’s getting paid, except for YouTube. And maybe also the uploader who unscrupulously turns on the monetization of a vintage work that’s not theirs.1The Chrome and Cabaret Voltaire videos above were uploaded respectively by Helios Creed and Mute Records, so they are welcome to monetize to their hearts’ content. That’s why I’m torn.

But discoveries like The Black Tower make YouTube seem all right. The enigmatically but actually named John Smith is a British avant-garde filmmaker whose work escaped me until I randomly peeped an exchange about The Black Tower on the Twitter machine. From what I’ve recently seen, Smith’s work is minimal but compelling, weaving stories and visual play from things noticed in his immediate surroundings. For instance, the 1975 short film Leading Light looks entirely shot in his bedroom.2Sharp eyes might spot The Velvet Underground. This article in Senses of Cinema digs further into Smith’s ‘familiar-but-unfamiliar’ approach.

The Black Tower is a 23-minute film released by Smith in 1987. The super-fan uploader didn’t monetize this, which is nice — The Black Tower is the sort of thing that should remain free of ads; otherwise, its spell is broken. “Architectural horror” is an intriguing phrase I saw to describe the film. For me, The Black Tower is like a campfire ghost story, except it’s told next to a darkened chip shop in a disused city alleyway instead of a campfire. 

John Smith's The Black Tower

The Black Tower mainly comprises of stationary shots of nothingness and near-nothingness, but this is gripping stuff. And inspiring, too — don’t let anyone tell you lack of budget and gear constrain triumphant acts of creativity. Just get that Black Tower out of your head.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

I often wonder why more artists don’t exploit that a Bandcamp download can contain more than just audio files and an album cover. There’s an opportunity to expand an album, to add GIFs and short movies, PDF booklets, and collections of images. Surprise the listener with digital esoterica, revealed only upon purchase and download.

The concept’s potential is a natural fit for Puremagnetik. This small company is developing unique audio plug-ins for creators while manning an active experimental label on Bandcamp. Ambient explorer Taylor Deupree has released Small Winters through the label, and something new from Taylor is a cause for celebration on its own. Taylor is a longtime master of the is-it-broken-or-intentional style of soundscape as he loops warm tones over crackles and randomly conjured defects. The sources for these tones are often something other than synthesized — on Small Winters, you’ll find a glockenspiel. If you’re into this flavor, Taylor doesn’t disappoint. I’m a fan.

But there’s more in store for those who download Taylor’s latest. The album’s title, Small Winters, is also the name of a DAW plug-in designed by Puremagnetik’s Micah Frank with prodding from Taylor. “Taylor suggested that a custom device might be an interesting way to constrain the album’s sonic palette,” says Frank. “We bounced some ideas back and forth and came up with this concept of a broken Tascam 4-track from the future.” Purchase this release on Bandcamp, and you’ll find a text file bundled with the tracks outlining instructions for downloading the plug-in.

The album prominently utilizes the plug-in throughout, most notably on “Long Winter,” which treats the glockenspiel with percolating layers of static-tinged stereo-enhanced repetition. The result is beautiful; the hard attack of the ‘spiel is softened by reversed effects, low-end ghost notes, and a healthy dollop of artificial tape hiss. An ARP 2600 eventually joins in with hints of a glimmering, subdued melody.

“Long Winter” is followed by a series of shorter tracks with uncapitalized titles like “air” and “tea.” After the set’s preceding magnum opus, these might come off more like mere demonstrations of the included plug-in if the cuts didn’t fit snuggly within Taylor’s body of work. I know Taylor and Small Winters don’t rely on a plug-in for beautiful, melancholic atmospheres. But I can’t tell if this plug-in requires Taylor to come close Small Winter‘s remarkable sound. I’ll have to play with the included plug-in and figure that out for myself.

Unforeseen Circumstances

by // 1 Comment

It turns out that if you put off replacing aging scleral contacts for a couple of years, they become brittle and might crack as you gently clean them in your hands. Good to know. And that’s why I’m dealing with unforeseen circumstances — meaning, in my present state, I can’t see circumstances for shit. 

I’ve written about keratoconus here a few times. It’s a total bummer. The eyeballs lose their shape, and one’s eyesight gets wacky. As it’s a structural degradation of the eye itself, glasses aren’t too much help. Scleral contacts are your best bet (unless you want to live la vida loca and get a corneal transplant, which I am not wont to do).

The good news is I found a rad new eye doctor on a friend’s recommendation. She has keratoconus, too, which is bad news for her but good news for me. It’s nice to have a doctor who understands your condition and what you’re going through first-hand. This doc is also about 5 minutes from my house. That proximity is a novelty — over a decade ago, when first diagnosed, there were so few eye specialists dealing in keratoconus that I had to be driven (as I couldn’t safely drive) four hours to Miami. I did that almost monthly for a year. And my new doc had to do the same thing at the time.

I saw this doctor yesterday and was thoroughly eye-prodded and iris-scanned to get the perfect fit for my new scleral lenses. I can’t wait to get them. Because right now, I’m legally blind. And I’ll remain this way until the contacts arrive, which appears to happen next Thursday. 

I won’t get into what these things cost. I’ll just say that if you wear ‘normal’ contacts, multiply your price by at least five. But I can’t normally function, easily work, or do much of anything enjoyable without my expensive bionic eyes. That keratoconus is not covered by any insurance plan I know of is another white mark on the chalkboard of health care crimes in the good ol’ USA.

But I can blog, right? Sure! But if you spied into my window, you’d see me holding my phone up to my face, typing on the tiny keyboard with my thumbs. It’s so much comfier on my peepers to do it this ridiculous way than looking into my huge 29″ computer monitor. And watching movies? On my iPad, also held maybe five inches from the tip of my nose. So, what do you have planned for the week ahead? I’ll be holding various devices against my nose.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

I also realized that I hadn’t posted my BNDCMPR playlist for June. So, here it is. As always, this playlist is a selection of fantastic songs I ran across on Bandcamp over the past month. The playlist is shorter this time, but the quality is mountain high. If you dig anything I included, then feel free to purchase the tune. Or, at least, follow the corresponding artist or label on Bandcamp. Enjoy!

The Pomposity of It All

by // 2 Comments

One of the first bands I was into was Yes (which is why I know a thing or two about Alan White). One could easily find most of their oeuvre in the cut-out bins, so I had all of Yes’s early albums by the time I was 15 — even this one. But soon, punk rock and post-punk reared their shaggy heads. I quickly jettisoned Yes, prog-rock, and anything resembling those to the dustbin.

So, I never really got into Vangelis. The pomposity of it all — I filed him alongside the Rick Wakemans and Keith Emersons of the world. My synth heroes were rarely photographed in front of banks of gear, whether Cabaret Voltaire, Chris Carter, or the more humble practitioners regularly featured in Keyboard Magazine, like Suzanne Ciani. Of course, I dug the music in Blade Runner, but I was just into Blade Runner. Though I watched it multiple times, I only saw it via VHS or DVD on television at home. I considered every part of it satisfying as a whole.

In 2007, Blade Runner: The Final Cut was released on the film’s 25th anniversary. This version wasn’t just another ‘director’s cut’ treatment — the visuals and sound were fully remastered, with the latter updated for theaters with surround sound. At the time of its theater run, I was in Los Angeles, staying with a friend and looking for something to do on a lazy afternoon. My friend told me that a cinema within walking distance of his place was one of the ‘test theaters’ used by the film’s technical team to fine-tune this new Blade Runner version. The movie was playing on that particular screen, and, as the film’s techies optimized the ‘remaster’ in that very theater, this would be one of the best settings in the world to see this latest Blade Runner.

I walked down to the cinema. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and there weren’t many people there. I was able to get the coveted center-but-several-rows-from-the-screen seat. No one sat near me, and, with no snacks to distract me or drinks to inspire a restroom break, I settled in for my first time seeing Blade Runner on the big screen.

The first thing to hit was the opening shot of the city at night, accompanied by that identifiable ‘boom’ sound.1which, btw, I sampled and used repeatedly throughout this track The city and all its lights looked incredible, so clear and gorgeous. I was immediately overwhelmed. But then here comes Vangelis. The plaintive opening theme eases in, and I hear it all around me. The high melodic line seems to float around the theater. The music is so crisp, vibrant, and alive — I’m finally comprehending the accomplishment of Vangelis’s score.

The sum of Blade Runner’s parts does combine into something magical, a synergy that doesn’t often happen in collective art. And it’s no surprise to learn that Vangelis composed the music specifically for the visuals and only in service of what was on screen. As he’s quoted as saying, “My music does not try to evoke emotions like joy, love, or pain from the audience. It just goes with the image, because I work in the moment.”

Of course, Vangelis recently passed away. Thinking about what I missed, I’m planning a deep dive and give a try to some classic Vangelis music that I once dismissed (without hearing, I’ll add). If you’re in the same boat, a good starting place is this memorial and career overview from Alexis Petridis.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

Through the recent Aquarium Drunkard podcast interview with Sasha Frere-Jones, I discovered a new-to-me podcast called Weird Studies. The show’s description: “Conversations on art and philosophy, dwelling on ideas that are hard to think, and art that opens up rifts in what we are pleased to call ‘reality.'” Could I be any more on board after seeing that?

I’ve listened to two episodes so far, and they were both delightfully fun and heady. Of course, I started with the philosophical discussion of Blade Runner. And then I naturally moved on to the episode about Brian Eno’s Music For Airports. So many ideas are shoved in each hour+ that it was a little dizzying to keep up. It’s a podcast that might warrant repeated listenings for episodes on your preferred topics. 

As the discussion of Eno went on, with the concept of ambient music’s context a recurring theme, I was surprised the hosts didn’t mention the story of Eno hearing Music For Airports played in an airport. Unfortunately, the story is anecdotal, relayed by Brian in an interview I can’t locate. Brian told of arriving at an airport for a highly-trumpeted installation he was giving in the city. The album greeted him as he stepped off the plane and into the terminal. The only problem was that it was playing too loud. “They missed the point!” I recall him saying in the interview with palpable frustration. His reaction makes me think of this classic Far Side cartoon, and, in Eno’s version, you’d replace New Age Music’s Greatest Hits with Music For Airports played at top volume.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

While on the subject of Brian Eno, I need to mention the incredibly indulgent box set recently released by his chum Robert Fripp. The Exposures box consists of a stupefying 32 discs, broken down here by John Coulthart, who possesses one of these monsters:

I’m still working my way through its contents: 25 CDs, 3 DVDs and 4 blu-rays; the CDs all run for at least 70 minutes each so these alone provide about 30 hours of music. The box covers three phases of Robert Fripp’s “Drive to 1981”: his debut solo album, Exposure; his Frippertronics guitar recordings, both live and in the studio; and his short-lived New-Wave dance band The League Of Gentleman. All cult stuff in this house, obviously, you don’t buy 32 discs on a whim.

The average price of this thing sits around $170, which is reasonable for all of that. But this is a niche piece — I mean, I’m big a fan of Robert Fripp, but I guess not big enough as I won’t be getting this. I wonder how many Robert’s team has manufactured. But it’s easy to see the future2And the present, if we’re being honest. of physical releases in Exposures. I’m not necessarily talking about extravagant multi-disc treatments that cost a few weeks of grocery money. I’m impressed by the niche aspect, the catering to the hardcore of the hardcore fans with a limited run edition, and you don’t need the discography and gravitas of Fripp to do it. Perhaps you can issue a disc with a limited zine featuring exclusive insights into the artist’s process. Or a cassette that comes in a beautiful wooden box, each individually painted or hand-carved, signed by band members.

The key is creating the myth — drawn from truths and stories — that swirls around your art and serves the listeners looking for entry into those secrets. No pussyfooting!

An Inside Job

by // Leave a Comment

It’s the last day of May, so it’s time to reveal this month’s music recommendations. For each month of 2022, I’m keeping track of the great music I run across on Bandcamp — mostly new but some old, but all new to me — and compiling the songs in a BNDCMPR playlist. May’s selection starts jagged and indie-dubby before giving way to an extended run of atmospheric mood vibrations. The DJ in me can’t resist putting thought into the sequence, so be sure to listen in full, from beginning to end. This one’s an inside job.

Past selections: 1 + 2 + 3 + 4

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

There’s some fine commentary in today’s edition of Todd L. Burns’ always excellent Music Journalism Insider newsletter. Todd interviews a few folks who are known to write intelligent things about music in each edition. This time one of these is The Quietus‘s Luke Turner, who has some withering words for his peers who focus on writing about artists that grab the most SEO hits: 

To focus so excessively on corporate pop often designed to feed tech algorithms excludes not just what was always the underground, but also those who 20 years ago would have been able to have a good underground-adjacent career. It’s an old joke that people say we make up the artists in [The Quietus] ‘s top 100 records of each year, but I wish that more publications did deep dives that ignored genre, profile, the established music industry, what works on social media or what they feel they ought to be covering. I would like to see more focus on creative graft rather than pop grift, and more skepticism of consensus. What’s the point of knocking down the hoary and hairy old rock canon only to replace it with a different yet equally boring one? 

Also among this edition’s interviews, TV/podcast producer Greg Heller hits the nail on the head when it comes to why I can’t watch most music documentaries these days: “So often I can feel that the filmmakers want viewers to understand why THEY love these musicians, rather than present who these musicians are to let us decide if WE love them too.” And Greg says he’s working on a documentary series about the “strangest, least likely bands snared in the post-Nirvana dragnet of major label signings.” That sounds like some Butthole Surfers content, so count me in.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

The internet age creates additional considerations when coming up with a band or artist name. Usually, that comes down to not naming your band something that’s impossible to have a chance in a Google search on its own, like “Spatula.”1Oops. There are at least three bands called Spatula. But I never thought about names that make the spam filters go into overdrive until reading this piece in Wired:

The misunderstandings began immediately after they formed. “We had a Facebook page, and we were getting all sorts of weird DMs from men all over the world,” says Murphy. “They were like, ‘How much to buy?’ They thought we were some sort of vendors.” And then they’d have the same conversation over and over again. “‘We sent you guys an email.’ ‘No, you didn’t.’ Everything ended up in spam.” Now, clunkily, every promo email from the band promises material from “”V**gra Boys” and then immediately explains “(**= “ia” because spam FILTERS).”

Says the band’s publicist, Ryan Cunningham, “For the past four years I’ve only used that. Their manager, Oskar Ekman, advised me from day one to never write the actual band name in an email. During an album campaign, I check my spam as regularly as my inbox.”

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

Science and facts, with linked citations. It’s essential to know these things, to brace oneself mentally and rhetorically against the gaslighting of being told obvious truths are ‘politicizing’ or ‘propagandizing.’ I doubt this editorial will persuade anyone not already convinced. Still, you and I should stay resolutely aware of the reality (and, yes, horror) of the present situation here in the USA. It’s the only way we have a chance to fight it.

That Word Doesn’t Mean Anything Anymore

by // Leave a Comment

SR: During the past decade, there’s been a larger reevaluation of pop music and its merits—what many refer to as poptimism—and it’s prompted a major shift in music journalism, especially at outlets like Pitchfork. Do you think that’s been a good thing?

PS: I do in the sense that people are taking seriously styles of music that for a long time were just written off. It’s caused journalists and readers to rethink a lot of assumptions about what constitutes value, and it’s undone a lot of prejudices about women and people of color making music and what styles are valid for critical appraisal. At the same time, when it comes to contemporary pop, what I find frustrating as a reader and a listener is that I sometimes find the discourse to be far more interesting than the music. For many records, there’s not a lot of substance there beyond the fame of the artist, and I don’t think that the critical discourse acknowledges that. Still, it’s hard to generalize, and my opinion probably reflects my own tastes, which are quite experimental and idiosyncratic.

+

PS: … if we’re using the word underground to talk about dance music that’s made primarily to fill nightclubs where the business model is based on alcohol sales, then that word doesn’t really mean anything anymore.

+

PS: … as the scene has become more diversified, not just in terms of demographics but also in terms of geography and styles of music, I think it’s become harder to do an electronic music publication that represents the breadth of everything and still feels central. There’s been an explosion of musicians, DJ and venues; maybe the answer is to go back to more locally focused publications. That might be a better way to represent what’s actually happening in electronic music.

A few of my favorite takeaways from Shawn Reynaldo’s in-depth interview with veteran music journalist and reviewer Philip Sherburne. All instances of emphasis are mine. The full piece goes up behind a paywall tomorrow so read it while you can (if you’re a paid subscriber to Shawn’s excellent First Floor newsletter then you’ll continue to have access).

We’re Still Statik Dancin’

by // 1 Comment

Minimal Compact were (are?) a groundbreaking band that were based out of Tel Aviv in their heyday. They released a series of acclaimed albums in the ’80s on the Crammed label that explored post-punk’s funkier, artsier edges. Minimal Compact are probably more influential than you think — ask a few clued-in art punks.

The band sounded the alarm with “Statik Dancin’,” the first track on their debut album, 1982’s One By One. You could say “Statik Dancin'” helped set the template for the DFA/LCD sound alongside Eno’s work with Talking Heads and other triumphs of sonic mish-mashing from that era. There’s more than one unique element to “Statik Dancin’,” but Samy Birnbach’s disconnected but urgent vocal delivery and Marc Hollander’s spiraling bass clarinet solo are most noteworthy. The rhythm line is an electrical pulse, high tempo but locked in. And this guitar is more scratch than notes and counts as part of that rhythm section. I’m positive you could play this at any dance music club without killing the vibe.

Even wilder: a new re-release of the original version (not the respectable Colin Newman assisted 2019 re-recording) backed by a remixed ‘dub’ from none other than Mad Professor. A dub done well shines sunlight on the bones of the source track — it’s the same skeleton but you can now examine the joints. And what joints are these! The bass and drum (and percussion) drive is as kinetic as ever while Samy’s voice and Berry Sakharof’s guitar twirl in the echo chamber. Mr. Professor adds elements familiar even to those who only know his Massive Attack work, and, despite the absence of bass clarinet (maybe it’s hiding in the mix), the whole thing feels like an explosion in slow motion. What a cut.

There aren’t many people producing dubs as tastefully and effectively as Mad Professor. Unfortunately, many contemporary dub versions are either too heavy-handed or sonically timid. I feel like DAW in-the-box automation, for all its advantages, takes the danger out of recording a ‘version.’ Dub is on the fly, an octopus at the controls, pushing buttons and riding faders. Just check out this video of Mad Professor in action. Or how about Adrian Sherwood for something even more intense?

Adrian Sherwood at the controls

Let’s leave the subject of dubs and go back to Minimal Compact — or, more specifically, Samy Birnbach. His post-Compact career has been long and wide, including curating the beloved Freezone series of compilations and his SSR label. As DJ Morpheus, he DJs on radio and club decks and is responsible for one of the best sets I have ever heard. It was at a small club in Moscow, and Samy didn’t beat-mix a single record. The music selection and his sly sequencing did all the work, and it blew me away.

Let’s go back further. In 1996, I released a record on San Francisco’s Mephisto Records called “141 Revenge Street.” The 12″ got around more than I could have imagined, and a copy ended up in Samy’s hands. He got in touch with me (maybe by fax!) and suggested I hang out with him in Miami at the Winter Music Conference. I had no intention to go but couldn’t help but think it would be cool to meet the guy behind the Freezone compilations, the guy behind “Statik Dancin’.” So I popped down to Miami — my first time — and met up with Samy, who seemed to know everyone but spent a lot of time with me. He gave me a lot of advice, encouraged my then fledgling DJ/producer career, and introduced me to people like Carl Craig and Kruder & Dorfmeister. Holy cats, I was hooked.

I returned home with a multi-year supply of inspiration and got to work. I started recording what would become my Sunburn single and the next Mephisto release. Samy released “141 Revenge Street” on SSR and got Glenn Underground to remix it. Then someone bought me a plane ticket for the first time, and I flew to Detroit, where a guy heckled me during my entire DJ set. It wasn’t but another year or so that Astralwerks came calling.

I’m still in touch with Samy. He’s been a trusted constant and friend in this business called music. All these years later, we’re both still statik dancin’.

Expand the Bubble

by // Leave a Comment

In January, I started compiling my Bandcamp discoveries in a monthly playlist. I utilize BNDCMPR technology, allowing songs from everyone’s favorite music platform assembled into an online playlist. BNDCMPR isn’t just a useful alternative to Spotify playlists for turning people on to cool tunes but these compilations also help me remember favorites I’ve run across on Bandcamp.

I just published April’s playlist. It features a mix of brand new music, a few great songs from friends, and a couple of meaningful rediscoveries (R.I.P. David Freel). As always, I put care into the sequencing so listen to the playlist from beginning to end if you’re able. And please check out the full albums and purchase any music that you’re particularly digging.

Need more? Here are my previous playlists from January, February, and March.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

I spent a good part of the weekend cleaning out my RSS feed subscriptions. There are a lot of feeds in there and I don’t think I’m even a third of the way done. I subscribe to a lot of feeds. I like to open my RSS reader (I use Inoreader) and start flipping from the most recent thing that comes up. This gives the experience a random feel to it (and you know how much I like random things) and I’m often finding inspiration from articles and posts I wouldn’t have run across otherwise.

That said, as I audit my RSS subscriptions, I’m saddened but not surprised at how many blogs are dead or inactive. Granted, many of these bloggers have moved on to newsletters (you can follow many of those with RSS, too) but — come on — let’s get back to the beat of the blog!

Subscribing to RSS feeds is the most important part of my gathering and researching process. It’s also how I keep up with my favorite blogs and sites, especially those of friends of mine. Until recently, I kept up with ‘what’s going on’ and potential writing topics through Twitter and social media. Now, with RSS, I get to finely curate the info flow to my interests while keeping things broad enough to expand the bubble, all without the overwhelming noise. And — bonus! — there aren’t any algorithms getting in the way. The web is pleasant again.

Interested? Here’s a great page that explains all you need to know.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

I’m considering posting the week’s media diet here every Sunday. I worry revealing this information will make it seem like I read, watch, and listen to way too much. Please know that I compartmentalize my intake — I have specific times of day for it all and I rarely finish anything in one sitting — so rest assured it’s not like I’m staring at a TV all day.

WATCHING

Shoot the Piano Player (1960) – François Truffaut’s second film is excellent and surprisingly hard-boiled, but also comes off as a little slight. That’s probably because, in Truffaut’s filmography, it’s sandwiched between The 400 Blows and Jules and Jim, two of the best films of the 20th century. I like that the two gangsters in Shoot the Piano Player apparently got into their line of work because they really enjoy meeting new people.

A Separation (2011) – I first saw A Separation a decade ago and can’t believe how hard it still hits in a rewatch. Masterful in every. Single. Way. Here’s a fantastic review of the film on Letterboxd that helps explain why it’s so great.

King Richard (2021) – I’m still getting through last year’s Oscar-nominated films. I spent a small chunk of this thinking Rick Macci was played by Bob Odenkirk under a wig and a bit of makeup. Despite that disorienting delusion, I found this to be standard but enjoyable Hollywood fare. The kids are great as is Smith, even in light of the post-Oscar elephant stomping around the room.

Tokyo Vice – Caroline and I are enjoying this. It’s stylish and fast-paced, and Ken Watanabe is always a joy to watch in action. There are more than a few moments of insufferable expository dialogue (usually my TV-watching kryptonite). And a few of the plot points require putting logic on hold, which is no biggie as the source material might not be that logical either. But it is a lot of fun and who doesn’t enjoy cruising around late-90s Tokyo for an hour each week?

LISTENING

You already know what I’m listening to music-wise if you check out the BNDCMPR playlist that started this post. Other than that, two podcasts caught my ears this week and made my brain whirl.

I really got into this conversation between the author Robert Greene and Pete Holmes on the latter’s You Made It Weird podcast. Holmes is a little hard to take at times (especially if you’re a new listener and aren’t used to his overbearing bedside manner as a podcast host), but Greene and his fascinating interests make everything good. He gets a little into his process and also goes into how a follower of Zen Buddhism could comfortably write books about power and seduction. There’s some life-after-death and ‘time is a flat circle’ type talk, too, so hold on to your hats.

I didn’t exactly get what I expected from the author Emily St. John Mandel on The Ezra Klein Show besides a couple of passages read from her books. Instead, most of this discussion is about time travel and what it would mean if we are indeed living in a simulation. I ate this up, especially the conclusion that we’re already living in a simulation because of the stories we agree upon that control our lives. Heady stuff!

READING

I’m working my way through Salman Rushdie’s Shame. It’s not an easy read! But I’m continuing on as every time I pick it up there’s some gem of magical realism or a gorgeous series of sentences that keeps me moving toward the end.

Milk Crate of Forgotten Playlists

by // Leave a Comment

The best and truest discourse regarding Twitter’s predicament (and that of its users) expresses the sentiment of just letting it go. This is a hopeful stance, so don’t misconstrue it with surrender or giving up. Folks obsessed with fixing, preserving, or even finding an equal replacement for Twitter are embracing a defective template. Like arguing with Spotify to change its ways, a focus on what’s clearly an unsolvable problem distracts us from creating ‘first-principles’1Yes, I’m cheekily using a term popularized by that billionaire knucklehead. alternatives. Rip it up and start again.

Ryan Broderick in Garbage Day:

I’ve seen arguments on Twitter from liberal users this week saying things like, “Twitter is a public square and the front page of the internet, we must stay and fight the Musk fans and conservatives for it.” lol with all due respect, but why? The main benefit of the internet is that it’s infinite. There doesn’t need to be a public square! And there can also be many! […] Twitter, though smaller than other platforms, still monopolizes our culture more than any other. And very soon it will be owned by the richest man on Earth… But we don’t need to stay there. There’s nothing keeping us there. And I’d argue we can take it further. We now know that centralized feeds are just easy targets for despots and oligarchs (and whatever Mark Zuckerberg is) to capture and control. We need to throw it all out. Make websites and message boards and Discords and become ungovernable. Kill the central feed.

Robin Sloan:

There are so many ways people might relate to one another online, so many ways exchange and conviviality might be organized. Look at these screens, this wash of pixels, the liquid potential! What a colossal bummer that Twitter eked out a local maximum; that its network effect still (!) consumes the fuel for other possibilities, other explorations.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

Brian Eno with guitar

I appreciate Gary Hustwit’s approach to documentary film-making, and his feature-length profile on designer Dieter Rams is a total joy. So, under Hustwit’s steely direction, I’m more excited than hesitant about a documentary on Brian Eno. But will it be generative?

From the press release:

Befitting its subject, Eno will utilize proprietary generative software developed by Hustwit and digital artist Brendan Dawes to provide unique viewing experiences via multiple digital formats, cinema screenings and site-specific installations. “You can’t make a conventional, by-the-numbers bio doc about Brian Eno,” said Hustwit. “That would be antithetical and a missed opportunity. What I’m trying to do is to create a cinematic experience that’s as innovative as Brian’s approach to music and art.”

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

This moving NY Times article explores how mixtapes can capture and contextualize historical moments. In this case, a stash of recordings discovered in a former ‘party house’ on Fire Island documents the escape and loss experienced by the island’s community throughout the tragic height of the AIDS crisis. There are many other histories told through hand-designed mixtapes — the genesis of hip-hop and the ebbs and flows of the original rave movement, for two examples. However, these histories are confined to the period from the mid-70s to the late ’90s. Future accounts told through music will take other forms, but it’s not like anyone will stumble across a milk crate packed with forgotten playlists.

❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋-❋

I can’t get enough of this cover version of Black Flag’s “Rise Above” from the French duo Ibeyi. It’s as perfect for 2022 as the original was for 1981. The predictably angry reactions peppering the song’s YouTube comments section miss the point entirely — the fed-up spirit of punk rock is for everyone, no matter the race, nationality, or musical genre. Nobody exclusively owns that.

Thoughts Held Hostage

by // Leave a Comment

As I do the mental strength training to reenter the world of blogging, a war rages on. Once more, my thoughts seem held hostage. Writing through this is an option, but I’m not sure if music recommendations and snarky asides will cut it.

‘Inspiration blogs’ are essential right now — these are the blogs that I look to for a glimpse at how others are managing in tough times, something I mentioned in my guide to blogging. Kottke is a good one to peruse as Jason continues to post about topics ranging from meaningful to frivolous, but not without acknowledging the weighted sadness of current events. Warren Ellis has started blogging again (and a reason for his recent absence should be noted) — his casual but steady approach to blogging reminds me not to overthink the process. And then there’s James A, Reeves’ Atlas Minor, which proves that there’s a lot that’s fascinating and rewarding in blogging about what’s going on in the internal spaces.

Today is Bandcamp Friday1And I’ll have plenty more to say about Epic Games’ acquisition of Bandcamp soon.. If you’re a fan of the type of music I regularly write about here, you should venture over to A Closer Listen’s list of Ukrainian artists to support. I’m breezing through it as I type this and discovering many brilliant new-to-me ambient/electronic/post-rock sounds.

Also, Peter Kirn highlighted an expansive spreadsheet devoted to Ukrainian bands and artists to explore. He’s picked a few excellent recommendations to peep in his post.

And, via The Quietus, here’s a list of benefit compilations “for those looking to buy some Ukraine-supporting music on the latest Bandcamp Friday.”

Morning reading: Smithsonian Magazine gives some 20th-century historical context to the war over Ukraine. This article also helped me better understand some of the themes in Come And See, which I wrote about previously. Adam Tooze’s Chartbook newsletter is invaluable in understanding what’s going on in this war and what it means for world affairs. I admit a lot of what ‘The Tooze’ writes about goes over my head, but I have just as many “oh, I see now” moments, too. I’m also working through Tooze’s conversation with Ezra Klein on Klein’s podcast — dense but illuminating stuff. (Not Ukraine related: Klein’s episode last week with philosopher C. Thi Nguyen talking about how games are always present in our lives is a humdinger.)