8Sided Blog

a zine about sound, culture, and the punk rock dream

Milk Crate of Forgotten Playlists

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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.

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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.”

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Hidden in a Fire Island House, the Soundtrack of Love and Loss (Published 2022)
In tragedy, music provided solace during the AIDS epidemic, and newly discovered cassette tapes captured two decades of parties and pain.
Hidden in a Fire Island House, the Soundtrack of Love and Loss (Published 2022)
In tragedy, music provided solace during the AIDS epidemic, and newly discovered cassette tapes captured two decades of parties and pain.

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.

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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.

Rediscovering My Favorite Mixtape

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(Old man voice:) Remember when we recorded mixtapes in one take, two turntables recording to a cassette, and that cassette duplicated to cheap tapes to give/sell to friends? If you messed up, you had to start over again — kind of like the first two attempts to film Russian Ark. 

In the summer of 1997, I recorded one of these mixtapes, and, yes, started over a few times due to flubbed beat-matching. Finally, I ended up with one of my most popular tapes. This recording was a special session — only recently had I found my ‘sound’: a floaty, jazzy psychedelia hinged on downtempo and mid-tempo breakbeats. I enjoyed the tough Mo Wax’ian trip-hop of the time and the phased-pad soundscapes of the dreamier drum n’ bass productions. I settled on a vibe that combined the two, which inspired my first records and Feng Shui. Anyway, this mixtape was a documentation of my favorite songs of the time that expressed this style.

I lost all copies of the tape and haven’t heard it in perhaps a couple of decades. Then, Friday afternoon, I’m cleaning out some old folders on a dusty hard drive and find an MP3 labeled ‘Summer 1997 Mix.’ I didn’t think anything of it and clicked to preview the file. I heard the opening didgeridoo of the Wagon Christ remix of Nåid’s “Blástjarnan.” OMG, this is that mix!

I have no idea where this MP3 came from. I don’t remember ripping it from the cassette — I didn’t really have the means to do that until recently. Maybe a fan or friend sent it years ago, and I filed it away to listen to someday, then I’m immediately distracted and forgetful? No idea. 

But what a find. The audio quality isn’t the best — it’s a rip of a cassette tape, after all — but THESE TUNES. I love them all. I have the fondest memories of playing these at Knock Knock, in the backroom of Phat N’ Jazzy, and, with increasing frequency, in dark rooms across the globe. (Nostalgic sigh.)

This might be my favorite mixtape I ever recorded, which is really something as I had another 20 years of mixing ahead of me at this point. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have since its rediscovery. 

Hitting the Links: Screwed Twitter Coffee Attack

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In the previous incarnation of this blog, I did a thing called Hitting The Links, a sort of ‘what I’ve been reading’ link round-up. Now that we’re riding the blog train again I’m bringing it back, perhaps as a weekend staple. God knows I read a lot of things and some of it is interesting. These lists could go long, but I’m limiting this one to four fun items of note.

First up, there was an excellent article in Popula by Chris O’Connell profiling Houston’s Screwed Up Records and Tapes:

Screwed Up Records & Tapes is not a normal business. It’s a brick-and-mortar record store that sells neither records nor tapes, but rather CDs. These discs are all by a single artist, the late DJ Screw, the inventor of chopped and screwed music, who has been dead almost two decades. […]

This is perhaps the only record store in existence where no albums appear on the floor. You order one off the menu, by name or catalog number, and Big A slides back behind the glass and grabs it for you. You cannot take communion until you have cash—only cash—in hand. I start scanning the whiteboard, but my eyes glaze over.

I remember the first time I heard a ‘screwed’ mix (It may have even been a recording of DJ Screw). It was around 1994, and I’m driving through South Beach Miami. I heard about Miami’s then-thriving pirate radio scene and thought I’d check it out. I spun my radio dial to a bottom frequency, and there was this crazy station playing 45 RPM R&B records at 33 (and then probably pitched down -6 — at least — on the Technics). I had no idea what I was hearing. It was mesmerizing, and I listened to that station every time I rode in my car during that Miami stay.

Jon Ronson had a freewheeling — and often emotional — conversation with Russell Brand on the latter’s Under The Skin podcast. Jon Ronson is always interesting to listen to (I’m a fan). And If you only know of Russell Brand as the MTV-approved comedian/sometimes movie actor/Katy Perry ex, then you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how thoughtful his podcast is. Taken from this discussion, here’s Jon Ronson on what went wrong with Twitter:

The problem is that we fell in love with a new weapon too much. So it became a place where people could become very unselfconscious … a level playing field … at the core was a utopia. And then when somebody transgressed on the outside … we could hit them with a weapon we understood and they didn’t, which was social media shaming. And so we certainly found that we had power. Voiceless people had a voice and powerless people had power … then what happened is that we fell in love with our new power too much. And a day without shaming felt like a day treading water. So the parameters of what we considered shame-worthy grew wider and wider … and then as a result of that, what happened — and what is still happening — is that instead of seeing humans the way we ought to which is (as) a complicated mess of positive and negative character traits it’s a stage for constant artificial high drama where everybody’s either like a hero or a villain.

Next, David Moldawer, in his must-subscribe weekly newsletter, lays out ‘the coffee situation’:

It doesn’t have to be good coffee. It doesn’t matter if the people there even drink the coffee. However, if the coffee is plentiful, easily accessible, and constantly on offer, you can count on a constellation of other factors related to good work, from a serendipity-boosting layout to an appropriately stimulating but non-distracting acoustic environment. The space itself doesn’t have to be pretty or clean, but it will be conducive. The coffee situation tells you a lot. […]

I’m not telling you to decide on a publisher—or on any other collaboration—based on whether you’re offered a cup of joe as you walk in the door. And then another one when that one’s finished. But, come on, shouldn’t you?

I’ll close out with this great profile on Massive Attack in The Guardian. Check out the photo at the top of the article — no one does ‘morose’ like those guys. Banksy — oops I mean Robert del Naja — addresses one of my favorite topics, a resistance to nostalgia:

“I don’t think I’ve got a problem with nostalgia, because a lot of the time things are self-referential. When you’re working in the way we do, taking things from the past and making them new, making collages…” He pauses. “I stopped feeling nostalgia for the moment because I imagine myself looking back on it from the future, which really freaks me out. I get this vertigo where I’m not thinking about the past, I’m thinking about how I’m going to feel in 10 years’ time.” Nostalgia isn’t as good as it used to be, I joke. Del Naja rubs a hand forwards through his hair.

It’s a bummer that this Massive Attack Mezzanine tour is coming nowhere near our Orlando home base. I think Washington D.C. is the closest stop. Massive Attack, Elizabeth Frazier, Horace Andy, Adam Curtis … I’m equally a huge fan of each, and here they are on tour together (well, Curtis’s visuals in his case). Alas.

🔗→ The Screwtape Records
🔗→ Porn, Sadness & Madness (with Jon Ronson)
🔗→ the coffee situation
🔗→ Massive Attack: ‘I have total faith in the next generation’