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Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thoughts
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Vegas doesn't need another song and dance performance in town. It's a outdated model. The folks in the charge of the evening affairs there have their fingers on a pulse that's slowly losing steam, even if that generation has been their highest rollers. Instead of another Help! or magic act, Vegas oughta get Cirque de Soleil to do an Avatar production, which would blow some minds clear off everyone in attendance.Psychedelia isn't about melody, notes, chords, or lyrics. It's about sensation, something holistic or for the whole of the body rather than ears or mind. Think of it as mad noise that paints a landscape or provokes the imagination deeper than the surface feel of a party. It's heady by nature but only in the sense that it takes an conscious effort to move past the initial confusion and closer towards the heart of it all. And not all of it is good, absolutely true. I can't stand early Animal Collective. But folks like Boris and Tame Impala? Blistering.
Kyle Singer is probably the least hated Duke star of all time.
Happy Thanksgiving, yall
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Don't Don't Stop
The past few months have been blessed with a bunch of new releases from artists near to my heart. It's a beautiful thing but almost too overwhelming, given how uncalled for it gets me going First step towards recovery is admitting there's a problem though right? Isn't that's what alcoholics learn after the introductionary session? My ability to focus on anything else may be in the later stages of hopeless, but I might as well lash it all out onto here for now and hope for the best in a later day. Here goes the first of a few.
There is no better uplift from the dread that colours our nation's dour perspective at the moment than !!!'s new album, dubbed Strange Weather Isn't It? While most of the bands that poke at the world of dance music do so in a very tentative, cute manner, Chk Chk Chk menaces. With only four albums in 10 years of making music, everything they release is bound to be thought out and intentional, like all art should be They also emerged out of New York at a point where folks began witnessing a rejuvenation of punk throughout the city, with bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Death From Above 1979 and LCD Soundsystem making sounds more rhythmic and colourful but no lag in energy. Chk Chk Chk seemingly came out champion of the noise dubbed dance punk and they've been on a tear ever since. Strange Weather is their fourth album and its a furious joy filled onslaught of a darker but grander, more imaginative colour than anything they've ever done, mostly due to 1. the fact that it was recorded in the notoriously dark atmosphere of Berlin and 2. the death of best friend and drummer Jerry Fuchs, who tragically died from falling down an elevator shaft in Brooklyn. Even with the serious undertone the party still hasn't gone anywhere, its actually been nurtured by life's trials and tribulations and flourished into a sonically expansive dystopia of Groove & Lash. The album's philosophy can get hammered down to the natural world's basic principles of motion. Every action has an equal but opposite reaction. The demands of bad day makes you want to dance even harder. But the most interesting experiences can't ever be summed up so simply...
Los Angeles and you're poolside, propped against the glass balcony watching the orange glow lazily settle itself over the horizon line and give way to the blinking city lights glittering down below. The party's underway but a touch to the tongue a while back has removed everything casual from merrymaking happening around. The folks carousing about all fashionably in the evening's easy breeze can't tell the difference, even in conversation but life's suddenly turned heavy. Sunglasses try to hide the extent of fear suddenly realized, as the regular patterns of the social and physical landscape have fallen by the mind's wayside, replaced by the most terrifying mind explanding tsunami of psychedelic energy. Mortality and mindless social hullabaloo fall by the wayside as the timeless cosmic vein of consciousness slowly pauses in its transmissioning through millenniums to bless the now verdant mainframe that was once your mind. Another beer finds its way to you but this hardly registers as the onslaught continues. Thoughts and fears from the material world flash by and then dissolve as you slowly ease into the higher dimension. Your circadian rhythm slows to crawl, like an astronaut teetering at the edge of black hole. A smile creeps on your way as the picture clears and the beautiful view of time and space reveals itself. The shimmering hardly dims but slowly through dizzying array of colour, you feel a faint pulsation far off yet growing. Letting go of the rail, you slowly glide through the evening's revelry and towards the tango. Under the hazy lights revelers move in tandem, disciples of the music's ponderous radiance. Your synesthesia reads purple. Strange weather, isn't it? The distance seems vast at first but in truth, fear's end is never out of reach. Pretty soon, the rest of the beating hearts catch wind of the conscious oblivion floating about and join suit in dancing through the never ending quest for the treasure of the elusive present moment...
Indeed, the darker elements of the album reveal a more intentional element to the band's perspective, a departure of sorts away from the grand old party, fun for fun's sake feel of their first three albums. With steel drums, thick strands of reverb, a soul lady singing backup and a new lazersharp focus on top the same old dancing fury, Strange Weather slays without a dash of irony or indecision. There might not be any club ready anthems or a radio friendly chorus, but I believe that to be the point. Since all you need to sell an album is a single nowadays, nobody bothers with making a concise album. Plus, psychedelia isn't really concerned with melody, notes or chords. It's a feel thing, something way beyond the ears, hands or mind that looks to capture the attention of bodily existence. That's right there is what needs to be loved in this album. I was beyond blessed to see them play on my birthday up in Louisville with the very best people in the world and it was a slamming evening to cut loose and lose a mind. They played Me and Guiliani Down By The School Yard. Two gals got in a fight and Wheel Wright got bled on. Holy smokes alive, a night of pirate paradise alive with party, pillage and plunder.
That's what Strange Weather is about, in a moment. Highlights abound: the guitar breakdown in Wannagan Wannagain, the chorus of Steady As The Sidewalk Cracks, the tribal feel of AM/FM and the entire four minutes of The Hammer, which is a jam like non other. They've always had the best song names too. Even Judas Gave Jesus a Kiss? Good lawd have mercy, that's just the best. Do your soul a favor and tune in. Okay for now.
There is no better uplift from the dread that colours our nation's dour perspective at the moment than !!!'s new album, dubbed Strange Weather Isn't It? While most of the bands that poke at the world of dance music do so in a very tentative, cute manner, Chk Chk Chk menaces. With only four albums in 10 years of making music, everything they release is bound to be thought out and intentional, like all art should be They also emerged out of New York at a point where folks began witnessing a rejuvenation of punk throughout the city, with bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Death From Above 1979 and LCD Soundsystem making sounds more rhythmic and colourful but no lag in energy. Chk Chk Chk seemingly came out champion of the noise dubbed dance punk and they've been on a tear ever since. Strange Weather is their fourth album and its a furious joy filled onslaught of a darker but grander, more imaginative colour than anything they've ever done, mostly due to 1. the fact that it was recorded in the notoriously dark atmosphere of Berlin and 2. the death of best friend and drummer Jerry Fuchs, who tragically died from falling down an elevator shaft in Brooklyn. Even with the serious undertone the party still hasn't gone anywhere, its actually been nurtured by life's trials and tribulations and flourished into a sonically expansive dystopia of Groove & Lash. The album's philosophy can get hammered down to the natural world's basic principles of motion. Every action has an equal but opposite reaction. The demands of bad day makes you want to dance even harder. But the most interesting experiences can't ever be summed up so simply...
Los Angeles and you're poolside, propped against the glass balcony watching the orange glow lazily settle itself over the horizon line and give way to the blinking city lights glittering down below. The party's underway but a touch to the tongue a while back has removed everything casual from merrymaking happening around. The folks carousing about all fashionably in the evening's easy breeze can't tell the difference, even in conversation but life's suddenly turned heavy. Sunglasses try to hide the extent of fear suddenly realized, as the regular patterns of the social and physical landscape have fallen by the mind's wayside, replaced by the most terrifying mind explanding tsunami of psychedelic energy. Mortality and mindless social hullabaloo fall by the wayside as the timeless cosmic vein of consciousness slowly pauses in its transmissioning through millenniums to bless the now verdant mainframe that was once your mind. Another beer finds its way to you but this hardly registers as the onslaught continues. Thoughts and fears from the material world flash by and then dissolve as you slowly ease into the higher dimension. Your circadian rhythm slows to crawl, like an astronaut teetering at the edge of black hole. A smile creeps on your way as the picture clears and the beautiful view of time and space reveals itself. The shimmering hardly dims but slowly through dizzying array of colour, you feel a faint pulsation far off yet growing. Letting go of the rail, you slowly glide through the evening's revelry and towards the tango. Under the hazy lights revelers move in tandem, disciples of the music's ponderous radiance. Your synesthesia reads purple. Strange weather, isn't it? The distance seems vast at first but in truth, fear's end is never out of reach. Pretty soon, the rest of the beating hearts catch wind of the conscious oblivion floating about and join suit in dancing through the never ending quest for the treasure of the elusive present moment...
Indeed, the darker elements of the album reveal a more intentional element to the band's perspective, a departure of sorts away from the grand old party, fun for fun's sake feel of their first three albums. With steel drums, thick strands of reverb, a soul lady singing backup and a new lazersharp focus on top the same old dancing fury, Strange Weather slays without a dash of irony or indecision. There might not be any club ready anthems or a radio friendly chorus, but I believe that to be the point. Since all you need to sell an album is a single nowadays, nobody bothers with making a concise album. Plus, psychedelia isn't really concerned with melody, notes or chords. It's a feel thing, something way beyond the ears, hands or mind that looks to capture the attention of bodily existence. That's right there is what needs to be loved in this album. I was beyond blessed to see them play on my birthday up in Louisville with the very best people in the world and it was a slamming evening to cut loose and lose a mind. They played Me and Guiliani Down By The School Yard. Two gals got in a fight and Wheel Wright got bled on. Holy smokes alive, a night of pirate paradise alive with party, pillage and plunder.
That's what Strange Weather is about, in a moment. Highlights abound: the guitar breakdown in Wannagan Wannagain, the chorus of Steady As The Sidewalk Cracks, the tribal feel of AM/FM and the entire four minutes of The Hammer, which is a jam like non other. They've always had the best song names too. Even Judas Gave Jesus a Kiss? Good lawd have mercy, that's just the best. Do your soul a favor and tune in. Okay for now.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
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Amidst the attention given to the sciences as how they can lead to the cure of all diseases and daily problems of mankind, I believe that the biggest breakthrough will be the realization that the arts, which are conventionally considered ‘useless,’ will be recognized as the whole reason why we ever try to live longer or live more prosperously.
— John Maeda
Friday, November 5, 2010
Look Around
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I start with a picture in my head. Someone then draws it and I try to figure out how to make it a reality.
I think its cool to be that person in the picture.
Sharks aren't these random killing machines. They're conservative. They don't waste energy. That's why they haven't evolved in 65 million years.
-David Blaine (At the Edge of Death & Fashion | New York Times)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
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I'm starting to think a certain degree of alienation is created by our music playing devices. Not even from the plugged in tuned out sense. Last year, my main partner in crime and I trooped down through the deep south and onward to New Orleans for New Years and it was a blast. Of course, the full extent of the fun was seen afterwards in reflection (and something of the like is bound to be partaken in again to a grander extent) Lots was learned in the whole ordeal but a particular detail stuck with me afterwards. We started out the venture in hype fashion, lumping Rick Ross and chiefing something major. But as fate had it, a night of madness out on the farm resulted in losing the back window of the car. We opted to trade in the maimed Tahoe for a Buick, something all put together but blessed with a cassette player, a Van Morrison tape and nothing more. We played the life out of that tape. Being stuck with only one option left us with the choice to either like or not and we opted for the former. What is lost in our harnessing of the potential to listen to whatever and ever? Our impulses can be immediately catered to, which could perhaps create a natural tendency towards uncomfortableness when we initially hear something brand new. Of course we mere mortals love everything thats more familiar to our hearts, ears and mind but conversely, we're always looking for something new. That leads a prevailing hyperconnected attitude that chases but never finds. The music industry only concerns itself with the next big thing, the youtube phenom, that next single instead of realizing and admitting that its Quality that truly sells, not hype, youtube hits or quantity. Who is going to be listening to Justin Beiber in fifty years? Hype these days is equivalent to a wreck on the freeway where folks slow down to watch and then forget all about it.
Quality isn't hard to come by. You've just got to dig. Slow down and go deeper. The greatest rewards in the world can't be reaped immediately. People focus on the wrecks along the way, while folks like Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails tour every major city in the nation and sell out four or five nights in a row. You'll never hear a Nine Inch Song on the radio or see it in iTunes Top 40, but hovering the art is a dedicated fan base that loves them so hard they'll eagerly scoop up every chance to indulge themselves with it while savoring every moment. I didn't mean to get on a yarn about the industry here but there you have it. My issue is with the social reaction toward new noise and the notion that the grass is not always greener on the other side. The next song in the shuffle doesn't hold the key to happiness, especially if you forgo the one playing at the moment. That's why I love minimal techno. The build up is slow and subtle, a tamborine here and hold it now wait...now the horns until shabam, the peak is reached and the great release showers on the disciples below who loves being along for the ride. Fuck barhopping, give me that on a friday night.
I want to start a mix series on here, something that serves as a common denominator to umbrella a whole slew of sounds from all over. I wonder how much attention it would get but that's no matter, it would at least give me a chance to exercise some adjectives. This song serves as inspiration, since it first stirred the thought in my head over a year ago. DJ Mujava is from South Africa and rumor has it that he recorded this track from a mental asylum. Makes sense given the sinister vibe that oozes behind the blast of dancehall drums and the woobling bassline, which is such a great bassline. This song's great for you folks warbling around today in a postsugar stupor.
DJ Mujava-Township Funk
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