emphatically static
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I’ve been meaning to bring up each of these at different times, but I decided to wait. You know, until I had something substantial to bitch about — and made time to experiment with varying ways of getting a point across.
» Listen up people, music albums have a reason for existence (other than making bands fabulously wealthy). I’m a (probably the only remaining) strong proponent of the theory that artistes have a vision when they make music albums. They choose to express themselves — tell a story if you will — through this media. The only way one can truly get all performers want said, is to hear the entire album, as a whole. Not just one catchy tune that’s played on TV, the whole thing. None of this freakin’ rip to (or “convenienly acquire” an) MP3 and create a “mixed play list” crap. You’re clearly missing out on the heart of so much if you’re one of these people.
If performers wanted you to hear a single, they’d release a freakin’ single.
What is probably more depressing about all of this, is that the blasphemy doesn’t stop with these people, driven by their tiny attention spans. Huge music stores today, (*cough* *Itunes* *cough*) not only recognize and allow, but actively encourage this sort of madness. They obtain music from bands and their representatives as albums, but break this down into a smaller units of sale — songs — before selling it to their customers.
I repeat, please don’t just pick and choose arbitrarily amongst these, people. You’re clearly missing out on the heart of so much if you do.
» I’m currently near-continuously-cycling one of my favorite albums, Led Zeppelin’s second album (oh so creatively called “Led Zeppelin II”). Now this album contains an awesome piece, called Moby Dick. What’s interesting about this, is that though Moby Dick starts off like your usual song, within a little bit it winds up becoming a drum solo, which goes on for some three minutes.
Where has this sort of thing gone? Why doesn’t anything I listen to today have any substantial solo pieces? Hell, I’m fairly certain that’s how recording is done anyway — as in each performer separately, piece by piece, and the best samples are carefully fitted together to make the final “masterpiece”. Why not just give me access to the individual sections as well? Are they afraid it’ll be apparent they aren’t particularly talented?
Why do I care?, I could be classified a musician[1], and have performed both as an instrumentalist and a vocalist. Even conveniently forgetting the reality that certain members of the band get all the glory (anyone know more “other members'” names in bands than they know lead singer’s names?), I am a consumer. I don’t know about you, but sometimes, I just want to listen to sections of the band perform. Clear of other cruft.
Besides, sometimes, (from the lesser band members point of view) you just need to have yourself heard. Maybe that’s why I am such a fan of live performances. Sure they aren’t as polished, but they give band members a chance to… express themselves, less constrained by the powerhouse media company that’s usually calling all the shots.
If you’ve not been paying attention, I want more chunks of solo pieces in songs. Band members need to be allowed to break away into long solos during songs. And, more importantly, the big wigs at the recording studios should realize that some fans want these in, and shouldn’t direct the magical studio post-processing people to edit those sections out — or worse, blend them all in together. Because, I’m sure they’re line of reasoning goes roughly like so — “THREE WHOLE MINUTES? Imagine your average ADD inflicted music listener today sitting through three minutes worth of a song, let alone just a lone drummer.”
» Which forcibly dovetails into my final peeve for the day. What is it with this whole manufactured sugar-pop garbage (literally, not the band Garbage) that’s being shoved down everyone’s throats these days? In order to be different (and avoid any odd copyright infringement nonsense), I decided to sing tiny sections of different versions of what is essentially the same song. You be the judge.
Sample 1 — A sample in my normal voice — covering a non-industry-sugarified version of Blind Melon’s No Rain
(Additional random modulation, like tiny “voice-shake” at the very end, is my idea of subtle improv.)
Sample 2 — A sample in super-nasal-heavy high pitch — covering an industry-sugarified version of Blind Melon’s No Rain
Sample 3 — The two samples just hastily put together. Yes, the two parent songs were of different tempos.
Sample 4 — The two samples put together with some tact, they’ve been somewhat synchronised[2].
In my mind anyway, the non-sugarified version is better, purely on the basis that it’s more… pure. If there is one thing cool about some bands (like the case in point, Blind Melon) they’re quite capable of “winging” an entire album and you can still be assured that the end result is going to be good. Better than good, it will be great, because it’s soulful. And then, on the other hand, you have your manufactured enhanced super smoothed and slickified mass produce that most people tend to consume.
You know, like any of the boy bands or hot teen chicks who’ve more than adequate assets distract you from the basic fact — they can’t sing, or play.
[1] I am a trained (about a dozen years, under a few talented teachers) Carnatic vocalist. My claims to fame include winning pretty much every music competition I’ve taken part in (my mom still holds on to the cups and trophies (hi mom!)), performing on stage multiple times, and on national radio. I also play, among other things, a couple of percussion instruments.
[2] These clips are small subsets of samples which were recorded, mixed and synchronized with the aid of the miracle that is Audacity.
The revolution is near.
I don’t oft partake in memes or take pleasure in speading delightful rumours, but this is too much even for me to let slide. For the easily orgasmic in the audience, here’s your fix — a fan’s rendition of what the revolution ought to be.
On the one hand, you have the XBox 360 and PS3 with (a lot) more of the same old, and Revolution, strictly hush-hush, but also probably more of the same old, and on the other, we have these sorts of dreamers.
Proximity radar, 3D glasses, holograms, 4-speaker surround sound headset?
A geek can dream can’t he?
If you find yourself checking out guys, does that make you gay?
Is it acceptable if said checked-out guys really were insanely hot?
How evil is it to be embarrassed by someone you’re out with?
I mean, you’re out for dinner and a movie or whatever, but all you can think about is not running into someone you know, or what they would think of you if they saw you with this other person. So much so that even the fact that you’re having quite a bit of fun doesn’t even seem to matter.
Is it acceptable if she really isn’t particularly attractive?
How weird is it to have weird dreams?
In order to clarify, how weird is it to dream about being married to a woman who’s half caterpillar? How weird is it if you didn’t notice anything was wrong, until your offspring with her (quarter caterpillar) seemed oddly non-human?
Is it acceptable if someone you were talking to during the day mentioned ‘caterpillar’?
Anywho, with the sort of standards I’m beginning to set, there’s a good chance I’m dying alone. And then going to hell.
The new Iaudio X5/X5L.
Treat yourself to the good stuff today. You know I’m going to.
And his journeys haven’t even yet begun.
If you haven’t noticed, I’m having a bit (OK, more than a bit) of an identity crisis in my old age. Not keen on sitting idle while these demons further swamp me, I’ve resolved to do anything it takes to clear my head. Handwavingly consequently, my summer involves a total of FIVE trips (as of now). Details follow for the stalker types in the audience.
However, I’m constantly running into a not-so-minor problem at the moment — I’m clearly completely inept at handling large volumes of information. Hell, I’m not even particularly good with handling little bits of information. Furthermore, since life can’t be too much fun without being randomly-insanely-challenging, here are two snags that’ve already cropped up.
a. In an act of purely astounding coincidence, my MOM and brother have independently made plans to show up here in about two weeks and proceed to roam about this country over a month. Needless to say, I’m going to be spending very little or probably no time with them. What can I say? I’m the self centered bad son/brother and they probably hate me.
b. I just received this e-mail from a friend with whom I planned to hang out with in London over the first few days.
da, im not in town through till around the 4th – im in india at that time for a friend’s wedding. also, i am missing the concert as a result.
nevertheless, you can come and crash at my place, thats no problem at all – ill leave my key here for you.
plan as you want and let me know.
(But.. BUT.. you HOLD MY TICKETS TO THE CONCERT!)
But sometimes, I guess you just have to step up to the plate and deal with it. Like a real man. Unfortunately, however macho I try to sound, a serious concern of mine are the details — the booking flights, hotels, contemplating tour options, figuring out what I want to do where with who, details details… they’re just driving me fucking insane. There is a very high probability I’m going to “arbitrarily lose track of” and consequently miss/mess up one or more of these.
That’ll be a hoot and a holler.
Well, probably not; I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
I bitch about living in a small town, oh, only every single day. Having always lived in big cities*, living in a place like A2 requires quite an adjustment. As in, everyone here is usually so nice, it’s sickening. But then again, I received this via e-mail last evening.
Just thought I’d let you know that I found your license, a caremark card and a photo on the floor that seem to belong to you. I’ll be turning them in to the lost and found sometime later today, so you can pick them up there after today.
Regards,
Random kind soul
That’s it people. Random kind soul had found some of my stuff, looked up my name on a directory, figured out how to get in touch ASAP, actually did it, and returned my things. I mean, it’s events like this and that one time I left 800$ worth of camera equipment on a bus (and had it returned to me) that makes living in a small town almost bearable.
*Big city — A large, crowded place where everyone’s self centered, mean and always in a hurry. A place where they’re open to admitting they don’t really care about you, and if you happened to drop dead in your apartment, they wouldn’t realize anything was up until they caught a whiff of your rotting corpse, some 3 weeks later.
Firstly, I’ve finally replied to all recent comments. You are free to scroll down all excitedly and read my insightful and witty (yeah, right) responses to your responses.
And, you know it’s a slow news day when I review (concur with, actually,) a website’s review of a retarded tech channel no one else I know watches.
Some quick notes follow. Bear with me, this is going to be short.
1. It’s not like I am a real fan of (or even really watch) any show on G4TechTV either.
2. I concur that “Attack of the Show” is probably the most retarded thing on TV (and this includes such gems in FOX as “Who wants to marry my mom who’s really my transsexual dad in drag?”). This show features extremely intelligent dialogue, like so:
Kevin: So that’s how you download the newest fake nude pictures of Angelina Jolie and your “legal” (long dramatic pause to let his delicious rebellion sink in) MP3s to your PSP’s memory card and your Xbox’s hard drive.
Sarah: (giggles) Your hard drive sure was in my Xbox last night! If you know what I mean!
Kevin: (turns to the camera and gives a slow wink) I know how to crack your app! PEER TO PEER NETWORKING.
Contrary to the review, I think the show sucked just as much when it was called “The Screen Savers”.
3. I concur Diane Mizota of “Filter” is ridiculously gorgeous. I mean, come on. (You might also remember her as “Fook Mi” in “Austin Powers in Goldmember”, “Maki” on “Nip/Tuck”, or herself on “Trading Spaces: Boys vs. Girls”.)
4. “X-Play” is the only program worth watching (barring the others involving extremely hot chicks, like the one above, or Cheat). I concur, Adam Sessler’s the man. A real, totally repulsive geek, and real proud of it. I concur Morgan Webb is awesome, despite her monotone. They pretty much hate everything on that show, and that’s a primary requirement for a watchable review show. Plus, Morgan looks insanely similar to a close friend of mine, and that’s definitely a plus for any show’s host.
That will be all. Thank you for your time.
I’ve been a student longer than most people I know. Definitely longer than any of my friends from school/undergrad. For the most part, I think I’ve been really good about it. Perpetually enthralled by challenging work, held in rapture by obscure courses in obscure departments, actively participating in the most inane events dreamed up by the geekiest of geeks… you name it. I’ve sort of done my time, and for the most part, I’ve had fun doing it.
Though I claim to be all calm, and always try to appear like I’m “effortlessly winging it”, the truth is I’ve at times had to put in the many many hours into figuring out a lot of things. A lot more hours than I am comfortable spending. None of this is really child’s play people, trust me. I am not the dullest tool in the shed, and it sometimes takes me ages to work stuff out.
Anyway, back to what I am trying to say.
I’ve been a student since I was in pre-kindergarten at 2-3 or whatever. I’ve defined my entire life around being a student. It is not one aspect of my life — it IS my life. And then one day, some 20 years later, you wake up and you realize it probably isn’t all that much fun anymore. It is sometimes so taxing that some really psycho masochistic portion of you has to wake and drag the rest of you, kicking and screaming, to make it to the uni.
It’s such times when I look around, and I realize there is no other aspect of my life to fall back on. Nada. Zip. Nothingness. If the going’s rough as a student, as it sometimes can be, I’m basically screwed. While I’m looking around, I see (the lesser educated) people I know who are doing just fine, in their cool offices in high rises, fancy cars, trophy spouses… . They aren’t as qualified, and probably aren’t even as smart, but from what I can see, they’re happy. Happier anyway.
So no, I am not going to do anything nearly as drastic as this. But I have decided to make a not-so-subtle change in my outlook regarding school. From this point on, I will do only the bare minimum (in terms of requirements toward a degree, say, or even number of degrees) and aim at getting done as soon as possible. No more random tack on degrees from other departments, no more “fun” women’s studies classes or languages, no nothing. I take the requirement sheets, check off what I’ve done, and complete the one or two remaining things, and be done with it.
School’s all fun, usually. For when it isn’t, you need a backup plan — a life. Taking it on without a failsafe plan B can and does get annoying.
Everytime you begin a new term, you look for classes. During this process, you occasionally get conned into picking these “magic” classes that have no real exams, just an end term take home homework or a final project. You then, all excitedly, sign up for said classes under the foolish assumption that your end term is going to be fun, since you won’t be cramming like the rest of the populace.
Of course, end term comes, and the random people with finals slog one half-evening and get their tests over within a few hours, tops.
And you’re stuck in a room at 2 AM for the second consecutive night working some “take home”, still having made no noticeable progress.
Well, fuck.
o For a guy who doesn’t drink, I end up spending an awful lot of time in bars and such.
o The last time I shared a table with some 7-8 people, most in the same age group, I was the only one who wasn’t married. I think that’s awfully strange and noteworthy.
o Reread that last line, because that’s all I got.
Unrelated: And finally, after years of being unable to clearly envision what I wanted entropy to be, it is falling in place — like so.
(I have all sorts of other posts partially typed up, but I am unable to get myself to finish any of them.)
Somewhere in the dark regions of the spectrum of channels on TV, there is this one channel I’m fairly certain few watch religiously, FX. It is here that my latest gulity pleasure, and what is probably the coolest drama on TV, resides. Nip/Tuck — This is a well written, nicely acted and intriguingly set up pornography-meets-discovery-channel-meets-edgy-drama fest. I have to say, I was channel flipping late one night and I paused for just a teeny bit before I ended up being irreparably hooked. Now I sadly admit I’ve seen every single episode of the show. The show primarily revolves around the lives of a couple of plastic surgeons in Florida. Briefly,
– Everybody is insanely beautiful, on the outside
– Everybody cheats on/fantasizes about cheating on everybody else
– All intimate scenes are shown in full graphic detail
– All surgical procedures are shown in full graphic detail
– The humour, when it exists, is insanely dry and sarcastic
– And, when it exists, it’s such a grim take on the sad state of people, you won’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted
– All characters are heavily flawed, but somehow manage to get somewhere in life, just like real people
I know it sounds clichéd so far, but what initially appears to be something formulaic ends up being anything but. For instance, here is a teeny sample of the kinds of boudaries pushed,
– You get to see a bunch of 15-16 year old high-school kids at their first threesome
– You get to see a woman commiting suicide (to Rocketman) while her lover, who’s cheating on his wife to be with her, supports her
– You get to see doctors rebuilding a model’s clitoris so she can experience an orgasm, then sleep with her to test the procedure
IN EACH EPISODE!
It is definitely not for the young, the squeamish or the easily influenced. But for the rest of us, this is insanely gripping TV. If you haven’t watched it, or saw an ad somewhere and dismissed it as cheesy, just indulge me and watch an episode(, if you’re old and sane enough, of coure).
I’m fairly certain you’ll be hooked.
(God it feels good to be out of the closet about this.)
Relevant Simpsons excerpt, paraphrased from memory.
Lisa: Dad, it’s the 15th, you’ve got to file your income tax.
Homer: Lisa honey, daddy did his taxes years ago.
Lisa: But dad, that was for that year.
Homer: You’ve got to do these every year?!?
(In his hurry to get something done, Homer ends up putting something like 19 dependents down in order to owe the IRS nothing. They get audited, of course.)
And so, a mad dash to the finish begins with 4:30 tomorrow afternoon being the semi-hard deadline.
Bring it on.
Update: And, as always, I got it done before it had to be done.