O, degenerate Age! Our blogs fall so quickly to neglect. Rusted hammer, edgeless blade, tools in disrepair!
good morning blues
27.2.09
16.2.09
Mike Brown Came
to hoboken. (to steal a poetic device...)
When Mike Brown comes to Hoboken we all realize our error in coming to Stevens, the mortality of our time at this place, and that long distance relationships are depressingly hard.
We also remember how unique our experience at this shit hole is and how to drink compulsively and yell at each other.
So here is to the real prophet of the Stevens experience...
Mike Brown. Never just Mike, Always - Mike Brown.
When Mike Brown comes to Hoboken we all realize our error in coming to Stevens, the mortality of our time at this place, and that long distance relationships are depressingly hard.
We also remember how unique our experience at this shit hole is and how to drink compulsively and yell at each other.
So here is to the real prophet of the Stevens experience...
Mike Brown. Never just Mike, Always - Mike Brown.
14.2.09
solo acoustic guitar
is very nice.
I'm not entirely sure what to say about it. My fascination came when I lived in Scotland; the music was a peaceful retreat from the madness of freshman year revisited with accents and mountains. It's not actively listening, not the way many songwriters/composers/ambiencieers capture my mind with both the music and it's instant critical reflection. Much of it isn't even very interesting-- it's repetitive and cliche-- even if the chord sounds like crap, hold it out and pretend you meant exactly what you played and it takes on a life of its own.
But that's the beauty of it, too. Many solo acoustic guitar music (and, I'm sure, most any solo instrumentation-- I just like guitar) is an unending snapshot of the internal geography of the musician. John Fahey is a knee-jerk non-conformist, slicing out of familiar chord forms whenever possible or, if the song insists on uniformity, obscuring simple tones with a lacquer of amateurism. A dignified dilettante. Kind of a jerk.
James Blackshaw is an empty building investigator.
Leo Kottke hunts pheasant.
Jack Rose surrounds himself with tired Rock and Rollers.
Robbie Basho lives in a yurt in the age of Terrorism. Also, he has many beautiful, lost women.
Tony Rice earns everyone's respect daily.
Jim O'Rourke obsessively figures out things and has figured that out, as well.
When you play an acoustic guitar, you can slouch enough so you're staring right into the soundhole. Unlike a piano, which you sit at-- the piano is a place in itself. The guitar gets toted around, identifying things and used for biofeedback.
I'm not entirely sure what to say about it. My fascination came when I lived in Scotland; the music was a peaceful retreat from the madness of freshman year revisited with accents and mountains. It's not actively listening, not the way many songwriters/composers/ambiencieers capture my mind with both the music and it's instant critical reflection. Much of it isn't even very interesting-- it's repetitive and cliche-- even if the chord sounds like crap, hold it out and pretend you meant exactly what you played and it takes on a life of its own.
But that's the beauty of it, too. Many solo acoustic guitar music (and, I'm sure, most any solo instrumentation-- I just like guitar) is an unending snapshot of the internal geography of the musician. John Fahey is a knee-jerk non-conformist, slicing out of familiar chord forms whenever possible or, if the song insists on uniformity, obscuring simple tones with a lacquer of amateurism. A dignified dilettante. Kind of a jerk.
James Blackshaw is an empty building investigator.
Leo Kottke hunts pheasant.
Jack Rose surrounds himself with tired Rock and Rollers.
Robbie Basho lives in a yurt in the age of Terrorism. Also, he has many beautiful, lost women.
Tony Rice earns everyone's respect daily.
Jim O'Rourke obsessively figures out things and has figured that out, as well.
When you play an acoustic guitar, you can slouch enough so you're staring right into the soundhole. Unlike a piano, which you sit at-- the piano is a place in itself. The guitar gets toted around, identifying things and used for biofeedback.
9.2.09
2009: The Future is Now
As Ben and I sit here watching an episode of Star Trek: TNG, I sit here thinking about how sweet sci-fi is. It's a major reason why I enjoy science and engineering. Though we are almost a decade into the 21st century and there are no flying cars, there have been many sci-fi-esque technologies that are a step towards what we have believed to be the future from novels, television and film.
For proof, look no further than this headline:
We can now legitimately say things like
"The experiment was the first time that a ground vehicle has used a laser to destroy moving aircraft and marks a watershed moment in the development of lasers for battlefield use."
So now that it's the future, now where's my robot butler?
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