You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June, 2008.
The quantum ghost in the nanomachine. There is no need to patiently and passively wait for personal catastrophe to strike in order to sort oneself out – the gut feeling that something must change invariably strikes way before the back or the head or the heart begin to complain.
So… sorting oneself out. I am not necessarily talking about eating healthily and exercising (these can be such fakes, anyway, pun-driven advertising of the worst kind)… It might be more important to pursue a rewarding daily environment, a discipline of activity. So ladies and gents, you heard it here first. Some major changes are being cooked up, the details of which shall be worked out in the near future.
Music-wise…
Currently revisiting Jon Hassell´s unreleased November 1997 MANCA gig (soundboard recording). That amazing final track has got to be the closest the avant-garde ever got to encapsulating the ethereal, sunset-like spirit of bossa nova without any of the associated melodies or cliches.
DGM is, and has been for a while, my preferred source of legal downloading. All those solo Fripp shows are just heaven to my ears. One small detail that must not go unnoticed: the inspiring and thought-provoking footnotes that randomly permeate the navigating experience.
A DGM footnote sample: Remain in hell without despair.
The Len Massey remix: Remain in despair without hell.
And how about this one for a conundrum: If we don’t know where we’re going, we’ll probably get there.
Our own (LM+HA) footnote:
Oil and the Shadow of Silence.
Things have a way of returning, as if by magic. I had been hunting this text down in my digital archive, to no avail… nowhere to be found. The very following day, a student shows up out of the blue with the printout I had handed him over a year ago. So here it is: notes from a situationist drift performed in April 2007. In these times of angst and abstraction, I felt the urge to share a document anchored on experience, on sequence. Not exactly descriptive, but certainly not speculative or opinionated – I am a bit tired of those right now.
It was a dark night of the soul, hopelessly hunting down the embers of a project that lay now in shreds amidst the arrogance and the impunity and the crimes of generations. It was the coldest, longest night of the year, no poetry here – this particular winter solstice was tinged with pain and it throbbed with resentment. Autodigest screamed his lungs off, turning all around into deafening cynicism. Hours earlier, seduction and longing had precluded what was about to come. A false start anticipating the splendour of the following day – magic, hope, euphoria, enchantment. In that order. Six months on to the day, we again cross the tightrope… and despite the angst, the tightrope vibrates with enchantment. There is adventure, even though of the painful persuation, and for adventure one shall always be grateful.
I once asked Robert Fripp, in reply to the challenge to formulate a burning question: how can we accept uncertainty? His answer was an inevitable conundrum: thou shalt accept uncertainty should thou have faith in the creative process. Now it finally makes sense: life as a creative act. So distant from the cynicism that permeates contemporary culture. Not Wilde’s or Baudelaire’s “Life as Art” either, but rather Life as Love, Intensity, Force and Energy. These were initials LM, JW and myself have been considering. Others may make it to the final version. LIFE, the project, will materialise one enchanted day.
To A.R.: Stay Strong.
Proof that either God does not exist, or that God has a wicked sense of humour?
Dawkins´”The God Delusion” addresses this particular case… and many more.
Humour is often the best way of dealing with touchy and complex issues. Laughter is healthy, as scientists have often attested – in this case, what is worse? Breaking up in itself, or the deep dependency that relationships have been creating in regards to digital omnipresence and ubiquity? There was a time when distance enhanced desire. Now a dead mobile battery can ruin a partnership of a lifetime. Or save it, for all we know.
Lots more at Geek and Poke.
It is at times deeply frustrating, as it is such a straight door to self-indulgence, but I concede – personal narrative is one´s greatest gift. Concession with a twist, though – creativity is only worth it if it means attempting to interconnect personal narratives towards something that is greater than the sum of its parts.
This latest bunch of gobbledygook surfaces courtesy of a song I have been hunting down since last December´s epic ride in Istanbul at rush hour. Radio Oxi-Gen played its tropical grooves amongst the toxic traffic, much to my designated driver´s joy (and my own, I admit), and among the swirl of far-flung sounds a chorus emerged – “life is such a gift”.
I pursued this stereotype intermittently until tonight, and thanks again to the wizardry of Google, the conundrum is finally solved. The beloved chorus, so full of contextual Eastern magic, is by Jazzhole, an Acid Jazz combo from NYC. The album is called Poet´s Walk, the track is entitled It Would Have Been Enough.
Look it up by all means, it won´t be hard to sample, stream, download – whatever may please your online habits. The point is not so much the track in itself but the fact that it became so significant to yours truly through the context in which it played. The track itself is, by all standards, fairly mediocre. Yet it encapsulates a moment in personal history when life was about to change dramatically less than one week later. As such, it became the carrier of so much narrative, almost a prescience of how I would have to force myself to rejoice in the brutal face of adversity. Life is such a…
And now for something not that different.
Personal narrative is changing the landscape of cultural production – this is becoming old news, but the fellas at Steal This Film have portrayed it beautifully. Download the Second edition and hear the good news, the inspiring news. A favourite quote among many… The one by skitz beatz: “I ain´t no musician. I just like to make things that sound good”.
To what ears, in which context? Endless fascination, endless abandonment.
