Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
It's been a while, hasn't it? I probably haven't been keeping up my end of things, but I would like it if you sent me mail if you never have before, or even if you have, maybe if it's just been some time since you let me know you were there, what you're listening to, how things are going.
On an unrelated note, I am thinking about being less willfully inconvenient to new readers by having some kind of page of links into my archive of posts - almost two years old now! - at places that I think might be interesting, or illustrative of my schtick, or both. It's still hard to pick things out, though.
My last two batteries are going to die before next Wednesday. And I don't have any money.
CDs I wish I had in my bag right now: Aquemini, Niun Niung.
The importance of layering in music not written around the harmonic progressions important to western art music (or not mainly concerned with them, even though it can be said to take advantage of them).
Every song I listened to today from Ruby Vroom seemed to take advantage of layering to acheive some kind of cadence - a sense of development, or of resolution (which generally comes after development).
Start small, add a layer, and a potentially exciting change has occurred. Do this for a while to build intensity, interest. Dropping layers then acts as a dramatic device, or one for creating tension. (Holding the layers where they are for a while creates or maintains tension too.) Endings seem to get harder for certain kinds of groove-based or modal music or whatever the term is for what I'm thinking of (there's a technical one, I've even used it before). De-layering is an effective way of pulling off endings - even without fadeouts.
Conviction that relative lack of simplicity of this model with respect to that of tonal western art music is not sufficient to make value judgments, except of a very limited kind (plenty of hypothetical ones: if you want this, then listen to this...).
It occurred to me today that it would be very apt to describe Mogwai's Rock Action in general (production, performance, composition) as "crisp".
And also that it's appropriate to describe the song with Gruff Rhys as "sighing"
So there is one song that is "crisp" and "sighing".
On the loneliness embedded in hip-hop culture...
... would be a nice way to title a longer, more involved version of this idea. Or alternately, "The loneliness of the headphone wearer" in reference to "The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner" though I wouldn't use that since I don't even know why that thing is called what it is. Ha.
"turn my headphones up" sez Kardinal Offishall somewhere on Firestarter Vol. 1. Similarly Jay-Z on The Blueprint - "turn my music high/high/high/er" - and all over hip-hop in general, at least as far as I've heard. The idea of turning it up is not new; it's probably an idea borrowed from rock, maybe even one new with rock. But the emphasis on the headphones (not in the Jay-Z line but other places that I can't remember right now) interests me. Headphones have plenty of other associations, definitely, but doesn't it seem like they've picked up an even stronger association with hip-hop now?
I think this says something about the way people listen to hip-hop, at the very least. That it shows up in the music says a lot about the connection between the people who make hip-hop and the people who listen to it, and more generally, the connection between making music and listening to music. But not here.
Look at it: all these people, listening to music by themselves. Often in places full of other people that one generally isn't supposed to talk to or interact in very involved ways with in the first place - a socially isolated arena, one that reinforces a certain kind of people-as-atoms thinking.
How does this show up in the way the music is heard? Made?
The other month a guy on the bus was listening to the new Jay-Z on his headphones. I could tell because he was shouting out the lyrics to "Renegade". But he had friends with him. So in some strange sense he wasn't alone.
I think maybe Idiology loses a little momentum in the little. It seems like there is a run of songs built around noisy synths and DSP, all with very knotty rhythms.
I suppose even if it did nothing else for me, I could say that Hawtin's mix tests my perceptual apparatus. "Tests" meaning plays with in strange ways that makes me unsure whether I can trust what I'm hearing. Did that beat just get louder, or is it just that I started noticing it after feeling it for thirty seconds while I spaced out? &c
This Richie Hawtin album is a good deal harder than I bargained for. Where's my Kompakt Total 3 gone to?