October 30, 2007

. . .

Posted by dean at 11:51 AM

October 28, 2007

Htlif, Page 160.

It's that front-line feeling; that rush when you're at the picket-line or at a big game and you've got your truncheon and shield and the whole force of the state is behind you and you're hyped up to beat insolent spastic scum who question things with their big mouths and nasty manners into the suffering pulp they so richly deserve to become. It's a great society we live in.

Posted by dean at 10:02 PM

October 22, 2007

. . .

Posted by dean at 02:14 PM

October 21, 2007

"It's Safe To Say, At Least For The Time Being, That Electronic Music's Futurist Impulse Has Run Its Course."

From Carl Craig's remix of Faze Action's "In the Trees" to the Sahko records on the wall at Hardwax, it does occasionally feel like we're back in 1997 all over again. Minimal techno still rules (except now it's just called "minimal"). Acid and classic deep house are so deeply entrenched, it's like they never went away. Recent remixes of Cybotron's "Clear" remind us that electro is less a genre than a kind of rhythmic time capsule orbiting the earth, beaming back coded data at regular intervals.

French house, which in its cellophane gloss might have once seemed the most disposable of genres, has spawned an entire subculture worshipping at the base of Daft Punk's pyramid. So many of the subgenres that sprang up in the last 10 years, meanwhile -- glitch, electroclash, U.K. garage -- have disappeared more or less without a trace.

Ten years isn't that long, in the grand scheme of things. But enough has happened in electronic-music culture since 1997 that any attempt to gloss the last decade will inevitably feel like an absurd generalization. The paths of electronic music's many subgenres feel as tangled as the subplots of a 19th century novel. And far beyond mere aesthetic form, the technological and cultural underpinnings of the way that people experience and consume music have probably changed more in the past 10 years than they did in the 30 or 40 (or 50) before them.

From Kraftwerk and Cybotron through Chicago house and Detroit techno, electronic music has always rooted itself firmly in a futurist continuum stretching back to the beginning of the 20th Century. Acid house began with a project called Phuture, after all, and throughout the '90s, electronic music generally mirrored Western culture's technological optimism, secure in the belief that advances in hardware and software were creating a better world one circuit at a time.

Since glitch, however, self-conscious futurism's influence has waned, from the design of album covers and flyers to the nomenclature of titles, labels and artist aliases. Software tools increasingly mimic classic hardware synthesizers and drum machines; new hardware synths themselves are likely to be contemporary replications of machines that became obsolete years ago.

I'd argue, in fact, that glitch lost its progressive impulse as artists turned away from the project of creating a new musical vocabulary out of digital tools, and began reconfiguring the clicks and pops into the familiar grammar of house and techno. And as the DJ's trade slowly but surely goes digital -- that is, as it shifts from a practice based upon playing vinyl records to one utilizing only digital files -- the most popular digital DJ applications, like Final Scratch, Serato Scratch, and Traktor Scratch, remain dependent upon the turntable.

Increasingly, for producers within a given scene, a single idea or two seems to dominate the conversation every season. Two years ago, it was the blippy chaos of minimal techno at its most color-free; today, it's shoomping house chords borrowed from Carl Craig that animate producers' imaginations. A few years ago, each of these formal shifts might well have spawned self-identifying subgenres, with message-boards to back them up.

Perhaps it's a sign of the times: given political unrest, economic instability, and a global sense of dread, maybe we simply don't have time to parse the differences between microhouse and minimal techno, or between Schaffel and a swung 6/8 rhythm. Is this only a temporary phenomenon? Who knows -- which direction the pendulum swings next depends upon the course of technology, the health of the music industry, and even geopolitics. Perhaps come the year 2017, electronic music -- now downloaded directly to flash drives implanted in our skulls -- will have regained its futurist impulse, and we'll be back to an era of subgenres that are famous to 15 people. Whatever the case, I'm betting Carl Craig will still be on top of the charts.
Philip Sherburne

Posted by dean at 08:02 PM

October 16, 2007

"It's Not That My Head's Filled With Useless Trivia About Steam-Powered Bullshit," He Said.

"But there comes a time and place when you want to tell someone what it's like to mow the lawn of your childhood with a fat-bloated six-cylinder beast of gasoline that's too loud and ugly to have a nickname."

Posted by dean at 02:32 AM

October 14, 2007

"Hey, Remember That time I Said There Was Going To Be Cake, But Instead I Was Pretending To Murder You In Fire."

Posted by dean at 04:12 AM

October 08, 2007

Luka & Schoolgirl CS Gas @ 1:42 In The Morning.

On the bus, a gaggle of schoolgirls was threatening another girl. One, the most vocal member of the gang, was threatening to gas her. She said loudly, in a triumphant manner, 'My name is Arkanna. Remember that name, so you will always be able to think of the time Arkanna told you, at 5:04 on the 86 bus, that you are a pussy, and you did nothing. You sat there and took it.' She said a lot more too, but i won't bore you with the details.

Schoolboys and schoolgirls attack each other with CS gas quite frequently. I don't know where they get it from. Maybe you can order it off the internet. It's probably better than being stabbed, but i doubt it's much fun.

Posted by dean at 04:27 PM

October 03, 2007

The Mouth Of Her Dog, Black And Fat, Swarmed With Flies And Worms, Opening And Closing Around A Lattice Of Blue Veins, And It Sounded Like A Steam-Engine.

It looked happy enough, though, and would leap into the little girl's arms.

With a command-click of her tongue, the dog's jaws would open and a cloud of insects would rush out and wash out her face. Instant organic disguise. Criminal-video face-fashion for those on the move.

She called it, "Dad."

Posted by dean at 02:50 AM