fever ray - fever ray (2009)
favorite songs right now.
rented from amoeba:
Friday, February 18, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
pacific northwest
(^ click the wee speech box for captions)
5 days, 4 nights. 2168mi. highways 1 + 101 north, route 5 south. los angeles, ca to corvallis, or.
dutch baklavah - redwoodss (128 mb)
run time: 56:02
tracklist:
1. black mold - metal spider webs:
2. women - bells
3. avey tare - ghost of books
4. panda bear - search for delicious
5. eternal summers - pure affection
6. brightblack morning light - friend of time
7. boards of canada - seward leaf
8. rachel grimes - at the pond
9. múm - k/half noise
10. kaki king - track three
11. dustin wong - talking walking cloud
12. chieko mori - charm music box
13. great lake swimmers - long into the evening
Sunday, October 24, 2010
life
black mold - snow blindness is crystal antz (2009)
black mold = chad vangaalen. via flemisheye.com: "the album opens with a baffling and beautiful composition, 'metal spider webs,' a lattice of cello and clarinet complemented by shifting electronic pulses. in the dreamlike and metamorphic title track, subtle oscillations and erratic surges build before settling into a simple layering of acoustic guitars and drums...the album is strewn with musique concrete pastiches, creative use of circuit bending and manipulation, and an intuitive and intelligent understanding of rhythmic minimalism." this album comes with a download code for ONE HUNDRED MINUTES of bonus glitches, unfinished beeswax, and other stuff the guy works on during the wee hours of the morning while he is/is not knocking over his bong and watching requiem for a dream for the 43098570394th time.
related: chad vangaalen - soft airplane (2008)
scaaaaaaaryyyy:
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
chilling on the couch with my phoenix
via nymag's vulture: "'yoooo they banned my album cover!!!!!' exclaimed kanye west via twitter last night. 'they don't want me chilling on the couch with my phoenix!' he said, describing the glorious proposed art for 'my beautiful dark twisted fantasy,' a painting depicting a topless, armless, winged female character farting polka dots and straddling a demonic-looking gentleman who we suppose is meant to be kanye. who are they? still unclear."
most excellent:
via latimesblog.com: "kanye...revealed a piece of graphic artwork in which a naked representation of the artist was in a sexually suggestive position with the mythological firebird in female form. in a follow-up tweet, west wrote, 'in the '70s album covers had actual nudity... it's so funny that people forget that... everything has been so commercialized now.'"
the (best) source of this ballyhoosery is kanye's twitter: "So Nirvana can have a naked human being on they cover but I can't have a PAINTING of a monster with no arms and a polka dot tail and wings [sic]"
in other news: the garden of forking paths is a latenite mixtape curated by james blackshaw and compiled in may of 2007. it is slow, exotic, half filled with strings, and half filled with open spaces throughout which those strings draw themselves out to a fine point before, while, and after resonating with the rest of the plucked atmosphere.
says blackshaw of his selections: "chieko mori, a japanese composer, koto virtuoso and one-time FABRICA resident, who first came to my attention with her beautiful and mesmerising debut recording 'jumping rabbit' for john zorn's tzadik label in 2005, which ranks itself as one of my all-time favourite albums; jozef van wissem, a similarly accomplished rennaissance lute player and composer from the netherlands, who has collaborated with gary lucas and tetuzi akiyama amongst others and whose solo albums often make use of palindromic or mirrored structures interwoven with field recordings to haunting and immensely compelling effect; swedish cellist and improviser helena espvall, perhaps currently best known for her work with US psych-folk group espers, but who has also played with such luminaries as pauline oliveros and eugene chadbourne and whose own recent solo work has demonstrated her amazing power and sensitivity as an artist." read more of his thoughts here.
says wiki about jorge luis borges' eponymous hypertext, "beyond its facade as a spy narrative, 'the garden of forking paths' has similarities to today's digital media and hypertext projects, including perhaps wikipedia. borges conceives of 'a labyrinth that folds back upon itself in infinite regression,' asking the reader to 'become aware of all the possible choices we might make.' the elaborate hypertext is much like the book which borges suggests to be the labyrinth, ('every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing...the confusion of the novel suggested to me that it was the maze') in a sense of how the site offers different approaches to how you may interpret the information provided, yet you're not trapped in the dilemma of choosing one and eliminating others; you may choose to unfold all possibilities. you "create, in this way, diverse futures, diverse times which themselves also proliferate and fork" (wardrip-fruin, 33)." (more)
chieko mori - jumping rabbit (2005)
espers - the weed tree (2005)
here is a list of tunings used by james blackshaw.
most excellent:
via latimesblog.com: "kanye...revealed a piece of graphic artwork in which a naked representation of the artist was in a sexually suggestive position with the mythological firebird in female form. in a follow-up tweet, west wrote, 'in the '70s album covers had actual nudity... it's so funny that people forget that... everything has been so commercialized now.'"
the (best) source of this ballyhoosery is kanye's twitter: "So Nirvana can have a naked human being on they cover but I can't have a PAINTING of a monster with no arms and a polka dot tail and wings [sic]"
in other news: the garden of forking paths is a latenite mixtape curated by james blackshaw and compiled in may of 2007. it is slow, exotic, half filled with strings, and half filled with open spaces throughout which those strings draw themselves out to a fine point before, while, and after resonating with the rest of the plucked atmosphere.
says wiki about jorge luis borges' eponymous hypertext, "beyond its facade as a spy narrative, 'the garden of forking paths' has similarities to today's digital media and hypertext projects, including perhaps wikipedia. borges conceives of 'a labyrinth that folds back upon itself in infinite regression,' asking the reader to 'become aware of all the possible choices we might make.' the elaborate hypertext is much like the book which borges suggests to be the labyrinth, ('every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing...the confusion of the novel suggested to me that it was the maze') in a sense of how the site offers different approaches to how you may interpret the information provided, yet you're not trapped in the dilemma of choosing one and eliminating others; you may choose to unfold all possibilities. you "create, in this way, diverse futures, diverse times which themselves also proliferate and fork" (wardrip-fruin, 33)." (more)
chieko mori - jumping rabbit (2005)
espers - the weed tree (2005)
here is a list of tunings used by james blackshaw.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
beside nudity
via the onion: art world relieved as thieves steal pretty terrible late period renoir work
"the palette was too rosy, the brushstrokes were something out of a college art class, and renoir's gift for capturing his subject's inner mystery seemed to have completely abandoned him—in short, it was garbage and i'm glad it's gone," said malcolm stewart, a curator at the art institute of chicago, which has done little to assist the police in their investigation."
more pierre-auguste renoir works
"beside nudity there is the strangeness of half-clothed bodies; what garments there are serve to emphasize the disorder of the body and show it to be all the more naked, all the more disordered. brutality and murder are further steps in the same direction. similarly prostitution, coarse language an everything to do with eroticism and infamy play their part in turning the world of sensual pleasure into one of ruin and degradation. our only real purpose is to squander our resource to no purpose, just as if a wound were bleeding away inside us; we always want to be sure of the uselessness or the ruinousness of our extravagance. we want to feel as remote from the world where thrift is the rule as we can." /georges bataille, eroticism
more edward hopper works
"the palette was too rosy, the brushstrokes were something out of a college art class, and renoir's gift for capturing his subject's inner mystery seemed to have completely abandoned him—in short, it was garbage and i'm glad it's gone," said malcolm stewart, a curator at the art institute of chicago, which has done little to assist the police in their investigation."
more pierre-auguste renoir works
"beside nudity there is the strangeness of half-clothed bodies; what garments there are serve to emphasize the disorder of the body and show it to be all the more naked, all the more disordered. brutality and murder are further steps in the same direction. similarly prostitution, coarse language an everything to do with eroticism and infamy play their part in turning the world of sensual pleasure into one of ruin and degradation. our only real purpose is to squander our resource to no purpose, just as if a wound were bleeding away inside us; we always want to be sure of the uselessness or the ruinousness of our extravagance. we want to feel as remote from the world where thrift is the rule as we can." /georges bataille, eroticism
more edward hopper works
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
two tramps in mud time
out of the mud two strangers came
and caught me splitting wood in the yard,
and one of them put me off my aim
by hailing cheerily, "hit them hard!"
i knew pretty well why he had dropped behind
and let the other go on a way.
i knew pretty well what he had in mind:
he wanted to take my job for pay.
good blocks of oak it was i split,
as large around as the chopping block;
and every piece i squarely hit
fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
the blows that a life of self-control
spares to strike for the common good,
that day, giving a loose my soul,
i spent on the unimportant wood.
the sun was warm but the wind was chill.
you know how it is with an april day
when the sun is out and the wind is still,
you're one month on in the middle of may.
but if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
a wind comes off a frozen peak,
and you're two months back in the middle of march.
a bluebird comes tenderly up to alight
and turns to the wind to unruffle a plume,
his song so pitched as not to excite
a single flower as yet to bloom.
it is snowing a flake; and he half knew
winter was only playing possum.
except in color he isn't blue,
but he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom.
the water for which we may have to look
in summertime with a witching wand,
in every wheelrut's now a brook,
in every print of a hoof a pond.
be glad of water, but don't forget
the lurking frost in the earth beneath
that will steal forth after the sun is set
and show on the water its crystal teeth.
the time when most i loved my task
the two must make me love it more
by coming with what they came to ask.
you'd think i never had felt before
the weight of an ax-head poised aloft,
the grip of earth on outspread feet,
the life of muscles rocking soft
and smooth and moist in vernal heat.
out of the wood two hulking tramps
(from sleeping god knows where last night,
but not long since in the lumber camps).
they thought all chopping was theirs of right.
men of the woods and lumberjacks,
they judged me by their appropriate tool.
except as a fellow handled an ax
they had no way of knowing a fool.
nothing on either side was said.
they knew they had but to stay their stay
and all their logic would fill my head:
as that I had no right to play
with what was another man's work for gain.
my right might be love but theirs was need.
and where the two exist in twain
theirs was the better right--agreed.
but yield who will to their separation,
my object in living is to unite
by avocation and my vocation
as my two eyes make one in sight.
only where love and need are one,
and the work is play for mortal stakes,
is the deed ever really done
for heaven and the future's sakes.
/robert frost, 1934
and caught me splitting wood in the yard,
and one of them put me off my aim
by hailing cheerily, "hit them hard!"
i knew pretty well why he had dropped behind
and let the other go on a way.
i knew pretty well what he had in mind:
he wanted to take my job for pay.
good blocks of oak it was i split,
as large around as the chopping block;
and every piece i squarely hit
fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
the blows that a life of self-control
spares to strike for the common good,
that day, giving a loose my soul,
i spent on the unimportant wood.
the sun was warm but the wind was chill.
you know how it is with an april day
when the sun is out and the wind is still,
you're one month on in the middle of may.
but if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
a wind comes off a frozen peak,
and you're two months back in the middle of march.
a bluebird comes tenderly up to alight
and turns to the wind to unruffle a plume,
his song so pitched as not to excite
a single flower as yet to bloom.
it is snowing a flake; and he half knew
winter was only playing possum.
except in color he isn't blue,
but he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom.
the water for which we may have to look
in summertime with a witching wand,
in every wheelrut's now a brook,
in every print of a hoof a pond.
be glad of water, but don't forget
the lurking frost in the earth beneath
that will steal forth after the sun is set
and show on the water its crystal teeth.
the time when most i loved my task
the two must make me love it more
by coming with what they came to ask.
you'd think i never had felt before
the weight of an ax-head poised aloft,
the grip of earth on outspread feet,
the life of muscles rocking soft
and smooth and moist in vernal heat.
out of the wood two hulking tramps
(from sleeping god knows where last night,
but not long since in the lumber camps).
they thought all chopping was theirs of right.
men of the woods and lumberjacks,
they judged me by their appropriate tool.
except as a fellow handled an ax
they had no way of knowing a fool.
nothing on either side was said.
they knew they had but to stay their stay
and all their logic would fill my head:
as that I had no right to play
with what was another man's work for gain.
my right might be love but theirs was need.
and where the two exist in twain
theirs was the better right--agreed.
but yield who will to their separation,
my object in living is to unite
by avocation and my vocation
as my two eyes make one in sight.
only where love and need are one,
and the work is play for mortal stakes,
is the deed ever really done
for heaven and the future's sakes.
/robert frost, 1934
Thursday, September 23, 2010
i sell the shadow to support the substance
going through a heavy my bloody valentines phase because of this one mind-bendingly beautiful girl. she makes me want to achieve impossibilities and i can't get through to her, so it's just like a song from the late 80s. thanks to music once again for being the perfect inspiration and repository for most of my emotions.
my bloody valentine - tremolo ep (1991)
my bloody valentine - loveless (1991)
my bloody valentine - ecstasy and wine (1989)
my bloody valentine - isn't anything (1988)
my bloody valentine - sunny sundae smile ep (1986)
in other news: phosphene dream is my favorite thing since my last favorite thing, which is cheese.
phosphene, n.
a sensation of light caused by excitation of the retina by mechanical or electrical means rather than by light, as when the eyeballs are pressed through closed lids.
[french phosphène : greek phōs, light; see phos- + greek phainein, to cause to appear, to show.]
it is especially fun to move the image around with your cursor on the computer screen. the most fun of all is when you do that WHILST listening to the album.
my bloody valentine - tremolo ep (1991)
my bloody valentine - loveless (1991)
my bloody valentine - ecstasy and wine (1989)
my bloody valentine - isn't anything (1988)
my bloody valentine - sunny sundae smile ep (1986)
in other news: phosphene dream is my favorite thing since my last favorite thing, which is cheese.
phosphene, n.
a sensation of light caused by excitation of the retina by mechanical or electrical means rather than by light, as when the eyeballs are pressed through closed lids.
[french phosphène : greek phōs, light; see phos- + greek phainein, to cause to appear, to show.]
it is especially fun to move the image around with your cursor on the computer screen. the most fun of all is when you do that WHILST listening to the album.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
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About Me
- i just love stuff.
- i don't like it--i love it. if i don't love it, i don't swallow.