Anagrams courtesy of listener Joe Bawol!
I’ve been living inside Ableton Live for two weeks. It’s a piecing of looping/DJing/producing software. I’ve been feeding in seven years’ worth of stuff I did on drum machines, and looping riffs like I haven’t done since Soul Coughing (after the first record, my bandmates were increasingly unreceptive to loops I brought in from other people’s music. Maybe they were right, we woulda been poorer, giving our money away to other composers!)
I think I’ve actually lost weight because sometimes I stay locked inside the headphones rather than foraging. Aw, it’s noon? Just let me loop this one more thing, the I’ll get lunch–wait, no, this one more thing–be done in a moment–wait, it’s 2 pm already? Like that.
It’s evolving into what I think may be a DJ set. Maybe a record? Well, I could only use the majority of the loops live–gone are the days when Warner Bros would write a fat check to pay off the Raymond Scott estate and Toots Hibbert for their unsuspecting contributions! Even rappers are too smart to use samples these days.
I shouldn’t tell my manager or record company about this. “Um, so Golden Delicious isn’t even out yet, and you’ve already made another record? An all-instrumental electro record?!”
Yeah. They get confused. Not that I don’t get confused myself.
I fired my German tutor the other day. After a year of lessons, I discovered I just wasn’t that interested in talking to her–she wasn’t an art lady. I had a hard enough time explaining why, as homework, I brought in poems written in my own crude German, about hangmen, mystical eggs, and devils.
It was weird–it was a textbook passive-aggressive-co-dependent breakup. Lots of weird out of left field snarks. This is sadly indicative of my world–I even got into a co-dependent relationship with my fucking German teacher.
I’ve already found another teacher, and a German conversation group for Saturday mornings–any other recording artists out there that get up at 9 am on a weekend to study German? No?
I dreamed last night I lived in the ruins of the Statue of Liberty with hordes of wild rabbits, and I joined the T.S.A. as a citizen safety monitor on the A/C/E subway line.
I get up on Sundays, as I’ve told you many times, and watch Old White Guy TV, aka CBS News Sunday Morning. The critic Bill Flanagan reviewed a bunch of albums, mostly by older artists, and, about the album format, said, “These artists prove there’s life in the old form yet.”
I can dig it. Golden Delicious is sequenced as an album, and I’d dig it very much if some people listened to it that way. But, we live in a one song world these days. Why is that considered to be trivial? A single song to me can be like a great painting, something to be contemplated, scrutinized, until all its nuances reveal themselves–and can keep revealing little parts of the mystery every time you listen. When I fall in love with a song, I put it on repeat and listen to it for half an hour straight, back-to-back, on subway rides.
I snarked mildly on Vanessa Carlton in a blog, and took shit from listeners who told me that she was not, in fact, a “rich California girl on a temporary urban escapade,” but had gone to Julliard and lived here for years. I was in fact beset upon by a couple of rich California girls, who were all like, And what the fuck is wrong with being a rich California girl, blog boy? Nothing the fuck is wrong with being a rich California girl. OK, I knew that that would come off as pejorative. But it shouldn’t, necessarily, right?
I remember being accused by a fellow student in school of being a white liberal. I reacted all kinds of flustered. But, you know, I am a white liberal.
Anyway. Vanessa, I’m glad you enjoy Nolita, though, cranky ex-East Village bohemian that I am, I consider the nabe a travesty. I would advise you, though, that when you sing Take away my record deal! you’re asking to be too broke to live there.
Don’t worry, there’s plenty of $1200 studios in Bed-Stuy! (actually, I did hear that M.I.A. lives there, and believe me, I’m not snarking, I live in fucking Flatbush, to which gentrification will arrive in approximately 2047)
I’m gonna get a cam and vlog a little. Apparently exclusive “value-added content” is something they like in online promotion for music. I don’t know what I’m gonna do–make a short film of myself making a smoothie? Show off my collection of Egon Schiele postcards?