Thursday, September 18, 2008
v/a "Lullaby for the Moon: Japanese Music for Koto and Shakuhachi"
Another cheap record from Claddagh, this has music played on both the funny stringed instrument we saw Miya Masaoka using at the DEAF festival (this being the Koto) and that bamboo flute the Japanese love (the Shakahachi). This is restful, contemplative music; I would have put some on my own second Extremely Uneventful Music compilation, if I had not already put it together.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Ethiopian Journey: part four
Irene and her colleagues have arrived at the hotel where her organisation's other team in Ethiopia are based. They are there to inform the team's chief coordinator that his project is being immediately closed down.
"There were a couple of volunteers loafing around at the entrance to the hotel, but we barely recognised them as such. They weren't wearing the black t-shirts with the organisation's logo, but instead were clad in white linen suits, but suits that looked like they had been worn continuously, unwashed, since their arrival in S-----. And they had the vacant eyes and continuously working jaws indicating enslavement by khat, a local narcotic. One of them, though, seemed a bit more alert than his fellows. Seeing us, he bounded over excitedly. I recognised him as D-----, a puppyish fellow I had met at an orientation meeting in Dublin. His eyes looked now like he had seen things that had aged him beyond his young years.
'"You are here to see the great work we are doing, yes?', he asked. 'It is all thanks to Mr K-----. His methods have yielded the most excellent results'.
"'Where is K-----?' I asked. 'We need to see him.'
"'I will take you to him, of course, yes. Come this way!'
"He led us into the hotel, which seemed to double up both as where the team were staying and where they were conducting their courses.
"'Look here!' said D-----, 'A classroom! See what we are achieving!'
"He pointed us into a classroom, where Ethiopian students were working at computers while linen-suited teachers strode up and down behind them. But this was not like any other of our classrooms – the teachers were carrying canes, and striking the students in response to mistakes or perceived lapses of concentration.
"D----- saw our dismay. 'It's the only way,' he said, 'It's the only language they understand. K----- saw it clearly, we must make them fear failure if they are ever to succeed.'
"But then my colleague J----- interrupted. 'Dear God! Look at the screens! See what they have on the screens!'
"Would to God I had ignored her, that I had looked away. But I did look, and I cannot forget what I saw. On the computers' screens we could see their workspaces. But they were not Ubuntu workspaces. The PCs were running Windows!
"There were a couple of volunteers loafing around at the entrance to the hotel, but we barely recognised them as such. They weren't wearing the black t-shirts with the organisation's logo, but instead were clad in white linen suits, but suits that looked like they had been worn continuously, unwashed, since their arrival in S-----. And they had the vacant eyes and continuously working jaws indicating enslavement by khat, a local narcotic. One of them, though, seemed a bit more alert than his fellows. Seeing us, he bounded over excitedly. I recognised him as D-----, a puppyish fellow I had met at an orientation meeting in Dublin. His eyes looked now like he had seen things that had aged him beyond his young years.
'"You are here to see the great work we are doing, yes?', he asked. 'It is all thanks to Mr K-----. His methods have yielded the most excellent results'.
"'Where is K-----?' I asked. 'We need to see him.'
"'I will take you to him, of course, yes. Come this way!'
"He led us into the hotel, which seemed to double up both as where the team were staying and where they were conducting their courses.
"'Look here!' said D-----, 'A classroom! See what we are achieving!'
"He pointed us into a classroom, where Ethiopian students were working at computers while linen-suited teachers strode up and down behind them. But this was not like any other of our classrooms – the teachers were carrying canes, and striking the students in response to mistakes or perceived lapses of concentration.
"D----- saw our dismay. 'It's the only way,' he said, 'It's the only language they understand. K----- saw it clearly, we must make them fear failure if they are ever to succeed.'
"But then my colleague J----- interrupted. 'Dear God! Look at the screens! See what they have on the screens!'
"Would to God I had ignored her, that I had looked away. But I did look, and I cannot forget what I saw. On the computers' screens we could see their workspaces. But they were not Ubuntu workspaces. The PCs were running Windows!
v/a "Steppa's Delight: Dubstep Present to Future. Volume 1"
I bought this because the dubstep music they were playing before Public Enemy sounded really good. At least, I think it was dubstep… well, DJ Krossphader said it was, and he is a man of honour. Anyway, this compilation, pretty good stuff. If you have ever read anything about dubstep or the music young people like these days you will broadly get the idea – super-low frequencies, music reminiscent of that Jungle stuff David Bowie invented eleven years ago. Some of the tracks are maybe a bit generic, but 'Poison Dart' by The Bug and Warrior Queen stands out as being that bit more engaging. Maybe I am just being seduced by tracks with vocals, but this song smokes and I can imagine it being pretty tasty on the dance floor. Can anyone recommend anything else by The Bug and/or Warrior Queen?
Because I am an idiot, I bought this on vinyl. I mean, for fuck's sake, what likelihood is there that some moron would invite me to DJ somewhere where playing dubstep would be appropriate? I should have got this on CD, so that i) I could play it all the way through without having to keep turning over the record after every second track and ii) I could listen to it on my iPod. Does anyone have it on CD and want to swap?
Because I am an idiot, I bought this on vinyl. I mean, for fuck's sake, what likelihood is there that some moron would invite me to DJ somewhere where playing dubstep would be appropriate? I should have got this on CD, so that i) I could play it all the way through without having to keep turning over the record after every second track and ii) I could listen to it on my iPod. Does anyone have it on CD and want to swap?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Ethiopian Journey: part three
My beloved has been telling me about her journey to close down the work of the other Ethiopian team of her organisation.
"We were several days on that bus. S----- is not that far away, but this was the rainy season, and we were not travelling on asphalt roads. As the bus trudged through the mud, I thought about what we would find when we reached S-----. What could K----- have done that was so severe that it required the closing down of his project? And what kind of man could K----- be, that he would deviate from the organisation's guidelines? Some of my companions had met K----- previously, at events back in Ireland, and I tried to get them to tell me about him. But they remained uncommunicative, answering my queries with monosyllables.
"When the bus reached S-----, the other passengers disembarked and scurried away as quickly as they could. Now, when you arrive in an Ethiopian town, you are normally greeted by hordes of children demanding money, sweets or pens, or by plonkers intent on monopolising your attentions. In S-----, though, it was different. On seeing us, the bus station loafers beat a hasty retreat. As we moved on into the town, it seemed like everyone else was determined to avoid us, with people running away or indoors as soon as we came into view.
"It was not easy to find our way to the hotel where K----- and his team were conducting their project. We had no map, and the townspeople fled before we could ask for directions. Eventually, though, I was able to corner a small child, and after a few clips on the ear he pointed us in the direction of the Hotel P-----.
"The Hotel P----- was built in the 1930s, during the Italian occupation, and it is an attractive building, albeit one that has seen better days. As we approached it, however, it was not its Italianate design that drew our attention. Rather, we were struck and, I must say, horrified by some recent additions. Four wooden posts had been placed at the corners of the hotel's grounds. And on these posts had been mounted computer monitors, with their screens smashed.
"We were several days on that bus. S----- is not that far away, but this was the rainy season, and we were not travelling on asphalt roads. As the bus trudged through the mud, I thought about what we would find when we reached S-----. What could K----- have done that was so severe that it required the closing down of his project? And what kind of man could K----- be, that he would deviate from the organisation's guidelines? Some of my companions had met K----- previously, at events back in Ireland, and I tried to get them to tell me about him. But they remained uncommunicative, answering my queries with monosyllables.
"When the bus reached S-----, the other passengers disembarked and scurried away as quickly as they could. Now, when you arrive in an Ethiopian town, you are normally greeted by hordes of children demanding money, sweets or pens, or by plonkers intent on monopolising your attentions. In S-----, though, it was different. On seeing us, the bus station loafers beat a hasty retreat. As we moved on into the town, it seemed like everyone else was determined to avoid us, with people running away or indoors as soon as we came into view.
"It was not easy to find our way to the hotel where K----- and his team were conducting their project. We had no map, and the townspeople fled before we could ask for directions. Eventually, though, I was able to corner a small child, and after a few clips on the ear he pointed us in the direction of the Hotel P-----.
"The Hotel P----- was built in the 1930s, during the Italian occupation, and it is an attractive building, albeit one that has seen better days. As we approached it, however, it was not its Italianate design that drew our attention. Rather, we were struck and, I must say, horrified by some recent additions. Four wooden posts had been placed at the corners of the hotel's grounds. And on these posts had been mounted computer monitors, with their screens smashed.
Public Enemy: live in the Tripod
This was one of those Don't Look Back style concerts, where a band plays the songs from their classic album in order. I always swore that I would stay from such things, so how come I found myself here? Have I become a hypocrite? Well, maybe, or maybe not. It suited me to go because I enjoyed Public Enemy a lot the last time I saw them, so seeing them play in the Tripod sounded like a potentially very big bag of fun. And hey, I do actually like the tunes on It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back.
And ah, yeah, coming up against time pressure now, so let me just say that this was great. Hank Shocklee of the Bomb Squad was DJing beforehand, playing music that DJ Krossphader felt counted as dubstep, but which Shocklee named differently. Public Enemy themselves delivered 100%, even if (as with Ladytron) the vocals were initially mixed a bit too low. Chuck D and Flavor Flav made a great double act, the S1Ws were endearingly camp, all the musicians did their job, and DJ Law filled in well for the retired Terminator X. Thanks to George Bush, Professor Griff could not be with us on this occasion, so nothing about selling to the other man instead of the brother man, and so on.
Chuck D is such a inspirational front man, kind of like the American Billy Bragg. There is something righteous about him, which makes him maybe a bit anachronistic in our apolitical age but nevertheless appealing to oldarses like me.
Highlights: 'Night of the Living Bassheads', 'She Watch Channel Zero'.
One big lowlight, though, was all the camera action from certain cockfarmers in the audience. There did seem to be a lot of those fuckers who spend the entire gig with one arm extended above them, people who experience the entire concert by watching not what is onstage but instead a small screen just in front of their face. I have had it with these people – the day is coming soon when true music lovers will bring instant justice to bear on them. On this occasion I contented myself with doing the lizard king as often as possible, taking care to position my arm in front of the camera cockfarmer behind me.
S1Pandas
And ah, yeah, coming up against time pressure now, so let me just say that this was great. Hank Shocklee of the Bomb Squad was DJing beforehand, playing music that DJ Krossphader felt counted as dubstep, but which Shocklee named differently. Public Enemy themselves delivered 100%, even if (as with Ladytron) the vocals were initially mixed a bit too low. Chuck D and Flavor Flav made a great double act, the S1Ws were endearingly camp, all the musicians did their job, and DJ Law filled in well for the retired Terminator X. Thanks to George Bush, Professor Griff could not be with us on this occasion, so nothing about selling to the other man instead of the brother man, and so on. Chuck D is such a inspirational front man, kind of like the American Billy Bragg. There is something righteous about him, which makes him maybe a bit anachronistic in our apolitical age but nevertheless appealing to oldarses like me.
Highlights: 'Night of the Living Bassheads', 'She Watch Channel Zero'.
One big lowlight, though, was all the camera action from certain cockfarmers in the audience. There did seem to be a lot of those fuckers who spend the entire gig with one arm extended above them, people who experience the entire concert by watching not what is onstage but instead a small screen just in front of their face. I have had it with these people – the day is coming soon when true music lovers will bring instant justice to bear on them. On this occasion I contented myself with doing the lizard king as often as possible, taking care to position my arm in front of the camera cockfarmer behind me.
S1Pandas
Monday, September 15, 2008
Ethiopian Journey: part two
Irene has been telling me about how her organisation had decided to shut down the other team working in Ethiopia.
"'Us?' said J-----, one of my team-mates. 'You want us to up there?'
"'I'm afraid so,' said C-----, our organisation's head. 'I've barely have been able to find time to come here, and I definitely can't go there myself. You need to leave tomorrow. Your colleagues here can take on your classes. And when you reach S-----, you should read this to K-----,' he said, holding out an envelope which I took from him. 'It will make our position clear'.
"C----- left for a flight from Addis soon afterwards. We packed our things and then went to bed, trying to be as rested as possible for the journey. I can't speak for the others, but I had trouble sleeping that night.
"The following morning, we caught the first bus to S-----. You've never travelled by bus here yourself? It is an interesting experience. The locals tend to strike up conversations with the exotic farangi, asking them where they are off to, and why. So it was this time. But it was noticeable, and worrying, that people went silent when they learned we were with our organisation, and that we were going to S----- to meet the team there. The bus generally fell silent, save for people pointing at us and muttering to their neighbours in Amharic or Oromo. The bus driver even turned off his tape of Teddy Afro. We ourselves were too self-conscious to talk to each other, so for most of our journey all was silent, save for the sound of the road.
"'Us?' said J-----, one of my team-mates. 'You want us to up there?'
"'I'm afraid so,' said C-----, our organisation's head. 'I've barely have been able to find time to come here, and I definitely can't go there myself. You need to leave tomorrow. Your colleagues here can take on your classes. And when you reach S-----, you should read this to K-----,' he said, holding out an envelope which I took from him. 'It will make our position clear'.
"C----- left for a flight from Addis soon afterwards. We packed our things and then went to bed, trying to be as rested as possible for the journey. I can't speak for the others, but I had trouble sleeping that night.
"The following morning, we caught the first bus to S-----. You've never travelled by bus here yourself? It is an interesting experience. The locals tend to strike up conversations with the exotic farangi, asking them where they are off to, and why. So it was this time. But it was noticeable, and worrying, that people went silent when they learned we were with our organisation, and that we were going to S----- to meet the team there. The bus generally fell silent, save for people pointing at us and muttering to their neighbours in Amharic or Oromo. The bus driver even turned off his tape of Teddy Afro. We ourselves were too self-conscious to talk to each other, so for most of our journey all was silent, save for the sound of the road.
v/a "Early Morning Hush: Notes from the UK Folk Underground 1969-1976"
I think wor bird picked this one up, when we visited popular local record shop Claddagh on a record buying splurge. This one was pretty cheap, I seem to remember, and we are always easily tempted by cheap treats. It is also really good. In musical terms, it does what it says on the tin, but the selections are a lot better and less generic than I expected. In some ways this is like an English language version of one of those Welsh Rare Beat records. I wouldn't like to play favourites with this record, as it all brilliant and all of a piece, but the tune that sticks in my head the most is maybe 'Cherry Blossom Fool' by Duncan Browne, though that is not to say that it is actually the best. 'Harvest Time' by the Water Into Wine Band is also interesting as the source of all Michael Nyman's musical ideas.Actually, listening to these tracks again, in order to try and name a few more exceptional ones, I am struck again by the uniformly high standard here. If this is what some random collection of UK folk has to offer then maybe it is time I started exploring the UK folk scene of the period in more detail.
Early Morning Panda
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Ethiopian Journey: part one
In Ethiopia some unfortunate circumstances meant that my beloved and I had to spend a week in Addis Ababa instead of travelling to see the country's historical sites. This did at least allow me to quiz Irene on her experiences with her organisation. Over dinner one evening in the Hotel Ghion restaurant, she described her time imparting basic computer skills to teachers in the south of the country. The story was a straightforward one – some successes despite certain obstacles (including the petty personality clashes that go with such an endeavour). I sensed, however, that she was holding something back, that there was something else that she was loth to talk about while nevertheless wishing to get it off her chest.
After dinner, as we relaxed over a glass of tej (a local drink made from fermented honey), Irene talked some more about her team and their progress, but this seemed merely a prelude to what came next.
"And then there was the other team," she said. "They were based in the town of S----, far to the south of us. I had not met their chief coordinator, but he was greatly admired within our organisation. People often talked of the great successes he had achieved on previous projects, and this time too reports were coming back from S---- of his team's excellent results. Or so they were at first, anyway. But as the weeks wore on, reports from S---- were less positive. There were suggestions that they had deviated from the organisation's agreed programme, though our coordinators seemed unwilling to discuss this directly with the rest of us.
"Then C---- arrived from Dublin. You remember meeting him? He is the head of our organisation, and his unexpected arrival threw us all into agitation. We could tell that time was of the essence for him, as he had come straight to our teaching centre, dispensing with the usual parade through the town. He summoned a small group of volunteers, including me, into a back room.
"'I'll come straight to the point,' he said, 'It is the other team. I'm sure you have heard the rumours. It's their chief coordinator. He is no longer following procedure. His results are still impressive, but the way he is achieving them is… inappropriate. He is bringing us into disrepute. There is only one thing for it. I need you to go to S----- and bring the project there to an end, with immediate effect'
After dinner, as we relaxed over a glass of tej (a local drink made from fermented honey), Irene talked some more about her team and their progress, but this seemed merely a prelude to what came next.
"And then there was the other team," she said. "They were based in the town of S----, far to the south of us. I had not met their chief coordinator, but he was greatly admired within our organisation. People often talked of the great successes he had achieved on previous projects, and this time too reports were coming back from S---- of his team's excellent results. Or so they were at first, anyway. But as the weeks wore on, reports from S---- were less positive. There were suggestions that they had deviated from the organisation's agreed programme, though our coordinators seemed unwilling to discuss this directly with the rest of us.
"Then C---- arrived from Dublin. You remember meeting him? He is the head of our organisation, and his unexpected arrival threw us all into agitation. We could tell that time was of the essence for him, as he had come straight to our teaching centre, dispensing with the usual parade through the town. He summoned a small group of volunteers, including me, into a back room.
"'I'll come straight to the point,' he said, 'It is the other team. I'm sure you have heard the rumours. It's their chief coordinator. He is no longer following procedure. His results are still impressive, but the way he is achieving them is… inappropriate. He is bringing us into disrepute. There is only one thing for it. I need you to go to S----- and bring the project there to an end, with immediate effect'
Comics Roundup 14/9/2008
100 Bullets #95, by Brian Azzarello & Eduardo Risso
One of the odd things about this title is how hard it is to kill the main characters. I remember one time when one fellow was pumped full of bullets by some cops. "That's the last we'll be seeing of him", I thought, only for him to show up again some
issues later, arriving into a jail. More recently, the scary lady character took a close-range shot straight into her chest, but it seems to have done nothing bar giving her a fetching scar. In this issue, we meet again a character who took part in an assassination attempt a couple of issues back. His strike failed, and the issue ended with an explosion taking off both his hands. I am not a medical expert, but I suspect that if a blast severed your hands then you would bleed to death in no time. But this issue finds him in hospital, sans hands, but not dead.
Beyond that, though, this is a great issue, cutting between the guy in hospital being visited by a friend while his estranged brother takes a taxi across town to see him. It all ends badly, with some astonishing coincidences lending events some neat ironic reversals.
I should mention the cover, by Dave Johnson. It is a striking piece of design, calling to mind avant garde 1950s film posters or those anarchist prints of buildings coming alive and attacking people.
Criminal #5, by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips
And this is another noir-influenced title. This issue is the second part of a four part story, seeing a newspaper cartoonist and retired forger being sucked into a worryingly suicidal caper by an archetypal femme fatale and her psychopath lover. You also get a bit of background on the cartoonist, who has previously been something of an extra in this title. As kind of expected, things take a grim turn in this issue, with signs suggesting that they will be getting worse. I can't but think that future episodes will stick to noir conventions by having the woman betray the cartoonist – she seems the type.
This comes with an interesting essay on the 1992 film One False Move, which I was fortunate enough to see in the cinema when it came out. This somewhat forgotten film is a classic dark thriller, playing on racial and urban-rural oppositions. I recommend seeking it out.
one false panda
One of the odd things about this title is how hard it is to kill the main characters. I remember one time when one fellow was pumped full of bullets by some cops. "That's the last we'll be seeing of him", I thought, only for him to show up again some
issues later, arriving into a jail. More recently, the scary lady character took a close-range shot straight into her chest, but it seems to have done nothing bar giving her a fetching scar. In this issue, we meet again a character who took part in an assassination attempt a couple of issues back. His strike failed, and the issue ended with an explosion taking off both his hands. I am not a medical expert, but I suspect that if a blast severed your hands then you would bleed to death in no time. But this issue finds him in hospital, sans hands, but not dead. Beyond that, though, this is a great issue, cutting between the guy in hospital being visited by a friend while his estranged brother takes a taxi across town to see him. It all ends badly, with some astonishing coincidences lending events some neat ironic reversals.
I should mention the cover, by Dave Johnson. It is a striking piece of design, calling to mind avant garde 1950s film posters or those anarchist prints of buildings coming alive and attacking people.
Criminal #5, by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips
And this is another noir-influenced title. This issue is the second part of a four part story, seeing a newspaper cartoonist and retired forger being sucked into a worryingly suicidal caper by an archetypal femme fatale and her psychopath lover. You also get a bit of background on the cartoonist, who has previously been something of an extra in this title. As kind of expected, things take a grim turn in this issue, with signs suggesting that they will be getting worse. I can't but think that future episodes will stick to noir conventions by having the woman betray the cartoonist – she seems the type.
This comes with an interesting essay on the 1992 film One False Move, which I was fortunate enough to see in the cinema when it came out. This somewhat forgotten film is a classic dark thriller, playing on racial and urban-rural oppositions. I recommend seeking it out.
one false panda
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
VOMP!
This year's Dublin Electronic Arts Festival looks pretty interesting. I have not seen the hard copy programme yet, so I don't know if it is the usual design-heavy illegible monstrosity, but the web lineup has loads of kewl stuff on it - people from the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, Detroit techno fellows like Model 500, gratuitous swearers like Fuck Buttons, and so on. I'm surprised they are not making more of having David Vorhaus along, given that he is apparently the man who recorded the ORCH5 sample. Not like I am obsessed or anything. It would be great if they got Vorhaus and some orchestra to do a live performance of ORCH5, though what he is actually going to be doing is playing the White Noise's Electrical Storm album live - a possibly worrying outbreak of Don't Look Back style rockism. I will still be there, if it has not sold out already.ORCH5 Pandas
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)