Suicide VS SubBass

Back in school! Woohoo!! At the moment in the library writing this while listening ‘Strumming Music’ by minimalist composer Charlemagne Palestine..

I’m in such in a good mood that I borrowed all the books available on the sociological subject of suicide. I couldn’t find anything that explores the subject of suicide in relation to popular music but I found some really interesting e-journals. I’ll have a look at this one in particular:

'I'd Sell You Suicide': Pop Music and Moral Panic in the Age of Marilyn Manson

                              -Robert Wright-

I think this is the subject that really pushes my buttons at the moment..

A plan B for the dissertation was writing on the subject of Sonic Warfare, but reading the book of the same title by Steve Goodman I had little invisible insects crawling all over me while spreading boredom and sending me straight to Orpheus’ holiday camp.

No. Really.. Some of the chapters were actually interesting but half way through it became repetitive, and I really couldn’t see myself spending the next five months researching infrasound and sub bass. I’ll have a look at the last year Sound Arts students’ dissertation – which should be available in the library by now – but I think I’ll rather writing about something that really interests me. 10.000 words is not such a big deal, but if you don’t feel the subject they could seem like a million. Relativity theory all the way I guess..

Video Ideas for my band The Shit..

The Shit!!! Here we go..

This is my neighbour’s car. COOL FIRST CLASS MACHINE HEY!!!

I want to ask him if I can put it on some kind of bumpers –I don’t know what I’m talking about at the moment but it’ll come to me-

I want some huge screen around it with the projections of black and white images of the sun bursting crazy or other freaky alien images (check my link to Semiconductor -'brilliant noise' and 'Black Rain' videos- to see what I'm talking about)as the background visible from the windshields etc..

Marion -drummer- should sit on the back but leaning towards the front seats.

Leo -bass- on the driver seat and yours truly next to him.

When complete, I would love to have someone translating the song’s lyrics in sign language on a little box at the left of the screen – a bit like that one that you see on late night TV programs..

Think Tarantino's Death Proof..

ps in case something bad happens to me like death or something my last wish is a drive on the back of this evil thing.

memories..WHAT???

I've been thinking about memory all morning..mainly because mine is really bad and I usually tend to distort things..

Example: a friend of mine keeps telling me that he owes me money 'cause he sold one of my guitar to buy smack. well..really nice for him to do this – and then tell me .But the problem is that for what I remember I sold the very same guitar myself to another friend, who needed it as a tour back up for a similar one he has - by the way I'm talking about a sunburst Ampeg by Burns from 1963.
The only way in which I could find out what really happened would be by cross-referencing the different versions of the story consulting all the people involved, but one fact remains: something in my brain didn’t manage to store this information properly..

Another thing that intrigues me about memories is how they can be affected by the senses: a smell or a picture, a sound or a song could trigger images of past experiences or forgotten events..
This shamble of recorded data floating in my cortex’s membranes reminds me of my Tapegrinder installation – you can check it out on my audiovisual section –
I really want to explore this more and link it with my dissertation and the final major project of my course.

Glad I wrote it down you know..just in case I forget it.

Gum Takes Tooth.Dethscalator.Bad Guys drop The Drop..

As my bones drag their weight in autopilot towards the entrance of the club something reminds me of the 9/11 attack at the twin towers: that something is the security guy at the entrance of the building – Man! Chill out!! It’s only a door leading to a pub, not the Fucking U.S. custom! - ..

Please put down your weapon. You have 20 seconds to comply. 20..19..18..

As I walk down the stairs to the club a heavy rock guitar solo hits my brains and then my eyes focus on the weird presence emitting that signal. Think of him as the replacement of Spinal Tap’s guitarist if the deadly curse had been cast on the axe player instead that on the drummer.

Between us is the sweaty crowd and his double neck Gretsch sparkly guitar. That’s PJ, and together with the other mischievous figures they’re the Bad Guys. The singer – who I’ll find out later plays a Nazi in a new Steven Spielberg film – is winding the crowd from down the stage, while Mark is beating the hell out of skins and cymbals and conceiving drum filling that could wake up Jon Bonham’s alcohol smelling rotten body from its sleep to engage in a drum duel with this bad-ass guy. On the far right of the stage there’s Dave, whose guitar riffs lock perfectly with PJ’s  hard-rock tour de force. I’m pretty late so I manage to inhale only the last three songs. The smell of the smell of 70’s rock impregnates the walls, and the flashes of light beaming from a 1965 180 Lend Camera captures the soul of the action on Polaroid films. I only manage to get out of the building for a fag and some cheap beers from the offie next-door when sudden catastrophe strikes: the manager of the pub cancels the gig because of noise complaints from the neighbourhood. WHAT!!!? Something stinks. And this time is not me..

FACT: The Drop is a venue UNDERNEATH a pub.

FACT: There are lots of angry people asking for their money back as two bands still have two play – I actually don’t mind about the money but I make sure that they go to promoters and bands but NOT to anybody running the venue-

FACT: IF YOU ARE A PROMOTER OR YOU PLAY IN A BAND DON’T PLAY AT THE DROP IN STOKE NEWINGTON

So yeah! You’ll think that this is the end of it, but Tony –the man behind the 180 Lend Camera – proposes to move the gig to his warehouse up the road. The night is young and screams for more. The amps and the guitars and the drum kit sits impatiently at the front of the evil venue like junkies on cold-turkey waiting for a fix. Then the gear crawl slowly away from the pavement and disappear like magic in black cabs.. destination MAYHEM.

I’ll be honest. I hesitated. I was scared. But hey.. this story screams for more and I can’t let it die half way through.. It would be cold-blooded murder – also I made a MixTape for this special girl and both Dethscalator and Gum Takes Tooth are on it (sharing magnetic tape chemicals with Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights).

As I walk towards the warehouse more people join this procession from every direction, flooding like a blood stream going straight towards a black heart full of noise. I arrive at this huge black gate at the feet of Mount Doom – ok, it opens electronically.. No Trolls needed.

As the gate opens I know a ceremony’s about to begin. The bands arrived already and the gear is still cold sweating for more action and sitting in front of the gate. I grab one of the amps heads and take it to the building. I’m sure it is probably damn heavy but you can’t feel a thing when you understand the purpose of such weapon of mayhem consumption.

I receive a txt from a friend saying that she’s with Lydia Lunch down in Whitechapel and yes, would be great to meet her but all I want is a wall of noise to puke on my bones. The room’s pores taste of Daniel Johnston. There’s shitloads of the guy memorabilia all over the place. I suddenly remember that I’ve been here before, but that’s another story…

So yeah..as the crowd helps moving equipment and sorting out space for a stage I’m glad to know that Bad Guys will open with another set. YEAH! Then I freak out for a fraction of a second that seems a long time though..there’s a scary painting that looks like me. It stares at me while melting from the wall. Hey! I swear! I didn’t take any acid or any drug! Ah..well..whatever..

Anyway..the gig. I guess spending time talking about the bodies and the cans of lager flying around the place and on top of me can’t really give you a picture of what I suddenly find myself in. The wall of sound screaming from the amps blow me away. Then it blows itself up: one of the amps die and the gig stops.

Wandering around the place while looking for a place to wee I found a magic door that leads down straight to Lea Bridge Canal. Peaceful boats sleeping on the nasty water surface. Then a roar invades the space. I know what it is. I know that I’m doomed. This roar rapes the air..it’s mean..it’s beating slowly ..it grows..and I know it..It’s Dethscalator. Then it’s carnage happening in a surreal Daniel Johnston world. The crowd is trapped in the kinetic motion of the building walls and gravity decides to scrap its laws for a while and I think I never felt like this since my previous life. Millions of spiders climb out of Sound City amps and 4x12 cabinets while a primordial beat bounces my frail body against other bodies. I see friends passing over my head. Others underneath my feet. And yet this creates an ecstatic experience similar to the one that some religions call Heaven. Dan – the singer- is transported by a multitude of hand to a world far above and his weight don’t matter anymore. he’s like Stephen Hawking flying high in the sky experiencing absence of gravity. Then I loose it too and everything becomes black and nasty and..yes..it’s like Black Sabbath but two inches from your face. Dan tries to tell us something from the mic but everything is melted by delay effects - “DAN!!! YOU WHAT!!!??

It’s a short gig. Short but sweet and tasty and bloody. Matt –the guitar player- lost an amp tonight and that hurts..but yeah! The party is on fire and I want to see how Gum Takes Tooth pearls of wisdom on regard of Odontoiatric surgery will drill our cavities.

It starts with a mantra of a delay saying “Thank You” to the people who didn’t let the night drop dead at The Drop. Then Synths and Drums drilling my skull and everything is interrupted by a guy screaming “Hey!!! I found my glasses. Can you believe it man!!!!’ – he disappears in the moshpit and that’s the last thing I see of him. Between the “Thank You” and the specs boy is just a mass of sweat that like The Blob engulfs the space and spreads and melts on the red linoleum floor. All the above glides of orange revolving flashing lights that whisper something to my brain like “jump on the damn sweaty thing or leave this room as soon as you can!!!!” Synth master Yussy is floating high and Tom is in control of drumsticks and triggers even while holding a can of polish beer on his third hand. Space/time continuum fail to make sense and it’s murdered by electronic sounds triggered by the drums. Than “Thank You Thank You Thank You” and the song from their last 7” “Young Mustard” kicks in. Hell brakes loose and we dance and scream and brake bones like the chimp from 2001 A Space Odissey. The sonic blast ends. I leave the place and run for a bus trying to carry myself to the court of Lydia Lunch down in Whitechapel. My heart collapses at a frequency of 27Hz that makes it drop towards my stomach. Neon lights signs with missing letters resemble something of me that I can’t figure out just yet.

There's something menacing crawling out of my speakers every time I play Raw Power. As Search and Destroy kicks in, the pressure on air particles becomes unbearable.. As Nick Kent puts it - 'still the meaniest-eyed, coldest-blooded tour de force ever summoned up in a recording studio.'
The version I'm listening to is the legacy edition - which was remastered by Iggy Pop himself: at -4db it is the loudest heavy-rock record ever to be released. This is the second time Iggy tried his hands on the recording's tapes: the first time was in 1972, but he had to subside to record labels pressure and let David Bowie remix if he ever wanted his baby to be available in shops for public consumption. Not that the label was expecting to make any money out of it..but at least they wanted the last word on content listenability and packaging design. The Iggy Version can be described in his own words: 'Look!That's not in the red, why isn't that meter in the red? That should be over there in the red with the rest of those meters!'
Many critics hated the new release, citing digital distortion throughout the record. I'm not usually in favor of heavy mastering and I think all this discussions about loudness war are going nowhere: a track needs to breathe and a sound wave representation shouldn't look like a long homogeneous tube - unless that's what you're really looking for, or like Merzbow and other Noise Artists, who sometimes during mastering look for digital distortion on purpose.-
I got to say that I'm really enjoying this version in spite of all the above critics, but I'm looking for the Vinyl of the original mix for comparison. I also found out that there's a new legacy - doesn't legacy usually means what someone is remembered for? ..Forever? - 2010 edition of the David Bowie mix. I'll leave you with Iggy's point of view on this messy mixing epic: 'I don't think you can beat David's mix,it's very creative. But this is just a simple, straight band mix of a powerful band'.

If you want to know more about Raw Power, the best way is just blasting it off your speakers! ..whichever version of the record you've got!The LOUDest the BETTER. If you don't have it..
A someone stOOle it from you..
A something pretty big escaped to your aural senses

B you've never heard that something called ROCK landed on our little planet sometime ago.. bringing some good things and.. lots of bad things. well.... 

                      RAW POWER GOOD!!!

..so YEAH! HI!
My name's Zoo and this is my blog!

This should have been written two months ago but then summer descended violently on me..

You’ll notice that I sometimes tend to use two dots at the and of a sentence instead of one or three.. I KNOW it is wrong.. that’s WHY I’m doing it..

Another thing you’ll probably need to know is that this page has been set up mainly for academic reasons – need to keep a kind of diary of my research and thoughts during my last year as a Sound Art student -otherwise at this precise moment I would be scribbling in an incomprehensible calligraphy inside one of my personal diaries..

Anyway.. summer descended violently on me with the smell of punk-rock and the sound of a young girl’s voice with promises of love in her tones. These two accidents had me reflecting on how my life has been steering on all directions in the last two years from when I got back to school.

I learned new ways of listening, new ways of composing, and above all I developed a different understanding of the word ‘SOUND’ itself. It had also got me thinking of new ways of recording and spatialize my compositions. THANKS CONTACT MICS! BEYOND STEREO ALL THE WAY!!!

So what’s next..? Well, I’m pondering on my dissertation – working title “The Commercial Value of Suicide in Popular Music” – and reflecting on something that music journalist Nick Kent wrote on his biography.. something about finding your own voice. I really need to find the connection between screaming your lungs out while holding a classical guitar connected to six pedal distortion through two huge amps and recording a laundry room with huge MS mics and stereo contacts.. there’s something there but I’m not completely sure what it is yet.

Another question keeps coming back too from when I woke up this morning though.. why The Stooges’ Raw Power has been blasting off my speakers all day? But most of all.. why can’t I turn it off??