Blinds drawn with a parking lot on the other side a particular disconnect is wont to overflow in 7911B, but not without inverting the link-up to the abstract. You write papers/memos/articles/reports, get called on to speak or called in to explain yourself, indirectly facebook invited to a cause whose utmost importance is deflated by the medium of the dispatch, and moral gets subverted by temporal.
(AHEM)
http://www.zshare.net/audio/65542727b61e7d26/
...breakdown
(and so, an attempt to connect the various thematic and aesthetic threads that seemed to make sense yesterday at 3 in the morning)
Arthur Russell - What it's like
Post-scientific backlash against atheism by the agnostic pluralists, a perpetually shifting discussion that both in youthful extravagance and generational alienation devolves into pleading with tonality, of condescension, naivete, so on. But fuck if asking ain't still the most frustrating experience of diminished returns.
T. Rex - Monolith
One of the original crossovers between role playing nerd and fashion queen, Bolan here does myth takes in girl talk, touching on the underside of that pioneering credulity. "Fogged was their vision, since the ages began" Oh, the CHILDREN OF MEN.
Hood Headlinaz - Soul Glo
Flipping that waxed mop of de-blackification (as per Coming to America's satirical aside), the soul and the spirit are in the words. They're finally here, but, y'know, longevity. Of course, f that, glory here reigns even if momentarily.
Kanye West - I wonder
So, comes an unscripted moment in a glutton of pre-programming and the self-appointed gods throw up their arms on an entire career. Armchair psychology thrown back at the VMA incident completely misses the point that Kanye is a perpetually self-diagnosed persona, whose inner turmoil and self-regard are honestly displayed for public discourse, which, really, is kind of what rap is, warts and all with the blemish cream in tow. Now, consider the line where he turns over to once-free spirited, now domestically dispirited women. Besides the come-on, it isn't a put down, it's not a gotcha call out of hypocritical tendency, but serious empathy to moments where free will and the expected trajectory overlap. You read some passages once, you shot down your parents, when did all that rage become white noise?
Paavoharju - kuisuuden Maailma
Finnish Lutherans and tape hiss. You put down the spirits, we'll conjure them. Don't believe, we'll still create the illusion. Invariably, you'll still get lost.
Triple Six Mafia - Niggaz Ain't Barin' Dat
6 minutes, the golden mean between the time spent fuming over a potential punching bag and the conversely impulsive act of violence. Looped here is the masculinity-testing incentive "slap a punk bitch" but the jarring element is the ethereal, contemplative piano loop that underlines it. It's beyond mantra, it's the inherent self-doubt in the "am I really going to do this" conundrum.
Roxy Music - Ladytron
The flailing vibratto taking on the generally unquestioned obsession with the archetypal object of love/lust. The male singers rarely make this a two-way street, they can't unless they want their shtick demystified by shared limelight, thus the underlying tinge of psychoses. Basically,
Scott Walker - The Old Man's Back Again (dedicated to the Neo-Stalinist regime)
Okay so, Democracy:
Tyranny:
Jay-Z: DOA (Death of Autotune)
From camp song taunt to jovial, monarchial skewer. The western horns that lead Jay in like the tumbleweed that announces it's serious. Is he the sheriff in High Noon or the cattle baron lackey Liberty Valance? Whatever he is, he's fucking wicked.
Jacqueline Taieb - Ce Soir Je M'en Vais
"Goodbye my love" that never gets lost in translation, you only think it does because you're sure its obvious simplicity is a cryptic beckoning for the moment to be seized. Result: seizures.
Girls - Hellhole Ratrace
Self-help is always scoffable because it comes in paperback, thus the self-determination of the book-binding factory workers is skipped over in favor of the consumer's self-regard. It's only self-help if it's innocuous and doesn't really affect anything but your mood. Your equilibrium and the status quo. But shit, come on, if you're scraping the barrell a fucking good look in the mirror is nothing scoffable. The mirror merely being a projection of yourself it's all atmospheric application between the lines, but the yearning, the yearning is real and totally deservable. This song, recorded at 30 and speaking volumes at that young 20 that still feels over the hill regardless of the inherent illogic, is all the anxiety wrapped in one real hazy chin up. Thanks, Ketamine!
The Rolling Stones - Wild Horses
They can't drag you away but they could definitely help you skip town. Why you don't is the crux.
Figurines - Race You
There's that aspect in interacting where it's less a fluid exchange than a game of subtly sculpting the other's reply. That last word is the queue, that pause and that um is the missed opportunity, within the reaction is a possible approximation previous speaker's intent. It shouldn't be thought of that way, but sometimes that's how it plays. Selfless is the goal but then accolades come, then castigation comes, then pleas for some reflection. The logic: one can't be selfless AND clueless, but self-realization comes at the cost of impulsive goodness, thus how selfless is it if one pauses to ponder the act? Gahh! The impact is upset by the imp! Mainly, when the authoritative is drawn from the abstract ideal, it gets lost on its way to the bottom. Thus, populist revision! This song, not so much. That game of reflection winds up a sore when the other person's incongruities line up with his puppetry. "Don't call if you need a friend." Deserved response: "What kind of friend were you?" But i'll end on a postively wistful note, recontextualized and disheveled differently instead. "Somehow you never knew, things change and so do you...some dreams still hunt you down"
Enjoy.
