One Below B
This. This is the link of today, not quite really writing properly. It’s collaborative AND in B flat. I think… I still can’t determine keys without plinky plonking on a keyboard, or (if it’s in C major) blowing down the harmonica I found in my bottom desk drawer a few days ago. I’ll trust the wisdom of the URL.
This is a beautiful step. With all of the interconnection in the internet, I don’t think we’ve had a really killer appy collaborative music web 2.0/3.0/n+1 site yet. This isn’t IT, exactly, and IT might not exactly exist; but this is a pillar under the pyramid. A stepladder.
Aaaahh screw the postulating. It’s just pretty neat.
Your Mileage Varies
What really, really puts me in the mood to listen to my music is being forced to listen to someone elses music. Like, if I am at over at a friends house and they have some experimental neo-electro folk falling out of the speakers (which actually sounds kinda intriguing, post typing). That’s when I want to go back home and concentrate all my attention on aurally devouring Prokofiev PC 2, or Shosty 15, or the Grosse Fugue. It’s a bit of a “my music is better than yours” kneejerk, except it’s more of a slo-mo Matrix timefreeze knee extension than a jerk. The more the electro-folk plays, the stronger the urge gets.
The MMIBTY bias is a really strong one, and it seems pretty universal. It’s the same with movies. I’m consistently stunned into little bits and pieces when someone who I think I know pretty well turns out to have a freakin’ bizarre taste in music or film. Of course, it’s only freakin’ bizarre by my own blinkered standards. They’re are probably feeling just as WTFey about MY taste.
And sometimes it happens even when a huge amount of your tastes overlap, I think it’s a law:
No matter how much you have in common with someone there will be at least one thing they love which will make you want to commit violence.
Well maybe violence is a bit too strong. Perhaps light battery. You know, like when you saute instead of deep fry.
I know I know, variety is the spice of life, blah blah. It’s the differences which make us unique and special, and liable to frolic with rainbows and unicorns and crap.
I Have an Auto-Tuned Dream
OMG guys, auto-tuning *everything* is the latest internet meme of the minute:
Keeping The Receipts
I’m back baby. Back from this. From 10am last Saturday, until 10:30pm today I have been inundated with, dunked in, and squeezed full of Science. It’s been five days of: posters, symposia, brainstorming sessions, platform talks, overpriced (but life-support-ing) coffee, face-sheering-off Bostonian winds, room-sharing, note-taking, schmoozing, on foot GPS navigating and supervisor pleasing, and more.
And now I am home, re-enjoying the luxury of personal space and time. And filling in some gaps: the songs which whirred over the week without an escape hatch. Pieces prompted by relations on the rented minivan’s radio, or pieces of en passant conversations. At the moment it has been mostly:
And:
No classical. I almost never feel like listening to classical music after getting back from a trip. I need to come up with a very well thought out 5 second theory to explain that. Too tired to try that tonight though.
Night night!