Going away for the weekend, probably to return Suday night. Hope you all have a great weekend as well.
so to fill up space till then, i'll be an egotistical writer and post another one of my essays
Like a bridge between two continents, each with its own culture, sound, and understanding of the universe, the d.j. stood between two Technique turntables. His actions, the bent elbow motion across the wax, the sliding palm on the cross-fader, was to the music, as the cross pollination of exploration, colonialism and mercantilism was to world. Yet, unlike the conquistadors and venture capitalists that spread exploitation and destruction, the d.j. brought his global network into harmony. He was a weaver of audio evolution; his ear expanded the gene pool, pushing the frontier not further west, but further up, in, and around.
In the skilled hands of a d.j., music achieves unity. Genre and classification fall apart. Separation becomes an illusion, and seamless unity is achieved. Music can no longer be categorized; it simply is, it exists. All of the technique that one genre so values, as what differentiates it from others, as what makes it what it is, are burned, their ephemeral form turned to cinder, revealing their similarity with the technique of other genres. They are revealed to be simply a different manner of presentation, a different flash in the momentary glimpse of a rainy night.
Through fusion, the covenant data base is thrown open. Music of which you are already aware is transformed. What was once known becomes unknown again as you become lost in the deep and rising frenzy of twisting, combining sound. Sound is pushed to its limits, posing the question of its nature. Harmony becomes not something with which you are so familiar from ditties and pop tunes of years of listening, but something you must find and acquire again. You must be lost before you can find your ear, before you can reboot. Confronting the new, the familiar made strange, leaves you before the wilderness of sound.
But this is no barren wilderness. This is an errand. You know this is a new expression, a metaphoric birth of signification. The fixed world of meaning has been revealed in its origin, in the moment of the slip of ground from beneath understanding. In the noise you hear new meaning; sound is welded to feeling, and you are permitted once again the reading that is before writing, the reading of portents and stars, of encryptions and code. The dj transmits a LAN of ear, data, tongue, and a billion bits.
so to fill up space till then, i'll be an egotistical writer and post another one of my essays
Like a bridge between two continents, each with its own culture, sound, and understanding of the universe, the d.j. stood between two Technique turntables. His actions, the bent elbow motion across the wax, the sliding palm on the cross-fader, was to the music, as the cross pollination of exploration, colonialism and mercantilism was to world. Yet, unlike the conquistadors and venture capitalists that spread exploitation and destruction, the d.j. brought his global network into harmony. He was a weaver of audio evolution; his ear expanded the gene pool, pushing the frontier not further west, but further up, in, and around.
In the skilled hands of a d.j., music achieves unity. Genre and classification fall apart. Separation becomes an illusion, and seamless unity is achieved. Music can no longer be categorized; it simply is, it exists. All of the technique that one genre so values, as what differentiates it from others, as what makes it what it is, are burned, their ephemeral form turned to cinder, revealing their similarity with the technique of other genres. They are revealed to be simply a different manner of presentation, a different flash in the momentary glimpse of a rainy night.
Through fusion, the covenant data base is thrown open. Music of which you are already aware is transformed. What was once known becomes unknown again as you become lost in the deep and rising frenzy of twisting, combining sound. Sound is pushed to its limits, posing the question of its nature. Harmony becomes not something with which you are so familiar from ditties and pop tunes of years of listening, but something you must find and acquire again. You must be lost before you can find your ear, before you can reboot. Confronting the new, the familiar made strange, leaves you before the wilderness of sound.
But this is no barren wilderness. This is an errand. You know this is a new expression, a metaphoric birth of signification. The fixed world of meaning has been revealed in its origin, in the moment of the slip of ground from beneath understanding. In the noise you hear new meaning; sound is welded to feeling, and you are permitted once again the reading that is before writing, the reading of portents and stars, of encryptions and code. The dj transmits a LAN of ear, data, tongue, and a billion bits.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
legionnaire:
Ha! I was discordia last night. One card away from getting 5 weirds and winning. That's great that I'm not the only one who's playing this. I feel a little better admitting it now. 
iggy:
I loved reading your latest entry. and there is nothing wrong with being an "egotistical writer". I didn't see much evidence of an ego at all anyway.