Long-time lab friend Dave Tompkins has written a book, "How To Wreck A Nice Beach" about vocoders, which from what I understand, took up about a decade of his life. I'm in the middle of reading it and it is wonderful. If you've never read Dave's leapfrogging, lateral-moving, cross-cutting, everything-is-connected stream of consciousness writing style it is either wonderful or unbearable to read. I am in the former camp, which is why I recommend the book to you now.
Find out more at Dave's book blog, including a vocoder mix done by Monk from Wax Poetics.
howtowreckanicebeach.com
Go home and do something by yourself. It doesn't matter what it is. You could wash your dishes, organize your room, take a nap, feed your cat, whatever.
While you're doing it, play this song:
Now you are a sad person in black and white. Just make sure at 1:21 you get angry about something.
When I went to SXSW this year, I got a mediocre swag bag that included, among other things, a free year-long subscription to Spin. Now while I have greatly enjoyed Spin before when I was in high school and thought it was "way cooler than Rolling Stone" and literally wrote a paper comparing the two to each other in college, and also plagiarized myself and re-submitted the same paper to a different class when I was studying abroad in Australia, it's been awhile since Spin has particularly held any merit for me.
I still enjoy buying it at the newstand and reading it while eating dinner, or buying it at the airport and reading it for 15 minutes before falling asleep, but by and large our paths don't really cross anymore.
So finally, my first issue of Spin shows up in the mailbox, and it is a doozy. It is Spin's 25th Anniversary issue, AKA their special self-blowjob issue where they mythologize their own greatness. The cover seems innocuous and product-of-a-boardroom-meeting enough: a leather jacket. Part Sticky Fingers homage, part "so classic rock n roll," part "something that is just as hip now as it was 25 years ago" etc yeah sure OK it hits all these marks.
BUT then in the magazine inside it is rendered unacceptable by being a parallel to this:
Like, no. I was going to link that last sentence to a picture of a guy blowing himself, but that would be nowhere near as offensive as rich boob Bob G Jr's self-aggrandizing thesis on how amazingly cool and ahead of his time he was.
"Oh hey reader, in case you didn't know, I used to fuck Penthouse pets like all the time. Just thought you would want to also know that some of them gave me fighter pilot uniforms too. LOL anyways back to the grindstone! FML!"
BUT then in the magazine inside it is rendered unacceptable by being a parallel to this:
Like, no. I was going to link that last sentence to a picture of a guy blowing himself, but that would be nowhere near as offensive as rich boob Bob G Jr's self-aggrandizing thesis on how amazingly cool and ahead of his time he was.
"Oh hey reader, in case you didn't know, I used to fuck Penthouse pets like all the time. Just thought you would want to also know that some of them gave me fighter pilot uniforms too. LOL anyways back to the grindstone! FML!"
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