Saturday, October 2, 2010


Philip Glass and Steve Reich had it right.
Their experiences of minimalism are precise, powerful examples of how humanity yearns for its core regardless of its purity.
Peering under the surface of today's often glamorous and aura-clad electronic swirls, tactile control of phase shifts often seem to be abandoned for a momentary flourish of embellished distortion. Like the undead writers of pop, it seems like many of today's music producers would prefer to mechanistically spread a singular fancy across the invariably varying framework they've chosen for themselves in order to get away with calling it a dance song. Mainly, it becomes obvious that when a computer program can line up even the most outlandish frequencies and bellow a womp more brutal than a train crash, jaws are guaranteed to drop. Unfortunately, so are standards of artistic focus and the commitment to specificity of theme. At least they know to call themselves freeform, but doesn't even free verse have some meaning to it besides its structure? Do people need a voice in order to be heard? Personally, I can't even see white noise.
Maybe I just don't like dubstep, but this most recent attempt at the amalgamation of all things as one seems a lot like that time in kindergarten art class when I tried to make the ultimate color and wound up painting my masterpiece in feces. Straight out of the 70's, Four Organs and Music With Changing Parts induce the seperation necessary to see oneself; an immersed look recalibrates our natural self-production to the powerful simplicity of truth in form.

For a beautiful look at that form, I also suggest:
Kurr by Amiina
Daydream by Tycho

Both of these artists have new work out, Amiina's Puzzle is especially great.

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