Thursday, February 12, 2009
February Wait
Take a taxi on the side of the road. Stand on the edge and hop off right before the car runs close. Take a picture of the girl in the blue wrap dress. Spot her doctor's bag beside her manicured toes. She blinks hard at the gush of dust. Inches forward as her hair trails the passing bus. Where's your camera? Take a mental picture. Look at her smile. Waiting for the one. And it will come. Then all she has to do, is stretch out her arm.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
DJ for a Night
I wonder.
I wonder what it takes to be a DJ like Tiesto, Oakenfold, LTJ Bukem. I wonder what it takes to be a great DJ. I also wonder what it takes to just DJ.
British electro-soul band, Hot Chip's co-front man, Al Doyle rolled into town last night. Tickets were priced at a hefty $35. Raised eyebrows across the dancefloor for most who had actually turned up to tune into his frequency, most who had probably never even heard of him before. Even to dance to Van Dyke at Zouk, one only had to fork out club admission ($25@Velvet because I am female, and for once I will only "whisper" discrimination)
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewProfile&friendID=36068541
The scene was mixed.
The young fashion set well represented in their shiny leotards and quirky vintage bags. The lifestyle writers streamed in, guestlist late with their respective creative director partners, black rimmed glasses in check. The lifestyles of the rich and the expat- brat crowd scattered school canteen style, quick to scrutinize everyone that strolled in after. And of course, there were the party-seeking backpacking tourists, adidas ready and beer hungry.
Pre Doyle, were an onslaught of local DJs, including, a female fashion designer slash rumoured part club owner. Pre Doyle, was an empty dancefloor, the crowd prefering to oil up to each other admist the starlit al fresco adjacent. There was wide screen soccer and waif sweet-young-things, conducting customer surveys on brands, presumably fashion ones.
But the men stopped kissing the men, once a well dressed Doyle took to the turntables. He came in a sportsjacket but soon relegated that fashion statement. He started worldly and ambient, but after the initial hype, the crowd grew lukewarm. A tease on his part? Doyle soon took a raunchy bass heavy electro turn, leaving his audience to revel in his fabulous build-up.
Sexy, soulful, synthetic beats radiated from the speakers. But the crowd was restless and maybe a little too distracted by social signals. Doyle was on point when it came to capturing their attention but less genius at holding it. Soon the DJ was switching from progressive drum and bass to psychedelic Mila Kunis back to raunchy soulful electro all in 3 whole heartbeats, maybe trying a little too hard.
It was a rollercoaster of alcoholic dreams.
Did Doyle play to his audience? Or was good ol Al just here to play the set he worked on a week ago, and really, we were just his obedient dancers?
They say that when Tiesto raises his arms during a set, you wish to bow, because, he is like GOD.
The power of music. A melting pot of sounds, feelings, dreams, emotions. Interconnected and intricately complex. What happens when the DJ takes the helm of a journey through sound. Must every slice of his rhythmic understanding connect with his audience? Or is it the other way around? Does the audience seek the dictation of their DJ? Which maybe isn't such a bad notion, since sometimes all we really want to do IS TO FEEL IT.
This has to be one of my top10 videos:
The power of the music listener. The irony of playing to a select crowd is while the intent sways towards focused appreciation, an inevitability of community culture, is social affection. Being concerned about so and so watching you dance must detract from the ultimate mental and physical enjoyment of the music. When faced with a crowd on edge, is the DJ sensitive to such energy patterns? Or is the DJ setting these energy patterns?
I suppose anyone can claim themselves as Disc Jockeys. Just throw down a few tracks from the ipod at a party or launch a podcast and give yourself a catchy online stage name.
But the good DJs? The ones whose names tweak your butterflies, the ones you actually want to pay to see live....what sets them apart?
I wonder.
I wonder what it takes to be a DJ like Tiesto, Oakenfold, LTJ Bukem. I wonder what it takes to be a great DJ. I also wonder what it takes to just DJ.
British electro-soul band, Hot Chip's co-front man, Al Doyle rolled into town last night. Tickets were priced at a hefty $35. Raised eyebrows across the dancefloor for most who had actually turned up to tune into his frequency, most who had probably never even heard of him before. Even to dance to Van Dyke at Zouk, one only had to fork out club admission ($25@Velvet because I am female, and for once I will only "whisper" discrimination)
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewProfile&friendID=36068541
The scene was mixed.
The young fashion set well represented in their shiny leotards and quirky vintage bags. The lifestyle writers streamed in, guestlist late with their respective creative director partners, black rimmed glasses in check. The lifestyles of the rich and the expat- brat crowd scattered school canteen style, quick to scrutinize everyone that strolled in after. And of course, there were the party-seeking backpacking tourists, adidas ready and beer hungry.
Pre Doyle, were an onslaught of local DJs, including, a female fashion designer slash rumoured part club owner. Pre Doyle, was an empty dancefloor, the crowd prefering to oil up to each other admist the starlit al fresco adjacent. There was wide screen soccer and waif sweet-young-things, conducting customer surveys on brands, presumably fashion ones.
But the men stopped kissing the men, once a well dressed Doyle took to the turntables. He came in a sportsjacket but soon relegated that fashion statement. He started worldly and ambient, but after the initial hype, the crowd grew lukewarm. A tease on his part? Doyle soon took a raunchy bass heavy electro turn, leaving his audience to revel in his fabulous build-up.
Sexy, soulful, synthetic beats radiated from the speakers. But the crowd was restless and maybe a little too distracted by social signals. Doyle was on point when it came to capturing their attention but less genius at holding it. Soon the DJ was switching from progressive drum and bass to psychedelic Mila Kunis back to raunchy soulful electro all in 3 whole heartbeats, maybe trying a little too hard.
It was a rollercoaster of alcoholic dreams.
Did Doyle play to his audience? Or was good ol Al just here to play the set he worked on a week ago, and really, we were just his obedient dancers?
They say that when Tiesto raises his arms during a set, you wish to bow, because, he is like GOD.
The power of music. A melting pot of sounds, feelings, dreams, emotions. Interconnected and intricately complex. What happens when the DJ takes the helm of a journey through sound. Must every slice of his rhythmic understanding connect with his audience? Or is it the other way around? Does the audience seek the dictation of their DJ? Which maybe isn't such a bad notion, since sometimes all we really want to do IS TO FEEL IT.
This has to be one of my top10 videos:
The power of the music listener. The irony of playing to a select crowd is while the intent sways towards focused appreciation, an inevitability of community culture, is social affection. Being concerned about so and so watching you dance must detract from the ultimate mental and physical enjoyment of the music. When faced with a crowd on edge, is the DJ sensitive to such energy patterns? Or is the DJ setting these energy patterns?
I suppose anyone can claim themselves as Disc Jockeys. Just throw down a few tracks from the ipod at a party or launch a podcast and give yourself a catchy online stage name.
But the good DJs? The ones whose names tweak your butterflies, the ones you actually want to pay to see live....what sets them apart?
I wonder.
What Have We Here
Maybe youtube blogging is my calling
Weird-ass video by weird-ass baldie
Recipie for romance?
Weird-ass video by weird-ass baldie
Recipie for romance?
When all I wanted to do was send you a track....
UPSET.
Its been 2 days and no matter what I do on Garage band, my immaculately amateur macbook skills continue to fail me. I just cannot seem to successfully blend and record tracks.
YES.
My whimisical attempt at podcasting.
It's clear, I am way too old to claim i can figure all this techie shit on my own. The solution to my problem is so clearly laid out to me if only i click on the neccessary "help" option. But last i recall, i am the generation of innovation, out-of-the-box rule-bender! Put it out to the universe and make it happen!
Anyways.
So, here I am on my neglected shell of a blog. Still un-podcasted and not conceding defeat. Therefore, a medley of music videos courtesy of our fine friends on youtube shall temporarily satiate this urge to share.
Enjoy, even though it may be better if you might close your eyes to listen. The visual power inherent in music videos may misguide your unique listening pleasure....
Okay so maybe sometimes, music videos can add a whole new dimension haha...
Its been 2 days and no matter what I do on Garage band, my immaculately amateur macbook skills continue to fail me. I just cannot seem to successfully blend and record tracks.
YES.
My whimisical attempt at podcasting.
It's clear, I am way too old to claim i can figure all this techie shit on my own. The solution to my problem is so clearly laid out to me if only i click on the neccessary "help" option. But last i recall, i am the generation of innovation, out-of-the-box rule-bender! Put it out to the universe and make it happen!
Anyways.
So, here I am on my neglected shell of a blog. Still un-podcasted and not conceding defeat. Therefore, a medley of music videos courtesy of our fine friends on youtube shall temporarily satiate this urge to share.
Enjoy, even though it may be better if you might close your eyes to listen. The visual power inherent in music videos may misguide your unique listening pleasure....
Okay so maybe sometimes, music videos can add a whole new dimension haha...
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
2 weeks
Today I was supposed to tell him this:
" Dear P, you have the biggest and meanest laugh i have ever heard. It is so hearty. Yet, everytime I am around you, I feel that you have this sorrow. It makes me want to reach out to you and give you a very big hug. It makes me want to make it better for you. From the very first day.
Maybe God said I should be your angel. Maybe 2 weeks of hugging will cure your sorrow. Maybe just 2 weeks with me."
Course, how do you say something like that? Course I was way too tongue tied. Course upon one sway vibe, i was convinced enough to regress.
Sigh. Too fuckin chicken shit to live.
" Dear P, you have the biggest and meanest laugh i have ever heard. It is so hearty. Yet, everytime I am around you, I feel that you have this sorrow. It makes me want to reach out to you and give you a very big hug. It makes me want to make it better for you. From the very first day.
Maybe God said I should be your angel. Maybe 2 weeks of hugging will cure your sorrow. Maybe just 2 weeks with me."
Course, how do you say something like that? Course I was way too tongue tied. Course upon one sway vibe, i was convinced enough to regress.
Sigh. Too fuckin chicken shit to live.
Everyday I'm Hustlin
Goodbyes are never easy, save for the times you just can't wait to get out of that awkward situation. Evasive eyes and shifty feet make for very very quick exits.
As my ex-boss would quip, to every proper English school teacher's daughter, even the bad feeling byes must seem good. Even riddance is good!
And yes, just in case you did catch my quick thrown in, yes, i did say ex.
So i quit my job. The job I always thought was my dream, the one i saw when i closed my eyes and imagined. And yet in a day filled with goodbyes (which I must admit i avoided like the plague) , never did i really once feel all that good.
Don't get me wrong, long ago it was decided that there was little room for any kind of regret whatsoever. But I guess after you have given so much to the war, the irony is that it becomes hard to sleep without the sounds of the guns.
Where the struggle has taken its toll on the sunshine of your glow, why does liberation bring forth renewed emptiness?
Maybe we complain about the dirty rat race, but secretly shudder to leave the cage, content to circle within the boundaries of bottle- neck familiarity.
It truly is a big big world where the power to roam free draws in its counterpart of uncertainty.
The toss up. The neccessary statistician in all of us, always weighing the pros and cons.
For tonight, I think i will celebrate choice despite the risks it brings.
Maybe tomorrow I will celebrate the power of my liberation despite the doors that have already been closed.
Perhaps bye is good for on we move.
As my ex-boss would quip, to every proper English school teacher's daughter, even the bad feeling byes must seem good. Even riddance is good!
And yes, just in case you did catch my quick thrown in, yes, i did say ex.
So i quit my job. The job I always thought was my dream, the one i saw when i closed my eyes and imagined. And yet in a day filled with goodbyes (which I must admit i avoided like the plague) , never did i really once feel all that good.
Don't get me wrong, long ago it was decided that there was little room for any kind of regret whatsoever. But I guess after you have given so much to the war, the irony is that it becomes hard to sleep without the sounds of the guns.
Where the struggle has taken its toll on the sunshine of your glow, why does liberation bring forth renewed emptiness?
Maybe we complain about the dirty rat race, but secretly shudder to leave the cage, content to circle within the boundaries of bottle- neck familiarity.
It truly is a big big world where the power to roam free draws in its counterpart of uncertainty.
The toss up. The neccessary statistician in all of us, always weighing the pros and cons.
For tonight, I think i will celebrate choice despite the risks it brings.
Maybe tomorrow I will celebrate the power of my liberation despite the doors that have already been closed.
Perhaps bye is good for on we move.
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