Squarepusher on 22 May 2015
Squarepusher was technically brilliant. The visuals and sound were amazing, particularly the real-time projection mapping onto his reflective garb -- which looked a bit like an Olympic fencing outfit with hood and visor.
The glitch was over the top but, when he took to the stage with his bass guitar for the encore, his solo playing on the instrument also reflected this aesthetic as he tapped and slapped madly. It was then that his jazz influence became more obvious and it kinda made sense of the barrage from earlier in the set, when the speed of notes and rhythms were more akin to thrash metal.
He doesn't work with many melodies but does add some nice splashes of chords among the maelstrom of bitcrushing, feedback and sped-up beats. Variety came from nods to genres, like a 303 or rave-y synth and one dubby sorta tune.
Dunno why this was at the Opera House though. Sure they have a great PA but the place seems to be one continuous staircase with no dance floor. Again it seemed like a jazz aesthetic, where the audience were meant to stroke their chin and clap politely.
Kids watching Scott Pilgrim vs. the World
Last night my son had a belated birthday party of sorts. He'd been asking for a "pizza party" for a while and we'd settled on eating then watching Scott Pilgrim with a few friends.
I'd been hesitating on screening the film since we last watched it. The representation of open homosexual relationships didn't seem appropriate for me to share with other people's kids. That was my issue with the film, anyway.
I really like Scott Pilgrim a lot and remember excitedly thinking I can't wait to share this with my then video game-obsessed toddler. I've seen it a lot since then and appreciate the way it evenhandedly represents relationships while being bright and loud and funny.
The kids persisted in asking for Scott Pilgrim and I concluded that it shouldn't be an issue for other people's kids to see homosexual relationships in a movie. One kid loudly questioned the gay character and everyone told him to get over it, which was great to see. By the end of the film there'd been more talk about veganism than homosexuality though, so maybe diet is more of a taboo these days?
Sexist sketches
Facebook's newsfeed offers many treats for the eyes and brain, the latest being a series of sketches on sexism at the Mentlegen page.
I showed these to my daughter and returned to hear her mother exclaiming pride. It was nice to also see her then redrafting and improving on her representation.
Still lifes for bonus lives
My daughter has been sick and stayed home for a few days rest. Last night she was delirious, kept asking when the school bus was coming.
Yesterday she started drawing a picture of a Gamecube controller for her brother. She knows he likes Gamecube games and wants him to like her art.
It made me look at the controller and imagine the perspective and the spaces within the shape and how I'd draw it. So I did.
Yesterday she started drawing a picture of a Gamecube controller for her brother. She knows he likes Gamecube games and wants him to like her art.
It made me look at the controller and imagine the perspective and the spaces within the shape and how I'd draw it. So I did.
Is AI a sensitive subject on Facebook?
Hadn't seen this message before and it made me wonder if it was Facebook's AI being self-conscious?
Raptures with raptors
Above is a song I wrote last year. It was a bassline I developed after trying to figure out a synth line for a pop song.
When I recorded it for a Naviar Haiku project, I added the Replicant 'four bar repeat' preset and it became a different composition.
Then I remixed the result for another haiku project, leading to a dancier track with synth parts.
More recently I thought it would be interesting to try playing it live in a single-take recording. When the Disquiet Junto set a suitable project, I had a go and was disappointed with the result.
So I tried again with a jammier sorta approach, using the Jam Man pedal -- which simplified the riff.
It's interesting to see the evolution of this riff because I haven't used the original composition yet. I should go back and see what other directions it can go.
New moon
Been a while between blue moons. Well, a while since I posted about my song 'Blue Moon' anyway. The version above was recorded in my backyard the other week.
Oscar sings Phoenix Wright
Oscar sang another video game theme on the weekend. This is his take on the Pursuit theme from Phoenix Wright.
I'm hoping he'll try something from Luigi or Mario next.
My dad by Neve
Love how the reality in this picture is less accurately represented than the representation.
Gossamer Park in Leeton
Gossamer Park is in Leeton's outer suburb of Wattle Hill and was one of the last to be recorded in 2012 for the For 100 Years album.
Schmewound remixed it as a percussive workout.
Now another fantastic playground remix from Belgian producer KlanKman, who has previously reworked Dinosaur Park.
Hear the original Gossamer Park track here
Below is a track I made when I returned to the material in 2013 with my partner Jo.
Assembling an album
There might be enough new material for an album. I think it's almost there, a couple of tracks need another draft though.
There's a lot of variety on here, from orchestra arrangements to an electro-metal hybrid and a pop song.
I dream of Stephanie
Last night I awoke feeling guilty and panicked.
The ghost of Stephanie Scott was in my dreams and I knew I wasn’t the only person in Leeton thinking of her.
It’s hard to escape the conversations about her online, let alone on the street. The frustrating aspect is that, aside from it being a tragedy, there is little resolution to be found yet.
Every one has a desire to talk about it, which is good because everyone is grieving her for various reasons. Talking about it helps make sense of it and today my partner observed that, despite the anger of some sentiments being potentially provocative, the conversation on I Live In Leeton has been comparatively restrained. Even when people are calling for extreme violence, there has been space for people to vent their frustration with events.
Before I talk about Stephanie I need to declare that I can’t remember meeting her. She looked familiar in the photos I’ve seen, and I think I would’ve noticed her. She was a beautiful young woman and I must confess that I have a wandering eye at times.
My sense of guilt about Stephanie isn’t libidinous, it was from writing on social media. Thankfully I hadn’t stirred a flamewar with anyone overnight but I did wonder if the blog post I’d written didn’t say more about my desire to talk than anything particularly insightful.
The arguments I’d made about the jokey tone of the bridal headlines had troubled me. When my partner, again astutely, observed that the reason why she was shown as a bride was because that was probably the most recent photo of her.
Suddenly the callous nature of tabloid headlines became apparent. It wasn’t a slight on all women that a dead young professional woman had been described as a runaway bride. It was the nature of news narratives that they had to explain why this attractive woman was on the front page when she wasn’t one of the usual celebrity archetypes.
Stephanie was a complex archetype though. She was a bride, non-judgmentally I add symbolically at least, a virgin. And she had been denied one of the most basic dreams that a young woman can have in life when she was killed just a week before her wedding day.
Here it dawns on me that as a symbol for me, this attractive young woman could’ve been an advertisement for modern Australian life. Living in Leeton, this bride was one that I thought looked great. If I were younger and times were different, who knows?
And here is where Stephanie’s ghost enters my story. Last night as I was lying in bed next to my astute partner Jo and told her about my fright with blogging, she made an interesting observation.
Stephanie died at Easter and her story had resembled another famous Easter story. It was interesting for me once she observed, for only a week before Easter had I read Elizabeth Farrelly ask if Jesus wasn’t a woman.
Easter is a time of sacrifice stories and it seems remarkable that Anzac Day is held around the same time of year, because both are stories with sacrificial symbolism. I’m not suggesting Stephanie was sacrificed, only that her story resonates with me because her death seems to resonate at a time when other death stories are being told.
My partner said to me, as I lay in bed wondering if I could calm down and stop worrying about Stephanie, that there was a parallel between her and Jesus. And it occurred to me that many of the stories that people were telling about Stephanie would conclude that she was now with Jesus.
And, I glibly suggest, that Jesus and her would be happy together — because being a pan-atheist I also only know Jesus as a symbol. Most of what I know of Jesus, like Stephanie comes from what I’ve read and seen on TV.
Jesus and Stephanie were both seen by people after their deaths, said my partner. “Remember the story when she was first missing?” she asked. “That’s like Jesus being for gone from his tomb, because she was seen on the missing messages after she’d died — just like Jesus was seen by people around Jerusalem after he died.”
The ghost of Stephanie travels around town. In our conversations, our Facebook messages, and in dreams. The recent discovery of Stephanie’s burnt body was deeply disturbing. She will not get an open casket funeral and, from the little I know about funerals I gather this is a troubling thing too.
When the news helicopter was circling Leeton on the day of memorial picnic, I thought how great it was that the town was joining together to remember Stephanie and hoped it would provide some resolution for their thoughts of her.
I also wished I’d shown my support for everyone else in town and shown how much I appreciate their support. Just like I feel like attending Anzac Day to honour my dead, I felt I should’ve honoured her. The helicopter hovering over town days earlier had been one searching for Stephanie but now it was a model with a camera mounted on the outside to film the grief and share the story with the nation.
An image of the iconic Roxy Theatre appeared in my Facebook feed this morning. It has been moving to see the tributes for her, from the memorial outside the high school crime scene to the streamers and balloons which have appeared on buildings.
The sense of grief is palpable in town as well as being unavoidable in day-to-day conversations. I am grateful my children are not at Leeton High because when school returns there will be a strong response from people.
We’ve all been touched by her death and my sense of guilt made me realise the sense of entitlement I felt I had to her story. She was in my town. While Jesus died for our sins, I do not think Stephanie died for mine but I have learned an important lesson about social media.
Writing about Stephanie and feeling regret for doing so made me consider the practice of sharing an opinion in conversations but it also made me aware of how important these conversations are for people.
The archetypes we talk about, drawing on media particularly, offer us a way of discussing our fears and feelings. I wondered if my indignation wasn’t the result of misplaced guilt over thinking sexy thoughts about an attractive young woman who died horribly.
And in sharing these thoughts, in this blog post, I would appreciate if you will let this vent sit while I work through the symbolism of my words.
The ghost of Stephanie Scott was in my dreams and I knew I wasn’t the only person in Leeton thinking of her.
It’s hard to escape the conversations about her online, let alone on the street. The frustrating aspect is that, aside from it being a tragedy, there is little resolution to be found yet.
Every one has a desire to talk about it, which is good because everyone is grieving her for various reasons. Talking about it helps make sense of it and today my partner observed that, despite the anger of some sentiments being potentially provocative, the conversation on I Live In Leeton has been comparatively restrained. Even when people are calling for extreme violence, there has been space for people to vent their frustration with events.
Before I talk about Stephanie I need to declare that I can’t remember meeting her. She looked familiar in the photos I’ve seen, and I think I would’ve noticed her. She was a beautiful young woman and I must confess that I have a wandering eye at times.
My sense of guilt about Stephanie isn’t libidinous, it was from writing on social media. Thankfully I hadn’t stirred a flamewar with anyone overnight but I did wonder if the blog post I’d written didn’t say more about my desire to talk than anything particularly insightful.
The arguments I’d made about the jokey tone of the bridal headlines had troubled me. When my partner, again astutely, observed that the reason why she was shown as a bride was because that was probably the most recent photo of her.
Suddenly the callous nature of tabloid headlines became apparent. It wasn’t a slight on all women that a dead young professional woman had been described as a runaway bride. It was the nature of news narratives that they had to explain why this attractive woman was on the front page when she wasn’t one of the usual celebrity archetypes.
Stephanie was a complex archetype though. She was a bride, non-judgmentally I add symbolically at least, a virgin. And she had been denied one of the most basic dreams that a young woman can have in life when she was killed just a week before her wedding day.
Here it dawns on me that as a symbol for me, this attractive young woman could’ve been an advertisement for modern Australian life. Living in Leeton, this bride was one that I thought looked great. If I were younger and times were different, who knows?
And here is where Stephanie’s ghost enters my story. Last night as I was lying in bed next to my astute partner Jo and told her about my fright with blogging, she made an interesting observation.
Stephanie died at Easter and her story had resembled another famous Easter story. It was interesting for me once she observed, for only a week before Easter had I read Elizabeth Farrelly ask if Jesus wasn’t a woman.
Easter is a time of sacrifice stories and it seems remarkable that Anzac Day is held around the same time of year, because both are stories with sacrificial symbolism. I’m not suggesting Stephanie was sacrificed, only that her story resonates with me because her death seems to resonate at a time when other death stories are being told.
My partner said to me, as I lay in bed wondering if I could calm down and stop worrying about Stephanie, that there was a parallel between her and Jesus. And it occurred to me that many of the stories that people were telling about Stephanie would conclude that she was now with Jesus.
And, I glibly suggest, that Jesus and her would be happy together — because being a pan-atheist I also only know Jesus as a symbol. Most of what I know of Jesus, like Stephanie comes from what I’ve read and seen on TV.
Jesus and Stephanie were both seen by people after their deaths, said my partner. “Remember the story when she was first missing?” she asked. “That’s like Jesus being for gone from his tomb, because she was seen on the missing messages after she’d died — just like Jesus was seen by people around Jerusalem after he died.”
The ghost of Stephanie travels around town. In our conversations, our Facebook messages, and in dreams. The recent discovery of Stephanie’s burnt body was deeply disturbing. She will not get an open casket funeral and, from the little I know about funerals I gather this is a troubling thing too.
When the news helicopter was circling Leeton on the day of memorial picnic, I thought how great it was that the town was joining together to remember Stephanie and hoped it would provide some resolution for their thoughts of her.
I also wished I’d shown my support for everyone else in town and shown how much I appreciate their support. Just like I feel like attending Anzac Day to honour my dead, I felt I should’ve honoured her. The helicopter hovering over town days earlier had been one searching for Stephanie but now it was a model with a camera mounted on the outside to film the grief and share the story with the nation.
An image of the iconic Roxy Theatre appeared in my Facebook feed this morning. It has been moving to see the tributes for her, from the memorial outside the high school crime scene to the streamers and balloons which have appeared on buildings.
The sense of grief is palpable in town as well as being unavoidable in day-to-day conversations. I am grateful my children are not at Leeton High because when school returns there will be a strong response from people.
We’ve all been touched by her death and my sense of guilt made me realise the sense of entitlement I felt I had to her story. She was in my town. While Jesus died for our sins, I do not think Stephanie died for mine but I have learned an important lesson about social media.
Writing about Stephanie and feeling regret for doing so made me consider the practice of sharing an opinion in conversations but it also made me aware of how important these conversations are for people.
The archetypes we talk about, drawing on media particularly, offer us a way of discussing our fears and feelings. I wondered if my indignation wasn’t the result of misplaced guilt over thinking sexy thoughts about an attractive young woman who died horribly.
And in sharing these thoughts, in this blog post, I would appreciate if you will let this vent sit while I work through the symbolism of my words.
Remembering Stephanie Scott
Over Easter weekend I watched The Fall, an excellent BBC crime thriller. When news came of missing Leeton woman Stephanie Scott on Sunday, I immediately thought the worst but pushed the idea away as the conversations began about what might have happened.
The stories in the media over following days speculated she may have had 'cold feet' about her marriage planned for the following weekend. Such reports used the image of a runaway bride to frame the discussion of her disappearance.
The issue is as much about journalists needing new cliches as it is about inherent sexism. Rather than describe Scott as a teacher or a professional, she is presented as in a relationship. I understand the commercial imperative to make a story accessible to a wide audience but in doing so they are perpetuating dated gender ideas that make women appear to be the property of men.
On Facebook's I Live In Leeton page I wrote that "The best thing that could come from this is for Leeton Shire to declare that it will not tolerate any violence against women." Stephanie Scott's death has shaken the town and it's remarkable to see the number of yellow balloons, ribbons and streamers around Leeton, but the sexism in the telling of her story has shown to me that there is a way to go for equality between the genders.
Maybe this is sexist or even opportunistic but it is shameful that domestic violence is often overlooked or ignored while women are being attacked by people they know -- just as Scott would've known her own attacker. Obviously all violence should be addressed but the issue of domestic violence needs more attention to encourage people to report incidents and discourage it within our communities.
And, finally, as much as the Scott family and her fiancee deserve condolences, my partner observed that the murderer's family have also lost someone this week and they will receive much less support.
Aeropress
Now, I'm not writing this to promote addiction. I prefer coffee as a recreational drug.
I was looking for a review to share when I was promoting Aeropress to a coffee f(r)iend, when I found that Choice magazine weren't as impressed with the radical interpretation of plunger coffee. (Radical because the plunger works more like a hypodermic.)
Choice wrote:
A panel of five CHOICE staff sampled the resulting espresso, rating it poor overall. For comparison purposes, we prepared the same coffee in a plunger, which the panel rated OK overall.Four of the five said the Aeropress espresso was watery, while our lab expert Peter Horvath even had to make a "proper" coffee later to get rid of the acidic and unpleasant aftertaste.
At first I thought the magazine had missed that Aeropress produces an espresso-type coffee rather than a plunger-type, but they go on to acknowledge that "technically" the device fits the definition of an espresso.
So I wondered if they hadn't read the instructions, which focus on using water "80°C for dark roasts, 85°C for light" to avoid a bitter flavour. Then again, that quote in the previous sentence comes from Choice.
Now it occurs to me that maybe they did follow the Aeropress instructions, because they lead a first-time user to make a double shot espresso. So it's stronger than usual. This seems a strange decision to me but I've read that inventor Alan Adler drinks his brew this way, so maybe that explains it.
I've been experimenting with Aeropress and plunger coffee, giving both devices the same amount of the same ground beans and the same amount of the same temperature water. My results are that the plunger coffee tastes more bitter but that'd be because it steeps for longer, I guess.
I like my Aeropress but maybe the novelty will wear off.
Torchlight at night
Couple of pics from recent nights. I've been enjoying painting with light via time-lapse photography.
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