My mother used to say that when I was 2 or 3 years old, I was a little pest, but when music was on the television, it was silent; it was peaceful at home. I was absorbed in what I was wanting to do forever. Music.
I started my sound adventure learning sounds; I created them around me with a k7s recorder. I walked around the house reporting where I went, something like: “And now this is the sound of water, and let’s all listen…” turned on the bathroom faucet “listen, it’s the water singing…”
The spherical ball flew flyingly through the damn autumn leaves like a nauseating plane that was too small and round to be in any way practical. But flew it did, having been propelled as it had by Adam’s fearsome left foot. The kids who lived in Miyashita-koen still tell stories about that left foot and use words like “fearsome” and “left”. I stood vertical in the goalmouth, a moth to the flame, a fish in a barrel, a horse to water, and did what any decent Thursday morning goalkeeper is obliged to do: I saved the potential goal so hard and crushed the dreams of the understandably confident Adam.
When I called it a day about seven years ago, I was exhausted. Somehow I was emptied. I felt like I had already said and experienced everything. Since day one, music had always nourished me. How foolish was I to believe for a single moment that I could go on without it?
The Artist writes his best song for seven years, suffers mental breakdowns, heartbreaks, crazy life situations, misunderstandings, self-doubt, rehabs, and other things that people might encounter in 7 long years. The song is finally ready. He records it. It takes a week. He releases it. Nobody buys it.
In the meantime, The Kid makes a beat on his iPhone; it takes him 3 minutes. He drops it. Someone buys it for $50, to rap about „bitches” over the mindless loop. The Kid buys more chewing gum.
Driving (in the) snow from Kempten. I was supposed to put saucers and blondes together, but the reversable rider of Skye said „NO!”, and off he went on a rollercoaster ride of thrift shop guitars, carrying the torch for Lady Biba. The 4 A.M. Lamp kept burning, and sociopaths were rescued from their shady caves, turned into rainbows and oh! Butterflies „above the nation”. That was the dream of the Woodstock generation, now wasn’t it?
One of my favorite things about science fiction is how a creator can project their vision of the future. However, as it is a projection, and we only have our own experience to draw from, often we color this future vision with bits and pieces from our now. Like having characters that exist 200 years from now conversing in vernacular from our time. Or having an alien race appear humanoid. One of the best examples of this is the famous “Cantina Band” from Star Wars playing “alien” music that sounds a lot like jazz.
The super-group 5K HD from Vienna travel from Jazz to Pop to Electronica with ease, They remind us very much of Portishead, while they are still creating their very own sound. We feel so honored to welcome our first Austrian musicians as our Artists of the Week #31. Continue reading →