El Nuevo Hogar Del Dr. Wommm Está Aquí
Dr Wommm's Patented Stupidity Cure
See you there...
Dr Wommm's Patented Stupidity Cure
One: This blog is moving. Not far, but I need a bigger cabinet, plus the decor is getting on my wick. The new address will be posted in a few hours, when I've sifted through the hundreds of fucking stupid names for it and decided on the one which will probably induce the largest amount of complaints and/or the deepest disappointment. Being an inveterate hoarder, I won't be chucking any of the old crap out, I just don't seem to be able to write anything meaningful on this blog anymore, so I'm moving down the road to a nicer cupboard.
For a variety of reasons which I may go into a later date, writing this blog hasn't exactly been a regular thing for the last few months, but rest assured readers*, a plethora, nay, a veritable cornucopia of opinionated ranting, drunken idiocy and gratuitous pictures of Anne Briggs will be appearing here soon. Stay tuned.
Music theory isn't even a theory, it's a half-baked hypothesis, a forever uncompletable mess of historical and geographically specific data that still defines to most listeners (consciously or otherwise) what is acceptable to call "music" and what is not, and worse, which allows a certain kind of musician to define what is "right" and what is "wrong". Western music theory in particular is a huge and unwieldy set of rules, (sometimes somewhat arcane) mathematics, and a huge array of assumptions and prejudices that change according to the prevailing cultural climate of the times, the rubber room that where so many musicians willingly don the straitjacket and bounce off the same four walls for the rest of their creative lives. People like Wynton "there has been no new jazz made since 1955" Marsalis are the product of theory making, not music making, seeking to reduce whatever music it is they profess to love to a set of rules or procedures, deviation from which is punishable by ostracization or ridicule, a high-minded, academic approach which allows no room for true creativity or progression and leads to ossification, turning what should be living, breathing art into a static exhibit to be admired from a respectful distance, not engaged with on a visceral, emotional level as music should be.
is only one of many fantastic quotes from this most excellent documentary about EMS , electronic music pioneers extraordinaire, which I suggest you go and watch immediately, not just because it offers a rather eccentric and very British take on the early days of electronic music as opposed to the more usual US (Moog, Buchla et al) or European (Stockhausen, Darmstadt etc) perspectives, but because it highlights a major failing in the mentality of this country which tends to allow it's most original thinkers to sink into obscurity as prophets without honour in their own land and also because it's fucking excellent.
...is the only possible explanation for what happens during this somewhat interesting live version of (the already fucking horrible) Jump recorded a few weeks ago by some lucky attendee. Due to a fuck-up by one of their crew, the synth backing for the song is playing back at the wrong sample rate, and therefore at the wrong pitch, thus rendering Eddie's guitar wildly out of tune, a turn of events which he makes absolutely no attempt to rectify at any point in the following six minutes. A particularly fine recorded example of EVH's famed "brown" sound. Also, David Lee Roth is on pretty good form too...