Squarepusher on his new project:
I’ve started thinking about pure electronic music again. Something very melodic, very aggressive
Just my got my tickets to what is, so far, the only US date. Based on the taste of Ufabulum that was released today, I think it will be quite a night.
Via io9, this short film about nuclear clean-up gone horribly wrong is deliciously creepy. Created by Factory Fifteen.
In July I finally upgraded to my first superphone – the dual core Motorola Photon 4G. Since my purchase, I have seen the price of this handset nosedive, as the company enjoys much greater success with the RAZR and other models. No matter, I love my Android 2.3 with customized user interface, perfect Google integration, and a host of apps for work and play. The thing is solid and reliable.
But, because of weak sales, I felt certain I would miss out on an ICS upgrade. And that would have been fine. I’d happily hang in there till 2013 and see what upgrades were available then. Now, however, I’m not so sure. Turns out, somehow, I’m on the list for Ice Cream Sandwich. I may have to wait till Fall, but, as I’ve said, this phone is pretty darn good just the way it is, so I don’t that’ll be a problem.
There was no need for him to veto action by the New Jersey legislature that would have protected marriage equality. But, as Tom Moran notes in the Star Ledger:
he’s trying to limit the damage by emphasizing that he supports equal rights for gay couples under the state’s civil union law, and is prepared to strengthen it if needed.
It is good to see that even conservatives like him feel the need to underscore their commitment to equal rights. But in the end, it’s a phony attempt to have it both ways.
For a guy who acts so tough, it’s pretty weak to see him cave to the extreme right. He’s going against what he knows to be right for personal, political gain. And that’s sad.
Former Philadelphia Mayor, Pennsylvania Governor, and chairman of the Democratic National Committee, Ed Rendell has put together a group to buy the local newspapers. This article in today’s New York Times gives me reason to worry.
The situation in Philadelphia speaks to the vulnerability of regional newspapers. Long operated as functional monopolies with attractive margins,local papers have undergone a nosedive in earnings and advertising revenue. Having ceased to be sure-fire financial investments,these newspapers,the reporters fear,could still be attractive as a tool to advance new owners’ political and business interests.
And then, of course, Buzz Bissinger puts it in perspective in a guest op-ed, also for The Times:
These men want the papers because they crave power and will always crave power. They like to win and they have always liked to win. They can erect the biggest firewall they want between themselves and the papers. It won’t matter. As the owners of The Inquirer and The Daily News and the Web site Philly.com,they will have successfully toppled the last enemy. The newspapers will become their personal Gutenberg press,which effectively means that the one city in the country that needs a newspaper the most will not have one.
I have just completed Tom Rubython‘s satisfying re-telling of Formula One’s extraordinary 1976 season. It’s one of the most the most incredible stories, in sports or otherwise, that I’ve ever come across. No wonder Ron Howard and Peter Morgan are currently working on a big-budget Hollywood movie, not based on the book, but telling the same story.
In 1976, 27 year-old Austrian Niki Lauda was the reigning champion of Formula One racing. Although people in the United States lack a taste for the sport, it is truly the most glamorous and elite version of auto racing on the planet. Lauda raced for Ferrari and had the car and the skill to defend his title, a feat that would instantly cement his reputation among the greatest drivers of all time.
But the British McLaren team, with their flamboyant, pot smoking, playboy driver James Hunt, had other plans. McLaren had a great car that year and, despite his extreme partying and womanizing, Hunt possessed extraordinary talent behind the wheel. From the beginning of the season, it was all about Lauda vs. Hunt, with the Austrian having the advantage going into the height of summer.
Formula One racing, even today, is all about going to the limit, the limit of what the rules will allow, the limit of what the car is capable of, the limit of what the driver can manage without losing his mind. A race course with straights and turns means constant breaking, accelerating and shifting. Going into a turn, for example, a driver may gain an advantage by breaking later. But if the driver breaks too late, the results could be fatal. There are similar decisions countless times through the course of just a single lap as the driver tries to wring the fastest time possible from the car.
But, what happened to Niki Lauda in Germany that summer, may not have been about pushing too hard, driving recklessly, or an improperly engineered car. It may have been any one of those things, but the cause of his magnificent crash remains largely unknown. What is clear is that Lauda was engulfed in flame, caused to inhale toxic fumes and nearly lost his life. Because he was using an illegal helmet, the burns to his head and face were particularly horrifying.
It is impressive that Lauda survived. But it is unheard of the he returned to the racetrack to drive in the Italian Grand Prix just six weeks later.
And that is why this story is so amazing. Here is a case of a man who went up to, and then well beyond, the limit of his physical and psychological capabilities. Lauda was so competitive and so possessed by the need to win that he further disfigured himself by donning his helmet (now legal) when his facial wounds were not yet healed.
If Lauda had won a second consecutive championship under such circumstances, we might talk about him the way we talk about Muhammad Ali, the greatest ever. But the way he lost makes the story even more intriguing. By coming back, he was able to maintain his lead over Hunt by the slimmest of margins, causing the last race to be determinative. But the Japanese Grand Prix was drenched by a downpour and, after just a couple laps, an emotionally and mentally spent Lauda stopped his car and got out. At the very end, after all he had been through, he simply could not go on in the rain. He couldn’t see because doctor’s weren’t done reconstructing his eyelids, which had been burned off. I shudder to think how he could have reeled himself in from the insanity that made him come back so soon, too soon, in the first place. For me, that return to sanity, from so far beyond the brink, is the true heroism of this story.
The movie probably won’t get it right. Ron Howard tweets about everything he’s doing to make it authentic, and he has what appear to be talented young actors to recreate this unique moment in the history of motorsport, but I will set my expectations low. In the meantime, we have books and videos on YouTube and even Mr. Lauda himself, who is regularly on the F1 circuit as a consultant for Ferrari. And while his insights into racing and his wily wit delight us, we will probably never know what really happened that year, the demons he faced, gave into, and then overcame.
This is a longshot for me, but it may be one of those deals where you buy tickets first and ask questions later. So, it’s Webster Hall on Thursday, March 15. Yes, I’ve gotten to see Squarepusher twice, and that’s pretty special for me, blah blah blah, but this is a special artist with unique skills and a very bad attitude. I mean, he’s not even on Twitter. What the fuck, right? So every opportunity in this country is to be treasured and seized upon.
You don’t need to know anything about the movie Masked and Anonymous. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not meant to make sense. But look at this scene with Giovanni Ribisi and Dylan. The video is quiet, so I’ve included the portion of the script.
[Ribisi:] I come from a small village in the mountains. We don’t even have a doctor. So, I joined the rebels. I didn’t know what the answers were, I still don’t. I just knew you had to take sides. I suffered, sickness, and wounds. My own family turned against me. They disowned me. I tried to explain, but… but, but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Pretty soon, I saw the rebel warlord was corrupt. The leadership were lying to the people. They — they wanted to replace the old government with a new government, which was just as bad. They were, they were taking people’s money, they were, they were, they were making promises with no intention of keeping them.
“And then a small army of counter-revolutionaries go to battle the rebels in the mountains, where the government forces were ineffective.
“I changed sides. No one ever noticed.
“This new movement was — was fighting for the truth, the rebels supposedly believed in, but really didn’t. And then I realized that this movement was being funded by the very government I wanted to topple. At that point, I realized, I didn’t want the government to fall. It would only be replaced with anarchy.
“I started believing in preserving the republic, so I joined the government forces. I fought bravely for the cause.
“And then one day we wiped out a small village. They, they, they told us something about the, the rebels having infiltrated… it was a lie. All the men were, uhhh, either dead, or old. And there were, there were, there was nothing but, uhhh, women and children left. …
“It was my village.
“And, uhhh, some- sometimes, uhhh, when I, when I dream — my dreams become my reality. and I wish I could live in my dreams.
“Do you ever dream?”
[Dylan]: “Yeah, I dream. My dreams are mucking through fire, intense heat. I don’ pay any attention to my dreams.”
Borrowed Tune, by Neil Young:
Listening to this song on the way to work this morning, and listening to a couple other tracks from the same album (Tonight’s The Night) during the overnight shift while feeding my newborn son has made me realize that a big Neil Young thing is starting. This happens from time to time and it’s always good news. I don’t seek it out or plan for it, and there’s no trigger, like a new album or a concert experience, but I know what I want to do with this now that it’s happening.
Since the last time I wrote on this blog, my life has fundamentally changed. I am the father of a one-month-old baby boy. I am filled with such indescribable joy. And in those late night hours, when I want to calm this boy and get him back to his peaceful rest, I try to sing him something. Most of the time, it ends up being Neil Young songs.
I like to say that shaky Neil (along with Pink Floyd) are the reason I love music so much. These are the sounds that got it all started, that made me the mad collector and fueled my love of guitar. But I’m so different than I was twenty years ago, in my room upstairs at my parents’ house, playing along and trying to learn everything on ‘Live Rust’ by ear, and then by heart. So much has happened since those days when I didn’t know who I was or where I was going – just an embarrassed teenager with guitar the only thing to set me apart from my friends.
And so, I like the idea of going back here with my own child. I like that this music has been in my DNA for so long, and I want to share that elemental thing with him, even though he’s too young to have any idea what these songs are about.
Neil represents so much of the ecstasy and pure emotion of music. He’s the ultimate no-bullshit, punch-you-in-the-gut artist who doesn’t give a shit about making his audience happy, yet somehow always does. That’s a pretty neat flavor of genius, if you ask me.
And then you come across a track like this – “Borrowed Tune”, one man alone in a room with a piano, consumed with doubt and thoughts of grief, but unable to contain the power of beauty that propels him up the ladder.
Should have been 71 years old today. Here’s the quote:
Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is the best…