Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Fernando Moutchatcha


There are a few things I noticed about this tape other than the wicked music. First, notice the dignified Moutchatcha hat. Second, he changed his name from the Bambara name Yoro Diallo to the sort of hispanic Moutchatcha Fernando. Trois, it was his last album, so he may still be roaming the Sahara and Mali with his creepy laugh.

Check it out here:
http://www.awesometapesfromafrica.blogspot.com/

Sunday, September 14, 2008

rambling

In the cities, every material thing was bent by the wind.

On the frontiers, not zombies, but real starving humans, wielding guns and bombs worth less than bread. The ones society had rejected. Caught in the dust and rain storms. Homeless, addicts, freaks, the elderly. Psychos, morons, communist utopians. Everyone who did not fit the form of the State.

Child soldiers were always on the front lines. Garrison armies guaranteed no protection.
Some were ruthless orphans with nothing to live for but the next day. Some ate bread and whispered ideas of revolution.

"Too sentimental," thought Clay. His eyes glanced up at those glaring down, his eyes on his editor, silently reading his work.
"You need more statistics," he said. "No one is going to believe this bullshit," in between sips of swirling coffee.
"Anyway, it's not even about children. Maybe our grandchildren."
The editor laughed and spat and stood up in his office. He walked past Clay down the dim, damp halls. Cameras were everywhere.

He felt sorry for Clay. These stories were never published, but he could pass it off as science fiction. There is no penalty without truth. The lives he was responsible for-- the lives that have lost meaning, and cling to fantasy, they only wanted good media. If you lived in the lens of the State you had nothing to be paranoid about, because you were monitored forever. Outside the cities, well...
Clay felt the cold in the room, like all the excitement had been extinguished from his life.
The editor crept back into his office.
"What history, what land, and some people were forced to leave it all behind!" said Clay. And how do you know?
"Outside the walls, well..."
There weren't even walls, just geo-spatial monitoring systems. You could be looked up by international sensors immediately. You could be looked at.
A percentage in a program. Eliminated by estimation. Clay had gone on for several minutes now, but he was no longer interested. This idiot had been living with them.
"There were very few illegal migrants this year," said Clay. "I think they're worried about, you know, crazies. I think the public has a right to know."

The editor knew better. The threat of airborne disease was the source of that frontier paranoia. Pretty much everything but that was licensed by the bigs.
This story could fly, if he kept out the crazy noise. Even if most of it was true, he had a hundred robots to churn out more lies. The editor sat down and told Clay not to worry, stories like this always fall through the cracks.

Friday, February 29, 2008

Crystal Castles

Some of you indie musicophiles may have heard about this up and coming Toronto band. I read about them in NOW and they are increasingly being touted as the band of the future, or simply 'the future', despite not yet releasing an album. Apparently they are blazing a path through clubs and record stores, leaving orgies of chaos and dance in their wake.

Seems to me their whole bag is based on atari-age video-game blips and beeps and every possible fucked up noise that comes out of malfunctioning household electronics. I could make some rambling philosophical argument about how their post-modern music represents the obsession and decay of our electronic society but instead I want the music to speak to you.

First let me say that I have tried many but have not yet managed to listen to an entire song. I think I made it 2/3rds of the way through one and then I reached a higher level of consciousness: Crap is crap, anyway you splice it.

People can dance to just about anything. Even me, a half-jewish boy from the burbs, did the Dakar bounce. But why/how in the world do you want to dance to something.. something without melody, or substance? And what the fuck is with her altered voice? Is she so self-conscious to not expose her real one? If this is where music is going (imo dance-techno is a rising tide) then I'm definitely going to be one of those old fogies who 'just doesn't get it'.