the human element. on imperfection.

it's not all that often that critical theory is applied to music. when I am asked to be critical about something I assume that I gain license to be brutally and fairly honest about a body of work. earlier last week I was asked to take a listen and give feedback for an album that my friend had recorded produced and written by himself in his home studio. straight away I knew i'd be dealing with a solo album. solo albums are very monotone sounding for the very fact that they are done by the same person the entire way through with little to no output from anyone outside of their realm of consciousnesses. don't get me wrong -- i've known and can cite several amazing solo albums. I have been listening to this album for about a full week now and I have come to some fairly solid conclusions. I have tried to keep them objective as possible, but I also share some of my beliefs and opinions within.

the melodies, harmonies, chord progressions and lyrics are all great. very poignant and there seems to be a theme that interleaves and meanders from song to song throughout the album. this is a great thing in itself. many albums are not cohesive as they lack a distinct thematic trajectory. I guess we can call these 'concept albums'. we all know that feeling when we listen to something but there is still something 'missing' or something we quite don't like that we just can't put our finger on. something within the minutiae of this body of work was ignored or neglected.

the soul of any work of art is transferred from the brain of the artist onto 'canvas' via intention. seeing that this is a musical work, we can refer to the canvas as a sonic canvas. art is a process wherein an infinite amount of variables can occur during the transfer of an idea from the brain onto a canvas. most of the time, if not all, these variables are controlled subconsciously. if the artist is too consciously focused or preoccupied on the end result of their intention, I believe it taints or spoils the artwork. refinement is a risky thing. don't fix it if it ain't broken. how do you know if it isn't or is broken? that is what distinguishes a seasoned artist from an amateur.

in the case of this individuals musical work, all of the surface level expressions were there and they were quite impressive. but there was still something that wasn't right about it. you can take the most unattractive of gemstones polish it and tumble it to beauty. however, in the end it is all in the hands of personal subjectivity and the real 'soul' of the entity. the soul of art is very rarely paid attention to. only the most experienced of artists and producers can recognize and bring to fruition purity and honesty.

the entire point being is that I believe that the soul of a piece of artwork lies in the artist including the human element into her or his work. I define the human element as flaw and imperfection. the dirt. the mess. expressing your vulnerability. if you don't put your own soul on the line, it is difficult to meet the one main requirement of art: empathy. if you record every single note and lyric to absolute perfection, it becomes self serving. art is not meant to be self serving. ego should not taint artwork. this is why I believe that refinement is a risky thing. don't be afraid to be ugly or to be vulnerable. don't refine to the point of no return or the work will lose its soul. if you can't be honest with yourself, than you can't expect anyone else to be honest as they see and perceive themselves through your artwork.

music by nature is a collective process. it is about sharing. this is why I am an advocate against creating works of music totally on a solo basis. symphonies take many muscles and tendons to make the muse. a tribal working song needs air from more than one pair of lungs. birds purposely sing a call and return.

perfection is found in the most unexpected of places -- most of the time perfection is just beneath the nose of imperfection. artwork should never be used solely as a means to transcend being human. that would be a gross and paradoxical denial. it's ok to be flawed -- that is where a wealth of beauty lies. so the next time that you hear something that is good but it doesn't quite add up to or FEEL like a great experience - just ask yourself: is it just too perfect?

[qualia are the souls of experiences]

epigenetics and memes. [the potential of analogy]

someday it would be interesting if someone were to superimpose epigenetics on memes. epigenetics is peculiar in that DNA can be modified through chromatin but still leave the DNA sequence of an organism untouched. what could this mean in the context of culture?

some interesting parallels can be drawn from the knowledge we possess on the trans generational behavior of genes and the similar processes of how transmission of culture propagates from mind to mind.

what does it all mean?

sometimes it's easier to see the latent things through analogy. take this for example..
when you are driving and you are at a stoplight, how many times does your mind change before the light turns green again and you continue driving? it should be noticed that your mind is always changing, however, the stoplight is the point at which a new cycle of thought begins and another ends, much like cell reproduction. now envision that you in your vehicle are a cell undergoing mitosis (cell division)..the amount of times you change your 'mind' at the stoplight would be analogous to how many genetic mutations can occur at random. thoughts are seemingly random and so are genetic mutations.

oncogenes (cancer cells) are cells that are continually running red lights! they break the traffic laws of cell reproduction. will we ever be able to stop all people that run red lights? will we ever be able to stop people from changing their minds at stoplights? these are the macro cosmic questions that cell biologists could be asking themselves to solve a problem not seen by the naked eye.

everyday a new email comes to try to make me feel bad about my penis:

hello again dave,
with a longer penis you can perform even more sexual positions
http://www.glamoise.com/

-Mate Kettler




thanks Mate. for the simple fact that I am human and you are a spambot I know that you really aren't concerned about my penis size. but thanks anyway. what is really interesting is that thousands of people actually buy into this type of advertisement. are people really that insecure? do you girls get emails regarding breast augmentation? or do they just target the penis?

sexual positions. you don't need a walrus penis to please a lady. yet. we're not at that stage of evolution. someday soon I fear genetic engineering will fuse the chromosomes of the walrus penis into the homo sapien penis. then, you will have twenty-four inches of gun power with no brain behind the gun. it's only a matter of time.

until then corporate America, you can continue to make war, not love with your pathetic penis advertisement.s

it's where you were, are and will be.

infinity collides
in infinite angles
to converge into the shape of Now

[the constant exploding of Matreshka dolls
would be an empirical experiment of a 'now' event
a singularity subject to an extreme random occurrence creates a moment. where all of the pieces of the doll land, defines the occasion.]

conscience as the custodian.

memories come at us like asteroids
seemingly random
when they collide with our will
emotions explode
all over our mind

at times,
conscience the custodians
cannot clean up

vibration, singing with the world, music in untold places.

some day's i hear music
in the grinding of gears
the purring of motors
supersonic whistling of jet engines

today i sang a love song with my microwave

three months ago i carried a duet with a lawnmower
for two cat's engaging in rough sex
on a unkept
dry yellow
lawn

sometimes my car's serpentine belt
screeches out operatic like melodies
when my air conditioning unit is engaged;

sometimes other car's on the freeway oblige
and join in on this chorus of Good Vibration's

i harmonize with the world

as if it were my band mate(s)

to be still.

by this river
i come to watch progress unfold

in front of me
existence slams ahead

i sit motionless

mind come here to be still.

.

high in the spruce trees
free will glares down at me

knowing it cannot get me

still

a note on thoughts and washroom breaks.

[but pissing unlocks some weird receptors in my brain...]

moments of epiphany plague the pissing psyche.

intuition must live in our urinary tracts

the voyeur inside of my skull provides the clairvoyance

being naked is thinking naked.naked thinking is naked being.




peculiar moments pulse

down into a porcelain pot


trickling ideas

powder room ponderings

latrine language


may i be excused?

my mind needs

to tinkle