Diferencia entre revisiones de «1995 - TECHNO: Psycho-Social Tumult (Remix) - TechNet»
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== <small>'''Texto'''</small> == | == <small>'''Texto'''</small> == | ||
− | nobody | + | ''nobody |
− | knows where you’re at... | + | knows where you’re at...'' |
We could begin anywhere. A history of | We could begin anywhere. A history of | ||
Línea 20: | Línea 20: | ||
be allotted a place as either pop or an avant-garde | be allotted a place as either pop or an avant-garde | ||
+ | |||
music - on the whole it doesn’t take refuge in art and | music - on the whole it doesn’t take refuge in art and | ||
+ | |||
slips away from categorisation as the net of naming is | slips away from categorisation as the net of naming is | ||
+ | |||
unfurled. It avoids the discipline of nostalgia which | unfurled. It avoids the discipline of nostalgia which | ||
+ | |||
keeps people in the thrall of the past, unable to even | keeps people in the thrall of the past, unable to even | ||
+ | |||
think of the future but always referring back. Nos- | think of the future but always referring back. Nos- | ||
+ | |||
talgia is a language of lack, a language that fills | talgia is a language of lack, a language that fills | ||
+ | |||
people with longings for a past that never | people with longings for a past that never | ||
+ | |||
happened, a present that never comes, | happened, a present that never comes, | ||
+ | |||
for the gift that never arrives. | for the gift that never arrives. | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | ''it is difficult for words to | ||
+ | |||
+ | say that which is their purpose | ||
+ | |||
+ | to deny...'' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Who knows what happens when we hear | ||
+ | |||
+ | the sounds? Thoughts can race without being | ||
+ | |||
+ | apprehended as thoughts and it is an indication of | ||
+ | |||
+ | the tyranny of words that experience must pass | ||
+ | |||
+ | through language to make it ‘real’. As we listen in the | ||
+ | |||
+ | network of composition there is a challenge to invent | ||
+ | |||
+ | new vocabularies to communicate what it is that occurs, | ||
+ | |||
+ | to express explorations and to rewrite the multiple per- | ||
+ | |||
+ | sonalities of the music. As a challenge to language | ||
+ | |||
+ | that is imbued with hierarchisations, techno conducts | ||
+ | |||
+ | the fleeting awareness that, just as what is possi- | ||
+ | |||
+ | ble is limited by pre-conceptions, listening de- | ||
+ | |||
+ | mands more ignorance than knowledge. For | ||
+ | |||
+ | then we are mobile... stammer bass kick | ||
+ | |||
+ | unfurling in blue analogue... | ||
+ | |||
+ | tabula rasa. | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | ''techknowledge...'' | ||
+ | |||
+ | The music studio is re-defining | ||
+ | |||
+ | the human as a continuously mutat- | ||
+ | |||
+ | ing collage of old and new technologies, | ||
+ | |||
+ | as adaptions designed through play and ex- | ||
+ | |||
+ | perimentation. In this model, samplers are the | ||
+ | |||
+ | hyper-concentrated representation of the subjec- | ||
+ | |||
+ | tive experience of time, with possibilities for time | ||
+ | |||
+ | travel through stretching, combining, looping, com- | ||
+ | |||
+ | pressing and reversing sounds. Sequencers form new | ||
+ | |||
+ | desires for composing, connected to the breaking up of | ||
+ | |||
+ | an individual into a collection of experiments. Drum ma- | ||
+ | |||
+ | chines and synths are tools for the survival against | ||
+ | |||
+ | mediocre audio programming and the restrictions of | ||
+ | |||
+ | commerciality, fashion, competition and self-promo- | ||
+ | |||
+ | tion. Routes constructed between music studios and | ||
+ | |||
+ | dance floors circulate into resistance against unac- | ||
+ | |||
+ | ceptable states of mind. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Only with machines can we recognise that | ||
+ | |||
+ | most information is data trash. Only with | ||
+ | |||
+ | machines can repetitious sound | ||
+ | |||
+ | blocks crash to create unex- | ||
+ | |||
+ | pected forms. | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | ''feeling | ||
+ | |||
+ | like another self...'' | ||
+ | |||
+ | As distance dissolves into space and | ||
+ | |||
+ | space dissolves into the haze of continual | ||
+ | |||
+ | abeyance, the new celebrants loose track of | ||
+ | |||
+ | time. The dance becomes a beyond unmarked | ||
+ | |||
+ | by archaic calligraphy of computer text, irreducible | ||
+ | |||
+ | to mystic yearnings but all the same a kind of blank. A | ||
+ | |||
+ | nothing. A nothing so far imagined. A nothing that gives | ||
+ | |||
+ | the lie to the word-net we throw over it. Body move- | ||
+ | |||
+ | ments in strobe/smoke. We are here suspended in a | ||
+ | |||
+ | slow motion that lets sparks fly as it visually contradicts | ||
+ | |||
+ | the call to speed-emotion of the music. This is our sover- | ||
+ | |||
+ | eign moment, spreading a virus of pleasure and awak- | ||
+ | |||
+ | ening. The moment when future and past no longer | ||
+ | |||
+ | meet in consciousness, where the music reverses | ||
+ | |||
+ | the effect of gravity. Lost hours. Lost days. Inter- | ||
+ | |||
+ | twined in ever escalating cycles of repetition | ||
+ | |||
+ | whose pulsations present unimaginable | ||
+ | |||
+ | sounds almost heard in the sudden | ||
+ | |||
+ | space surrounding acres | ||
+ | |||
+ | of bass drum. | ||
+ | |||
+ | AnarchOz | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | ''sensorimotors...'' | ||
+ | |||
+ | The listener as the operator. | ||
+ | |||
+ | These sounds are eminently | ||
+ | |||
+ | favourable to the birth and contagion of an | ||
+ | |||
+ | intense excitement with its inferred incitement | ||
+ | |||
+ | given propulsion by a rolling flanged bassline that | ||
+ | |||
+ | chases melodies away with accentuated off-beat | ||
+ | |||
+ | boosted cymbal rushes that touch internal organs by | ||
+ | |||
+ | impatient percussive patterns that encourage waste | ||
+ | |||
+ | pure and simple. Dislocated dance. Social magic. We | ||
+ | |||
+ | stumble across limits to conceptualising. Close your | ||
+ | |||
+ | eyes and listen to blurred vision. Eyes cease to order | ||
+ | |||
+ | things. Your senses overflow into one another, | ||
+ | |||
+ | emerging as a senseless confusion of taste smell | ||
+ | |||
+ | and memory. The very air is tormented into an | ||
+ | |||
+ | audio gel. Body music surrounds the listener | ||
+ | |||
+ | who thinks as a pack intuitively knowing | ||
+ | |||
+ | how to go all out... The secret is to | ||
+ | |||
+ | hear what you never | ||
+ | |||
+ | heard before. | ||
== <small>'''Contexto'''</small> == | == <small>'''Contexto'''</small> == |
Revisión del 21:51 20 feb 2022
Texto
nobody
knows where you’re at...
We could begin anywhere. A history of
techno would be too obvious and would
imply that the creative phase was over. Any at-
tempts at a genealogy, a hierarchical archeology,
or a precise pinpointing of musicians prohibit an un-
derstanding of the simultaneity of multiple codes, the
overlappings between styles and forms. Techno cannot
be allotted a place as either pop or an avant-garde
music - on the whole it doesn’t take refuge in art and
slips away from categorisation as the net of naming is
unfurled. It avoids the discipline of nostalgia which
keeps people in the thrall of the past, unable to even
think of the future but always referring back. Nos-
talgia is a language of lack, a language that fills
people with longings for a past that never
happened, a present that never comes,
for the gift that never arrives.
it is difficult for words to
say that which is their purpose
to deny...
Who knows what happens when we hear
the sounds? Thoughts can race without being
apprehended as thoughts and it is an indication of
the tyranny of words that experience must pass
through language to make it ‘real’. As we listen in the
network of composition there is a challenge to invent
new vocabularies to communicate what it is that occurs,
to express explorations and to rewrite the multiple per-
sonalities of the music. As a challenge to language
that is imbued with hierarchisations, techno conducts
the fleeting awareness that, just as what is possi-
ble is limited by pre-conceptions, listening de-
mands more ignorance than knowledge. For
then we are mobile... stammer bass kick
unfurling in blue analogue...
tabula rasa.
techknowledge...
The music studio is re-defining
the human as a continuously mutat-
ing collage of old and new technologies,
as adaptions designed through play and ex-
perimentation. In this model, samplers are the
hyper-concentrated representation of the subjec-
tive experience of time, with possibilities for time
travel through stretching, combining, looping, com-
pressing and reversing sounds. Sequencers form new
desires for composing, connected to the breaking up of
an individual into a collection of experiments. Drum ma-
chines and synths are tools for the survival against
mediocre audio programming and the restrictions of
commerciality, fashion, competition and self-promo-
tion. Routes constructed between music studios and
dance floors circulate into resistance against unac-
ceptable states of mind.
Only with machines can we recognise that
most information is data trash. Only with
machines can repetitious sound
blocks crash to create unex-
pected forms.
feeling
like another self...
As distance dissolves into space and
space dissolves into the haze of continual
abeyance, the new celebrants loose track of
time. The dance becomes a beyond unmarked
by archaic calligraphy of computer text, irreducible
to mystic yearnings but all the same a kind of blank. A
nothing. A nothing so far imagined. A nothing that gives
the lie to the word-net we throw over it. Body move-
ments in strobe/smoke. We are here suspended in a
slow motion that lets sparks fly as it visually contradicts
the call to speed-emotion of the music. This is our sover-
eign moment, spreading a virus of pleasure and awak-
ening. The moment when future and past no longer
meet in consciousness, where the music reverses
the effect of gravity. Lost hours. Lost days. Inter-
twined in ever escalating cycles of repetition
whose pulsations present unimaginable
sounds almost heard in the sudden
space surrounding acres
of bass drum.
AnarchOz
sensorimotors...
The listener as the operator.
These sounds are eminently
favourable to the birth and contagion of an
intense excitement with its inferred incitement
given propulsion by a rolling flanged bassline that
chases melodies away with accentuated off-beat
boosted cymbal rushes that touch internal organs by
impatient percussive patterns that encourage waste
pure and simple. Dislocated dance. Social magic. We
stumble across limits to conceptualising. Close your
eyes and listen to blurred vision. Eyes cease to order
things. Your senses overflow into one another,
emerging as a senseless confusion of taste smell
and memory. The very air is tormented into an
audio gel. Body music surrounds the listener
who thinks as a pack intuitively knowing
how to go all out... The secret is to
hear what you never
heard before.
Contexto
Autoras
Fuentes
Enlaces
Wayback Machine: https://web.archive.org/web/20160327090331/http://datacide-magazine.com/wp-content/uploads/TechNet_insert_smaller.pdf