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Variety headline: "Digital proves problematic." Oh who would have ever thunk it? Oh wait—maybe it was us audiophiles.
Hugh Barker and Yuval Taylor have written Faking It: the quest for authenticity in popular music, a book that tackles the "pop paradox": the harder popular musicians try to "keep it real," the faker their music becomes.
Is something as transcendently artificial as "I'm a Believer" less valid an expression than, say, something as apparently sincere as "Smells Like Teen Spirit"? Maybe, but I have to admit that I experience joy every time I hear that rising yelp of "Then I saw her face!"—which, at 40 years and counting, makes it a mighty potent act of insincerity.
Nick Cave's vocals — searching, pleading, urgent and, normally, red-hot — sounded just a bit soft and cool through the PSB Alpha B1s. Ward wondered:
"Have you tried anything with a sub yet? I'd be interested to hear how taking some pressure off your speakers and filling in the bottom end affects your opinion of the PSBs."
No, I've never added a subwoofer to any of the speaker systems I've listened to at home. I never even considered it, actually. Subwoofers just seem kinda weird to me, more suited for crash-and-boom home theater setups or in the back of some dude…
Roger Bourland has posted seven YouTube performances of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah": Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley, Sheryl Crow, Allison Crowe, kd lang, Rufus Wainwright, and John Cale.
All seven are compelling, but huge John Cale fan that I am, I intended to post the Cale version below, proclaiming it the most deeply felt. Then I heard kd lang sing it.
I was saddened to learn of Andrew Hill's death this weekend. Ever since I discovered his intensely original music, his recordings have been touchstones for me, including the brilliant Passing Ships, a record that was actually held back by Blue Note for 35 years as "unreleasable."
I link below to The Guardian's superb obituary.
This morning, I got out of bed and made a pot of coffee. The coffee always tastes best when I make it. While the coffee brewed, I drew the white curtains and opened the old windows, smiled at the sunshine and said hello to the cool morning breeze. Soon, I would sit down on my orange couch with a cup of delicious coffee and turn on the computer. I was working from home.
Ah, working from home.
It's not all it's cracked up to be, really. There's always something: a UPS shipment gone awry, a writer who's having a bad day, a pigeon who decides to fly into your…
My admiration for Roger Ebert, which was already immense, just increased. Ebert, who has been battling cancer of the salivary gland, was advised not to attend his own film festival because paparazzi might take "unflattering" photographs of him. His response? "Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. As a journalist I can take it as well as dish it out."