Stephen Mejias

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Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 21, 2005  |  9 comments
I was 22 years old, and had just made it back to New Jersey from a four-month trip traveling around the States aboard Amtrak trains.
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 20, 2005  |  6 comments
On this occasion, however, John had not come over to tell me to run. Rather, he had come to tell me where to go: “Good work, but I think you’ll have to steer more towards audio,” he suggested.
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 19, 2005  |  1 comments
Seriously: Will you show me around?
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 19, 2005  |  1 comments
The AZ9345 is on right now. And it sounds pretty damn good to me. I’m listening to Smog’s latest album, A River Ain’t Too Much to Love, and god, I love it. I love it. I don’t even know exactly what it is. I keep wondering, “What is it? What’s so great about this album?”
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 19, 2005  |  9 comments
Not how. I mean to say: I should tell you something about the circumstances surrounding my personal act of listening.
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 19, 2005  |  2 comments
The music we made in Genie Boom was not unlike the music made by the pumps and steam lines and reactors of Firmenich. Michelle drummed on garbage cans, a red school bell, a gas tank, whatever banged. Todd pressed buttons on his Casio synthesizer and Roland drum machine. I plugged five cheap guitars—old Silvertones and Kays, before they became popular—into whatever amps I could find, turned the knobs on my effects pedals all the way up, and screamed the lines from my poems into the guitars’ pick-ups.
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 18, 2005  |  2 comments
Throughout college, Michelle and I—along with our very good friend, Todd—played in a performance art/noise rock band called Genie Boom. We took the name from the sky-blue steel beast that you sometimes see at construction sites, or on highways, or—here in New York City—even on Madison Avenue; the same sky-blue steel beast that I once used to propel myself a hundred feet into the air to install all sorts of I-don’t-know-what along the tanks and pumps and whatever else that make up Firmenich, the chemical plant where I worked at the time. They make flavors and fragrances; much of what you taste and smell everyday comes from Firmenich. I spent four summers there, painting curbs and railings “emergency yellow,” watching flaming bits of iron fall from the welders’ gloved hands, finding beauty in how smooth a beveled pipe could be.
Stephen Mejias  |  Sep 17, 2005  |  1 comments
“Dated” is a bad word. I’ve never understood what it means to “date.” Does it have something to do with the passing of time?
Stephen Mejias  |  May 01, 2005  |  0 comments
I've been thinking about women. All weekend long. While that, by itself, is nothing unusual for me, here at Home Entertainment 2005, I''ve been thinking particularly about the small number of female enthusiasts within the hobby of high-end audio.
Stephen Mejias  |  Jan 09, 2005  |  0 comments
It's the final day of the 2005 Consumer Electronics Show. I'm walking down the Alexis Park's long corridors, beneath its archways and palm trees, wondering where I'll end up next. The air is cool, but the sun is out and I'm feeling very much alive, energized by all the morning's music.

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