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Eyes That Can See in the Dark

a music journal
 

January 14, 2005 (link)

12:44 AM

Rap battle. (Among many other good things at Neumunki, to which a link from here is long overdue.)

Current music: Hiroki Kikuta - "The Boy Aims for Wild Fields"

(Comments for January 14, 2005) (2 comments so far)

January 9, 2005 (link)

12:14 PM

(I also had a dream that I was watching someone play the electric flute part to George Crumb's Voice of the Whale, but she was playing it on a ridiculously oversized flute with a bent neck like a bass flute, and using a wooden dowel on/around the mouthpiece to bend some of the pitches.)

11:40 AM

I had a dream last night that I was listening to a track by Thelonious Monk, who was playing in a quartet with J.J. Johnson on trombone. I don't remember what song it was -- a blues, or something with rhythm changes, I think -- but I started listening during Johnson's solo, which was sparse to the point of absurdity: a couple notes here, then four or five bars of silence, then a short, fumbled double-time run, and so on. It sounded like it was recorded directly to two-track, in a medium-sized wooden hall, with the microphone a fair distance from the musicians; I couldn't tell whether it was a live show or a location recording without an audience, though I noticed the sound of the floorboards creaking and wondered whether it came from a very respectful audience trying to walk around quietly, or from Johnson's fellow musicians fidgeting as they grew weary of his sub-Miles Davis use of "space". Monk had been laying out the whole time, and when Johnson's solo eventually ended, instead of coming in with a solo of his own, he cued everyone to stop, and he went into a completely different song -- "Ruby, My Dear", I think. As he started the new song, for the first few bars he was talking about/to Johnson under his breath -- maybe saying something like "J.J., J.J., what were you thinking?" -- in the kind of smiling way where you can tell someone's laughing because they're really pissed off.

Current music: Eberhard Weber - "Seriously Deep"

(Comments for January 9, 2005)

January 7, 2005 (link)

2:09 AM

We learn a bit more:

Little is known -- though much is wondered -- about the mysterious Y. Bhekhirst, whose real name may or may not be H. Diaz, Pepe Diaz, or Jose Hugo Diaz Guzman. (He has copyrighted material under the pseudonyms "Al Phol," "Al Pol," "Al Phooz," and perhaps others.) Public performances are unknown. The only reported sighting occurred in the early '90s, as recounted by a clerk working the floor at a hip downtown NYC record bunker. A fellow strolled in, introduced himself as "Y. Bhekhirst," and proffered a cassette of his music. He then abruptly turned and walked out, seemingly uninterested in any exchange. That was it.

Current music: Mirror - Islands

(Comments for January 7, 2005)

January 1, 2005 (link)

12:55 PM

It's about damn time I started this thing back up again, but I've got a couple days worth of work to do before I can justify hopping back on in earnest. So, as a token gesture until I've got time to write a real entry, I present you with the below, an oldie but goodie, with my favorite parts in bold:

"Child Of The Ice Of The Ice"

Yo VIP, let's give them of soccer!

Child Of The Ice Of The Ice
Child Of The Ice Of The Ice

All the just arrest
To collaborate and to listen
The ice is behind with my invention brandnew
Something seizes me the ahold closely
Then I flow daily and nightly like a harpoon
It will never be arrested?
Yo -- I do not know
To extinguish the lights and I will emit light
To the cliff of end I a mic like one vandal
To illuminate in on one phase and to incerare chump like one a candle
Dance
Jolts bum the loudspeaker that grows
I am killing your brain like a toxic fungus
Mortal, when game one melodia of the stimulant
Something less than the better thing is a crime
Amarlo or lasciarlo
Improved the gain sense
Improved the eye of the blow Taurus
The kidskin does not play
If there were a problem
Yo, I will resolve it
To verify the hook while my DJ turns it

Ghiacciare The Vaniglia Of The Child Of The Ice (x 4)

Hour that the party is jumping
With it gleans it given of soccer within and the Vegas is the pumpin'
Quickly to the point, the point no to simulate
Cooking MC's appreciate one pound of filled with smoke bacon
To burn them if they are not expresses and nimble
I go crazy when I feel a cymbal
And a high hat with to souped on the time
They are on a seam and is time to go alone
Rollin' in mine 5.0
With mine ragtop down therefore my hats can jump
The girlies on the standby
Attended hardly to say hi
You have arrested yourselves?
Not -- I have guided hardly close
To conserve on pursuing to following 
I have broken a left part of and head to the following block
That block was out of order
Yo -- therefore they are continued to the A1A tree-lined avenue beachfront.
The girls were warm carrying less than the bikini
Lovers of Rockman that guides Lambourghinis
'cause jealous outside I am obtaining mines
Shay with the meter and the vaniglia with the nine
Ready for the chumps on the wall
The chumps that they are behaved sick because they are therefore full of eight spheres
The gunshots they have outside varied like one flange
I have seized mine nine --
All that felt to me was covers
Falling on fast the real concrete
Jumped in my automobile, blinked on the gas
Rejecting to rejecting the packed tree-lined avenue
I am trying to obtain via before the taken one of jackers
Police on the scene
You know that what I mean
They have passed in on, confronted all the fiends of the stimulant
If there were a problem
Yo, I will resolve it
To verify the hook while my DJ turns it

To take cause that of attention is a poet lyrical
Miami on the scene hardly in the case you did not know it
My city, that one has generated all the low sound
In order to churn and to give enough of soccer to the holes in the earth
To cause my style like one fallen chemical
Feasible rhymes that you can the vision and tact
Lead and formed
That is a hell of a concept
Glie we urge them the hype and to wish to make a step with this
The games of Shay on sbiad, slice like a ninja
To cut like one lamierina of shaver fastly therefore
The other opinion of DJ's, "cursed"
If my rhyme were a drug I would sell it from the gram
To maintain my composure when it is time to obtain liberations
Magnetized from the mic while dò of i soccer to mine spremuta
If there were a problem
Yo -- I will resolve!
To verify the hook while Deshay turns it.

Yoman -- we exit here!
Word to your base!

(If you can't figure out what's going on here: Babelfish, to Italian and back again.)

Current music: Magic Sam - "I Need You So Bad"

(Comments for January 1, 2005) (2 comments so far)

 

Current reading:

Hamlet's Dresser, Bob Smith

just finished:

A Study in Scarlet, Arthur Conan Doyle (audio book edition from Project Gutenberg)

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primary links:

Josh blog
Absintheur's journal
The Daily Screech
Frogwosh
Master Control
Close Your Eyes
DJ Martian
masstransfer magazine

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