Dots and Loops

liner notes and doodles in pop

Geike Arnaert covers The Shins

Remember that band Hooverphonic?  Well long-time frontwoman Geike Arnaert left the band in 2008 and has since released a solo album in 2011 and played a handful of dates.

Which brings us to this unlikely little curiosity, a lovely electronic cover of the Shins’ ”Simple Song.”  Check out the guy on the iPad.

storyboard:

Confessions of a Michael Stipe

“It’s only been six months,” longtime R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe says quietly. “So it’s really hard to even figure out who I am.” The 52-year-old is of course referring to life after his band, who — after three decades, 15 albums, and a meteoric rise from indie icons to mainstream superstars — announced they planned to “call it a day.”

“It’s pretty wild,” Stipe says. “I have this sensation that I’ve never felt … It’s kind of a newfound freedom.”

It was the end of an era, and not only for Stipe, but for anyone who’d grown up with REM. And yet, even as Stipe soul-searches, he is making some of the most creative work of his life. He’s got a studio in downtown Manhattan, where he is creating bronze sculptures of old cameras and cassette tapes. He’s producing a documentary about Internet fame. He (was) on Instagram, until a few weeks ago, when he proclaimed he did not want “any part” of Facebook “up in my grill.” And he has a crazy, beautiful, eccentric Tumblr — Confessions of a Michael Stipe — that he uses as a scrapbook to document it all. We sat down with Stipe at the Tumblr offices (among many giddy staffers) to get inside his head.

The new film from Whit Stillman Damsels in Distress is easily his weakest yet no less makes you see the world differently when you leave it.  That is, in  gauzy shades of pink, magenta, and hairspray.  A knowingly artificial, pleasing confection of 99 minutes that is somehow overlong.  Call it rust and cross your fingers we don’t have to wait another 20 years for another.

The new film from Whit Stillman Damsels in Distress is easily his weakest yet no less makes you see the world differently when you leave it. That is, in gauzy shades of pink, magenta, and hairspray. A knowingly artificial, pleasing confection of 99 minutes that is somehow overlong. Call it rust and cross your fingers we don’t have to wait another 20 years for another.

The Wake, “O Pamela” from their classic album Here Comes Everybody.  How did I not know about this before????  As my co-worker blithely put it, “What?! This is so good, it’s like better versions of every song in The Breakfast Club.

(Source: Spotify)

Really diggin’ on these boys from Cali.  Of their new record Remembrance of Things to Come.

New My Bloody Valentine???

Kevin Shields hints at new MBV materials for 2012, according to our maligned friends at Pitchfork.  If he’s lying, that’s it, I will burn Loveless in the streets. 

For the 1st time in my life, I got through TMV’s Frances the Mute in one sitting. (albeit it was soundtracking a writing session).
I didn’t learn much, but I can see why a future generation of audiophiles might discover it, and that reason is…
The editing.  Post-production must have cost a fortune on this record!  That word “cinematic” gets thrown around a lot in pop music, but Frances is one of the more literal interpretations.  Every frame (sec) is filled w/ content.  It’s essentially one song w/ distinct passages and recurring motifs.
As we do w/ films, we assume that the content we’re consuming was created in logical sequence, when in reality it’s culled from hours upon hours of footage.  This is especially beguiling w/ Frances , which oscillates b/t passages of ambient sound collages, tango-tinted acid jazz jam sessions you can imagine lasting as long as a dirt nap, and in the instance of “The Widow,” a power ballad ala Zeppelin.  The fact that it all gets condensed into a 79:00 document is a miracle.

For the 1st time in my life, I got through TMV’s Frances the Mute in one sitting. (albeit it was soundtracking a writing session).

I didn’t learn much, but I can see why a future generation of audiophiles might discover it, and that reason is…

The editing.  Post-production must have cost a fortune on this record!  That word “cinematic” gets thrown around a lot in pop music, but Frances is one of the more literal interpretations.  Every frame (sec) is filled w/ content.  It’s essentially one song w/ distinct passages and recurring motifs.

As we do w/ films, we assume that the content we’re consuming was created in logical sequence, when in reality it’s culled from hours upon hours of footage.  This is especially beguiling w/ Frances , which oscillates b/t passages of ambient sound collages, tango-tinted acid jazz jam sessions you can imagine lasting as long as a dirt nap, and in the instance of “The Widow,” a power ballad ala Zeppelin.  The fact that it all gets condensed into a 79:00 document is a miracle.

I spend an unusual amount of time thinking about why New Order are brilliant, and I while I still can’t quite work it out, I’m getting closer, maybe.  
See, most bands w/ pop aspirations have to build up to it.  Craft hooks.  Write riffs.  Flaunt frontmen.  The equation adds up to pop.  Or at least it’s supposed to.
Not so in New Order.  New Order is pop through subtraction, deconstruction.
It’s as though New Order arrived at the idea of pop and then immediately began stripping the hallmark elements away.  A barely-there frontman who couldn’t sing and never met a verse that didn’t rhyme, no matter the cost.  No bass in any traditional sense of the word (Hook’s “bass” lines really guitar lines masquerading as bass lines) and drums half real, half-synthesized.  
And yet its some of the most “musical” dance pop ever made.  A mystery.  Or, as graphic designer Tony Saville put it, “a mass-produced secret of sorts.”

I spend an unusual amount of time thinking about why New Order are brilliant, and I while I still can’t quite work it out, I’m getting closer, maybe.  

See, most bands w/ pop aspirations have to build up to it.  Craft hooks.  Write riffs.  Flaunt frontmen.  The equation adds up to pop.  Or at least it’s supposed to.

Not so in New Order.  New Order is pop through subtraction, deconstruction.

It’s as though New Order arrived at the idea of pop and then immediately began stripping the hallmark elements away.  A barely-there frontman who couldn’t sing and never met a verse that didn’t rhyme, no matter the cost.  No bass in any traditional sense of the word (Hook’s “bass” lines really guitar lines masquerading as bass lines) and drums half real, half-synthesized.  

And yet its some of the most “musical” dance pop ever made.  A mystery.  Or, as graphic designer Tony Saville put it, “a mass-produced secret of sorts.”

(Source: \http)

rhythm experiment