“Third (this one isn’t Daft Punk’s fault), the media needs traditional pop stars in order to discuss EDM as a cultural phenomenon, and this has proven difficult, since EDM as a genre generally eschews the star system. Daft Punk’s Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter, who haven’t allowed their faces to be seen publicly since the late ’90s, exemplify this. Nevertheless, the press has inserted RAM into a narrative that the record can’t really sustain. Whatever else is said about Random Access Memories, it is clearly not intended to make Daft Punk more famous than it is now; it will likely succeed in making the group less so.”

Feels dead on to me.
Hyden is on fire lately.
via Looking at Daft Punk’s new album, ‘Random Access Memories’

“Third (this one isn’t Daft Punk’s fault), the media needs traditional pop stars in order to discuss EDM as a cultural phenomenon, and this has proven difficult, since EDM as a genre generally eschews the star system. Daft Punk’s Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter, who haven’t allowed their faces to be seen publicly since the late ’90s, exemplify this. Nevertheless, the press has inserted RAM into a narrative that the record can’t really sustain. Whatever else is said about Random Access Memories, it is clearly not intended to make Daft Punk more famous than it is now; it will likely succeed in making the group less so.”

Feels dead on to me.

Hyden is on fire lately.

via Looking at Daft Punk’s new album, ‘Random Access Memories’

Forgotten Species - Boots All Summer

Forgotten Species Demos by Forgotten Species

My favorite is the first track “Boots All Summer” for having the line

“You’re a terrible child…. And those are terrible clothes”

The cadence is the key, but they’re all great

And those are just the demos!

I may be in love with the bassist, but you can trust my impartiality.  Forgotten Species is to music, what Craig Hodges is to the NBA 3-Point Shooting Contest.

They will knock your boots off, and make you a happy person.

Check them at The Hideout THIS SATURDAY May 25th starting 8:00pm.

I will even buy you a wooden leg, and make you drink it with me.

BE THERE!

11 plays


“As the Bandcamp refunds begin to trickle in, not much is clear about how these songs went public or how long we’ll have to wait before we hear Jai Paul’s proper debut. But there is one thing that pretty much everyone who shelled out the £7 cannot shake: these tracks— brimming with ideas, innovation, and eccentric personality— are jaw-droppingly good.
Listening to a Jai Paul song sounds like a tuning into a pirate radio station being broadcast directly from someone’s brain. Unexpected sounds interrupt like interference from the next stop on the dial, and the vocals and instruments fade in and out like you’re one town over from where the signal comes in clear. Occasionally, a Jai Paul song can also sound like a live DJ set— kinetic, free-flowing, and a little off-the-cuff. But you often get the feeling that you are the only person listening to this radio station, or the only person at this club. That’s probably the most interesting contradiction at the heart of Jai Paul’s music: It’s at once distant, unknowable, and somehow feverishly intimate.
Moving from an airy falsetto to a lower, slightly menacing coo, Jai’s vocals are nimble— but his most distinct voice is his production style, which might seem like a strange thing to say about a collection of unmastered demos. But innovation shines through their rough edges. Jai agilely deploys a unique vocabulary of pauses, crossfades, and eclectic samples; J Dilla’s Donuts, the Avalanches’ Since I Left You, and Rustie’s Essential Mix all feel like aesthetic touchstones— music that’s managed to edit the modern world’s unending flow of information and voice into something cohesive and rhythmic. Still, all of those other records have a collective feel, like they’re tapping into the soundtrack of a universal subconscious. What sets these songs apart is that you are always aware that there’s a single human being at the center, one who oscillates between being forthcoming and shy, leaning close and then vanishing. This lends the illusion that his tracks themselves are inhaling and exhaling— breathing symphonies of digital noise.
…
I’ve talked to people who feel guilty listening to these songs, or critics who aren’t quite sure how to evaluate them. Are these demos or could they actually be the completed product? (Remember: both of Jai’s official singles had an intriguingly “unfinished” quality about them.) Does the leak, if you could even call it that, help or hurt our chances of hearing Jai Paul’s proper debut within the year (or the decade…)? Did he ever want us to hear this material? Are we dishonoring him by listening to it, by loving it? If the music moves us in a way that nothing else has this year, should it matter”

I’ve been wondering all of these same things myself.
via Maximum Distortion: The Peculiar Case of Jai Paul

“As the Bandcamp refunds begin to trickle in, not much is clear about how these songs went public or how long we’ll have to wait before we hear Jai Paul’s proper debut. But there is one thing that pretty much everyone who shelled out the £7 cannot shake: these tracks— brimming with ideas, innovation, and eccentric personality— are jaw-droppingly good.

Listening to a Jai Paul song sounds like a tuning into a pirate radio station being broadcast directly from someone’s brain. Unexpected sounds interrupt like interference from the next stop on the dial, and the vocals and instruments fade in and out like you’re one town over from where the signal comes in clear. Occasionally, a Jai Paul song can also sound like a live DJ set— kinetic, free-flowing, and a little off-the-cuff. But you often get the feeling that you are the only person listening to this radio station, or the only person at this club. That’s probably the most interesting contradiction at the heart of Jai Paul’s music: It’s at once distant, unknowable, and somehow feverishly intimate.

Moving from an airy falsetto to a lower, slightly menacing coo, Jai’s vocals are nimble— but his most distinct voice is his production style, which might seem like a strange thing to say about a collection of unmastered demos. But innovation shines through their rough edges. Jai agilely deploys a unique vocabulary of pauses, crossfades, and eclectic samples; J Dilla’s Donuts, the Avalanches’ Since I Left You, and Rustie’s Essential Mix all feel like aesthetic touchstones— music that’s managed to edit the modern world’s unending flow of information and voice into something cohesive and rhythmic. Still, all of those other records have a collective feel, like they’re tapping into the soundtrack of a universal subconscious. What sets these songs apart is that you are always aware that there’s a single human being at the center, one who oscillates between being forthcoming and shy, leaning close and then vanishing. This lends the illusion that his tracks themselves are inhaling and exhaling— breathing symphonies of digital noise.

I’ve talked to people who feel guilty listening to these songs, or critics who aren’t quite sure how to evaluate them. Are these demos or could they actually be the completed product? (Remember: both of Jai’s official singles had an intriguingly “unfinished” quality about them.) Does the leak, if you could even call it that, help or hurt our chances of hearing Jai Paul’s proper debut within the year (or the decade…)? Did he ever want us to hear this material? Are we dishonoring him by listening to it, by loving it? If the music moves us in a way that nothing else has this year, should it matter”

I’ve been wondering all of these same things myself.

via Maximum Distortion: The Peculiar Case of Jai Paul