I just logged into my email account, and got a spam email (a viagra ad, if you have to know) with a message name of "Crumpet", and sender "Hijacked". So, now I have to name something Hijacked Crumpet. The title of the blog post will do for now.
The university matters got nuked from orbit, I'm alive and able to tell the tale. Feels kinda funky knowing that it was my last exam session as an engineer student.
It's all nice and snowy outside, I'm starting to feel a little Crimbo inside. About damned time, considering Christmas Eve is just around the corner.
Snapped and downloaded a death metal demo today. Hey, some death is good death, as long as I limit myself to the creme de la creme all's fine. And Youtube's here to help me tell the gems from the tripe. This was closer to the former, so it got the HD space it deserves.
Practicing guitar, getting back on my feet a bit. Opted to aim higher, I'm working on some slightly technical crud I haven't been able to play thus far. If I get it down, it will be a pretty obvious step forward and I'll be able to stop worrying about regressing. Especially as constant practicing against a backing track/metronome has already done miracles to my noodling timing. Playing alertly at least an hour a day really does work.
So yeah, everything is headed in a pretty passable direction overall. Yay.
23.12.11
17.12.11
Pinkie Pie
Today was Spontaneous Christmas Shopping Day. We bought way too much random crap, and had to rearrange the freezer to tuck in the ginormous duck (?!), but all in all - mission accomplished. Sorted out gifts, and picked up a little ditty for myself. Pinkie Pie the miniature blindbag version is standing next to my laptop.
I used to be annoyed by Pinkie Pie's constant doofus antics, they got old quite quickly and she was an annoying wart more often than not... but then I got to that part of the series that explains why she got that way, and what happens when stuff starts going wrong in her head, and I understood. It's hilarious how easily I "got" her, considering how different our character traits are. But yeah, new favorite pony. So I let Hasbro have the bit of cash they decided to charge for the figurine, and I have my very own piece of My Little Pony memorabilia. The pinkest, most superficially stereotypical piece of girly show memorabilia imaginable. Heh heh heh.
My university work is chugging along fine. I should be studying Ergonomy for a test on Monday right now, but hey, why not deprive myself of another half hour of sleep and type up a long-neglected blog post while hoping the slides magically scroll in the background? Ayup, that seems logical. My project has a pretty firm first draft, and all the computations and stuff are done. Just gotta nuke two tests this coming week and I'm pretty much done with all the petty stuff.
Recently, it hit me like a truck that my guitar playing is a bit off. Whilst I may have slightly progressed technically since my "glory year" of 2007, as I tend to wiggle my fingers a teeny bit more when I noodle, the lack of playing against any sort of backing or metronome (and an overall erratic practice schedule) for quite some time now has roughed up my rhythmic kneecap a bit. I still have the phrasing ideas and stuff, but my hands slip up a little and it ends up sounding like a nooby mess at times. Thus, I've established a minimum of 1 hour of guitar practice a day, no matter how busy I may be, and I'm doing my best to derust myself. It shouldn't take too long. I hope. If the worst comes to worst, I'll just play written solos for a while instead of improvising...
So yeah. A blog post when I'm not in a nihilist mood for a change. Why bother focusing on how we're just an evolution misfire when I can harness the fact that I'm a pretty functional being and live a life? That doesn't make the world any less futile, it just makes me considerably less bent on the subject. Hope more non-depressed posts will follow, although I do have a history of posting more when low.
I used to be annoyed by Pinkie Pie's constant doofus antics, they got old quite quickly and she was an annoying wart more often than not... but then I got to that part of the series that explains why she got that way, and what happens when stuff starts going wrong in her head, and I understood. It's hilarious how easily I "got" her, considering how different our character traits are. But yeah, new favorite pony. So I let Hasbro have the bit of cash they decided to charge for the figurine, and I have my very own piece of My Little Pony memorabilia. The pinkest, most superficially stereotypical piece of girly show memorabilia imaginable. Heh heh heh.
My university work is chugging along fine. I should be studying Ergonomy for a test on Monday right now, but hey, why not deprive myself of another half hour of sleep and type up a long-neglected blog post while hoping the slides magically scroll in the background? Ayup, that seems logical. My project has a pretty firm first draft, and all the computations and stuff are done. Just gotta nuke two tests this coming week and I'm pretty much done with all the petty stuff.
Recently, it hit me like a truck that my guitar playing is a bit off. Whilst I may have slightly progressed technically since my "glory year" of 2007, as I tend to wiggle my fingers a teeny bit more when I noodle, the lack of playing against any sort of backing or metronome (and an overall erratic practice schedule) for quite some time now has roughed up my rhythmic kneecap a bit. I still have the phrasing ideas and stuff, but my hands slip up a little and it ends up sounding like a nooby mess at times. Thus, I've established a minimum of 1 hour of guitar practice a day, no matter how busy I may be, and I'm doing my best to derust myself. It shouldn't take too long. I hope. If the worst comes to worst, I'll just play written solos for a while instead of improvising...
So yeah. A blog post when I'm not in a nihilist mood for a change. Why bother focusing on how we're just an evolution misfire when I can harness the fact that I'm a pretty functional being and live a life? That doesn't make the world any less futile, it just makes me considerably less bent on the subject. Hope more non-depressed posts will follow, although I do have a history of posting more when low.
2.12.11
Look, Ma, I'm Slow-Motion
The last couple of days weren't really that awesome. The depressive, oppressive smog refuses to go away, but the world demands attention from me and I had to fight my way through all sorts of obnoxious bureaucratic obstacles on my way to creating an application for the serious UK university I fleetingly mentioned in one of my earlier posts. Now comes the fun part of collecting all sorts of hilarious certificates and other paper memorabilia they may desire, and I'm afraid to think of the visa process, assuming I get in. Very, very stressful stuff overall (I still have no idea if I did it right), so I'm mentally exhausted. Yesterday my dad took one long look at me and told me to take a choice selection of meds. Today, I got hit with a throbbing headache that gave way to a nearly narcotic-like dumbness stupor.
I can't do anything fast. Anything at all. It's pretty darn cold outside, my hands and face are freezing as I walk the dog, but I can't speed up to get home quicker. I can't make it to the phone before it stops ringing. The world feels like sludge that bogs me down and makes me unable to function. I crashed in bed and read a book. About twice or thrice as slow as usual as well. This is insane.
Was fun when I got sent to the shop to pick up some bread and ham for supper. Not only was I gone forever, I actually managed to lose track of my conversation with the shop lady a fair few times. I hope the state goes away, it's hard to function like that.
I can't do anything fast. Anything at all. It's pretty darn cold outside, my hands and face are freezing as I walk the dog, but I can't speed up to get home quicker. I can't make it to the phone before it stops ringing. The world feels like sludge that bogs me down and makes me unable to function. I crashed in bed and read a book. About twice or thrice as slow as usual as well. This is insane.
Was fun when I got sent to the shop to pick up some bread and ham for supper. Not only was I gone forever, I actually managed to lose track of my conversation with the shop lady a fair few times. I hope the state goes away, it's hard to function like that.
23.11.11
Melancholy
I somehow can't shake off a glum mood that's hovering around me like some sort of toxic fog, obstructing my ability to function normally. Apparently the world is flowing in the background, time ticking, deadlines nearing, and I'm somehow detached from it. It's not about me, even though it is about me. Every now and then I get my ass together for a while or two and get some stuff done, like a computer program or motivation letter for my studies application (how am I to sell myself as awesome and worthy if I'm the last person on Earth to think that of myself?).
It has dawned on me ages ago that the world doesn't have a purpose. There's no meaning of life, there's just a hard-coded instinct where the lone purpose is eating, sleeping and prolonging the existence of humanity. Whoever thinks otherwise is just shitting himself. What makes humanity more special than cats? The fact that intelligence went a step too far and imploded into self-indulgence? Give me a break. If you can't give me a break, at least be a good buddy and live by the rules your fantastic owner gave you.
Most folks enjoy laughing at other folks doped out of their mind. Instead, I'm prone to sinking into fits of inner rage, watching seemingly serious citizens acting like cats on nip, doing idiotic stuff far removed from conventions they have so lovingly embraced with their religion. I don't give half a fuck about how guilty you feel the next morning when the chemicals wear off, nobody made you get so wasted. Still, these folks are religious, and as such are pets to some creator dude up above and live by his rules (as sent to his pets via a messiah of sorts). As they are to live by said rules, they should not be acting like that. I spent a fair chunk of my early years trying to survive as an atheist in an insanely religious country, with a number of my fellow citizens making me feel inferior because Jesus Christ wasn't part of my life. If I'm some sort of Untermensch, at least be the Ubermenschen you make yourself out to be, would ya?
I try to live a good life. It's hard to stomach the fact that my attempts to be a proper member of the community don't mean jack because I don't believe in some hippy messiah and his loony sect from two millennia ago or any other variation on the theme, unlike religious folkses with all their fucktastic actions, doped or not.
I'm starting to understand why so many of my friends are true believers... as true believers, they actually abide by a firm codex of moral norms... not that unlike my own. That's not to say I'm indirectly a religious nut, as that's not the case. My definition of "good" and "bad" converges with their definitions more often than not. Sure, there's some overall world perception differences, such as God's existence or lack thereof, but I'm a pretty "good" person when viewed through their moral codex. Well, at least much closer to "good" than the vast majority of folks around me. Hilarious, but their purity somehow makes this be logical. In some weird, twisted way.
As such, I'd tag myself as a nihilist with rules. I was raised in a household with no religious presence whatsoever, but managed to come out with a pretty acceptable set of gut-based regulations. There's no need to mow down people with machetes, why make anybody's life harder than it already is? The futility of the human condition is enough of a burden. Why not try to hang in here together and make the most of our time here before our biological clocks run out, without getting in anybody's way?
Can't shake this thing off, no matter how hard I try. Been hovering in place for over a week. Listening to some choice R.E.M. nuggets (they had some pretty awesome songs, slightly deeper in their back catalog than Losing My Religion of Everybody Hurts). Waiting for this to go away. Trying to help it with some social interaction... in a curiosal plot twist, I smile a lot and am relaxed and happy. It's not about me, I'm detached from it. Weird-ass sensation, I tell ya.
It has dawned on me ages ago that the world doesn't have a purpose. There's no meaning of life, there's just a hard-coded instinct where the lone purpose is eating, sleeping and prolonging the existence of humanity. Whoever thinks otherwise is just shitting himself. What makes humanity more special than cats? The fact that intelligence went a step too far and imploded into self-indulgence? Give me a break. If you can't give me a break, at least be a good buddy and live by the rules your fantastic owner gave you.
Most folks enjoy laughing at other folks doped out of their mind. Instead, I'm prone to sinking into fits of inner rage, watching seemingly serious citizens acting like cats on nip, doing idiotic stuff far removed from conventions they have so lovingly embraced with their religion. I don't give half a fuck about how guilty you feel the next morning when the chemicals wear off, nobody made you get so wasted. Still, these folks are religious, and as such are pets to some creator dude up above and live by his rules (as sent to his pets via a messiah of sorts). As they are to live by said rules, they should not be acting like that. I spent a fair chunk of my early years trying to survive as an atheist in an insanely religious country, with a number of my fellow citizens making me feel inferior because Jesus Christ wasn't part of my life. If I'm some sort of Untermensch, at least be the Ubermenschen you make yourself out to be, would ya?
I try to live a good life. It's hard to stomach the fact that my attempts to be a proper member of the community don't mean jack because I don't believe in some hippy messiah and his loony sect from two millennia ago or any other variation on the theme, unlike religious folkses with all their fucktastic actions, doped or not.
I'm starting to understand why so many of my friends are true believers... as true believers, they actually abide by a firm codex of moral norms... not that unlike my own. That's not to say I'm indirectly a religious nut, as that's not the case. My definition of "good" and "bad" converges with their definitions more often than not. Sure, there's some overall world perception differences, such as God's existence or lack thereof, but I'm a pretty "good" person when viewed through their moral codex. Well, at least much closer to "good" than the vast majority of folks around me. Hilarious, but their purity somehow makes this be logical. In some weird, twisted way.
As such, I'd tag myself as a nihilist with rules. I was raised in a household with no religious presence whatsoever, but managed to come out with a pretty acceptable set of gut-based regulations. There's no need to mow down people with machetes, why make anybody's life harder than it already is? The futility of the human condition is enough of a burden. Why not try to hang in here together and make the most of our time here before our biological clocks run out, without getting in anybody's way?
Can't shake this thing off, no matter how hard I try. Been hovering in place for over a week. Listening to some choice R.E.M. nuggets (they had some pretty awesome songs, slightly deeper in their back catalog than Losing My Religion of Everybody Hurts). Waiting for this to go away. Trying to help it with some social interaction... in a curiosal plot twist, I smile a lot and am relaxed and happy. It's not about me, I'm detached from it. Weird-ass sensation, I tell ya.
11.11.11
I am Serious Man. This is Serious Wallet
As I'm off to Holland for a workshop, I figured I'd finally indulge properly in Dutch doom/death. So I did. I downed a whole bunch of bands I wasn't familiar with, listened to their albums, and put together a list of releases that I deemed interesting. While evaluating one of the records, I noticed it was very professional, but workmanlike in its nature, simply offering little actual relevant content. Sure, it all sounded adequate, but there was nothing there. The rhythms were simple, the melodies were predictable, it was pretty much derivative disposable drivel.
And that's when it hit me that about 99% of the entire death scene is, in fact, derivative disposable drivel. Sure, youthful energy, blaa blaa whatever, but the vast majority of this stuff borders on retarded musically. The melodic patterns are so trivial a preschooler with a keyboard could hand out notes for the next tremolo section or huge slamming riff. It's not musicians, it's just kids who learned to move their hands in a somewhat non-disdainful way. I don't really see a point to keep perusing this kind of stuff, just like I never went back to the first Ater demo that made me throw up in my mouth a bit.
Of course, there's the handful of magic acts, which are different and more listenable. But it's a handful.
As such, I am Serious Man now. All those death metal "researchers" were either in the original scene or are aged 25 tops. As Serious Man, I have obtained some assorted works of Arnold Schoenberg, blew the dust off my Bartok CD set, and said hello to the stray bits of jazz on my computer. I intend to go to a serious university in the UK, and I need to be adequately serious for it.
As a token of my metamorphosis, I have purchased a Serious Wallet. Up to now, I carried cash in my pockets and all forms of ID in some scruffy plastic etui. Now I have a wallet made from real leather, and it lets me carry money, cards, ID, whatever the heck I may desire. It even comes with this dubious photo slot that looks black without a photo and black with a photo inside. Urk, bad idea, designers, bad idea.
So yeah, I'm a more serious human being now. Obviously, I'm not throwing who I am out the window, merely fine-tuning the details and realizing that most death metal, which I meticulously collected for months and months, is in fact tripe.
And that's when it hit me that about 99% of the entire death scene is, in fact, derivative disposable drivel. Sure, youthful energy, blaa blaa whatever, but the vast majority of this stuff borders on retarded musically. The melodic patterns are so trivial a preschooler with a keyboard could hand out notes for the next tremolo section or huge slamming riff. It's not musicians, it's just kids who learned to move their hands in a somewhat non-disdainful way. I don't really see a point to keep perusing this kind of stuff, just like I never went back to the first Ater demo that made me throw up in my mouth a bit.
Of course, there's the handful of magic acts, which are different and more listenable. But it's a handful.
As such, I am Serious Man now. All those death metal "researchers" were either in the original scene or are aged 25 tops. As Serious Man, I have obtained some assorted works of Arnold Schoenberg, blew the dust off my Bartok CD set, and said hello to the stray bits of jazz on my computer. I intend to go to a serious university in the UK, and I need to be adequately serious for it.
As a token of my metamorphosis, I have purchased a Serious Wallet. Up to now, I carried cash in my pockets and all forms of ID in some scruffy plastic etui. Now I have a wallet made from real leather, and it lets me carry money, cards, ID, whatever the heck I may desire. It even comes with this dubious photo slot that looks black without a photo and black with a photo inside. Urk, bad idea, designers, bad idea.
So yeah, I'm a more serious human being now. Obviously, I'm not throwing who I am out the window, merely fine-tuning the details and realizing that most death metal, which I meticulously collected for months and months, is in fact tripe.
5.11.11
A Walk
Today was a suprisingly nice day in the mountains. The sun shone in the middle of the surprisingly clear and blue sky, I didn't really need the coat that was crammed on me as I utilized the chance to get out of the house. Why waste all of my day in front of the computer when I can take a walk?
Mom sent sis along. Sis was completely against the idea, and I had to wait a full hour before she finally got her stuff together (with mom's aid) and we left for the north face of the mountain. Snigger all you want, I don't care - the ascent angle, coupled with the fact that the ground was nowhere to be seen from under the dense level of leaves as well as my shoes' lack of traction, made for an interesting experience. For sis, as she laughed herself silly at the sight of me struggling upwards, clasping onto whatever was at hand, including trees, roots and rocks. To make things funnier, the dog evaporated. Fortunately, I managed to convince sis that it's nigh impossible for the dog to spontaneously disintegrate into atoms, and we met up with our canine buddy at the top of the hill. The pooch was quite fortunate, we had to wade through bushes and whatnot whilst he could just dart through small holes in the foliage.
Reaching the top of the hill did not imply the halfway point of our journey, though - we conventionally take the long way down, past the wood processing facility outpost. Our favorite oversized log vanished, probably converted to a batch of textbooks or something similar, but there were still enough of them laying around for sis to burn a good half hour dashing up and down them. I never got how she could do that, I'd probably fall and die within two seconds. After a brief investigation of something perceived as the dog limping (what we were probably dealing with was uneven terrain), we continued our trek.
Some more silly distractions later (a random doggie behind a fence that sis decided to entertain with some sticks to fetch, and then her discovering a blister on her toe), we reached the epic bend... the road makes a pretty big U-shape, but cutting through a shortcut would be somewhat challenging due to the steep slopes and lively stream in between said slopes. Sis decided to go for it. I decided it's far too adventurous for me, and took the long U-way out of the problem. When reaching the appropriate slope, I saw sis... she appeared stuck somewhere and looking a little sheepish. I sighed a huge sigh of "told ya so" and took the road back to help rescue her (she appeared much closer to the original spot from which she took the detour). Upon arrival, I was greeted by her familiar pink sweater... on the other side of the road. Same strip of road, take three. Was fun, at least, and I still have no idea how she pulled it off.
Perusing Queen. Their early records are pretty darn solid prog stuff, where was this all my life? I feel a 70's bender coming up in my blood. About time, too. I'm slowly running out of 90's death subcultures to research.
Mom sent sis along. Sis was completely against the idea, and I had to wait a full hour before she finally got her stuff together (with mom's aid) and we left for the north face of the mountain. Snigger all you want, I don't care - the ascent angle, coupled with the fact that the ground was nowhere to be seen from under the dense level of leaves as well as my shoes' lack of traction, made for an interesting experience. For sis, as she laughed herself silly at the sight of me struggling upwards, clasping onto whatever was at hand, including trees, roots and rocks. To make things funnier, the dog evaporated. Fortunately, I managed to convince sis that it's nigh impossible for the dog to spontaneously disintegrate into atoms, and we met up with our canine buddy at the top of the hill. The pooch was quite fortunate, we had to wade through bushes and whatnot whilst he could just dart through small holes in the foliage.
Reaching the top of the hill did not imply the halfway point of our journey, though - we conventionally take the long way down, past the wood processing facility outpost. Our favorite oversized log vanished, probably converted to a batch of textbooks or something similar, but there were still enough of them laying around for sis to burn a good half hour dashing up and down them. I never got how she could do that, I'd probably fall and die within two seconds. After a brief investigation of something perceived as the dog limping (what we were probably dealing with was uneven terrain), we continued our trek.
Some more silly distractions later (a random doggie behind a fence that sis decided to entertain with some sticks to fetch, and then her discovering a blister on her toe), we reached the epic bend... the road makes a pretty big U-shape, but cutting through a shortcut would be somewhat challenging due to the steep slopes and lively stream in between said slopes. Sis decided to go for it. I decided it's far too adventurous for me, and took the long U-way out of the problem. When reaching the appropriate slope, I saw sis... she appeared stuck somewhere and looking a little sheepish. I sighed a huge sigh of "told ya so" and took the road back to help rescue her (she appeared much closer to the original spot from which she took the detour). Upon arrival, I was greeted by her familiar pink sweater... on the other side of the road. Same strip of road, take three. Was fun, at least, and I still have no idea how she pulled it off.
Perusing Queen. Their early records are pretty darn solid prog stuff, where was this all my life? I feel a 70's bender coming up in my blood. About time, too. I'm slowly running out of 90's death subcultures to research.
3.11.11
Paraxism - The Tale
Current happenings make me want to talk Paraxism in here, so I figured I may as well write up a whole big fat post just on the subject of Paraxism to get that thing out of my system. Here goes nothing.
Once upon a time, I went on a death 'n' roll bender, something virtually unheard of. Usually, death 'n' roll is looked down on as worthless bastard spawn... obviously, I perceive said genre discarding as pretentious elitist gibberish. Thus, when on said bender, I had to check out Xysma, as Xysma are the actual forefathers of death 'n' roll. Forget Entombed, forget Furbowl, these Finnish kids were there way ahead of them. So, an obvious stop is Encyclopaedia Metallum. I go there, and I encounter a list of bands that "followed in Xysma's footsteps".
Hooray! More stuff to check out! Most of it turns out to be pretty formulaic death 'n' roll played by death metal bands that decided to change things up a bit and never recovered, but when it was Paraxism's turn for inspection, the music just... clicked. You know the feeling. My death metal excavation mood will eventually pass, but I will keep listening to a handful of bands, and Paraxism is definitely one of them. Their approach was to draw inspiration from many, often disjointed, sources, and somehow glue it all together and make it work. Their riffs have some of that "good death 'n' roll" swagger that makes all the difference, but there's more than enough uniqueness to not write the guys off as a Xysma clone. Wait, did I forget to mention the moog? I think I did. Yeah, so there's moog. There's also violin in places. But, in spite of all those proggish leanings, the music has balls and attitude. It never drifts off into meandering wankery with no point whatsoever.
Another thing that makes my mindset towards Paraxism what it is - the elusive final demo. In most cases, when I see some scattered release from space on Metallum that I can't get a hold of, I shrug and move on with my life. My feelings for Paraxism were too intense, and I didn't let go. I barked up virtually every tree possible, including some band members (I think I may be guilty of Mr. Paraxism changing his profile so non-friends can't message him, hurr durr derp), and ran into dead links, silent inboxes and fried hard drives. Eventually, with the invaluable aid of The Pro, I have obtained the missing demo. As well as two other tapes the existence of which I was not aware of, and a lone uncharted instrumental track (probably part of the 1996 rehearsal tape I saw in some trader's list... the guy didn't see it fit to respond). So, after a long search and bothering many people (turns out I met some high profile folks on the way, including a member of Agalloch, another of Adramelech... high profile names, yo), I obtained what I perceive to be their complete non-rehearsal-bootleg catalog.
The journey documented within the span is a thing of beauty. They started out as a bunch of kiddos playing death metal. I found some pics on Facebook (not that hard actually, there's a lot of them and all the guys all meticulously tagged in them), one of the guitarists looks like he's barely in his double digits. But the stuff they played... it was pretty ace. Not exactly Demilich tier, but it was melodic and catchy without degenerating into Gothenburger. After a transitionary tape, a distilled line-up and sound was presented in their penultimate 1995 demo. This was their peak... not to say that the stuff that came after was some huge degeneration, it was just different. After a mellower EP that the world is most aware of, they grunged up a bit, adding clean vocals and a more varied keyboard presence. Still, the songs were pretty darn nifty, and I like them a lot. Their swansong tape (one of those which the internet hasn't heard of) sees them write their longest tracks and change up the influence yet again, this time sounding a little like Apotheosis (Ger) on their final album. The best thing is that they could always pull it off - be it their pinnacle style hybrid, their death metal roots, their latter-day keyboard-drenched grunged up work, it all sounded awesome. And folks who are active in major, revered bands agree with me.
One of the folks tried to get Paraxism to release a compilation of their work, ages and ages ago. The band was negatively minded. I wrote a concise albeit elaborate message where I outlined the fact that there's a new generation of potential fans, when folks swallow the hook they go mental, and that they do care enough to actually toss up photos and meticulously tag everybody in them. Thus far, no response. Wrote the long-time drummer, tried adding the "real" Mr. Paraxism to walk around the message restriction... silent. I don't know who to bug, half the Paraxism line-up I located on Facebook only came in towards the end, and I'd feel a little silly asking the singer who only did a tape or two with them when there's a six-year-long heritage to work with.
Another problem to deal with - The Pro's rips are skippy. I don't mind, I can put up with the occasional squeal every now and then, but it's heavily unprofessional to actually release something like that officially. So, there's the option of doctoring out the skips (hard) or getting a better rip, either by having The Pro clean his CD and rip it more cautiously (that would involve The Pro putting in effort) or from another source, like someone within the band. I need to find out who's responsible for handing this thing out in the first place, and tap into that source, bypassing others who may see it as bugging. There's also the need for a bio or something... I could pen that, assuming I'd be given a brief rundown of what, where and when.
Why do I care so much about putting out the compilation? First of all, it could be called Collected Works and it would be awesome. Actually, the real deal is that the music is awesome and deserves to be documented - the guys had quite a trek, covering a considerable chunk of musical ground with quality to boot, and I'm sure that folks out there would appreciate such a release. The band would have a physical bit of testimony; the die-hards would get a bio, pics, and good rips (plus, potentially, tracks they didn't know yet); some of the leech downloaders from the compilation's inevitable entrance to the warez sphere may just catch the bug and write more "reviews" where Paraxism's greatness causes the apocalypse.
Once upon a time, I went on a death 'n' roll bender, something virtually unheard of. Usually, death 'n' roll is looked down on as worthless bastard spawn... obviously, I perceive said genre discarding as pretentious elitist gibberish. Thus, when on said bender, I had to check out Xysma, as Xysma are the actual forefathers of death 'n' roll. Forget Entombed, forget Furbowl, these Finnish kids were there way ahead of them. So, an obvious stop is Encyclopaedia Metallum. I go there, and I encounter a list of bands that "followed in Xysma's footsteps".
Hooray! More stuff to check out! Most of it turns out to be pretty formulaic death 'n' roll played by death metal bands that decided to change things up a bit and never recovered, but when it was Paraxism's turn for inspection, the music just... clicked. You know the feeling. My death metal excavation mood will eventually pass, but I will keep listening to a handful of bands, and Paraxism is definitely one of them. Their approach was to draw inspiration from many, often disjointed, sources, and somehow glue it all together and make it work. Their riffs have some of that "good death 'n' roll" swagger that makes all the difference, but there's more than enough uniqueness to not write the guys off as a Xysma clone. Wait, did I forget to mention the moog? I think I did. Yeah, so there's moog. There's also violin in places. But, in spite of all those proggish leanings, the music has balls and attitude. It never drifts off into meandering wankery with no point whatsoever.
Another thing that makes my mindset towards Paraxism what it is - the elusive final demo. In most cases, when I see some scattered release from space on Metallum that I can't get a hold of, I shrug and move on with my life. My feelings for Paraxism were too intense, and I didn't let go. I barked up virtually every tree possible, including some band members (I think I may be guilty of Mr. Paraxism changing his profile so non-friends can't message him, hurr durr derp), and ran into dead links, silent inboxes and fried hard drives. Eventually, with the invaluable aid of The Pro, I have obtained the missing demo. As well as two other tapes the existence of which I was not aware of, and a lone uncharted instrumental track (probably part of the 1996 rehearsal tape I saw in some trader's list... the guy didn't see it fit to respond). So, after a long search and bothering many people (turns out I met some high profile folks on the way, including a member of Agalloch, another of Adramelech... high profile names, yo), I obtained what I perceive to be their complete non-rehearsal-bootleg catalog.
The journey documented within the span is a thing of beauty. They started out as a bunch of kiddos playing death metal. I found some pics on Facebook (not that hard actually, there's a lot of them and all the guys all meticulously tagged in them), one of the guitarists looks like he's barely in his double digits. But the stuff they played... it was pretty ace. Not exactly Demilich tier, but it was melodic and catchy without degenerating into Gothenburger. After a transitionary tape, a distilled line-up and sound was presented in their penultimate 1995 demo. This was their peak... not to say that the stuff that came after was some huge degeneration, it was just different. After a mellower EP that the world is most aware of, they grunged up a bit, adding clean vocals and a more varied keyboard presence. Still, the songs were pretty darn nifty, and I like them a lot. Their swansong tape (one of those which the internet hasn't heard of) sees them write their longest tracks and change up the influence yet again, this time sounding a little like Apotheosis (Ger) on their final album. The best thing is that they could always pull it off - be it their pinnacle style hybrid, their death metal roots, their latter-day keyboard-drenched grunged up work, it all sounded awesome. And folks who are active in major, revered bands agree with me.
One of the folks tried to get Paraxism to release a compilation of their work, ages and ages ago. The band was negatively minded. I wrote a concise albeit elaborate message where I outlined the fact that there's a new generation of potential fans, when folks swallow the hook they go mental, and that they do care enough to actually toss up photos and meticulously tag everybody in them. Thus far, no response. Wrote the long-time drummer, tried adding the "real" Mr. Paraxism to walk around the message restriction... silent. I don't know who to bug, half the Paraxism line-up I located on Facebook only came in towards the end, and I'd feel a little silly asking the singer who only did a tape or two with them when there's a six-year-long heritage to work with.
Another problem to deal with - The Pro's rips are skippy. I don't mind, I can put up with the occasional squeal every now and then, but it's heavily unprofessional to actually release something like that officially. So, there's the option of doctoring out the skips (hard) or getting a better rip, either by having The Pro clean his CD and rip it more cautiously (that would involve The Pro putting in effort) or from another source, like someone within the band. I need to find out who's responsible for handing this thing out in the first place, and tap into that source, bypassing others who may see it as bugging. There's also the need for a bio or something... I could pen that, assuming I'd be given a brief rundown of what, where and when.
Why do I care so much about putting out the compilation? First of all, it could be called Collected Works and it would be awesome. Actually, the real deal is that the music is awesome and deserves to be documented - the guys had quite a trek, covering a considerable chunk of musical ground with quality to boot, and I'm sure that folks out there would appreciate such a release. The band would have a physical bit of testimony; the die-hards would get a bio, pics, and good rips (plus, potentially, tracks they didn't know yet); some of the leech downloaders from the compilation's inevitable entrance to the warez sphere may just catch the bug and write more "reviews" where Paraxism's greatness causes the apocalypse.
31.10.11
Circles
Today's post is sponsored by Carbonized's Screaming Machines. Terribly underrated progressive album, way ahead of its time. Talking with a number of modern-day people, I think its time still hasn't come. What a pity, people are depriving themselves of a huge treat.
I retroactively named the Turnip band Yelling Construct in the album's honor. This is subject to change if I come up with anything better. For now I haven't.
Raspberry bush slayage is quite the energy-draining task, I slept for 11 hours straight that night, but at least I didn't wake up with the ground-shattering headache I had when I went to bed. Finally got started on that Russian fantasy book I "nicked" from my sis's room, it seems pretty decent. Interesting idea, thus far the execution is adequate.
Found a bug in my testing script, patched it up. Something about mismatched dimensions or something like that. Today I'll try to get a head start on the RT-PCR experiment planner I was asked to write... maw, y I so lazeh? I don't feel like it, really.
Showed The Dude some Funerus, asking him what guitar/amp it is. He fell for them like mad, and I used the chance to cram a whole arsenal of bands down his throat. Now he's blasting Rippikoulu and enjoying it. Also, he penned some riffs... one of them unblocked my slight pep stall and I'm working on a new tune for the band. Got this fabulously discordant lead over his riff, utilized as the verse, and he actually let me keep it. Hooray. Now I'm trying to come up with some nice 6/8 riffs that would be creative, I rarely work in that meter, and the song demands a huge-ass instrumental section. Jolly good, jolly good.
Fox and Lillien threw a badass Halloween party, in character as Sweeney Todd (complete with white highlights!) and Nellie Lovett. Of course, they served meat pies. Total badassery, I tell you! One of these days I'll get my act together and go to one of those "party" things people keep talking about, and enjoy it.
Need to meet up with the two of them sometime soon, as it's been forever since I saw Lillien (I'd lie if I said that I forgot how she looks or how her voice sounds, but it's really been a long time) and Fox has to show me at least one of her badass necklaces, the latest addition being a wicked silver raven skull.
I retroactively named the Turnip band Yelling Construct in the album's honor. This is subject to change if I come up with anything better. For now I haven't.
Raspberry bush slayage is quite the energy-draining task, I slept for 11 hours straight that night, but at least I didn't wake up with the ground-shattering headache I had when I went to bed. Finally got started on that Russian fantasy book I "nicked" from my sis's room, it seems pretty decent. Interesting idea, thus far the execution is adequate.
Found a bug in my testing script, patched it up. Something about mismatched dimensions or something like that. Today I'll try to get a head start on the RT-PCR experiment planner I was asked to write... maw, y I so lazeh? I don't feel like it, really.
Showed The Dude some Funerus, asking him what guitar/amp it is. He fell for them like mad, and I used the chance to cram a whole arsenal of bands down his throat. Now he's blasting Rippikoulu and enjoying it. Also, he penned some riffs... one of them unblocked my slight pep stall and I'm working on a new tune for the band. Got this fabulously discordant lead over his riff, utilized as the verse, and he actually let me keep it. Hooray. Now I'm trying to come up with some nice 6/8 riffs that would be creative, I rarely work in that meter, and the song demands a huge-ass instrumental section. Jolly good, jolly good.
Fox and Lillien threw a badass Halloween party, in character as Sweeney Todd (complete with white highlights!) and Nellie Lovett. Of course, they served meat pies. Total badassery, I tell you! One of these days I'll get my act together and go to one of those "party" things people keep talking about, and enjoy it.
Need to meet up with the two of them sometime soon, as it's been forever since I saw Lillien (I'd lie if I said that I forgot how she looks or how her voice sounds, but it's really been a long time) and Fox has to show me at least one of her badass necklaces, the latest addition being a wicked silver raven skull.
29.10.11
Rumpy the Raspberry (Bush) Slayer
Most of the stuff I take on lasts two iterations at most. I once created a blog, wrote two posts, got flooded with "ohai ur blog am teh awsum check owt mai blog kthxbai" comments, never went back. Wrote two Badgerbangers. Stuff like that. This is my third blog post, so hooray!
I'm in the mountains. This means a slower internet connection and zero cell phone use, not that I mind. Well, I do mind the slow-motion internet a bit - I accidentally found a pretty darn nice band yesterday and set up a download of their lone release. I came up with this brilliant idea at midnight, and my computer forecasted that with the slow-motion pacing of the connection (a leisurely 8 KB/s transfer) would take about three hours to get the file. So, I found Shutdown Monster and set it to turn off the lapper when the download would be done. Yay, technology! A first for me, using this kind of program.
I finally got a chance to have revenge on the darned raspberry bushes. It's not that I don't like raspberries, I just hate picking raspberries when you get wasps that also want in on the fruit flying all over the place, and the darned bushes spawning their stuff over the period of a month and a half, so instead of one good picking (that one time when there were no wasps would have been good) I had to endure this thing on multiple occasions. So, today I got handed a sharp utensil and an explicit order to hack those things into oblivion as winter is coming.
Apparently, my childhood obsession with bulldozers never quite went away, as I got a hell of a kick from cutting those things down. A quick cleave and another part of the line of bushes lay detached on the ground. And again. And again. Before I knew it, I was at the end of the row, with every last bush hacked up as ordered, and my head spinning.
Now the once-bushes are sizzling merrily, the flames eating the branches up. The main attraction of the fire is a whole bunch of gigantic planks. I have no idea where they came from, but now they're slowly burning up. It's awesome how burning leaves look, at least from these bushes... the way they shrivel up, go through a number of color changes, and then they fly off with the smoke, leaving a tiny shard of a stem behind. Fascinating. No, I'm not a pyromaniac.
The Pep burned out a bit. I had some nice ideas, including a riff I deemed as very satisfactory and aurally pleasing, I took it to the band, and The Dude nayed it as he didn't like one note of the chord. Changing it would have destroyed the purpose of the whole musical idea, there was a heavy harmonic leaning in there, both in the rhythm and the lead, and yet he somehow failed to notice it and the idea was binned. Hmph.
If all goes well, The Pro will send me the Paraxism rip sometime early this coming week. I'm really hoping it will work out... I know the four tapes I scavenged by heart, and the more the merrier.
I'm in the mountains. This means a slower internet connection and zero cell phone use, not that I mind. Well, I do mind the slow-motion internet a bit - I accidentally found a pretty darn nice band yesterday and set up a download of their lone release. I came up with this brilliant idea at midnight, and my computer forecasted that with the slow-motion pacing of the connection (a leisurely 8 KB/s transfer) would take about three hours to get the file. So, I found Shutdown Monster and set it to turn off the lapper when the download would be done. Yay, technology! A first for me, using this kind of program.
I finally got a chance to have revenge on the darned raspberry bushes. It's not that I don't like raspberries, I just hate picking raspberries when you get wasps that also want in on the fruit flying all over the place, and the darned bushes spawning their stuff over the period of a month and a half, so instead of one good picking (that one time when there were no wasps would have been good) I had to endure this thing on multiple occasions. So, today I got handed a sharp utensil and an explicit order to hack those things into oblivion as winter is coming.
Apparently, my childhood obsession with bulldozers never quite went away, as I got a hell of a kick from cutting those things down. A quick cleave and another part of the line of bushes lay detached on the ground. And again. And again. Before I knew it, I was at the end of the row, with every last bush hacked up as ordered, and my head spinning.
Now the once-bushes are sizzling merrily, the flames eating the branches up. The main attraction of the fire is a whole bunch of gigantic planks. I have no idea where they came from, but now they're slowly burning up. It's awesome how burning leaves look, at least from these bushes... the way they shrivel up, go through a number of color changes, and then they fly off with the smoke, leaving a tiny shard of a stem behind. Fascinating. No, I'm not a pyromaniac.
The Pep burned out a bit. I had some nice ideas, including a riff I deemed as very satisfactory and aurally pleasing, I took it to the band, and The Dude nayed it as he didn't like one note of the chord. Changing it would have destroyed the purpose of the whole musical idea, there was a heavy harmonic leaning in there, both in the rhythm and the lead, and yet he somehow failed to notice it and the idea was binned. Hmph.
If all goes well, The Pro will send me the Paraxism rip sometime early this coming week. I'm really hoping it will work out... I know the four tapes I scavenged by heart, and the more the merrier.
23.10.11
Pep!
I'm inspiration-dependent when it comes to writing music. Sure, I can sit down and spit out a track or two for the fun of it whenever, but it's usually pretty disposable drivel. Stuff that I actually deem listenable comes out when I'm in a certain mental state, which could be likened to Wild Man Fischer's "pep". Usually, my "pep" comes in the spring, but it shows up other times as well.
It opted to show up now. Maybe my body decided to re-harness the hormone boom I just got.
I've actually got to restrain myself from writing, as I'm in a band that actually seems to display competence... so it would be too self-centered to walk in with half an album this coming Thursday. All I've got is a warped riff that feels like mid-era Paraxism fell into a wormhole and had my DNA spliced into them by force, and a tender lead for the song that's actually completed. The "pep" is bubbling and wants moar, but I'm keeping it contained.
The need for the lead is what set the "pep" off in the first place. I usurped part of the calm interlude for some noodling, and I decided the song deserved something a little more focused than random penta fingerwalking. Perusing Scum's Purple Dreams And Magic Poems was what did the trick... the record is formally death metal, and it does stick true to the template, but there's a beauty and fragility in the notes, a passion in the melodies. "Flames Of The Silver Sea" is one of the most flawless songs ever conceived. Something about the raw charm of the phrasing, the emotion when the higher register is entered... it just did it for me. The barrier snapped, and I "pepped" up a lead. I had to tweak it, as The Dude did not appreciate my tiny f# minor swing (oh come on, the chord in the vamp was third-less, so I used it's second-based nature to diverge the harmonic context for a few seconds), but after tweaking the two notes he deemed off, the lead is staying. Good.
I'll probably snap and write a whole end-section based on the Paraxism'y riff that snuck out from under my fingers yesterday. My head's buzzing with loose idea shards, this feeling is awesome.
As I already mentioned "Flames Of The Silver Sea" - one of the best moments of my life came when I blasted the song whilst staring at a beautiful mountain panorama, the sun in my face, the wind in my hair. I felt butterflies in my stomach as the beauty of music and the beauty of nature interwined before my being. Mission accomplished, you hippy death metallers, pat yourselves on the back.
The Dude is saying that The World's Most Beautiful Woman is some haunted psychopath who talks about souls and angels and whatnot. Ayup, slight ideology conflict, crisis averted, can move on with my life now.
It opted to show up now. Maybe my body decided to re-harness the hormone boom I just got.
I've actually got to restrain myself from writing, as I'm in a band that actually seems to display competence... so it would be too self-centered to walk in with half an album this coming Thursday. All I've got is a warped riff that feels like mid-era Paraxism fell into a wormhole and had my DNA spliced into them by force, and a tender lead for the song that's actually completed. The "pep" is bubbling and wants moar, but I'm keeping it contained.
The need for the lead is what set the "pep" off in the first place. I usurped part of the calm interlude for some noodling, and I decided the song deserved something a little more focused than random penta fingerwalking. Perusing Scum's Purple Dreams And Magic Poems was what did the trick... the record is formally death metal, and it does stick true to the template, but there's a beauty and fragility in the notes, a passion in the melodies. "Flames Of The Silver Sea" is one of the most flawless songs ever conceived. Something about the raw charm of the phrasing, the emotion when the higher register is entered... it just did it for me. The barrier snapped, and I "pepped" up a lead. I had to tweak it, as The Dude did not appreciate my tiny f# minor swing (oh come on, the chord in the vamp was third-less, so I used it's second-based nature to diverge the harmonic context for a few seconds), but after tweaking the two notes he deemed off, the lead is staying. Good.
I'll probably snap and write a whole end-section based on the Paraxism'y riff that snuck out from under my fingers yesterday. My head's buzzing with loose idea shards, this feeling is awesome.
As I already mentioned "Flames Of The Silver Sea" - one of the best moments of my life came when I blasted the song whilst staring at a beautiful mountain panorama, the sun in my face, the wind in my hair. I felt butterflies in my stomach as the beauty of music and the beauty of nature interwined before my being. Mission accomplished, you hippy death metallers, pat yourselves on the back.
The Dude is saying that The World's Most Beautiful Woman is some haunted psychopath who talks about souls and angels and whatnot. Ayup, slight ideology conflict, crisis averted, can move on with my life now.
22.10.11
The World's Most Beautiful Woman
Contrary to what my university colleagues may think, I am not gay. The fact that I hang around with Bot stems from my lack of ability to get to know people, and we went to the same high school. Simple as that. I enjoy sightly females as much as any other straight guy.
Went to band practice with The Dude yesterday, and afterwards he didn't have time to check the song arrangement I worked on because he was busy chatting up some chick. He sent me a pic of her from his own free will, and all my senses kicked into overdrive. Apparently, before me was the face of The World's Most Beautiful Woman.
I should have seen it coming, this dumb hormone rush. On the way to band practice, I occupied myself by staring at some dumb tart from the architecture department who was too busy yapping at some dudes to notice me ogling her. So, given the fact I was on a slight high already, no surprise that when a proper situation arose, I fell headfirst into hormone stew.
So, after a night of jealous wondering why The Dude gets all the chicks, and all the chicks are awesome to boot, I was dragged out of the house as we went to grab some pizza. I saw The World's Most Beautiful Woman in the parking lot, but then I also saw The World's Most Beautiful Woman inside the mall, then The World's Most Beautiful Woman was sitting at the table opposite of ours in Pizza Hut, then she left and The World's Most Beautiful Woman took her place, then my sister demanded carrot juice and The World's Most Beautiful Woman sold it to us... no, it's not that I was hallucinating, or the chick from The Dude's picture was following me around. It's just that my brain kicked into overdriven throttle and around 80% of all females aged 18-25 were deemed The World's Most Beautiful Woman for the time being, until a new one arose.
This was a first for me, and a weird sensation I'm not sure I want to experience again. It's obviously a defense mechanism for my lack of chances with the chick that he showed me (it's not that I'm a shallow guy who goes for looks and nothing else, by the way - he did mention having a wicked, intelligent conversation with her), trying to get my mind off her so I don't wallow in it, coupled with a natural hormone high that made itself present as I gawped at the architecture tart in the bus.
So, I'm still buzzing with that Molotov cocktail running through my veins. I may try to harness it tomorrow to write a good lead for that track the band has. The very best melodies are infused with strong emotion. Since I'm in such a state, maybe I'll manage to get something out of it.
Went to band practice with The Dude yesterday, and afterwards he didn't have time to check the song arrangement I worked on because he was busy chatting up some chick. He sent me a pic of her from his own free will, and all my senses kicked into overdrive. Apparently, before me was the face of The World's Most Beautiful Woman.
I should have seen it coming, this dumb hormone rush. On the way to band practice, I occupied myself by staring at some dumb tart from the architecture department who was too busy yapping at some dudes to notice me ogling her. So, given the fact I was on a slight high already, no surprise that when a proper situation arose, I fell headfirst into hormone stew.
So, after a night of jealous wondering why The Dude gets all the chicks, and all the chicks are awesome to boot, I was dragged out of the house as we went to grab some pizza. I saw The World's Most Beautiful Woman in the parking lot, but then I also saw The World's Most Beautiful Woman inside the mall, then The World's Most Beautiful Woman was sitting at the table opposite of ours in Pizza Hut, then she left and The World's Most Beautiful Woman took her place, then my sister demanded carrot juice and The World's Most Beautiful Woman sold it to us... no, it's not that I was hallucinating, or the chick from The Dude's picture was following me around. It's just that my brain kicked into overdriven throttle and around 80% of all females aged 18-25 were deemed The World's Most Beautiful Woman for the time being, until a new one arose.
This was a first for me, and a weird sensation I'm not sure I want to experience again. It's obviously a defense mechanism for my lack of chances with the chick that he showed me (it's not that I'm a shallow guy who goes for looks and nothing else, by the way - he did mention having a wicked, intelligent conversation with her), trying to get my mind off her so I don't wallow in it, coupled with a natural hormone high that made itself present as I gawped at the architecture tart in the bus.
So, I'm still buzzing with that Molotov cocktail running through my veins. I may try to harness it tomorrow to write a good lead for that track the band has. The very best melodies are infused with strong emotion. Since I'm in such a state, maybe I'll manage to get something out of it.
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