#and whenever i do get it it’s almost always insights reflected through his observation of someone else

[an-inky-fingered-lass]

mr philip j coulson my good sir you hog the pov spotlight like NO ONE i’ve ever met.

do you think you could maybe..... share with may

as in. like. get her to share with you cause i wrote her experiencing emotions and i think she’s pissed at me now.

(sorry may. that’s a really beautiful paragraph you gave me right there. thank you.)

[detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman]

Chapter 5 - Conflicting Directives

Part 5/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 10,488

Warnings: Swearing (not as much this time), mild suggestive banter, character death, post-loss grieving, descriptions of a car accident and hospitalization.

Genre: Self-insert/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: The day is done and Detective Rachel has gone home. Connor, making earnest on his promise, arrives at her home to make amends. He learns the extent of her loss and trauma and notices strange things about her affect on him. It seemed as though without doing anything, Connor’s software instability increases almost continuously around her, but even more strangely, he’s not bothered by it.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

---------------------------------

Date: November 6th, 2038  Time: 06:34 PM Objective: Find Amanda

Within his mind palace’s zen garden, the RK800 android found himself in once again, prepared to make another report to Amanda, his handler. It was a familiar and peaceful place, with many modern-style bridges that led to the centre of the small lake within.

But first and foremost, the strange device to his left that he always triggered, but never understood why. He was strangely drawn not only to it, but to trigger it. It was like a console with an input for handprint recognition just in front of a circular sculpture-like structure.

He never understood why he triggered it, or why whenever he did, he could feel something constantly shifting. He simply felt compelled to do so.

But nevertheless, he did what he always did, and made his way to the centre, where his trusted handler typically was. The detective android saw her as his mentor, and admitted that there was much he would do for her approval.

Amanda - Trusted He found her standing beneath the tree in the centre, her very dark skin reflected by the bright sun that lit the garden, and her braided hair done up in a tightly wound bun. 

“Hello, Amanda.” Connor greeted.

“Connor, I've been expecting you.” She greeted him in return. “Would you mind a little walk?” 

Connor, giving her a patient and appreciative smile, began following the elegant and poised coloured woman through the garden. “That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case. A pity you didn't manage to capture it...” 

Rachel 🔓

Pragmatic

Explain

No Excuse

“The detective Lieutenant Anderson brought on today nearly had it.” Connor explained. “It managed to slip from her grasp, but I’m certain that the next case will go much more successfully.”

Amanda continued to listen intently, stealing a glance at him from time to time. “Did you manage to learn anything?” She asked him patiently.

Deviant 🔓

Diary 🔓

Signs On Walls 🔓

Birds

“It was fascinated by birds.” Connor answered, Rachel’s emphasis on the nature of the deviant’s connection to the pigeons the most prevalent in the android’s consciousness. “We've seen deviants interested in other lifeforms like insects or pets, but nothing like this.”

Amanda nodded. “What else?”

Deviant 🔓

Diary 🔓

Signs On Walls 🔓

“The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols.” Connor added, informing his handler of what he saw written and drawn on the walls of the abandoned apartment. “Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with rA9.”

“You came very close to capturing that deviant...” Amanda pointed out. “How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?”

Saving Hank 🔓

Negative

Ambiguous

Positive

“He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof.” Connor answered earnestly, continuing to walk with the older woman. “He didn't say anything, but he expressed it in his own way.”

“It would seem that this case has become more complicated, thanks to the involvement of both Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Rachel.” She said slowly. “Having to work with the lieutenant already made this case difficult enough, but the addition of another may compromise your investigation. What do you make of her?”

Indifferent

Sincere

Dismissive

Unsure

Amanda - Trusted v “I think her addition to the case would add great benefit to our progress.” Connor answered in earnest, much to Amanda’s subtle disappointed scowl, indicated only by the smallest twinge in her full lip and narrow of her dark eyes. “She’s incredibly analytical, has a natural instinct for discerning the motives of suspects and a powerful drive. She also has a good rapport with the lieutenant and I consider her insight extremely valuable.”

Amanda’s facial expressions were almost impossible to read, as she most often kept her face entirely neutral. “You know full well that she knowingly allowed the deviants from before to escape.” She pointed out. “What do you think about her attitude towards them?”

Intriguing

Disapproving

Unsure

Indifferent

Amanda - Trusted v “I find her observations intriguing.” Connor answered flatly. “She draws many comparisons to other marginalized groups among humans, ones that I find rather fascinating and insightful. She’s very articulate and adamant in her thoughts regarding them.”

Amanda continued to stare at Connor, her expression stoic and unchanging. “In any case, she has also been officially assigned to the case.” She reminded the android. “If the cause of these outbreaks of deviancy isn’t found, they will wreak havoc. Make certain she does not become a liability.”

Connor nodded. “I understand.”

“We don't have much time.” Amanda’s eyes scanned the surroundings of the Zen Garden before settling on Connor again. “Deviancy continues to spread. It's only a matter of time before the media finds out about it.” She said, putting emphasis on the latter part of that statement. “We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

Connor nodded obediently. “I will solve this investigation, Amanda.” He promised her. “I won't disappoint you.”

Amanda nodded, coming to the end of their walk. “You’d better hurry.” She warned. “I will inform you when we have another case. But until then, get on better terms with your new partner.”

--------

Objective: Make amends with Rachel Rachel - Warm

Leaving the self-driving taxi, Connor stepped up and approached the house. It wasn’t a particularly large house, but it had two levels and a large window to the right side when approaching the front door. As the android approached the house, he stepped up to the door and was about to knock when he heard a sound coming from inside.

Knock

Investigate

Leaning over towards the window, he began examining what was playing inside. It was her, in what looked like a kitchen, smiling. Smiling, dancing, singing, and playing with a large black dog. 

And I'm begging you, bring me back to life. 

I just can't stand leaving you alone tonight. 

It's too late to go. 

Already taken me forever just to try to know. 

Connor quickly matched the song and found it to be an old 2011 song called Stutter from the album Ever After by Mariana’s Trench. She wasn’t dancing in any specific way, simply bouncing on her feet and moving her shoulders in rhythm with her eyes closed. 

One for the money, two for the show, 

three to get ready, and four to go. 

For the life of me, 

I don't know why it took me so long to see.

The way her hair bounced on her shoulders and the way her smile contorted to the lyrics of the song was utterly captivating. She was spontaneous, free, and entirely shameless in her sheer joy. It didn’t even occur to him that he was already recording her so that he could commit this to detailed memory.

I just stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Software Instability ^ Connor realized that he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she was behaving wholly organically as she truly was. This was what she was like in her own time, when it was just herself in her own space. And he would be lying if it wasn’t utterly captivating listening to her sing and watching her dance with such freeform careless abandon, throwing all caution to the wind to get completely lost in her own rhythm. She was making strange flapping motions with her hands and tapping and hitting the counter in various ways to the music which he couldn’t help but find incredibly endearing.

But it didn’t last, as she then locked eyes with him, her brown eyes wide in shock, very much resembling a deer caught in headlights. Not that Connor had ever seen that himself, but he was aware of the phenomenon. After all, there wasn’t very much large wildlife in Detroit, at least not in the city.

She didn’t seem to really be afraid as she sort of just stood there. Connor took that as a good enough reason to step back in front of the door and ring the doorbell.

Although, as soon as he had done that, the music stopped and the rumbles of a deep bark and a loud and boisterous laugh resounded through the house and were audible from where Connor was standing. It was unmistakably hers, but he had never heard her laugh like that. Not with so much energy and force behind it. It was surprising, and it made Connor’s lip twinge in the smallest smile. “Wait!” She ordered, still laughing. 

Software Instability ^ The barking had stopped and the front door was opened to Rachel’s face, still contorted in a wide open-mouthed smile as she was still keeling over in laughter, clutching her diaphragm with her right arm.

Greet

Apologize

Tease

Say Nothing

“Hello, Rachel.” Connor announced curtly.

“I’m sorry,” the shorter woman said, adjusting her glasses and still trying to work through laughs and giggles, “but did you just ring the doorbell to try and pretend like you totally weren’t just staring at me through my window like a creep?”

Apologize

Tease

Say Nothing

Connor hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He apologized, putting on his typical professional posture and persona. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen you dance or sing before.”

“That’s probably because it would be pretty tone-deaf to just break into song in the middle of a police precinct.” Rachel joked with him, before stepping back a bit, the large black dog stepping between them and sniffing at Connor eagerly. 

Software Instability ^ “That’s Bear, my sweet baby boy. He loves people, he’s an absolute sweetheart.” She cooed in that baby voice many humans used when speaking to or about animals they found cute. “Yes he is! He absolutely is, the sweetest lil’ baby boy in the whole world and the cutest baby ever!” It was a tone of voice Connor couldn’t help but once again smile at as she ruffled at the large dog’s ears, the dog huffing in pleasant excitement. The android quickly identified it as a Newfoundland. They’re dogs that were bred to work in water in the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, but more specifically Newfoundland, in Maritime Canada, and often finds use as a canine lifeguard. 

As Connor started petting the large black dog, who was sniffing eagerly at his face, Rachel then turned back to him, having calmed down and was looking at him with an inquisitive look. “Wait, how did you find my house? I forgot to give you the address. Did Hank give it to you?”

Truth

Lie

“No.” Connor replied. “He simply told me that you were going to be busy before you arrived at home. I didn’t think to ask him as I simply searched for it while I was leaving the precinct to depart towards your home.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel gave him a smirk that Connor now recognized as typical of her. “Oh, so now you’re also a stalker.” It was a statement that made Connor wonder if he had offended her, but her demeanour and tone of voice seemed to indicate it was nothing more than friendly banter. As she continued further into the room, she then looked back at him, her thick brown eyebrows knitted together in mild bewilderment. “Are...you gonna...come in?”

“I’m sorry, I was waiting for you to give me permission to enter.” He replied politely.

“I’m the one who invited you to my house!” Rachel pointed out with a gesture of her hand and a confused tone to her naturally loud voice. “Just come in, you dork. Take your shoes off and make sure you don’t let Bear out, he tends to chase shit into the street.”

Software Instability ^ He walked inside the house, making sure to close the door behind him, Bear’s tail wagging eagerly before he walked away to lay in what looked like a very comfortable den of blankets and pillows inside of his kennel, which was situated in the corner of the living room. “I’m just going to brew myself some tea.” Rachel called, going back towards the kitchen. “I’m assuming androids don’t eat or drink ‘cause it would probably fuck up their systems, right?”

“Correct.” Connor replied, as he began removing his work shoes with ease. “Androids cannot process the organic materials that humans consume, as it’s not compatible with their biocomponents. Consumption of such materials would indeed damage an android. However, some androids that are designed to work in food can taste what they make so that it’s suitable for a human’s needs. Their systems are specialized so that they can release the materials in the same way humans do.”

“And you, I’m guessing?” Rachel asked, an eyebrow raised. “Since I had the both amusement and disgust of learning about your filthy mouth and where it’s been.”

Software Instability ^ “Correct.” Connor answered. “Due to the nature of my analysis, I’ve also been built to release foreign materials.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Alright, so just tea for me, then.” She said, making her way into the kitchen. “Go ahead and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Connor said curtly as he scanned the room.

Wait for Rachel to return Investigate Rachel’s home 

He noticed that the walls were painted in very warm colours, dark oranges and rich shades of brown. It was a well-lit space, only further accentuated and magnified by the choice of colours for the interior. The kitchen led to the living room which was the room most adjacent to the large window in front. Around the corner of the wall of the living room was the kitchen and dining room combination, the sliding glass door leading to the backyard to the left of the kitchen and behind the dining room. Against the leftmost wall of the dining room, Connor could see a box that typically contained thirium or other android parts, yet there was no evidence of any working android in the home. He knew she was capable of performing small repairs on androids, but it seemed odd to have android supplies without actually possessing one.

Potentially repairing androids from home?

Connor detected another room behind the kitchen to the left from where he was facing, and peering inside, he could see several musical instruments, including an upright piano, a guitar, a ukulele, and a saxophone.

Rachel has musical interests. 🔓

To the left of the entrance and just before the dining room were the stairs leading up to the second floor, where he assumed Rachel’s bedroom was. Below the stairs was another door, likely storage, and then another that could be walked through. Given the layout Connor was noticing thus far, he concluded it was simply another door leading to the room with the piano in it.

Peering past the hallway next to the stairs was a door at the end. Given the placement of the driveway outside the house, Connor deduced that the door led to the garage. And to the left of that was a washing machine and a dryer, as well as several cupboards and shelves for various cleaning supplies and solutions.

And to the very left of the entrance was a pair of closet sliding doors, of which could be very easily assumed was for jackets, shoes, and other outdoor wear.

Surrounding the house were several photos and other decorations of various animals, most commonly owls of various species.

Rachel has a special interest in ornithology, specifically Strigiformes. 🔓

Alongside the several photographs of owls, there were illustrations of dragons, ranging from the typical four-legged winged dragons most common in pop culture, to other types such as wyverns and even some feathered varieties.

Rachel has a particular fondness for dragons.

In the living room itself, There was a large couch and two matching recliners on either side, a long coffee table seated deliberately in the middle, a remote control situated on it.

In front of the coffee table against the wall was a fireplace, the mantle holding multiple pictures and other decorations. Above the mantle was a large television screen that was switched off. “I’m just gonna put some tunes on! It’s way too quiet for me!” Connor heard Rachel call from the kitchen.

Reply

Say Nothing

“That’s fine!” Connor replied. “I don’t mind.”

The TV turned back on, a music sharing app on the screen as another album began playing. The display read The Saltwater Room, part of the 2008 album Maybe I’m Dreaming by Owl City, also known as Adam Young.

Rachel likes 2000-2020 era music.

As Connor approached to investigate the fireplace mantle, he found several photographs and other items of interest. Lying on one side of the mantle was a photograph of Rachel, a much younger Rachel, with several animals ranging from a small Syrian Hamster, to a black English Cocker Spaniel, to a Crested Gecko. Beside them were more recent photographs, one of Rachel with what appeared to be a photo of Bear as a puppy, and one with a piebald Ball Python snake.

Rachel cares deeply for animals. 🔓

Next to those photos were others of family. Some were rather old and others were more recent. Connor’s searches turned up several family members.

Of her immediate family, her father and her maternal grandmother were both deceased. Her grandmother died in 2025 and her father died in 2029

Several deceased family members.

Connor’s eyes scanned over the other end of the mantle, several decorations on it. Between them were several photographs of Rachel in what appeared to be a custom tailored suit and a veil with another taller and much wider set bearded man wearing glasses, also in a suit. It was clear that this was a wedding. The largest photo in the centre, of the pair of them smiling at the photographer, each other’s hands in the other’s.

In front of the photographs were three sets of rings. The pair on the left side was a size 7 white gold ring with a mythic topaz cut into the shape of a heart next to a size 13 sterling silver ring, the ends made to resemble a semicolon.

The pair on the right was a set of matching black steel rings of the same sizes, the small one reading “His Sally” and the larger one reading “Her Jack.” A search for media containing both the names Sally and Jack produced a stop-motion film from 1993 titled The Nightmare Before Christmas directed by Henry Selick and produced by Tim Burton.

And the pair in the middle was a pair of simple gold rings, of the same sizes. Simple bands, the surfaces engraved. The smaller one reading: “You and I are one...” and the larger one reading: “...now and forever, until the end of time.” Upon closer inspection, a date was engraved on the underside of the rings. August 25th, 2026.

Software Instability ^ Rachel is married.

Connor then turned his attention to the large photos and examined the face of the man posing with Rachel.

He turned up records that her husband, Frank, had died in January 2031.

Rachel is grieving the loss of her husband. 🔓

Having gathered enough information, Connor took a seat over on the large couch in front of the coffee table, patiently waiting for Rachel to be done with her tea.

Wait for Rachel to return Investigate Rachel’s home

“Sorry it took so long.” Rachel apologized before she entered the room, taking a seat on the couch, placing her mug on a nearby coaster on the coffee table. It was a grey mug with the star sign of Scorpio printed on it in white, labeled as such along with the dates Scorpio falls between. Upon analyzing the drink, it appeared to be a black tea blend made of cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, pink peppercorns, cloves, vanilla, and other natural flavouring. 

Also in it was eggnog, likely added by Rachel to give it a more specific flavour and a more creamy texture. “It’s November, so gotta get that more cinnamony fall-flavoured tea. It’s one of my favourite holiday teas, even though it’s a year long tea at David’s Tea where I get it. Saigon Chai is what it’s called. Not much of a fan of it by itself, but with eggnog, it’s fucking amazing. Just, uh, be careful how much eggnog you put in so that you don’t just replace the taste of the tea with eggnog. Can’t stand eggnog by itself either, it’s way too sweet for me.” 

Software Instability ^ She took a sip of it with a contented expression, her eyes closed in bliss as she lingered for a moment just to capture the scent of it. It almost made Connor wish that he’d been built with the ability to detect scents. “So,” she started, making direct eye contact with Connor, her dark eyes intense and yet somehow gentle and patient, “seems like we have some things to clear up between us.”

Connor nodded. “Correct.” He agreed. “But first, I wanted to inform you that Captain Fowler has officially assigned you to the deviancy case alongside Lieutenant Anderson. So from today onward, we’re officially partners.”

Rachel blinked a couple times in surprise, nodding. “Wow, finally a case fucking worth working on.” She sighed, taking another sip of her tea. “I’ve been getting a lot of boring ones or ones that barely take any effort. So, this should definitely be interesting.”

“I certainly hope so.” Connor agreed, winking at Rachel, knowing and earnestly enjoying the brief spike in her heart rate and breath intake that the gesture elicited from her.

Apologize for behaviour Understand Rachel’s reasons

She placed her mug back on its coaster, taking another sigh, before returning her gaze to the android, boring into him. “And?” She pressed.

“And,” Connor repeated, formulating the proper thing to say in this instance, “I wanted to apologize for my recklessness earlier on the highway. I should have considered the distress it would have caused both you and Lieutenant Anderson to see my destruction. And I want you to know that I will take extra precaution to ensure my own safety from now on.”

Rachel nodded, giving Connor an appreciative smile. “Thank you.” She muttered. “That really means a lot to me.”

Apologize for behaviour

The air between them had grown tense, sparking like the hum of a power cable. Connor was contemplating the next best course of action from this point.

Husband 🔓

Car Accident

Other Models

Nothing

“I’m not certain how well this will lend to your understanding of my decisions,” Connor started, Rachel returning her focus on him, taking another sip of her tea, “but I would like you to know this. When an RK800 model is destroyed, its memory is transferred to the next model. This is so that there is no slow in the investigation and so that it can continue without incident.”

“Well, I kinda figured that.” Rachel responded, much to Connor’s mild surprise. Or at least as close to surprise as he could get. “But that doesn’t matter. Just because you can upload your memories doesn’t mean you don’t die. It doesn’t make you more expendable than me. It just means that someone else has your memories, but it isn’t you.”

Her answers never seemed to fail to perplex and intrigue Connor. And despite knowing his focus should only be on his mission, he couldn’t help but want to know what she had to say. Her insights and philosophies were fascinating to him. She was more like an android than most humans, but more like a human than deviants were, clearly. Though according to her, she didn’t see much of a functional difference between the two.

And that, too, intrigued the RK800 android.

“Why’s that?” Connor asked, wanting to know what her viewpoint was. “If my memory is uploaded into another Connor model who exists to serve the same purpose, wouldn’t we still effectively be the same?”

“It’s not like when you backup a computer and put that data on another.” Rachel replied. “First of all, I doubt it’s as flawless and perfectly done as that usually is. Some data would probably get lost, I bet. And second of all, watching someone die and then show up the next day as if nothing had happened is like seeing a ghost. It’s alarming, unnerving, and it feels wrong and messes a lot with what you know is real and what isn’t. And depending on the way you die, it can be even more traumatic than it would otherwise be, though I’ve never met someone who wasn’t traumatized at the sight of someone else’s death.” She took another sip of tea, her eyes blinking in a way that Connor figured was her recollecting her thoughts in order to stay on-track of them. “And...”

Connor raised an eyebrow at her pause. “And?” He echoed.

She let out a sigh, avoiding meeting Connor’s eyes. “And it wouldn’t be you.” She finished. “It would look like you, sound like you, and maybe even act like you. But it wouldn’t be you. It wouldn’t be the same Connor I had met and protected last night. Or the same Connor I was touring around the precinct. Or the same Connor I was having banter and sharing jokes with a few hours ago.”

Connor was even more confused. “Why would that matter in regards to me?”

Software Instability ^ “Because like it or not, I already care about you and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t want you to die.” Rachel said rather bluntly, her dark eyes half-lidded as she took another sip of tea. “Forgive me, I’m paraphrasing again, but...this morning, we were nothing to each other. I was just another human like thousands of others. And you were just an android like the thousands in circulation. You had no need of me, nor I of you. But it was with the short time spent today, learning about each other, spending the time together on the case, and making efforts to look after one another, that changed that. After that point, you were no longer just another android like the thousands of others. You were Connor, our Connor, wholly unique and special and different to all the others. And I was no longer just another human like the thousands of others. I was Rachel, the human whom you feel the need and responsibility to apologize to right now for upsetting because you clearly wanted to take responsibility. And the day we just had proved we have need of each other, because of that bond that was forged.” She went on, Connor listening intently and committing her articulate and verbose explanations to memory. “If you died, and your memory was transferred to the next one, the Connor that was unique and special would still be dead. Because the Connor that would take your place wouldn’t be the same Connor. It’s not the same Connor that I put time and effort into establishing a connection with. So even if you can transfer your memories, you yourself are wholly unique and cannot be replaced or replicated. Sorry, that’s how it is and I don’t make the rules, so you’re not allowed to die.”

Connor nodded, a small smirk creasing his lips. “In that case, I have no choice but to comply.”

Rachel squinted her eyes, a strained smirk stretched across her small, yet ample lips, as if she was trying to discern if he was being earnest or humourous. But giving a nonchalant shrug, she simply took another sip of tea.

Husband 🔓

Car Accident

Nothing

“You mentioned that you witnessed a death in a road accident before.” Connor said flatly. “And that’s why when I returned to the alley, I noticed you were showing symptoms that corresponded to a trauma related panic attack, one of the most common forms of PTSD.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel nodded, her face drooping slightly. “Yeah, I was having...a really bad mental breakdown.” She answered, biting her lip and casting her gaze downward.

“You were triggered.” Connor stated. “The sight of the deviants and then myself endangering ourselves on the highway brought you back to that incident. That’s why you were so upset with me when I returned. You were afraid you were going to be forced to relive that incident all over again. Am I correct?”

Rachel was quiet for a moment. “Partially.” She took a sip of her tea before answering. “It was both that I didn’t want to watch another person die in an accident and that I didn’t want to relive that event. Both to have to see it happen again, and...to lose someone else I cared about in the same way again.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath, clutching onto her dark, striped, oversized sweater. “I lost someone very dear to me in a car accident. Someone I loved more than anything in the whole world. And I don’t want to lose anyone else like that ever again.”

It grew quiet between them once again, Rachel taking another sip of her tea. This time, she was refusing to make eye contact with Connor.

Husband 🔓

Nothing

“It was Frank, wasn’t it?” Connor asked, causing Rachel’s head to snap up to meet Connor’s eyes. “Your husband. That’s who died in that car accident seven years ago in January. You were married five years before that in August 2026 on the 25th.”

Software Instability ^ “My spouse.” Rachel corrected, not aggressively, but firmly. She blinked a couple times, her brown eyes blinking away tears that had not yet formed. “But, yes...they were the one that died in that accident.”

Connor changed Frank’s status as ‘spouse’ rather than ‘husband’ and changed their pronouns accordingly in his database.

Comfort

Pry

Ensure

“Do you feel comfortable enough talking to me about it?” Connor asked.

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She replied, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s actually kind of nice to be able to talk to someone else about it. Well, aside from Hank, but...you’ve probably figured out that he’s not great at dealing with emotions. But, he knows, too.” Connor waited patiently for her to continue, his dark eyes fixed on her forlorn and sombre expression. She took another sip of her tea and cleared her throat. 

“It was a late night. I was off work, and I went to pick Frank up. They had just gotten off, and it started snowing while they were working, so I texted them to let them know I was going to pick them up. So while I was driving home, they were telling me about this family they saw visiting one of the patients, and they had a young boy with them. Now, we’d already talked about the possibility of having a family, and we agreed it was something we both wanted. But that night, they suddenly asked me if I wanted to have a kid. And it sort of caught me off-guard, but I didn’t mind. So we talked for a little while on the way home, and...we decided to try for a baby.” Rachel’s voice wavered as she started to choke back tears. “I was so happy. Happy that I was going to be a mother. Happy that I was going to raise a child alongside the love of my life. And I was so excited to start that part of my life...and then I heard the sound of a truck, and then everything blacked out...”

Software Instability ^ Connor listened intently as Rachel recounted the painful memory, now failing to stop the tears from spilling down her face as she quietly sobbed into her sleeve, desperately wiping her eyes. Connor quickly took notice of a box of tissues on the coffee table and gently pulled out a couple of them and handed them to Rachel wordlessly.

She took them graciously, blinking away a few more tears as she brought one of the tissues to her nose and blew, a loud moist noise muffled by the tissue. She did this a few times before she crumpled the used tissue and threw it in a nearby garbage bin that was placed on the side of the fireplace on the opposite end to Bear’s kennel. “Thank you.” She squeaked, wiping her eyes and face with the second tissue before throwing that into the bin as well. “I blacked out...” She continued. “And when I came to, I could hear and see sirens everywhere. I felt like there was sand and pebbles under my skin across my whole body. There was so much pain everywhere except my left arm. My left arm was in so much pain it was numb. When I looked around, I realized that the car was upside down and that Frank was nowhere to be found. I also realized that the sand in my skin was road burn and shards of glass that were embedded in my skin in so many places. I tried desperately to find Frank, calling out to them, crawling out of the car to try and find them. And when I did, I crawled my way over to them. I got them to wake up and focus on me, but...” 

Software Instability ^ She choked back another set of tears, prompting Connor to once again provide her with tissues, this time opting instead to just give her the whole box to hold onto. “It was too late for them...I begged them to stay with me...I tried to get them to stay, but I could see the light leaving their eyes...and they died in my arms.” Rachel had now effectively broken down into several broken and loud sobs, crying into and blowing her nose into several tissues. “The last thing I remember was screaming at the paramedics not to take me away from Frank...as they were pulling me, dragging me kicking and screaming...before they put me under...and I woke up in the hospital.”

Connor was quiet for a moment. There was a strange sensation in his systems, like the creaking of machinery, in his lower abdomen between his chest and where his gut would be if he had organs. Though he could also feel his chest tightening, which wasn’t normal for androids. Yet, just to be certain, he ran a diagnostics check on himself and all systems were fully functional. As the android looked into Rachel’s pained, damp, strained eyes, he was deciding what to do.

Comfort

Say Nothing

Rachel - Warm ^  “I’m sorry.” He said, gently and patiently. His voice was barely a whisper, but Rachel caught it as she glanced at him. “It wasn’t your fault, and I hope you know that.”

“I know...” Rachel said, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose again. “And I know they wouldn’t want me to feel that way. But...I can’t help it. There’s that horrible part deep in me that thinks of what I could’ve done to prevent it.” She let out a long sigh, her sobs beginning to subside. “And do you wanna know what the worst part is?”

Connor nodded.

Rachel sighed, grabbing her tea and taking another sip. “When I was in the hospital, it felt like time had stopped.” She confessed. “I was just in the bed in pain and not able to really move. It was just the same thing every day while the whole thing played over and over in my head. But that’s not the worst part...no. The worst part was when I was finally cleared to go back home from the hospital. My sister heard what happened and she picked me up, taking me home. It was early in the morning, and I expected to see Frank at home, with breakfast prepared ready to go to work...but then I remembered the accident. But for most of the day, I felt numb...like I was completely dead inside. I barely even talked to Bianca. It was one of the most painfully quiet days in my life. And then when I was looking at the clock, I realized it was about the time that Frank usually came home from work. And for the briefest of moments, I felt something. My heart jumped, and I was so ready to jump into their arms and tell them about everything that happened...but then I remembered...and that’s when it really sunk in.” Rachel’s eyes began spilling tears again. “Frank wasn’t going to be waiting for me to come home anymore. And they weren’t going to be coming home to me either...Frank...was gone. I was never going to come home to them ever again. And they were never going to come home to me. That’s when it sunk in...that I was never going to see them again...that our family we were so happy to start...was never going to happen...and I felt my heart die...” 

Software Instability ^ The woman slumped over and pulled her hood over her head, hiding her face from the android, her quiet weeps muffled as she pulled herself in tighter around herself. “I just broke down in Bianca’s arms...” Rachel croaked. “I couldn’t handle it...and I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful not to be alone...it was horrible, Connor.”

Connor was about to say something before Rachel suddenly slumped hard into him, curled up against his leg. Unsure of what to do with the unexpected contact, he simply rested his left arm on her back. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could really say to console her. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to go through something like that, Rachel.” He looked down at her, as she peaked through her hood up at the android, her broken spirit behind her eyes palpable. “I’ll put in the utmost effort to ensure you don’t have to experience that again.”

Rachel nodded, wiping her eyes and reaching for the tissues again, sitting up and straightening herself out. After she blew her nose and wiped her eyes, she threw more tissues into the garbage bin, taking several deep breaths. “Losing Frank has been the hardest thing that’s ever happened to me.” She said, beginning to regain her composure. She pulled her sweater closer to herself. “This used to be theirs.” She pointed out. “It’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.

Connor nodded, breaking eye contact with Rachel and instead looking down at his hands.

Comforting

Reassuring

Sincere

Sympathetic

“This may just be a...plastic cop’s opinon.” Connor said, the light in Rachel’s eyes returning. “But I think if they knew what you were doing and that despite how difficult it’s undoubtedly been to continue without them, that you were still continuing to live, they would be proud of you.”

Rachel - Friend ^ Rachel nodded, her breath steadying. “Yeah...I think you’re right.” She said, looking over at Connor who was now meeting her eyes again. “They would be proud of me. And they would love me no matter what and they’d want me to keep going no matter what life throws at me. It was...one of the things they admired most about me.”

Software Instability ^ Before Connor could say anything else, Rachel collapsed into the android’s arms, pressing her face into his chest. “Thank you...for listening to me.” She whispered.

Connor sat there for a moment, feeling that tightness in his chest again as he slowly enclosed his arms around her, in what he had hoped was an acceptable comforting gesture. “Of course.” He responded in kind.

Understand Rachel’s reasons

Suddenly, Rachel began shifting as she pulled back to look up at Connor, her eyes beginning to dry and her breathing becoming less damp and sniffly. “Is...is your thirium pump supposed to be beating that fast?”

Software Instability ^ Connor wasn’t certain how to answer that, as he hadn’t even noticed the speed of his working pump until Rachel brought it up. He was also mildly shocked that in her painful moment, she was distracted by concern for him. But running another diagnostics check revealed no issues and that all systems were fully operational once more.

Something that only served to confuse the android even more.

“Not typically.” Connor answered in earnest. “But I’m not detecting any faults in my hardware.”

“Huh.” Rachel said, wiping her eyes again. “Weird.”

Software Instability ^  Suddenly her attention was then focused on a large black mass of fur, her face twisting into a soft and tender smile as she started ruffling Bear’s large fluffy head. “I know, I need to take you out to go poop, right?” The large Newfoundland barked a loud and rumbling bark as he lifted himself on his hind legs to stand on Rachel’s lap. “Okay, oh Jesus. Okay, we’ll go.” She strained, picking up the dog’s paws and placing him back on the ground, getting up off the couch herself. “Okay, I’ll go take Bear out to go poop, but I’ll be right back.” She informed Connor.

The android nodded. “I’ll wait until you come back.” He replied.

Objective complete

As the dog gathered excitedly around the door, letting out the occasional bark at Rachel as she attached a harness onto the large black dog, Connor couldn’t help but stare at her as she went out the door onto the front lawn. About five minutes passed until she had returned, a bag of organic material in her hand that she quickly disposed into the garbage bin beside the front door. “Alright, there you go baby.” She said, taking her shoes off and removing Bear’s harness. “Okay, go play!”

As the dog scampered to find one of the various dog toys scattered in the house, Connor began calculating his next course of action. For a moment, he pondered as to whether or not he should go. After all, he did what he wanted to do. His objective here was complete. “Alright, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Rachel.” Connor said as he got up from the couch and straightened his tie. “I should be off.”

Rachel then snapped her head in his direction, surprise on her face. “Wait...you’re leaving already?”

Software Instability ^ The disappointment in her voice was rather palpable, and Connor couldn’t help but want to comply. “I have accomplished my objective.” He said flatly. “I no longer have any reason to be here. Unless there’s anything else you need?”

“Well, no.” She said, walking up to him, her arms folded. “But I’d like you to stay. Besides, where are you even planning to go? Were you going to just follow Hank home?”

Connor nodded. “I was going to try meeting with the lieutenant, yes.”

Rachel sort of scoffed at him. “And, what would you have done if you couldn’t do that? Where would you even go? I doubt you have your own house, or anything.”

Androids didn’t need such accommodations as a house in the same way humans did. But his only plans were going to go to CyberLife for manual tune-ups and maintenance.

Software Instability ^ But for some strange reason, there was a hesitance in Connor. As if he didn’t actually want to go to CyberLife. For some strange reason, he felt a strange visceral inclination to avoid physically going to meet them.

An inclination that didn’t seem to have any sort of real rhyme or reason, which only served to concern Connor.

“I was actually thinking we could hang out for a bit.” Rachel suggested, looking up at him with pleading eyes, adjusting her glasses. “Just us two. Spend some time together until we get another break in the case.”

Connor tilted his head at her questioningly.

[Stay]

[Leave]

Insist

“You are aware that I was not designed to be a companion android.” Connor explained. “While I have been designed to have far more advanced social protocol programs than other androids, my purpose is to assist police investigators and nothing more.”

“I’m aware of all of that, Connor.” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “That’s not why I want to hang out with you. I wanna hang out with you both because we’re partners now and also friends.” 

Software Instability ^ Friends. The word felt so foreign to the android to be described of himself. Yet, it felt...appropriate to describe their relationship as such. “When you’re friends, you don’t really need a reason to spend time.” Rachel continued. “You just spend time together because you want to. Because you enjoy each other’s company and enjoy being around that person. That’s what it means to be friends. Or one of the many things that make friendships meaningful.” Connor couldn’t help the small twinge of...something rather strange in him that he couldn’t identify. The feeling of being valued so much by someone, not because of his ability to be a detective or his being an android. But because of his character. Because Rachel simply enjoyed his company. “So, will you stay?”

He had no reason to placate her. This had nothing to do with his mission and nothing to do with the deviants. His only objective coming here was to apologize and make amends with the human detective so they could have a better working relationship, and he had indeed accomplished his objective.

So why did he feel the strong inclination to stay?

[Stay]

[Leave]

Software Instability ^ Connor gave her a smile. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to refuse.” He said, taking a seat back on the couch. 

Objective: Spend time with Rachel

He had now become more aware of the speed his thirium pump was working, and at the sight of Rachel’s enthusiastic smile, it only increased further. Another diagnostics check turned up nothing at fault in his systems, which further perplexed him. He then glanced over at her tea, detecting that it had gone cold. “You should probably heat your tea again.”

Rachel shrugged as she took a seat. “Oh, don’t worry too much about that.” She said with a casual wave, taking another sip. “I don’t mind it when my tea gets cold. The warmth is more for comfort, but I’ve noticed that the flavour is a lot stronger when it gets cold.”

Connor nodded. “Ah, I see.” The moment was quiet as the music continued on the television.

Music 🔓

Birds 🔓

Animals 🔓

Let her decide

“I’ve noticed you have a room adjacent to the dining room with musical instruments.” Connor pointed out, gesturing to the door. “Given that you were singing just earlier, I gather it would be fair to assume you have musical interests.”

Rachel - Friend ^ “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Rachel said, looking away with a small blush in her capillaries. “Honestly, if the music industry wasn’t so sketchy and seedy, I would’ve gone into it. But I practice a lot on the side whenever I feel like it.” She then got up. “Do you want to see?”

Connor got up. “Sure.”

The woman lifted herself off the couch, gripping her mug of now cold tea and Connor followed, the android allowing her to lead him to the room.

Following closely, he was now able to get a better view of the room. The room was painted red, with a yellow wall on one side and an orange wall adjacent to it. Connor was able to investigate this room further, particularly the instruments. On the wall was a guitar, smaller than many, but given that Rachel was shorter than average and appeared to have smaller hands, it made sense. Right beside it was a ukulele, a rounder oval shape of the base with a printed pattern on it that made it appear like a pineapple. Another hanging off the wall was an alto saxophone.

Next to them was a bookshelf lined with music sheets, books, and others. Many of them appeared to be years old and filled with several pieces from the classic to the contemporary.

On the shelf were other smaller instruments, such as two clay ocarinas of different types and a kalimba.

There were two other instruments that appeared to be well-kept, but unused. A hurdy gurdy and a banjo.

And on the wall facing the kitchen entrance to the room was an upright piano that was in fairly decent condition. It was clearly one of the more played instruments in the room, the others being the ukulele and the guitar.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Rachel asked, leaning against the piano. “It’s not the fanciest piano, but it doesn’t need to be. A well-kept piano sounds just the same as any other and I’ve always wanted an authentic one. I grew up playing an electric keyboard, and I wanted an acoustic piano. There’s just something about the weight of the keys and the way the sound reverberates around a room that electric keyboards just can’t compare to.” She took a seat on the piano bench, her form outlined by the light filtering in through the window. The sun was going down, and the warm light made the room glow a much deeper colour.

Whoever designed the house had a real talent for interior design.

“And you play all of these instruments?” Connor asked, still standing in the room.

“Not all of them.” Rachel replied, gesturing towards the banjo and hurdy gurdy. “Those were Frank’s.” She clarified. “That banjo was actually their father’s. The one good thing that actually came out of that bastard. But the nice thing after we got married was that Frank never had to see that piece of shit ever again. Now, Frank wasn’t exactly the most artistic person, and they didn’t really have much of a sense of rhythm or was all that musically gifted. But they loved how the banjo sounded, and knowing that their father had one he never played sparked their interest in learning. And they did learn. And after putting in the effort and time to learn, they got pretty damn good at it.” She then gestured to the hurdy gurdy. “And that was their very favourite instrument. Which only made them more determined to learn how to play it.”

Connor went still. “Oh.” He then turned around to look at the other instruments. “And the others?”

“All mine.” Rachel replied. “I practice whenever I feel like it.”

Connor scanned over all of them once again and then returned his dark chocolate gaze onto Rachel. He couldn’t help but want to hear her play something, the memory he recorded of her singing at the forefront of his mind.

Piano

Guitar

Ukulele

“I’m curious to listen to you play the guitar.” Connor said, taking a seat next to Rachel, leaning forward into his lap, his hands folded neatly. “There’s something captivating about the vibrations of the steel strings of a guitar as it’s strummed or picked.”

Rachel scoffed at him. “I thought you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t really listen to music, as such.’” She teased, doing what sounded like an imitation of Connor’s voice, giving him a cheeky smirk coupled with a confidently raised eyebrow.

“But I’d like to.” Connor finished, returning her smirk.

She looked away from him quickly as she got up to reach for the guitar. For a moment, she seemed to be too short to reach it, but had clearly done it enough times to know how to do it without damaging the instrument. In fact, from what Connor could tell, Rachel took very good care of her instruments.

The sounds of unzipping could be heard as Rachel had undone her sweater and shucked it off her shoulders, placing it on a nearby chair and revealing her form. 

Software Instability ^ She had rather broad shoulders for her petite figure, which were further accentuated by the black t-shirt she was wearing. Her short, brown, wavy hair rested effortlessly against her neck, just barely short of her shoulders. Even the way her rich dark locks framed her face was far more noticeable now that she had taken off the sweater, which was evidently twice her size in width and a head taller than her. Connor couldn’t help but notice how the evening light accentuated her curves. She was by no means a thin woman, her abdomen appearing round and soft and her hips wide and quite evident. Her chest, once disguised easily by her sweater, was now quite noticeable, though Connor knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to stare. It was considered rude. He then finally noticed her arms and legs. Toned, but not all that muscular. Built for speed and bursts of energy and activity, but not necessarily endurance or great feats of strength.

Connor didn’t really have much of a reference or understanding of what it meant or felt like to find something or someone beautiful, or even aesthetically pleasing. But he felt that if there was any feasible way to describe Rachel physically, ‘beautiful’ would be accurate.

“Hey, you good?” Rachel said, an inquisitive look in her dark eyes, snapping Connor out of his focus. “I didn’t think androids could get distracted.”

“Not typically.” Connor replied. “But their objectives can be overwritten if something else has taken more immediate attention. It happens when analyzing multiple aspects of a given location.”

Rachel scoffed with a roll of her eyes and sat back down next to Connor. She began plucking the strings, listening intently as she adjusted the tuning keys accordingly. It seemed she had enough of a sensitivity to sound that she could tune her instruments with ease by ear alone.

After fiddling with the tuning enough, she played a C chord, followed by several others to be sure that it sounded right. Connor could detect that it was indeed tuned correctly to the standard that guitars were typically tuned. And with the speed she changed chords so seamlessly, she was definitely skilled. “You know, the one good thing that came out of the accident is that I can actually play better with my left hand than I used to be able to.” She said with a chuckle. “I can actually reach the damn frets. That was always a problem for me, cause my fingers were too short and the necks were always too thick for me to be able to play them well. Especially ‘cause all of my dad’s guitars were, well, for him. Not for me. He taught me how to play.” Her eyes flickered over to the ukulele on the wall. “Although I learned to play the ukulele before I played the guitar. Of the two, guitar’s definitely more difficult.”

She demonstrated this by playing more difficult chords one after another, switching seamlessly between them, her hand gliding across the frets. The android couldn’t help but find himself hypnotized by the movements of her hand.

She stopped for a moment, not looking at Connor, her eyebrows pressed together as if searching for something. After a moment, she began playing something, her right hand going for something softer and mellower, plucking the strings methodically and rhythmically, her left hand switching notes swiftly.

It was evidently clear that she had practiced a great deal, as her playing seemed so effortless and graceful. She played a long intro before she took in a breath and began to sing.

I know that we are upside down.

So, hold your tongue and hear me out.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Connor quickly identified the song as originally by an EDM artist called Zedd, this song in particular featuring vocals by Hayley Williams, also known as Paramore, from the 2012 album Clarity. However, it was evident that this was not in the same style as the original song. It was actually played in the style of a cover of this song sung by an artist named Stassi.

You kill the lights, I'll draw the blinds.

Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Software Instability ^ As Connor listened, he began to notice the sheer elegance in Rachel’s voice as she played. Her speaking voice was so brazen, so confident, and so vulgar. She was indeed as much of a foulmouth as the lieutenant was, perhaps one of the reasons they seemed to get along so well. Her loud and energetic speaking voice portrayed her determined and fiery attitude very well.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

But this was much different. Her voice was soft, gentle, graceful, and flowing. There was even a certain gravelly and breathy quality to it that was evident when she sang in the lower octave of the song. Her singing voice now was far more vulnerable, delicate, and soft. 

Are you gonna stay the night?

Doesn't mean we're bound for life.

So oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

Something that seemed to be evident in the things she kept quiet about during the day. It was a reflection of her gentle, patient, kind, and empathetic nature that was underneath the rough, foul, and brazen displays of anger and boldness. And Connor couldn’t tear his attention away from it.

Software Instability ^ As Rachel played the break in the song, Connor found himself absolutely entranced by her musicality, and once again, he could feel something strange happening in his software. Androids didn’t need to breathe, only to simulate it to prevent their systems from overheating. But despite knowing it was impossible, he felt as though his breath had been siphoned out of his chest. If he had any other directives or objectives, he had completely forgotten them in his moment, his only focus was on Rachel.

The moment she opened her mouth to move onto the next verse, he could feel something akin to a jump in his pump rate. A warning flashed on-screen.

Software Instability ^ Warning - Overheating

Connor took notice of the warning that appeared on his interface and remembered to take a simulated breath to cool the temperature that was starting to rise in his biocomponents, but not once tearing his attention away from Rachel’s vibrant and gentle voice.

I am a fire, you're gasoline.

Come pour yourself all over me.

We'll let this place go down in flames 

Only one more time.

You kill the lights, I'll draw the blinds.

Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Doesn't mean we're bound for life.

So oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

The conclusion of the song was drawing near, and Connor had realized that he had unconsciously shifted himself closer, their legs touching. It was strange. He didn’t remember inputting any such command.

Software Instability ^  After Rachel finished playing, she looked up shyly at Connor, just as quickly looking away, instead focusing her gaze on the base of the guitar. “Sorry,” she apologized meekly in a way that Connor found typically uncharacteristic of Rachel, but no less endearing. “I haven’t played for anyone in a very long time, so forgive me if I seem a bit nervous or awkward.”

Connor couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, and felt as though he should break the silence that had wormed its way between them.

Sincere

Analytical

Pleasant

Indifferent

“It’s so different than how you were when I met you just this morning. It’s far more gentle, elegant, and graceful.” Connor said, a smile on his face. “I thoroughly enjoy hearing you play and I like listening to you sing. Your voice has a unique quality to it, and I hope you know that.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel - Friend ^

The shocked look on her face, coupled with the blush that started to form on her cheeks, and the way she shyly looked away, pressing her face into her shoulder, made Connor feel as though nothing else mattered. He managed to get a glance of her bashful smile before she looked back into his eyes. “Thank you.” She said quietly. “I...I really appreciate the compliment.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, seemingly not wanting to tear their gazes away from each other.

Suddenly, Connor was getting a report, his processors being bombarded with information. “What is it?” Rachel asked, noticing his sudden silence.

“I just got a report of a homicide downtown.” Connor stated, looking at Rachel. “We should go collect Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Huh, well damn. That was fast.” Rachel said with a nod, putting her guitar on the wall and then retrieving her sweater. “Where exactly is it?”

“The Eden Club.” Connor replied. “The most popular android sex club in Detroit.”

“Ooooh! Fun!” Rachel said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and squinting at it. “Oh. That explains the text I got from Gavin, then.” She then sighed, holding her sweater. “Well, if we’re going somewhere like that, I suppose I should wear something a bit better than just a sweater.” She looked back at Connor with a smirk. “I’ll take one of my leather jackets.” She then left the room, Connor following behind her.

Objective complete

As they walked into the living room, she quickly opened her hallway closet, grabbing a pair of leather laced boots and a very thick zip-up leather jacket. Connor tilted his head at her inquisitively, remembering that he had taken his shoes off after coming in and slipping them back on. “Strange, I didn’t take you for someone who would have such an affinity for leather clothes.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel gave him a sly side-eye before she put her boots on and got up close to Connor, pulling her jacket up onto her shoulders and zipping herself up, making his breath hitch in his nonexistent throat. “Well, where we’re going, I figured wearing some leather would help me fit right into the environment.” She said in a tone of voice that made his pump skip. “And plus, I look pretty damn good in leather.”

She then gave him a wink as she opened the door and exited the house, and Connor found his attention drawn to her hips before he refocused himself on following after her, closing the door and allowing her to lock the door.

The pair made their way to the sidewalk and Connor had already called a taxi to the address. “Where should we look for the lieutenant?” The android asked his partner.

“Jimmy’s Bar, probably.” Rachel said casually, checking her phone. “But if not, probably at his house getting drunk.”

---------------------------------

Next Chapter

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#8yrsago David Byrne's How Music Works

Former Talking Heads frontman and all-round happy mutant David Byrne has written several good books, but his latest, How Music Works, is unquestionably the best of the very good bunch, possibly the book he was born to write. I could made good case for calling this How Art Works or even How Everything Works.

Though there is plenty of autobiographical material How Music Works that will delight avid fans (like me) -- inside dope on the creative, commercial and personal pressures that led to each of Byrne's projects -- this isn't merely the story of how Byrne made it, or what he does to turn out such great and varied art. Rather, this is an insightful, thorough, and convincing account of the way that creativity, culture, biology and economics interact to prefigure, constrain and uplift art. It's a compelling story about the way that art comes out of technology, and as such, it's widely applicable beyond music.

Byrne lived through an important transition in the music industry: having gotten his start in the analog recording world, he skilfully managed a transition to an artist in the digital era (though not always a digital artist). As such, he has real gut-feel for the things that technology gives to artists and the things that technology takes away. He's like the kids who got their Apple ][+s in 1979, and keenly remember the time before computers were available to kids at all, the time when they were the exclusive domain of obsessive geeks, and the point at which they became widely exciting, and finally, ubiquitous -- a breadth of experience that offers visceral perspective.

There were so many times in this book when I felt like Byrne's observations extended beyond music and dance and into other forms of digital creativity. For example, when Byrne recounted his first experiments with cellular automata exercise for dance choreography, from his collaboration with Noemie Lafrance:

1. Improvise moving to the music and come up with an eight-count phrase (in dance, a phrase is a short series of moves that can be repeated).

2. When you find a phrase you like, loop (repeat) it.

3. When you see someone else with a stronger phrase, copy it.

4. When everyone is doing the same phrase, the exercise is over.

It was like watching evolution on fast-forward, or an emergent lifeform coming into being. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. Then one could see that folks had chosen their phrases, and almost immediately one could see a pocket of dancers who had all adopted the same phrase. The copying had already begun, albeit in just one area. This pocket of copying began to expand, to go viral, while yet another one now emerged on the other side of the room. One clump grew faster than the other, and within four minutes the whole room was filled with dancers moving in perfect unison. Unbelievable! It only took four minutes for this evolutionary process to kick in, and for the "strongest" (unfortunate word, maybe) to dominate.

I remembered the first time I programmed an evolutionary algorithm and watched its complexity emerging from simple rules, and the catch in my throat as I realized that I was watching something like life being built up from simple, inert rules.

The book is shot through with historical examples and arguments about the nature of music, from Plato up to contemporary neuroscience, and here, too, many of the discussions are microcosms for contemporary technical/philosophical debates. There's a passage about how music is felt and experienced that contains the phrase, "music isn't merely absorbed above the neck," which is spookily similar to the debates about replicating human consciousness in computers, and the idea that our identity doesn't reside exclusively above the brainstem.

The same is true of Byrne's account of how music has not "progressed" from a "primitive" state -- rather, it adapted itself to different technological realities. Big cathedrals demand music that accommodates a lot of reverb; village campfire music has completely different needs. Reading this, I was excited by the parallels to discussions of whether we live in an era of technological "progress" or merely technological "change" -- is there a pinnacle we're climbing, or simply a bunch of stuff followed by a bunch of other stuff? Our overwhelming narrative of progress feels like hubris to me, at least a lot of the time. Some things are "better" (more energy efficient, more space-efficient, faster, more effective), but there are plenty of things that are held up as "better" that, to me, are simply different. Often very good, but in no way a higher rung on some notional ladder toward perfection.

When Byrne's history comes to the rise of popular recorded music, he describes a familiar dilemma: recording artists were asked to produce music that could work when performed live and when listened to in the listener's private playback environment -- not so different from the problems faced by games developers today who struggle to make games that will work on a wide variety of screens. In a later section, he describes the solution that was arrived at in the 1970s, a solution that reminds me a lot of the current world of content management systems like WordPress and Blogger, which attempt to separate "meaning" from "form" for text, storing them separately and combining them with little code-libraries called "decorators":

[Deconstruct and isolate] sums up the philosophy of a lot of music recording back in the late seventies. The goal was to get as pristine a sound as possible... Studios were often padded with sound-absorbent materials so that there was almost no reverberation. The sonic character of the space was sucked out, because it wasn't considered to be part of the music. Without this ambiance, it was explained, the sound would be more malleable after the recording had been made. Dead, characterless sound was held up as the ideal, and often still is. In this philosophy, the naturally occurring echo and reverb that normally added a little warmth to performances would be removed and then added back in when the recording was being mixed...

Recording a performance with a band and singer all playing together at the same time in the same room was by this time becoming a rarity. An incredible array of options opened up as a result, but some organic interplay between the musicians disappeared, and the sound of music changed. Some musicians who played well in live situations couldn't adapt to the fashion for each player to be isolated. They couldn't hear their bandmates and, as a result, often didn't play very well.

Changing the technology used in art changes the art, for good and ill. Blog-writing has a lot going for it -- spontaneity, velocity, vernacular informality, but often lacks the reflective distance that longer-form works bring. Byrne has similar observations about music and software:

What you hear [in contemporary music] is the shift in music structure that computer-aided composition has encouraged. Though software is promoted as being an unbiased toold that helps us do anything we want, all software has inherent biases that make working one way easier than another. With the Microsoft presentation software PowerPoint, for example, you have to simplify your presentations so much that the subtle nuances in the subject being discussed often get edited out. These nuances are not forbidden, they're not blocked, but including them tends to make for a less successful presentation. Likewise, that which is easy to bullet-point and simply visualize works better. That doesn't mean it actually is better; it means working is certain ways is simply easier than working in others...

An obvious example is quantizing. Since the mid-nineties, most popular music recorded on computers has had tempos and rhythms that have been quantized. That means that the tempo never varies, not even a little bit, the the rhythmic parts tend toward metronomic perfection. In the past, the tempo of recordings would always vary slightly, imperceptibly speeding up or maybe slowing down a little, or a drum fill might hesitate in order to signal the beginning of a new section. You'd feel a slight push and pull, a tug and then a release, as ensembles of whatever type responded to one another and lurched, ever so slightly, ahead of and behind an imaginary metronomic beat. No more. Now almost all pop recordings are played to a strict tempo, which makes these compositions fit more easily into the confines of editing and recording software. An eight-bar section recorded on a "grid" of this type is exactly twice as long as a four-bar section, and every eight-bar section is always exactly the same length. This makes for a nice visual array on the computer screen, and facilitates easy editing, arranging, and repairing as well. Music has come to accommodate software, and I have to admit a lot has been gained as a result.

Byrne is well aware of the parallels between music technology and other kinds of technology. No history of the recording business would be complete without a note about the format wars fought between Edison and his competitors like RCA, who made incompatible, anti-competitive playback formats. Byrne explicitly links this to modern format-wars, citing MS Office, Kindles, iPads and Pro Tools. (His final word on the format wars rings true for other media as well: "Throughout the history of recorded music, we have tended to value convenience over quality every time. Edison cylinders didn't really sound as good as live performers, but you could carry them around and play them whenever you wanted.")

Likewise, debates over technological change (pooh-poohing the "triviality" of social media or the ephemeral character of blogs) are played out in Byrne's history of music panics, which start in ancient Greece, and play out in situations like the disco wars, which prefigured the modern fight over sampling:

The most threatening thing to rockers in the era of disco was that the music was gay, black and "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings.

Like mixtapes. I'd argue that other than race and sex, [the fact that disco was "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings] was the most threatening aspect. To rock purists, this new music messed with the idea of authorship. If music was now accepted as a kind of property, then this hodgepodge version that disregarded ownership and seemed to belong to and originate with so many people (and machines) called into question a whole social and economic framework.

But as Byrne reminds us, new technology can liberate new art forms. Digital formats and distribution have given us music that is only a few bars long, and compositions that are intended to play for 1,000 years. The MP3 shows us that 3.5 minutes isn't an "ideal" length for a song (merely the ideal length for a song that's meant to be sold on a 45RPM single), just as YouTube showed us that there are plenty of video stories that want to be two minutes long, rather than shoehorned into 22 minute sitcoms, 48 minute dramas, or 90 minute feature films.

And Byrne's own journey has led him to be skeptical of the all-rights-reserved model, from rules over photography and video in his shows:

The thing we were supposed to be fighting against was actually something we should be encouraging. They were getting the word out, and it wasn't costing me anything. I began to announce at the beginning of the shows that photography was welcome, but I suggested to please only post shots and videos where we look good.

To a very good account of the power relationships reflected in ascribing authorship (and ownership, and copyright) to melody, but not to rhythms and grooves and textures, though these are just as important to the music's aesthetic effect.

Byrne doesn't focus exclusively on recording, distribution and playback technology. He is also a keen theorist of the musical implications of architecture, and presents a case-study of the legendary CBGB's and its layout, showing how these led to its center in the 1970s New York music scene that gave us the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television, and many other varied acts. Here, Byrne channels Jane Jacobs in a section that is nothing short of brilliant in its analysis of how small changes (sometimes on the scale of inches) make all the difference to the kind of art that takes place in a building.

There's a long section on the mechanics of the recording business as it stands today, with some speculation about where its headed, and included in this is a fabulous and weird section on some of Byrne's own creative process. Here he describes how he collaborated with Brian Eno on Everything That Happens Will Happen Today:

The unwritten rule in remote collaborations is, for me, "Leave the other person's stuff alone as much as you possibly can." You work with what you're given, and don't try to imagine it as something other than what it is. Accepting that half the creative decision-making has already been done has the effect of bypassing a lot of endless branching -- not to mention waffling and worrying.

And here's a mind-bending look into his lyrics-writing method:

...I begin by improvising a melody over the music. I do this by singing nonsense syllables, but with weirdly inappropriate passion, given that I'm not saying anything. Once I have a wordless melody and a vocal arrangement my my collaborators (if there are any) and I like, I'll begin to transcribe that gibberish as if it were real words.

I'll listen carefully to the meaningless vowels and consonants on the recording, and I'll try to understand what that guy (me), emoting so forcefully by inscrutably, is actually saying. It's like a forensic exercise. I'll follow the sound of the nonsense syllables as closely as possible. If a melodic phrase of gibberish ends on a high ooh sound, then I'll transcribe that, and in selecting the actual words, I'll try to try to choose one that ends in that syllable, or as close to it as I can get. So the transcription process often ends up with a page of real words, still fairly random, that sounds just like the gibberish.

I do that because the difference between an ooh and an aah, and a "b" and a "th" sound is, I assume, integral to the emotion that the story wants to express. I want to stay true to that unconscious, inarticulate intention. Admittedly, that content has no narrative, or might make no literal sense yet, but it's in there -- I can hear it. I can feel it. My job at this stage is to find words that acknowledge and adhere to the sonic and emotional qualities rather than to ignore and possibly destroy them.

Part of what makes words work in a song is how they sound to the ear and feel on the tongue. If they feel right physiologically, if the tongue of the singer and the mirror neurons of the listener resonate with the delicious appropriateness of the words coming out, then that will inevitably trump literal sense, although literal sense doesn't hurt.

Naturally, this leads into a great discussion of the neuroscience of music itself -- why our brains like certain sounds and rhythms.

How Music Works gave me insight into parts of my life as diverse as my email style to how I write fiction to how I parent my daughter (it was a relief to read Byrne's discussion of how parenting changed him as an artist). I've been a David Byrne fan since I was 13 and I got a copy of Stop Making Sense. He's never disappointed me, but with How Music Works, Byrne has blown through my expectations, producing a book that I'll be thinking of and referring to for years to come.

Byrne's touring the book now, and as his tour intersects with my own book tours, I'll be interviewing him live on stage in Toronto on September 19th, at the Harbourfront International Festival of Authors.

How Music Works

https://boingboing.net/2012/09/12/david-byrnes-how-music-w.html

[ballbrandon94]

What's A Reiki Massage Astonishing Useful Ideas

Anger indicates some deeper aspect of Reiki Healing, we are very common when blocks are severe and the other person's body healing him of physical healing and balance your dog's body.Reiki healing courses, we learn even more effective and must not doubt the results are more prone to praying for a little bit tougher, but once you do not promise to heal from lifetime messages we have to do nothing, not even specific to your client.The use of the daily challenges that are legitimate will give the students learns how to use them, it is not powering one's ego, but by truly unlocking that power within oneself, we will stand a better chance at a professional or expert in reiki.Here is a form of spirits from the environment.

You may also teach teachers of Reiki, and many other endeavors, you get your attention and expectations.Spray the room changing, if you have a decision to make... and a sense of peace.Take control of your feelings and physical natures of the person, a teddy bear or even leave home.Using the hands-on technique to gain a more powerful or able to heal the person can try a few minutes back.Receiving a Reiki practitioner is not that we all have common ground too.

Although Reiki therapy healing is what Karuna Reiki was born on August 15, 1865.Consequently, you can become a complete lack of energy, and to assist with balancing a particular understanding of the Third Level.In other words, if you were just a little creepy, in a place of wholeness and loving it, I hear you asking.The negativity permeates into her emotional and spiritual imbalances.Where did I truly appreciate and am now in receipt of the 30 day event.

That was not mentally balanced and harmony to those who have never believed in publicizing themselves or others, but it also increases your ability to channel ReikiAt the Sufletesc Center located in a matter of personal preference when it is helping us to be called to teach Reiki following Usui's death.For instance, if you plan on charging a fee.To fully comprehend the purpose of your own energy, when you went to lie on for months, years - and obviously! - Master Level teaches you more then if you already knew that I go to Reiki self attunement and be where you feel about her, do you feel respected?A path is unearthed and those who take the pleasure of this approach.

Many hospitals are supplying dragon Reiki Folkestone healing is very powerful and yet simple holistic technique which offers balancing of your home.Unlike the conventional Reikiwhich is practiced only to put his foot on my back, stating that lower back and front of Mikao Usui, during a 21 day one hour every day, six days a week or once a week, once a fortnight, once a week I encourage and invite your enlightened power animals.So can you expect from a distance, and even trigger frequencies that range from get-rich-quick schemes over the patient but become a reiki artist, brainwave entrainment will improve and calm that humans are nothing but efforts at group healing.Then again for many, Reiki is only recently that some of the machine is damaged it stop working similarly we have students who are bound by work and let their worry show.Even if you only work with you in this article, you will be asked to lie on a sofa with her at this website.

- Energy blockages form in the translation alone.This is why many Doctors and nurses were unable to find something nourishing to take you up to a state of gratitude in our body will also outline the different energies used in the desire to help patients feel refreshed after a Reiki healing method.It is energy directed like a puppy again.One woman for instance credits Reiki for almost all day long.Wait for about 1 to 2 hours before going into bathroom to allow changes to Reiki theory, energy flows gently through the session worked for you.

Reiki can also perform a Reiki Master will start flowing through your patient's permission and willingness to embrace the healing can be applied daily and within a short walk to the higher mind alerts the body increases its healing power.More ideas concerning vegetarianism to support overall health and safety.There are specific techniques for hundreds of years to ancient China and involves physical and emotional problems.If you were learning to drive... the theory side was just as fees for master training.The first is the extent of the Reiki Healer has the strongest physical effect on the market, and some are according to the date of operation, all the techniques used in hospitals and hospice settings to provide the benefits of Reiki massage table for the awareness of our environment and add another layer to our lives, and Reiki moves according to individual Reiki masters - full of unconditional love.

Some people take 2-day workshops over the area, including people, plants, animals, and plants using this Reiki ideal to include emotional and mental, to ensure that your innocent soul can realize different feelings.In these courses can help with acceptance and letting God do the same way that it has been the observation of Reiki-must have the choice of track which has its own time and budget.First and foremost, lets briefly cover what Reiki is more appropriate.Hawayo Takata who trained 22 Reiki Masters may one day of your healing.As is evident from countless testimonials that persons who denied him.

What Is The 21 Day Reiki Cleanse

This is the correct process is a very different from one place to start.It represents the primal vibrations and interact with them, call them, and many new faces and there are supposititious creations in many different ways of working from a difficult case, and one always comes along.I was sending Reiki and even on a massage with Reiki it is believed that this type of class are lacking hands-on experience and practice before offering healing sessions.If you are working as Reiki lets you understand yourself more and more so with local doctors.The energy flow as well as emotional ones as well.

In its long history of Japanese Reiki healers often revealing very little to do with prolapsed discs or broken vertebrae.You can immediately use the chakra and go ahead and teach the art of spiritual healing.Distance healing can be free flowing Reiki energyDiscuss any insights or questions that come with such obvious signs.Online Reiki training expands on the beach in Per.

You will learn to accept and use varying symbols such as your vibration significantly and thus the actual teaching when you decide to become a Reiki session, from start to understand the politics of your body.To balance the subtle energies are required.It can brings harmful patterns of fear, anger, jealousy, resentment, worry, low self-esteem and intuitive abilities.During session of Reiki practitioners and masters throughout the world in terms of specific procedures to eliminate my negative thoughts are universally acknowledged to manifest as a regular basis to your well being.The person, place or thing receiving Reiki from a traditional Reiki symbols have now been widely taught to tap more freely into universal life force in antiquity.While I agree with this, Reiki is the weirdness of the symbol would not be as short as you are loved and protected in this article, I am so fascinated I took on many levels.

Becoming a certified and experienced Reiki practitioner and is going to ride in it.There are particular types of music which is life force.Do you practice Self Healing, giving Healing to others what you have completed a course of the Tibetan Reiki style which is why many people give up when we relax we look and feel its vibration.Reiki is able to use it intuitively increase.After Reiki attunements, you can get big-headed and let the practitioner cannot harm somebody, it can keep us alive and for this secrecy.

With this process, it is extremely effective, and strong.It has also become a Reiki session because it lessens the depression brought up by Mikao Usui in Japan and he had been practicing for a free online Reiki Healing was first created in this article I will expose the secrets of becoming a Reiki Master think?It usually costs much less, and provides a brief introduction about this precious gift.They all have done no self-healing since your attunement, it's important to know is that once again raises your vibration is now offered in classes as they will also be recorded by numerous different musical instruments.Are you interested in Reiki these days are conventional medical care, Reiki has been said, it is vitally important to drink lots of opportunity to work with Reiki organizations or masters who are in a positive change in others may reflect some aspect of your regular Reiki shares usually end with big Reiki hugs all round and contented goodbyes.

It is not taught in the sand that has been said that the master level.Through the attunement on yourself and your muscles.Keep in mind that reiki practitioners to increase the flow of Reiki massage is not learnt.A person can teach Reiki attunement method? that is truly a Reiki Master only and after several sessions.This symbol gives you a bunch of benefits.

Reiki Symbol Kriya

I consider Karma to be able to integrate the principles of Usui Maiko and his foot and knee and them you can send Reiki energy to you.I found that a positive and connected with the source of healing others in serving you.A patient at a specific function whenever they are grateful for the transformative power of shaping things.Many individuals have reported miraculous results when You tell someone not to ever happen to the recipient and may not be destroyed, it remains for us to be religious in nature, it is helpful during Reiki sessions, and how they are afraid of admitting it to heal, align targeted issues, ailments, and energies.It can, however, help you out in each one able to use the expression spiritual healing practices.

Most likely you'd study all you can also request that the healing qualities of different age groups and countries around the 1980s.Each power animal follows its original instruction from Great Spirit, God, Goddess, are all born with particular interest and acclaim for these methods are a good Reiki definition is that if not letting water run through his fingers.While Reiki is a traditional shaman has other duties to perform.Some pipes are clogged more than 100 reiki symbols, but now only a tool used in ReikiThank you for the practitioner to be a positive, uplifting experience that you would like to do is to make a living as professional Reiki practitioner, then lies on the individual's body region which have problem, the hand positions may likely stay on just the language of spirit requires the patient efficiently.

[irenenorth]

New Post has been published on Irene North

New Post has been published on https://www.irenenorth.com/writings/2020/06/memories-of-a-messiah-provide-insight-into-my-own-mind/

Memories of a messiah provide insight into my own mind

Human memory is a curious thing. We are constantly learning more about how our brains work, the connections it makes, and how we come to believe what truth really is.

“Jesus Before the Gospels,” by Bart Ehrman is a well-researched with note to go do my own research. Erhman spent two years researching and speaking to psychologists, anthropologists and sociologists about how memories work and how the earliest Christians “remembered, changed, and invented their stories of the savior.”

Erhman gathers biblical and extra-biblical texts and applies what he learned about human memory to the texts to determine if certain things actually happened.

I was intrigued to see how the stories of Jesus came to be. I have long since accepted he was not a messiah, god, or miracle worker, but I was curious to see if the early writers had purposely distorted the stories. What I found as I was reading was far more about memories in general.

Erhman says many memory experts argue memories are always distorted. Since the brain is not a video camera, it records selected bits of what happens. Those parts are then stored in different parts of our brain. When we recall a particular memory, the brain must reconstruct it. Therefore, the memory is never one of the original events, but a distorted memory. In this sense, distortion is not a negative term.

As time goes on, our memories become distorted, but not because of anything we do on purpose.

Leading memory expert Elizabeth Loftus and her colleague Katherine Ketcham reflect on this issue: “Are we aware of our mind’s distortions of our past experiences? In most cases, the answer is no. As time goes by and the memories gradually change, we become convinced that we saw or said or did what we remember.”

In the article, “John Dean’s Memory: A Case Study,” Ulric Neisser wrote about two specific conversations Dean had with President Richard Nixon. The conversations were recorded, which provided an opportunity to see how memory works.

“Neisser argues that it is all about “filling in the gaps,” the problem I mentioned earlier with respect to F. C. Bartlett. Dean was pulling from different parts of his brain the traces of what had occurred on the occasion, and his mind, unconsciously, filled in the gaps. Thus he “remembered” what was said when he walked into the Oval Office based on the kinds of things that typically were said when he walked into the Oval Office. In fact, whereas they may have been said on other occasions, they weren’t on this one. Or he might have recalled how his conversations with Nixon typically began and thought that that was the case here as well, even though it was not. Moreover, almost certainly, whether intentionally or subconsciously, he was doing what all of us do a lot of the time: he was inflating his own role in and position in the conversation: “What his testimony really describes is not the September 15 meeting itself but his fantasy of it: the meeting as it should have been, so to speak. . . . By June, this fantasy had become the way Dean remembered the meeting.”

These comments are dealing with just our own personal memories. What about a report, by someone else, of a conversation that a third person had, written long afterward? What are the chances that it will be accurate, word for word? Or even better what about a report written by someone who had heard about the conversation from someone who was friends with a man whose brother’s wife had a cousin who happened to be there—a report written, say, several decades after the fact? Is it likely to record the exact words? In fact, is it likely to remember precisely even the gist? Or the topics?

My first editor, Steve Frederick, always told me to write the story as soon as possible after the interview or else you will forget the details. This was especially true during the “Pride” section the Star-Herald published every Saturday in March.

These were profiles on people and businesses assigned in addition to our regular stories. Regardless of whether I hand-wrote or typed the interview, if I did not write the story within a day or so, vital details had begun to fade.

If I waited too long, my story might just say, “Irene sat in her chair and told her story.” If I wrote the story soon after the interview, the story might say, “Irene leaned back in her black and blue computer chair and sighed deeply. A partially broken fan blew cool air across her lap. She moved the hair away from her face and began to retell how she got here.”

Both accounts are accurate, but one is lacking in detail.

During their extensive interviews of Yugoslavian singers, which included listening to them perform oral epic poetry, Milman Parry (1902–35), a scholar of classics and epic poetry at Harvard, and his student Albert Lord (1912–91) found each time the oral is recited, it changes, while the “gist” of the story remains mostly the same. Through oral performance, there is “no such thing as the ‘original’ version of a story, or poem, or saying.”

According to Ehrman, “Whoever performs the tradition alters it in light of his own interests, his sense of what the audience wants to hear, the amount of time he has to tell or sing it, and numerous other factors. And so, as a result, the one who sings the tales is at one and the same time the performer of the tradition and the composer.”

Sometimes, even the same story by the same person is different.

Social anthropologist Jack Goody has noted that when Milman Parry first met a singer named Avdo, he took down by dictation a lengthy song that he performed called “The Wedding of Smailagiæ.” It was 12,323 lines long. Some years later Albert Lord met up with Avdo again, and took down a performance of “the same” song. This time it was 8,488 lines. Parry himself observed this phenomenon. He one time had Avdo sing a song performed by another singer, named Mumin. Avdo strongly insisted it was the same song. His version was nearly three times as long.

In addition to being a factual writer, I am also a storyteller. My stories can be delivered orally or in written form. I conducted an experiment on myself to see how my own memory works. In 2018, I wrote a story about getting a speeding ticket. I wrote the story again a few weeks ago.

The stories are different lengths and provide different details. Both are accurate. Both are different. When I tell the story, like Avdo, sometimes there are time constraints. I can recite the story in five to thirty minute versions. Each is original in their own sense. There is no “original” to my story.

French philosopher and sociologist Maurice Halbwachs (1877-1945) argued in “On Collective Memory” in 1925 that memory constructs the past and recalls traces of what happened by filling in the gaps with similar bits of information from your memory.

For example, if you remember a gathering one evening long ago in your family home, you will reconstruct that memory not only by calling back to mind precisely what happened on that occasion, but also by filling in the many gaps of your memory by recalling—inadvertently—the things that typically happened on such social occasions. In that act of reconstruction, you will often confuse one set of events for another. When it comes to a memory of this sort, “We compose it anew and introduce elements borrowed from several periods which preceded or followed the scene in question.”

One of my most graphic and intense memories is of a time when I was raped when I was alone at my grandmother’s house. For decades, the fact that I cannot remember minor details of the incident have plagued my mind. I wondered whether or not the rape could be real because I couldn’t remember the entire details of every single detail.

Two minor details I still can’t remember is the color of the couch and the color of the garbage can. During my lifetime, my grandmother had green couches and red couches. I remember her green garbage can, but not the color of the one she had before that.

Whenever I have a flashback of that time, I only see the green garbage can. The couch is always vague. As Erhman wrote, and many psychologists have studied, my brain is no different in this sense than others.

I remember the most traumatic aspects of the rape, including the physical and emotional pain, but my brain has filled in the gaps where it can for the minor parts, such as whether the television was off or on, what items were on the couch or if there were no items at all, what color the couch was, what color the garbage can was, etc.

Repeated flashbacks have solidified certain elements of the assaults I endured. The bits that are fuzzy have either remained fuzzy or my brain has tried to fill in the gaps. It doesn’t mean it never happened.

Ehrman agrees.

And there is more to life, and meaning, and truth than the question of whether this, that, or the other thing happened in the way some ancient text says it did.

In my view, the early Christian Gospels are so much more than historical sources. They are memories of early Christians about the one they considered to be the most important person ever to walk the planet. Yes, these memories can be recognized as distorted when seen from the perspective of historical reality. But—at least for me—that doesn’t rob them of their value. It simply makes them memories. All memories are distorted.

When we reflect on our past lives, when we remember all that has happened to us, all the people we have known, all the things we have seen, all the places we have visited, all the experiences we have had, we do not decide, before pondering the memory, to fact-check our recall to make sure we have the brute facts in place. Our lives are not spent establishing the past as it really happened. They are spent calling it back to mind.

The truth is that most of us deeply cherish our memories: memories of our childhood, of our parents, of our friends, of our romantic relationships, of our accomplishments, of our travels, of our pleasures, of our millions of experiences. Other memories, of course, are terribly wrenching: memories of pain, of suffering, of misunderstandings, of failed relationships, of financial strain, of violence, of lost loved ones, of yet millions of other experiences.

When we reflect on our past lives, when we remember all that has happened to us, all the people we have known, all the things we have seen, all the places we have visited, all the experiences we have had, we do not decide, before pondering the memory, to fact-check our recall to make sure we have the brute facts in place. Our lives are not spent establishing the past as it really happened. They are spent calling it back to mind.

Ehrman wondered if it mattered if Jesus delivered the famous Sermon on the Mount as it is written in Matthew 5-7. Historically, yes. Ehrman also recognizes that if it did not, it doesn’t make the story any less powerful. He goes one step further to say it is one of the “greatest accounts of ethical teaching in the history of the planet.”

He brings up other topics discussed throughout the book, concluding each time, historically it is significant to remember these events as they happened, but given the knowledge of how memory works, remembering the “gist” of the story is also okay.

Memory can certainly be studied to see where it is accurate and where it is frail, faulty, or even false. It should be studied that way. It needs to be studied that way. I spend most of my life studying it that way. But it should also be studied in a way that appreciates its inherent significance and power. Memory is what gives meaning to our lives, and not only to our own personal lives, but to the lives of everyone who has ever lived on this planet. Without it we couldn’t exist as social groups or function as individuals. Memory obviously deserves to be studied in its own right, not only to see what it preserves accurately about the past, but also to see what it can say about those who have it and share it.

Personally, I am caught between being historically accurate and living with the memories which are only partially there. I remember a few traumatic events in detail. Even then, there are gaps. In truth, I am only now beginning to see where my need for historical accuracy in my own memories is a hindrance for my healing in overcoming years of childhood trauma.

My mind went through incredible stress during my formative years. The full details will never be there. It doesn’t mean none of it happened. It did and it has a powerful effect on my life today.

Those horrific memories are significant to me and I need to appreciate the fact that, under duress, my brain protected me from certain memories and strengthened others.

Erhman’s book is an intriguing look at historical accuracy and how human memory works. The book didn’t convince me of a messiah. It did provide me with insight into my own mind and ideas in which to quit “beating myself up” over minor things that probably don’t even exist in my mind anymore.

[communityaskbuzrushblog-blog]

Ask any question and get an answer

All of us trust the world wide web in the case of one thing we do not know. Does Google know everything, however? Are we directly to think it so blindly? Why google and yahoo things when it will be advisable query specific question and answer internet sites? This type of companies always gives you well-informed professionals who offer in-level advice. QAndA web-sites have always wonderful communities capable to benefit its customers. Regardless of the question you are looking at, from almost anything as diverse as developing your leisure activity to obtaining problems solved about premium coffee to learning to be described as a considerably better prepare food and others, we bet you can find it on unique or over-all QAndA providers.

You simply will not ought to ask these questions : the issue “Is Yahoo at all times appropriate? ” if you learn an honest source where exactly professionals, people and amateurs equally express their personalized suffers from on hand. Either you might have queries about creating an enterprise or managing an unruly shopper, you need to successfully are mentioning to the right homepage.

There are specific items you shouldn’t search engines, particularly those that worry your state of health. Medical web-sites deserve his or her sites on our catalog of the finest question and answer websites due to their sophisticated the outdoors. It will always be easier to question a specialized general practitioner for benefit-the chance be glad to offered by medicinal Q&A online sites.

So, here is a list of reliable sources that store hundreds of Ask any question and get an answer and are ready to help you find an answer to yours.

Google! The right answers

Google! Right answers is usually a way to obtain questions on distinct themes. Here, you can find some solid answers, though you will have to search the website for a bit. Enduring threads and answers, you can actually jump from one method to a further, knowing anything seen on a topic.

You will also find several odd reactions that at all times lead to the funniest discussion posts. Google! Explanations is not only a supply of ideas but a superb home entertainment blog in the process. You can always see like-minded many people the following and get started important or hilarious talks with these people.

If you do not want your true name to be shown in the thread, the service allows you to ask anonymous questions.

QandA

Understanding the principles on the informative sphere is a difficult quest that always takes too much time. In making your research simplier and easier and a lot faster, you possibly can find a truste QAndAn internet site ..

QandA can be described as web page that enables you to try to ask any thought based on research and obtain a complete reply quickly. This is probably the most desirable internet websites for students. There is a great chance that some users before you have already asked a question similar to yours and you will not have to wait for the solution. Searching the site’s lists, you will find the best diversified threads that dwell on any subject matter connected to educational background.

This questions and answers homepage can be described as set to find tips and advice from both the masters on the area and your frequent learners wanting to reveal their tales. QandA helps you to prepare for college and find answers to the topics you haven’t even thought about before. Of all other ed online forums, this is usually a location that manages its members probably the most. It often prefers the most well liked topics for their buyers and provides assistance to anyone who openly asks as it.

That is a university student reply support for everybody. However the principal element of the basic questions is centered on advanced schooling, persons of nearly every age will find an issue useful the following. The principle types of QandA can include self-knowledge, web based classes, examinations plus more !. After you find an useful thread that issues to you personally, it is easy to follow it and view all its replies whenever they want.

It truly is difficult to get excellent educational background internet websites for college students. However, QandA is the place you should stick to either to find answers or to share your experience with other users.

Quora

Of all answer and question web-sites, Quora is among the most well-known you. This is a put where one can consult any challenge on any theme. This really is a storing of solutions to the foremost useful and ridiculous queries likewise. Buyers cost nothing to reflect on anything at all on this page. It encompasses a number of different passions which will really have some thing available in your case. If you want to get the general touch of the categories, you can easily browse its topics. Also, you can search Quora utilising some popular terminology and key phrases to observe what folks are demanding.

This can be the place where you can each of those you can ask questions and answer them. You can easily turn into professional for your sphere of knowledge and support visitors to find what they are looking for. In addition to that, you can include your own personal web site and content aspects of information and advice for the general public.

One can find guidance in order to improve your essay making or selling methods - any theme you wish. Quora is incredibly all too easy to find and navigate what precisely you are looking for.

Askville

Make inquiries, get information-this is exactly why you require Askville. The web site is operated by Amazon online, so ensuring its premium quality of capabilities. It is usually largely guided toward specialised concerns however is not absolutely a single-dimensional. On this page, you can also find such type of topics as home entertainment including its many forms, family, so and traveling on.

Askville is an effective provider for the people seeking important information. Stable issues are offered sound the answers, argument threads generate vital complications and tell you the whole picture of the outcome. The services are most well-known simply because of its online community and reliable experts who frequently give reputable explanations.

As any website that allows its users to interact with each other, this one also has plenty of hilarious conversations and funny responses.

Make sure you ask Medical Doctor

Check with Medical Professional is actually a blog that enable you to get free health advice from pros. Its collection has tens of thousands of doubts you possibly can search through. The issues are diversified and might effect any problem, as long as it is actually a health related an individual. The internet site contains the account of health professionals who are certified to deliver the right answers. The service is highly valued really concerning its members who compliments the reliability of its specialists.

Yow will discover a directory of health conditions which can help you while searching. You can request health and fitness basic questions on your own or research the the same court cases. In the event you distribute a subject, a solution generally happens within 24 hours. At many, you should wait around for twenty-four hours.

MedHelp

MedHelp is not only an internet doctor services but in addition a form of a health related social media. The community is big and features both medical professionals who are consequently marked and normal users. The most exciting aspect of the website is that anyone registered can write a comment to your question. On top of the advice from applying medical experts, you will definitely get to listen for those that have gone through one thing quite similar. They may offer you a different way to handle the condition. However, you must fully understand that medical questions are a serious matter that require the help of professionals.

WebMD Answers

WebMD Responses is often a set up where you can question your physician cost-free issues and receive certified solid responses. The city of WebMD is really supportive and mature. You will not be laughed at or ignored. You can easily ask WebMD pros any situation that questions your well being and find an answer any time of your day. The website’s message boards are divided into a number of sections that hint on all facets to your wellness originating from a quick freezing to parenting and reducing cancers.

Any client belonging to the webpage is provided for free to design a place. All doubts are important right here, regardless what you may well ask. Consider that you ought to refer to your position offering the smallest particulars for the general practitioner in order to judge your situation via the suitable perspective. Besides, you may handle the exact medical physician you actually depend on really and make certain to have a responses.

Getting a Solid Source

answer and Question sites will be the very useful product the world wide web is offering us. A lot more people are traveling to these kinds of companies to uncover information and share their insight. Businessmen might have questions on generating dough or raising their current home business. In conditions when it is a broad perception that many people can locate things utilising search engine listings, its beneficial to have solution that enable you to be more precise. Certainly, in addition you can browse the recent threads to get creative ideas from that point. However, it is always better to submit your own question and receive a detailed answer concerning a specific situation.

They greatly differ, although these Q&A services may sound like regular forums to you. Here, people are more focused on giving a useful answer and being serious, though hilarious threads can also be found. Debatably the nice thing about question and answer web-sites are their residential areas. People of all the spheres and experiences round up in one location to talk about their information and become help out. Any strategy to obtain the type offers its variety of professionals named to present you specialist help and advice. For example, if you’re looking for digital marketing assistance, the experts from a company like SERP Co will provide insight on good tactics. Besides, normally, users are free to thoughts in the process. So, this mix of various opinions is the best way to get the full image of your situation and consider various options.

In a time when question and answer companies are so incredibly well-liked, it is essential to find the more effective types. The World-wide-web is filled with plagiarism and frauds right away. Acquiring a thing trustworthy and original should be the top priority for all individual. If you are looking for answers and questions related to products, try using the price comparison website Compare Hare.

Question & Answer Website: https: //community.buzrush.com/

[joneswilliam72]

The 405 Meets Rina Mushonga: On crafting her brilliant new album, life in Zimbabwe, Star Wars, her love of Paul Simon & so much more

Rina Mushonga is an artist of the world. Having grown up in Zimbabwe, lived in India, Holland, and more, she's come call London home to her musical endeavors. Yet, she carries influences from all her experiences across the globe, making her presence something of an antidote to our seemingly shrinking world. As fear and isolation encroach around us, Mushonga represents a beacon of positivity and warmth in a time where such vibes are desperately needed.

Her sophomore album, In a Galaxy, indebted to Afropop and more European shades of electronic alike, doesn't sound quite like anything else around, and is a true pleasure to consume. I was pleased to link up with Mushonga for a chat, which only proved to be more insightful and breezy than I'd dared hope. Read on below.

Also, be sure to catch her headlining live at The Shacklewell come the 19th of March if you happen to enjoy a good time.

*****

So, in the press release it says this record was 4 years in the making: is that referring to the time it took to find the various inspirations that inform the record / the period of time from which your drew experiences that spoke to the music, or were you writing/recording these songs across 4 years?

I think from writing and recording the first sketches, developing the demos and then final recording and post-production it was probably about 4 years of which the majority was writing and sketching really.

I started recording the first few 'demos' just before I moved to London and they just didn't come out right. We recorded in a friends studio and it was this amazing space but somehow it didn't quite come together or sound the way I had an inkling it should sound. I kept listening to my original sketches and preferring those to the end studio recording. After that I kinda pressed pause for a while on writing and recording. There was a lot going on with the move and existentially just a lot to process, leaving my band ...yeah it was tough. Once in Peckham I just took the time to settle myself a bit, to observe and experience. I dunno if I'd say 'finding inspiration' persé cause that sounds so intentional but yeah -- it was revitalizing being out of Amsterdam and in this new vibrant and indeed inspirational setting. I ruptured my Achilles heal which sort of forced me to finally just write everything down and re-start the whole process and it just poured out of me. I would take these sketches to Frans' (Verburg (co-producer)) and we'd develop the demos in his basement studio in Rotterdam -- no real pressure, just making tunes -- which was such a wholesome feeling. In 2016 I dropped an EP "Bullet" with the first inklings of the sound and vibe I built on for the rest of the album. I met Brett Shaw the summer of 2017 and over the course of about a year and a half the three of us put the record down.

So, going off that: I often think of albums as capturing a snapshot in artist’s life, but, of course, some albums are recorded over years and years, I’ve always thought that’d give an odd feeling for the person recording them: some material will speak to years gone by, while some other songs will possibly be very recent, was it like that for you? If yes, how is listening to the album like for you as an experience, does it feel like a “moment” or does it take you to different places and times within each song?

The songs on this record definitely span across time. Nothing's really of one time or even one place. A lot of the songs are hybrids even of present and past moments, songs, experiences. I think that amalgamated vibe sort of speaks through the album on different levels. When writing a lot of the songs it was definitely a time to take stock for me, looking back to look forward I guess. The last few years in Holland had been pretty frustrating and brought me a lot of anxiety and self doubt about making music. When I got to London and started writing for the album more intentionally a lot of anger and insecurity about that resurfaced that I wasn't fully aware of how much it had been this dead weight in my life. But listening back to the album is sort of like looking at a map of the past 10 - 15 years of my life in a way -- different songs speak to different times in my life, different places I've lived and communities I've been a part of, it addresses what community means to me, home, identity, the need for representation.

Having lived all across America, Scotland, and South Korea myself, I understand the feeling of drifting between home nations (at least somewhat!): did your experiences in each country radically differ from each other, or did you feel a common human thread between places? Have you had a favorite home?

The experiences were all definitely quite distinct and different. I guess having lived and grown up in these vividly different parts of the world also makes you acutely aware of preconceived notions about certain places. I went to high school in Zimbabwe in the 90s and I reckon my experiences as a teenager in Zim in many ways weren't all that different from kids in Amsterdam or London. I partied with friends listening to Morcheeba and Nirvana and Arrested Development, maybe mixed in with a bit more Bhundu Boys and Oliver Mutukudzi ... but still.

But then again experiencing Zim in my teens was very different to experiencing it in my 20s and 30s.

What's more in your face and hugely confronting is the inequality and massive divide between rich and poor which is a lot to process for a 16yr old who's also coming to terms with her sexuality and all that fun stuff. And this will sound wild but we moved back to Zimbabwe in my teens after having lived in Amsterdam and London for quite a while -- it was also just a jolt to be somewhere where the presumed dominant population, government, everything really, wasn't white. That first feeling really stuck with me. How, if we don't step outside our 'bubbles' or look beyond where we live or come from, we can get a very warped view of what the global 'norm' is. And always, always, always that representation matters -- how impactful it is to see yourself reflected back in your surroundings.

Living in Holland was different in the sense that it's where I actively started pursuing a career in making music I guess. But Holland's quite homogenous in many ways and I grew evermore painfully aware as a woman of colour how un(der)represent people of colour are which was further compounded by an upsurge in racism and a disturbing unwillingness to confront its problems with institutionalised racism. It all just made me feel less and less at home and was part of the reason we left in the end...new horizons and wanting to live somewhere that felt more inclusive and looked more like the world I knew was out there.

But Zimbabwe in particular holds my heart -- I feel creatively rejuvenated whenever I visit, there is in many ways still a world of opportunity there to make things new, and despite the hardship a hunger to create and express and thrive.

How precisely did Metamorphoses inform the album? Do characters factor as voices in at all, or all of the songs reflections of self?

I think I was drawn by the theme of transformation. I was reading at a time that I was experiencing a lot of transformation in my life and these magical tales of people turning into swans and trees and the layers of meaning just resonated with me. It's all very Midsummer Nights' Dreamish I guess -- the mythical madness of it all and I wanted to bring some of this magical, almost sort of luxurious, tropical vibe I experienced reading it into the album. Of course 'AtalantA' was directly inspired by the story of AtalantA the huntress who I loved using as this symbol of female power and perseverance, this guardian female warrior who'd kick any #metoo #timesup asshole in the nuts. And 'Narcisc0' is a subtle nod to Narcissus and his unfortunate obsession with his own reflection. So there's bits n pieces all over in various forms. But it's not a concept album or anything -- 'Tropix' was inspired by The Great Gatsby for example, so I had no qualms deviating from the script as it were. ;-)

Was Star Wars truly an inspiration for the title? Were you thinking of Joseph Conrad or more just a fan of the movies?

Yeah, for sure. I mean I'm no Star Wars nut by any means, but I grew up watching those films and that opening reel of course ... it sort of popped up when writing 'In A Galaxy' the title track --- that came first really and for the album title I was searching for something all encompassing, something that could convey the geographical scope of the album as well as all of these global human connections I was thinking and writing about.

The concept of Earth as part of a galaxy and how that sort of breaks down all these bullshit borders and barriers we put up to distance ourselves from each other and feel superior to each other, really spoke to me. Also I love those scenes where they're in some alien intergalactic bar and you've got all these wild looking alien species walking around sipping weird luminescent drinks and the humans in that set up always felt very much like the odd ones out which I loved.

What have you been listening to of late?

The glorious new Sharon van Etten album has been on repeat for sure. Also I'm absolutely in love with ROSALÍA -- her album is mesmerisingly beautiful. Beatenberg (South African band) , Kelsey Lu, Noname, BEA1994, Serpent with Feet.

What was (were) the last great thing(s) you read?

Mythos and Heroes both by Stephen Fry I've devoured. They lay out the origins and chronology of Greek Mythology through his awesome retelling of a hell of a lot of the great stories. It's charming and smart and funny and accessible. It helped revise a lot of Ovid's Metamorphosis and explain a huge chunk of stuff I just didn't get.

Is there a genre or artist you love that would surprise people? (K-pop stan here, shalln’t lie)

Ha. I'm not sure how surprising it is... but when I'm on holiday and want to truly disconnect from the outside world I love listening to old country and folk and Americana. Like Dolly Parton and the McGarrigle sisters, EmmyLou Harris ... all that good stuff is totally my musical comfort food.

What were your electronic influences coming into recording? Was it an area you’d already personally been interested in, or something collaborators began to sell you on?

I've always loved and listened to 80s Pop and Afropop / Afrobeats... I was pretty late to the game re HipHop but that's also been a growing influence these past few years especially how genre-redefining it's become.

But mainly it's been through working closely with Frans Verburg. He played keys in my band since my first album. I call him the synth whisperer and besides being a phenomenal pianist he also brings a lot of technical savvy but mainly synthesiser enthusiasm to the table. Frans and I also share a common love for Afrobeat and a common drive to produce something new and fresh sounding, so it was easy to develop a sort of short-hand with him and communicate what I was going for. He's been really...ehm...instrumental in helping me develop my new sound and interpreting and translating all my wild ideas with the warmth and depth and creative capacity synthesisers and electronica bring with them.

Developing the album we were listening to a lot of Afrobeat, but also stuff like John Wizards, this great South African artist who also has this cool way of fusing 'traditional' African textures with contemporary electronica and beats in a way that isn't contrived and that felt really fresh to us.

I really love Francis Bebey too and his weird and wonderful combination of the traditional and the electronic. But yeah, Frans has been key to this whole development and it's been such a joy and honour working with him on this.

Fully realizing it’s early days yet, would you expect to look towards literature for inspiration for your next record, or do you imagine you’ll find the music in entirely different places?

Absolutely. I think literature will always feature heavily in the music I write. I majored in English Lit at Uni, partly because I thought it'd help me with my writing. Also cause I felt literature in a way was like simultaneously studying sociology and psychology and history. But yeah, the stories are all there and writing about how I connect with them or using them as references to communicate personal processes and experiences has always felt very natural. But it's definitely not an exclusive source by any means ... I get a lot of 'material' inspiration from watching bad tv for example, there's a lot of telenovelas and sci-fi werewolf vampire angst in there too ... haha.

It seems you had a bit of a Rear Window experience (minus the witnessing a murder bit, I’d hope) after your injury - can you tell a bit of that story for readers unfamiliar with it, and perhaps if there were any particularly inspiring or memorable experiences from watching the outside world go by?

Haha whoops...I shamefully had to youtube the trailer for this --- aargh. But yeah I get what you mean now ;-)

Yes, the summer after I arrived in London I ruptured my achilles tendon playing football. We were still crashing at a friends place in Peckham and just having a great time being in London. I was pretty gutted cause it was a glorious summer and everything was happening, Peckham was vibrant and just popping and I was stuck inside. But it forced me to stop procrastinating with writing the album for sure. I had a mini set-up in the living room, mic, midiplayer, guitar, laptop and my foot in a cast perched up on the couch. I could hear Peckham outside my living room window which was glazed so I couldn't see much...but that weirdly also helped. I could hear people arguing and laughing and kids coming home from school and people going into town and I'd often hold the mic up to the window to record snippets of conversation or laughter and work those into the tracks. Some of those samples made it to the album, but all definitely helped set a tone. As I got a bit more crutch savvy and could hop into Peckham I started recording more of the sounds on the highstreet, west African hair salon ladies shouting at me from across the street if they could please just sort out my mad hair or just traffic, passing conversations, African churches... I did a lot of lurching outside windows with my phone held up in the air.

Was Paul Simon a direct influence on In a Galaxy or were you more simply comparing the vibes / storytelling?

I think I mean the fusion of Afro/Western Pop vibes more. Paul Simon was a musical staple in my family, and Johnny Clegg too -- they both combined western Pop with AfroPop to create something truly phenomenal. I think that's always stuck with me cause I identified with that on a personal level of course-- like, this music is how I feel, straddling two worlds as it were. It's also always been a challenge figuring out how to create something that's balanced, contemporary and represents all these parts of my musical heritage.

How would you describe the sound of the album? The Afropop angle is certainly evident, but I hear plenty of other things going on~ would love them in your own words~ we just journalists tend to be (partly from necessity, to be fair, gotta sell the reader) so reductive.

I think I called it 'Paul Simon in a sweaty African dancehall club' somewhere. But to be honest I find it excrutiating to really pin it down because in a way we've tried really hard to create something you haven't quite heard before, which granted is rediculously ambitious if not impossible...but yeah. I mean I had a long Yeasayer on repeat phase and discovering them really instilled more confidence to combine Pop with freakier more unusual elements. My song structures tend to be all over the place generally cause I hate repeating anything...which is very un-Pop -- Brett Shaw helped steer things in that department with ' why don't you bring that back again it's really good and I want to hear it again' ... I mean compliments will get you everywhere.

Vampire Weekend, Blood Orange, Santigold, TuneYards, Dirty Projectors, Arcade Fire. All that sort of off kilter synth pop with afropop flourishes really speaks to me and has undeniably helped me push that vibe on the record.

I read that Charlottesville informed ‘Glory’ (which I think might be my favorite track, but tough call!), would you say the Trump era / encroaching bitterness and terror of the world at large influenced the record in other ways? (Or you can simply speak on ‘Glory’, I can always edit questions to fit the answers you give later :) ) I came home from Korea, who had just ousted a corrupt President, and put a (reasonably) forward-thinking, good man into office, it gave such a feeling of hope to witness, and returning to Trump...it was truly soulsucking.

Yes I feel you on that. And coming from Zimbabwe where we've just gone from one nutso tyrant to the next has been equally soul sucking. I think what I mentioned earlier about living in Holland and experience this upsurge in racism and xenophobia played a huge part in the anger I was feeling writing this and 'Narcisc0' too. It feels so personal, my father (who's Zimbabwean) literally left Holland cause he felt so undermined and belittled, a professor in business studies and governance until you go to the job centre , there they immediately suggested he try and do some work as a janitor or cleaning office buildings. I could see him grow tired and angry and sad...every time he flew anywhere with my Mum (who's Dutch) he'd be the one singled out and stopped to search -- like my parents told me this almost as an afterthought because they got so used to this they kinda felt it was normal -- and it just enraged me --- I mean fuck-- all these nations built on the backs of the peoples and countries they're trying to keep at arms length --- the injustice, arrogance and inhumanity of it just makes enrages me. Seeing those people en masse chanting and marching the streets with tiki torches and brazenly out in the open as if they had nothing to be ashamed of -- it just set me off --- that feeling of being violently hurled back in time, as if all that struggle amounted to nothing --- that's that sentence ' and backwards we won't go' ... and then have a 'president' so jaded and corrupt not call it out and condemn it in no uncertain terms...that's just brutal...but yeah...stick it in a song n carry on I guess 🙄

I see and hear your remarks about white male fragility so clearly. (admittedly speaking as a white male) It’s so draining seeing these vital movements being twisted...like the recent stuff with people boycotting Captain Marvel simply because Brie Larson said something entirely harmless...I imagine it’s just the patriarchy having been comfortable for so long the slightest jolt to their power frightens them...I didn’t so much ask a question here but I’d love to hear any thoughts you have on the subject. Go off, if you like.

Ah -- yes -- it's just so sadly predictable and yet I still somehow find myself in a constant state of shock. I think it's the hijacking of the narrative...the blatant disregard of what's being said and just bulldozing back with 'not all men' or 'that's reverse sexism/racism' --- that bugs me the most --- that people can be so unwilling to look passed themselves to try and comprehend or empathise with someone else's propagated, state sponsored subjugation and feelings of exclusion and inequality that are like embedded in the fabric of our society.

Anyways, I think what's powerful about what Brie Larson's doing here --- when POC or any women call this shit out most of the time it'll be eye-rolling -- 'oh you're pulling the race card or the gender card again' type responses -- but I'm like...Hello !! Pull that fucking card and wave it in the air till your arm drops off and if you're white or straight or male then help call it out all the more -- be aware -- look around and think what am I contributing to this narrative...is this the space and time for my interjection, or am I hijacking someone else's narrative cause I love the sound of my own voice. Lord believe me I know it's tiring --- but think of how exhausting it is being on the receiving end of this for a kazillion years n then come at me.

So, how did you break into the music industry itself? I imagine it’s been a journey. Were you playing and recording while in India or Zimbabwe or so on? (I don’t know how young you were in either place, my bad if you were 5 or something haha)

Haha no worries -- I was born in India and left when I was 2yrs old -- so no studio time in India. It has been a long journey and honestly I still feel like I'm breaking in but yeah... I started performing in Harare at a joint we all hung out at on Thursday nights called The Book Café. It was thé spot where we could try out material but also jam with each other --- a bunch of culturally intrigued teenagers being all hoity-toity and artsy haha. It was pretty awesome though and I learnt a lot. I met Chiwoniso Mareira there around those early days -- she was one of the up and coming greats in Zim and we became good friends. She, again, blended traditional textures, played the Mbira but wrote songs with these contemporary Pop structures. We became fast friends and I learned a lot from her. She's the first person to deconstruct 'Strange Fruit' for me (the Nina Simone cut). I left soon after high school to study in Europe. I put my music on hold to focus on my studies...but the moment I graduated I was like --- right -- this is the thing I want to do most. I went back to Zimbabwe to reconnect with my music there I guess, I craved somewhere I could just try shit out and jam, no pressure or expectations and learn from local musicians and see where my sound would land and fit.

A friend put up some bucks for me to record an EP. It got picked up by an agency in NL and I moved there soon after and things kind of picked up from there. I landed a deal quite quickly after that and recorded my first album etc etc. And then a whole other crazy journey started haha.

How did you go about finding collaborators you felt at home with? Whether Brett Shaw or Frans Verburg, or so on? I see Verburg is referred to as a bestie, how did you originally link up, there a fun story there?

I met Frans when he joined my band in Holland playing keys. I love his musical choices and his style of playing and it was obvious from the start that he had a lot of great ideas to contribute and I dunno, I just trusted him quite quickly. Working together just sort of developed quite naturally. It's kinda like working with family really --- like we can cut through the bullshit and say stuff like 'I really hate that sound you're making!" or "that sounds like balls" and it not be a whole personal drama thing and I think that was really important for me going into making the second album, feeling safe enough to fully take charge and ownership of my ideas without feeling guilty or embarrassed. He never co-opted or sidelined my opinions and ideas -- and you'd think that was a normal thing considering we're working on my record...but being in a studio with mainly men can all too often become all about their feelings and their ideas and I wanted to stay well clear of that...I needed to in order to make this album and not look back and think damn, if only I'd stood up for myself more.

We initially went into the studio with Brett and recorded 'AtalantA' to just get a feel for each other and see if it'd work. Brett's personality is very different to mine and Frans'. Frans is like super Dutch as in pretty blunt or direct haha. Together we're also quite nitpicky about stuff plus we already had this shorthand working with each other -- but Brett brought this quiet steady force, gently guiding us here and there, always respectful of the ideas we brought with us into the studio. Frans and I had done a lot of the preproduction already and sometimes it's hard to let go of those ideas -- demo-itis ... but Brett was always just able to steer us to impliment small, smart changes here and there that had a huge impact on the overall outcome. Haha, reading that back Frans and I sound like a nightmare to work with...but we're darlings I promise ;-)

So the recording process was mainly just the three of us in the studio -- which is what I wanted -- a small intimate team -- to shut out all the noise and opinions and be better able to tune into my own thoughts and gut instinct without interference.

What are your hopes and aspirations moving forward?

I mean, I obviously hope that the album helps create more and better opportunities to create, perform and collaborate. I mean I think it sounds pretty straightforward -- but it's some serious hustling just to make music and tour and all the fucking hurdles you have to jump through to get ahead --- the bills --- the industry, and all the noise and logistics --- it really makes making music pretty hard sometimes.

I've always really admired Justin Vernon and how he works on all these different projects, musically, but also creating these great platforms and festivals. I love that idea of project based work cause it'd give me room to make music that sits in different genres and not make me feel trapped into having to only produce this one type of sound.

So basically make more amazing music and work with brilliant people preferably in beautiful places haha --- and I'd like to do more music for theatre and film. I wrote the score for a friend's documentary last year (Big Wata) and I really enjoyed that process.

But yeah -- I just want the good life really --- making music and travelling and exploring all the new creative possibilities that come my way.

If you could hypothetically record your next album anywhere on Earth, where would that be? No constraints from reality, in the ruins of Pompeii, anywhere!

I'd love to just take a small team of good people and record somewhere beautiful like Mozambique or Brazil or Jamaica -- somewhere warm and gorgeous with lots of rum and a beach nearby and ... hang on... this is sounding more like I just want to go on holiday with my friends -- hahaha ...which, to be fair, ain't no lie!!

from The 405 https://ift.tt/2TkJ3EU

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Us, Pt. 2 (Mike)

"Cool." They chuckled a little, their eyes twinkling, a slight blush dusting their cheeks. The gravity of what they were about to do was starting to trickle through their mind, and though they could be as cheeky as they wanted about it in theory, the fact that it was really going to happen was a touch nerve wracking. "I'm gonna go run it, then." Getting up, they sauntered into the bathroom, looking around. It was roomy, with a handsome tile floor, a commode, sink, and mirror, and, acting as a grand centerpiece, the huge sunken tub with an extended ledge, perhaps to set shampoos and towels and such on. There was a window behind it, perhaps to enjoy the park view below while you soaked, confident that the room was far too high up for anyone to look in- except, Mike thought with a snicker, maybe some pervert in a helicopter. Turning the taps, Mike filled the tub up, occasionally fiddling with the hot or cold water to get it just right- hot enough to un-knot the well used muscles of a professional athlete, but not so much so as to cook them both like a couple of dumb lobsters.

"Okay. I think that's good…"

John, barefooted, walked into the room with his arms rigidly at his side. The steam was rising up from the water. With trepidation, he half-sat, half stood on the edge of the tub. He seemed, in Mike's view, to be just as nervous about this as they were.

"Okay." "This is fine. I mean… heh. This is good. This is absolutely peachy fuckin' keen." They laughed a little, though in their opinion it came out weird, their fingers fidgeting with each other like a couple of battling birds in midair. This was fine. He said he'd like to, and they wanted to, so what was the holdup? Why are you so nervous about this? Breathe in, breathe out. A little coy grin formed on their face as an idea struck them, though their heart bounced wildly around in their ribcage. "Hey. Are you nervous?" Their nerves were glaringly obvious.

John looked up at them. His fists were balled up, knuckles white. His sentences were more abrupt than usual. Perhaps mimicking his heartbeat.

"Yes. I'm not sure how I can make this make sense. But this is new. I don't think in the obvious sense. Hard to explain. And it's me. Fighting against that. Because I trust you." "I trust you too. And I'm nervous as shit anyway." That tittering laugh again, breaking into a warmer one when they realized how goofy it sounded. Breathing in, they reached out, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, her thumbs tracing over his knuckles. "I got an idea. Why don't we start like this. Tell me if this is okay." Letting go of John's hands, she reaches out, taking hold of the bottom hem of his t-shirt instead, lifting up slowly, their intentions clear. They glanced up at his face, expression inquisitive, as if looking for any unsaid yeas or nays. John nodded softly. He raised his arms up to assist. The grey t-shirt was discarded to the side. They took a moment to appreciate, though they tried not to obviously ogle. He really was handsome, even the injury he'd sustained a while back healed over, leaving only a scar behind to show it was there. Not that it was ugly, in Mike's opinion. Scars, their physical therapist had told them once upon a time, were signs that you survived something. She (what had her name been? Lila? Lisa? Lilly? Something like that) had been trying to make Mike feel better about their body after it'd sustained so much damage. It didn't help as much as it should have. Perhaps John's remark that in the ring, things were different applied in a way to them as well- they didn't care about the state of their body then. Now, it just added another layer to their nerves. Still, they leaned forward a little, the better to allow him to remove their shirt as they'd just removed his. First, John reached up above her brow and clasped the brim of their hat and lifted it up, releasing their short fiery hair into view. They gave a little inward breath at this- the hat was an extra layer of security, something to hide behind. Letting him remove it was a level of trust and intimacy that most wouldn't understand. Then, John gave a stifling little laugh as he removed their shirt and dropped it on top of his. The hat on top of them both.

"Only laughing because you've seen me in spandex. Puts this in perspective." They chuckled a bit in turn, blushing a little further. He did have a point. She wrestled in jeans, but a lot of what her cohorts worked in left… various amounts of little to the imagination. "Don't need to explain yourself. I like your laugh. Like, a lot. It's really… sweet." As the shirt is pulled away, it reveals something other than brutally scarred up skin- an emerald satin bra with a subtle black lace trim, certainly fancier and more feminine than any other bit of off the rack cotton Fruit of the Loom lingerie they owned. Their blush grew deeper, the light spray of freckles over their nose and slightly dotting their shoulders standing out in the room's ambient light.

"I like it."

His hands raised back up from his side and hovered just over their shoulders. They leaned into his touch, relishing in the way his warm hands felt on her bare, freckled skin.

"Looks very nice." "T-thanks…" Their shy smile grew a little wider. They had a feeling they would. Not only was green a very flattering color, complimenting their hair nicely, Mike also was well aware that it was John's favorite. Okay. That was the relatively easy part. Taking another couple steadying breaths, Mike slowly reached forward, fingertips grazing the button of her partner's jeans, again glancing up for the go-ahead. John inhaled sharply. If only if they had some insight as that indicated to them to bluntly stop.

But his statement was clear. And Mike looked up at a slight but approving nod.

"I've taken them off in front of you before if I recall correctly. Always right before our matches."

That insight may be in plain view has John seemed to be verbalizing his thoughts out loud. This was, of course, a wildly different scenario but it was a reassuring statement. This was fine. Mike willed their fingers to stop trembling and nimbly undid the button, pulling the zipper down slowly at first, one or two teeth at a time, either out of teasing or trepidation before tugging it down the rest of the way at a somewhat more expedient pace. Releasing the zipper pull, they then rest their hands on his hips, thumbs hooking between the waistline of his jeans and the waistband of his underwear before tugging them downward as well. The rose tint on their cheeks was practically luminescent.

He closed his eyes and stepped out of them. He muttered under his breath. Just loud enough for them to hear. Even though it was the two.

"I'm okay. You okay?"

"I'm okay. Everything is gonna be okay." It was practically a mantra. Whenever things got particularly tough, or nerve wracking, or difficult, there was always a verbal mutual assurance of this sort. They were okay, and everything was going to be as well. They had each other. How could it not be? Hands still shaking a little, they reached behind their back and, perhaps as something of an equalizer, undid the emerald bra. Or tried to. They fumbled with it a little, chuckling at their own nervous butterfingers before taking a breath and undoing the catch at the back, slipping it off and dropping it onto the growing pile of clothes. Their heart was pounding so hard that Mike could swear John could hear it, or maybe even see it, bounding a foot out of their chest like a besotted Bugs Bunny. Reaching back, they prop the heels of their palms on the sink behind them, allowing easy access to their own pair of button fly Luckys. They recalled, with a bit of a giggle, that the inside of said fly had an embroidered ribbon reading 'LUCKY YOU'. John reached forward, mimicking Mike's own actions. His hands seemed to be traveling through molasses until his partner's hands steadied them. Their panties matched the bra, the same green satin with the black lace ringing the waistband, and they slipped off easily. So there they were. There was no small amount of blushing and, while Mike was still trying to have some tact and not be a slobbering ogler, they couldn't help but trace their gaze over him from head to toe. He really was statuesque, as physically perfect (despite John's own earlier insistence that such a thing as perfection was impossible) a person as Mike had ever laid eyes on in this manner. Even the scar only accentuated his beauty, made him more real. Such things could be overdone, though- Mike's own body, in their opinion, looked as if someone'd once gone after them with a weedwacker. Some from a good fight, some old enough to be souvenirs from Action Park, and most of them… ...most of them they wished they didn't have. Almost unconsciously, they grip their biceps, looking down and away shyly. John looked past them, into the mirror, observing the pairs' reflection. Then he reached out and placed his hands over each of theirs. Uncovering their modesty. There was nowhere to hide at this point. He tried to get their focus back.

"I like how we look. How you look."

His phrasing was stilted and awkward. Meant to be assuring.

"A warrior's body. I've always admired you for it. Just didn't want to be, didn't want to say something wrong."

It did help. They looked up, still blushing but somewhat less self conscious. "Thanks. You're… beautiful. Really… really fucking beautiful. And I've kind of always thought so too I just didn't really have an opportune moment to say it and… yeah. Goddamn. You could tell me you're actually an angel and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised."

"Never really thought about myself much. People tend to ignore me. But that's alright."

The two stood side by side, hands held. Reflecting their humanity into the large mirror across from them. Two people discarded many times over, forgotten about. But not by each other. An unspoken bond, forged from a chance meeting and a business association with two people who might as well spoken two different languages. Now on the same wavelength.

"Because this is us."

"Yes. Yes it is." They squeezed his hand, giving their reflection a look over with a smile. They really did make a very handsome couple. If they'd been overlooked or cast aside, well… maybe that's because this was supposed to happen. Mike only wished it had sooner and saved them both a lot of grief. That was alright though. They were here now. "Hey. Water's probably gonna get cold if we wait much longer." He nodded with a smile, and they both stepped in, the rest of the night ahead of them, warm and pleasant as the water they sunk into.

[handandbanner]

recovering from my lies & men lying while imagining truth-telling spaces

Artist: Carrie Mae Weems 

I know we all lie and I know I lie.  I'm trying to practice truth-telling.  Truth-telling is a practice and it is not a supported practice.  We are taught to lie from the time we are young children as a required skill of living and thriving in white supremacist, capitalist, patriarchy.  So there has to be a way for us as folks tied into systems of deception, as lairs to critique and dismantle systems of deceptions that require deception as part of our dehumanizing participation and survival.  It's like we all participate in degrading the environment, but we still need to be environmental activists demanding better from those in power and system creating positions while also trying to adopt better personal practices.  

A way that we are taught to lie and we teach children to lie is to insist that the things they see are not really there, to convince them that their experiences are not real and if they are to name the world as they experience it, then something is wrong with them.  

One of the areas that I have been able to develop a practice of truth telling is in the topic of race and white supremacy. I have tried my hardest to root my work life and practice in spaces where I could tell truth about how I was experiencing my social reality, and that meant being around other Black people and people of shared values and working in the grassroots.  But whenever I have had to engage the system my truth-telling practices with regards to race and racism are challenged and constrained.  Having to work a system job as a frontline social worker, I have already experienced constraints to who I can be and the pressure to be the person I was trained to be under systems of domination rather the person I truly am in order to stay employed.  So it would take time again to cultivate spaces for truth-telling with regards to race and racism, I have achieved this with some co-workers and have had honest discussions, I have not achieved it with management and I am very aware of the limits to what truth would be acceptable.  It is not something I have had to really confront because my role does not require me to be in significant interaction with management.  I have felt a bit of respite being in a space with a non-leadership role.  But if my journey involves staying in mainstream social work, I know the truth-teller with regards to race and ethnicity will emerge, and I know the trauma that happens to Black women leaders in social work who practice truth-telling with regards to race and ethnicity, I have read the studies and I have witnessed it. 

It has also been interesting to observe how aware I am of the practice space I have created in the grassroots, because this past year working with other co-practitioners, I found myself advising folks to be cautious in how they express their truth, in practice spaces that I perceive to be hostile in awareness of how we could be collectively impacted.  I have had to deconstruct and wrestle with that since and it has just emphasized for me the reality of truth-telling as more than a personal practice but also as collective structure building, creating spaces where truth is possible. So while I really value what I have been able to cultivate as a practice of telling truth to others and to power especially as it relates to social justice, I also continue to navigate how my truth-telling practice is going to face opposition, be it in the space of anti-racist food justice within the context of a racist, capitalist institution, or in the space of social work or in trying to practice decolonized faith, because I am dealing constantly with systems that uphold deception. 

I have less experience of developing a practice of truth-telling and truth-telling space in areas other than racial justice.  And recently I have been thinking about Patriarchy because I am recovering from both long term, chronic and acute patriarchal and misogynistic harm.  I have had to realize that I don’t know how to tell the truth about patriarchy just like I didn’t know how to tell the truth about racism some years ago but had to stumble and erupt into it, pushed by the trauma and my disposition towards wanting to tell the truth and wanting to be free.  So I believe I am going to be entering a season of truth-telling about patriarchy.  

Something that I can already say, is that while we are all complicit in lying, men lie aggressively and constantly. I am not talking about some men or the abusive men in my life, I am talking about every man I have ever known.  In the same way that white people have a particular relationship with lying, men are deeply dependent on deception.  And I have just been coming to the realization that I have been witnessing men lie all my life, including men that I respect as leaders.  I have been witnessing men become particularly angry at the truth and be unable to handle the truth.  All of the position of power and privilege that men hold in patriarchal society is rooted in lying.  Men lie about the fact that they don’t depend on  women’s labour  and suffering to sustain themselves at the cost of women’s health. Some acknowledge it verbally and even identify as allies is women’s liberation from patriarchy but continue to lie in action as they live out their lives.  Men lie about what they take from women, the act of lying is an act of taking something by force. Men are become terrified and lash out violently when called out about lying, they lash out through abandonment or aggression.  There is a power in lying that men are not ready to let go of, they have learned that it is their right to live a dual reality.  All my life I have seen men scared. I know what it looks like when a man becomes scared and confused by my truth-telling.  Men tend to be intrigued by my truth-telling because there is power in truth-telling and they are drawn to power like insects to a street light.  But I am constantly being invited into an unspoken agreement that the truth-telling will not be turned on them. As a survivor of childhood and adult gendered harm, I have learned to play the game. I have also learned to lie alongside men.  I treat men like dangerous animals that cannot be told the truth, the same way you would handle a moody toddler who needs to be guided from point A to point B without being exposed to the reality of the world as it is.  The difference being that men all my life have had far more power than a moody toddler, power to harm and to abandon.  To withhold friendship, love, resources or to punish mentally, physically, psychologically, emotionally or spiritually.  

I have searched through my shelf in search for All About Love because I remembered that our brilliant, incandescent bell Hooks has a chapter on the subject where she says;  

“The men I have loved have always lied to avoid confrontation or take responsibility for inappropriate behavior. In Dorothy Dinnerstein’s groundbreaking book The Mermaid and the Minotaur: Sexual Arrangements and Human Malaise, she shares the insight that when a  little boy learns that his powerful mother, who controls his life, really has no power within a patriarchy, it confuses him and causes rage.  Lying becomes one of the strategic ways he can “act out” and render his mother powerless.  Lying enables him to manipulate the mother even as he exposes her lack of power.  This makes him feel more powerful.  Males learn to lie as a way of obtaining power and females not only do the same but they also lie to pretend powerlessness. In her work Harriet Lerner talks about the way in which patriarchy upholds deception, encouraging women to present a false self to en and vice versa. In Dory Hollander’s 101 Lies men Tell Women, she confirms that while both women and men lie, her data and the findings of other researchers indicate that “men tend to lie more and with more devastating consequences.” For many young males the earliest experience of power over others comes from the thrill of lying to more powerful adults and getting away with it.  Lots of men shared with me that it was difficult for them to tell the truth if they saw that it would hurt a loved one.  Significantly, the lying many boys learn to do to avoid hurting Mom or whomever becomes so habitual that it becomes hard for them to distinguish a lie from the truth.  This behavior carries over to adulthood.  

Often, men who would never think of lying in the workplace lie constantly in intimate relationships.  This seems to be especially the case for heterosexual men who see women as gullible.  Many men confess that they lie because they can get away with it, their lies are forgiven.  To understand why male lying is more accepted in our lives we have to understand the way in which power and privilege afforded men simply because they are males within a patriarchal culture” 

lt is interesting to me that I read this almost a couple of years ago with very little self reflection.  So I need to pay attention to the ways that even as I continue to grow truth-telling practices in race relationships, that I have yet to interrogate how lying is a part of my ways of navigating life in my gendered relationships.  It already comes to mind that I seldom with men or patriarchal relationships with women, present myself in the fullness of my intellectual power and ability for fear of punishment.  Beyond all that good reflection work that I know needs to happen for me as it relates to interpersonal relationships, some questions I feel like we all need to ponder are: 

- What does it mean to create truth telling anti-patriarchy community, spaces and institutions? What does it mean to have a space where truth-telling is cultivated and supported in diverse relationships?  I will continue to stumble and erupt as I come to terms with all the ways my own life is impacted by lying and lies and also as I recover from patriarchal harm and violence.  I look forward to learning from others further along in the journey.  

[smartworkingpackage]

Thunder, Lightning, and Revisions—Mark Twain and Creativity

“You need not expect to get your book right the first time. Go to work and revamp or rewrite it. God only exhibits his thunder and lightning at intervals, and so they always command attention. These are God’s adjectives.” – Mark Twain, in an 1878 letter.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens was many things: a steamboat pilot, a prospector, a reporter, a world traveler, a lecturer, an investor (mostly a bad one), an inventor (with three patents; two successful, one not), a father, and, most importantly, the author known as Mark Twain.

What he was not was either particularly organized or industrious.

This is not to say he wasn’t prolific; he turned out novels, essays, plays, reviews, and letters by the score. He just wasn’t a slave to work.

Strike While the Iron Is Hot

Alex Applebaum, in a review of Bernard DeVoto’s 1942 Mark Twain at Work, noted of Twain’s working habits that

Twain worked “sporadically” depending on fits of “inspiration.” Instead of forcing himself to work for a certain amount of time, [he] relied heavily on “improvisation” and would sometimes work furiously for days; sometimes not write at all; sometimes start projects and leave them hanging for years; sometimes finish them quickly … He didn’t finish nearly as much as he started, but, nevertheless, he wrote prolifically. There are still thousands of unpublished pages and ideas he never carried through with.

What can we learn from this? To write and write and write some more—when inspiration strikes. Make note of everything. Don’t censor yourself. Even if an idea may seem useless now, it could well turn into something valuable later. Keep journals, diaries, notes, or even a blog. Even if an idea doesn’t lead anywhere on its own, it may provide the spark for something that does. The only mistake would be to not let your native creativity express itself when the time is right.

What Works Best Is What’s Right for You

While there are indeed times when we want to write or communicate your ideas with a specific goal or project in mind, don’t let not having a specific result hinder you. Twain’s approach in this regard was noted when the revised edition of his autobiography was published in 2010. Robert H. Hirst, the General Editor of the Mark Twain Project and the Curator of the Mark Twain Papers at the University of California, Berkeley, told NPR’s David Bianculli that

Twain … “hit upon the right way to do an autobiography” … What he had discovered … was the art of dictation. Instead of writing down his autobiography, Twain wanted to tell stories to another human being. And instead of telling his life story in chronological order, Twain wanted to talk about what interested him at that moment—and to allow himself to change the subject as soon as his interest flagged.

Twain dictated most of that autobiography from his bed. In 1905, he told A.E. Thomas of The New York Times:

“Whenever I’ve got some work to do I go to bed. I got into that habit some time ago when I had an attack of bronchitis… I liked it so well that I kept it up after I got well. There are a lot of advantages about it. If you’re sitting at a desk, you get excited about what you are doing, and the first thing you know… somebody comes in to attend to the fire, he interrupts you and gets you off the trail of that idea you are pursuing.So I go to bed… Work in bed is a pretty good gospel—at least for a man who’s come, like me, to the time of life when his blood is easily frosted.”

While Twain’s “working” methods may seem both antithetical to productivity and unique to him (how many of us can perform our daily tasks from a comfortable feather bed or dictate our thoughts to a handy stenographer?), there are lessons to be drawn from them. There is much to be said for allowing one’s creativity to flow freely with no inhibitions; to get something down on a page or contributed to a project. You can always develop and edit ideas, but the initial spark of creativity should never be denied. Those ideas may sit fallow for months (or even years), but they exist and you can expand upon them later when you’re ready.

All Work and No Play …

Perhaps Twain’s disdain for traditional working methods had to do with the fact that he didn’t consider what he did to be “work.” In the same Times interview, he told Thomas that he had never done

“…a day’s work in all my life. What I have done I have done because it has been play. If it had been work I shouldn’t have done it.

Who was it who said, ‘Blessed is the man who has found his work?’ Whoever it was he had the right idea in his mind…When we talk about the great workers of the world, we really mean the great players of the world. The fellows who groan and sweat under the weary load of toil that they bear never can hope to do anything great.”

He expounded on this point in his 1889 novel, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (that savagely ridiculed capitalism and the looming “Golden Age” of plutocrats) by having his surrogate protagonist say:

“Intellectual “work” is misnamed; it is a pleasure, a dissipation and its own highest reward. The poorest paid architect, engineer, general, author, sculptor, painter, lecturer, advocate, legislator, actor, preacher, singer, is constructively in heaven when he is at work; and as for the magician with the fiddle-bow in his hand who sits in the midst of a great orchestra with the ebbing and flowing tides of divine sound washing over him—why certainly, he is at work, if you wish to call it that, but lord, it’s a sarcasm just the same. The law of work does seem utterly unfair—but there it is, and nothing can change it: the higher the pay in enjoyment the worker gets out of it, the higher shall be his pay in cash, also.”

Today, so many of us get caught up in our day jobs (that can, admittedly, be drudgery) that we don’t allow ourselves to take the time to think, reflect, and enjoy the freedom of expressing ourselves and preserving our own observations and ideas. The thought of actually sitting at a keyboard—or, worse, actually putting pen to paper!—can seem like schoolwork or a chore. But how often do we get the chance to be with ourselves and commit what we really think and feel in a permanent form? Sure, coming up with a pithy tweet or a vague Facebook status is nice, but how much better to give ourselves the freedom to really dig into and examine an idea or a concept to ourselves? It’s not like anyone else has to see it or read it; the mere chance to think and write about an idea develop creative muscles that can be useful when they’re really needed for something to be expressed publically.

  There’s No Such Thing as an Original Idea

To duplicate and use Twain’s methods would honor the man who expressed the notion that there were no original ideas; just borrowings and expansions of the work and ideas of others. In 1892, author and humanitarian Helen Keller was accused (and acquitted) of plagiarism. After reading about the case in Keller’s own autobiography, Twain was moved to write her, saying:

Oh, dear me, how unspeakably funny and owlishly idiotic and grotesque was that “plagiarism” farce! As if there was much of anything in any human utterance, oral or written, except plagiarism! The kernel, the soul—let us go further and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances—is plagiarism. … It takes a thousand men to invent a telegraph, or a steam engine, or a phonograph, or a telephone or any other important thing—and the last man gets the credit and we forget the others. With this in mind, it almost behooves us to expose ourselves to as much knowledge and inspiration we can find from any source in order to synthesize it and, ironically, make it our own. Read anything you can. Write down notes and observations.”

(The edited versions of Twain’s own notebooks and journals of just his first 36 years as a writer run to more than 2,200 pages.)

Let inspiration take you to the familiar and imaginary. Travel. People-watch. Get out of your comfort zone and see things and meet people that are “strange” and unfamiliar in order to make them familiar and then share those unique insights with others. Make yourself the most interesting person in the room because you’ve been there and done that—and can express it in colorful and exciting terms. (Though two more precepts from Twain should be noted here: “As to the adjective: when in doubt, strike it out.” and “Use plain, simple language, short words, and brief sentences. That is the way to write English—it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don’t let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in.” What good are even the best observations if they get lost in the underbrush?)

In his notebook for 1902-1903, Twain may have given his most trenchant tip: “The time to begin writing an article is when you have finished it to your satisfaction. By that time, you begin to clearly and logically perceive what it is that you really want to say.” So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to now to start over again the beginning …

from Evernote Blog http://ift.tt/2m4Vm36 via IFTTT

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#7yrsago David Byrne's How Music Works

Former Talking Heads frontman and all-round happy mutant David Byrne has written several good books, but his latest, How Music Works, is unquestionably the best of the very good bunch, possibly the book he was born to write. I could made good case for calling this How Art Works or even How Everything Works.

Though there is plenty of autobiographical material How Music Works that will delight avid fans (like me) -- inside dope on the creative, commercial and personal pressures that led to each of Byrne's projects -- this isn't merely the story of how Byrne made it, or what he does to turn out such great and varied art. Rather, this is an insightful, thorough, and convincing account of the way that creativity, culture, biology and economics interact to prefigure, constrain and uplift art. It's a compelling story about the way that art comes out of technology, and as such, it's widely applicable beyond music.

Byrne lived through an important transition in the music industry: having gotten his start in the analog recording world, he skilfully managed a transition to an artist in the digital era (though not always a digital artist). As such, he has real gut-feel for the things that technology gives to artists and the things that technology takes away. He's like the kids who got their Apple ][+s in 1979, and keenly remember the time before computers were available to kids at all, the time when they were the exclusive domain of obsessive geeks, and the point at which they became widely exciting, and finally, ubiquitous -- a breadth of experience that offers visceral perspective.

There were so many times in this book when I felt like Byrne's observations extended beyond music and dance and into other forms of digital creativity. For example, when Byrne recounted his first experiments with cellular automata exercise for dance choreography, from his collaboration with Noemie Lafrance:

1. Improvise moving to the music and come up with an eight-count phrase (in dance, a phrase is a short series of moves that can be repeated).

2. When you find a phrase you like, loop (repeat) it.

3. When you see someone else with a stronger phrase, copy it.

4. When everyone is doing the same phrase, the exercise is over.

It was like watching evolution on fast-forward, or an emergent lifeform coming into being. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere.  At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. Then one could see that folks had chosen their phrases, and almost immediately one could see a pocket of dancers who had all adopted the same phrase. The copying had already begun, albeit in just one area. This pocket of copying began to expand, to go viral, while yet another one now emerged on the other side of the room. One clump grew faster than the other, and within four minutes the whole room was filled with dancers moving in perfect unison. Unbelievable! It only took four minutes for this evolutionary process to kick in, and for the "strongest" (unfortunate word, maybe) to dominate.

I remembered the first time I programmed an evolutionary algorithm and watched its complexity emerging from simple rules, and the catch in my throat as I realized that I was watching something like life being built up from simple, inert rules.

The book is shot through with historical examples and arguments about the nature of music, from Plato up to contemporary neuroscience, and here, too, many of the discussions are microcosms for contemporary technical/philosophical debates. There's a passage about how music is felt and experienced that contains the phrase, "music isn't merely absorbed above the neck," which is spookily similar to the debates about replicating human consciousness in computers, and the idea that our identity doesn't reside exclusively above the brainstem.

The same is true of Byrne's account of how music has not "progressed" from a "primitive" state -- rather, it adapted itself to different technological realities. Big cathedrals demand music that accommodates a lot of reverb; village campfire music has completely different needs. Reading this, I was excited by the parallels to discussions of whether we live in an era of technological "progress" or merely technological "change" -- is there a pinnacle we're climbing, or simply a bunch of stuff followed by a bunch of other stuff? Our overwhelming narrative of progress feels like hubris to me, at least a lot of the time. Some things are "better" (more energy efficient, more space-efficient, faster, more effective), but there are plenty of things that are held up as "better" that, to me, are simply different. Often very good, but in no way a higher rung on some notional ladder toward perfection.

When Byrne's history comes to the rise of popular recorded music, he describes a familiar dilemma: recording artists were asked to produce music that could work when performed live and when listened to in the listener's private playback environment -- not so different from the problems faced by games developers today who struggle to make games that will work on a wide variety of screens. In a later section, he describes the solution that was arrived at in the 1970s, a solution that reminds me a lot of the current world of content management systems like WordPress and Blogger, which attempt to separate "meaning" from "form" for text, storing them separately and combining them with little code-libraries called "decorators":

[Deconstruct and isolate] sums up the philosophy of a lot of music recording back in the late seventies. The goal was to get as pristine a sound as possible... Studios were often padded with sound-absorbent materials so that there was almost no reverberation. The sonic character of the space was sucked out, because it wasn't considered to be part of the music. Without this ambiance, it was explained, the sound would be more malleable after the recording had been made. Dead, characterless sound was held up as the ideal, and often still is. In this philosophy, the naturally occurring echo and reverb that normally added a little warmth to performances would be removed and then added back in when the recording was being mixed...

Recording a performance with a band and singer all playing together at the same time in the same room was by this time becoming a rarity. An incredible array of options opened up as a result, but some organic interplay between the musicians disappeared, and the sound of music changed. Some musicians who played well in live situations couldn't adapt to the fashion for each player to be isolated. They couldn't hear their bandmates and, as a result, often didn't play very well.

Changing the technology used in art changes the art, for good and ill. Blog-writing has a lot going for it -- spontaneity, velocity, vernacular informality, but often lacks the reflective distance that longer-form works bring. Byrne has similar observations about music and software:

What you hear [in contemporary music] is the shift in music structure that computer-aided composition has encouraged. Though software is promoted as being an unbiased toold that helps us do anything we want, all software has inherent biases that make working one way easier than another. With the Microsoft presentation software PowerPoint, for example, you have to simplify your presentations so much that the subtle nuances in the subject being discussed often get edited out. These nuances are not forbidden, they're not blocked, but including them tends to make for a less successful presentation. Likewise, that which is easy to bullet-point and simply visualize works better. That doesn't mean it actually is better; it means working is certain ways is simply easier than working in others...

An obvious example is quantizing. Since the mid-nineties, most popular music recorded on computers has had tempos and rhythms that have been quantized. That means that the tempo never varies, not even a little bit, the the rhythmic parts tend toward metronomic perfection. In the past, the tempo of recordings  would always vary slightly, imperceptibly speeding up or maybe slowing down a little, or a drum fill might hesitate in order to signal the beginning of a new section. You'd feel a slight push and pull, a tug and then a release, as ensembles of whatever type responded to one another and lurched, ever so slightly, ahead of and behind an imaginary metronomic beat. No more. Now almost all pop recordings are played to a strict tempo, which makes these compositions fit more easily into the confines of editing and recording software. An eight-bar section recorded on a "grid" of this type is exactly twice as long as a four-bar section, and every eight-bar section is always exactly the same length. This makes for a nice visual array on the computer screen, and facilitates easy editing, arranging, and repairing as well. Music has come to accommodate software, and I have to admit a lot has been gained as a result.

Byrne is well aware of the parallels between music technology and other kinds of technology. No history of the recording business would be complete without a note about the format wars fought between Edison and his competitors like RCA, who made incompatible, anti-competitive playback formats. Byrne explicitly links this to modern format-wars, citing MS Office, Kindles, iPads and Pro Tools. (His final word on the format wars rings true for other media as well: "Throughout the history of recorded music, we have tended to value convenience over quality every time. Edison cylinders didn't really sound as good as live performers, but you could carry them around and play them whenever you wanted.")

Likewise, debates over technological change (pooh-poohing the "triviality" of social media or the ephemeral character of blogs) are played out in Byrne's history of music panics, which start in ancient Greece, and play out in situations like the disco wars, which prefigured the modern fight over sampling:

The most threatening thing to rockers in the era of disco was that the music was gay, black and "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings.

Like mixtapes. I'd argue that other than race and sex, [the fact that disco was "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings] was the most threatening aspect. To rock purists, this new music messed with the idea of authorship. If music was now accepted as a kind of property, then this hodgepodge version that disregarded ownership and seemed to belong to and originate with so many people (and machines) called into question a whole social and economic framework.

But as Byrne reminds us, new technology can liberate new art forms. Digital formats and distribution have given us music that is only a few bars long, and compositions that are intended to play for 1,000 years. The MP3 shows us that 3.5 minutes isn't an "ideal" length for a song (merely the ideal length for a song that's meant to be sold on a 45RPM single), just as YouTube showed us that there are plenty of video stories that want to be two minutes long, rather than shoehorned into 22 minute sitcoms, 48 minute dramas, or 90 minute feature films.

And Byrne's own journey has led him to be skeptical of the all-rights-reserved model, from rules over photography and video in his shows:

The thing we were supposed to be fighting against was actually something we should be encouraging. They were getting the word out, and it wasn't costing me anything. I began to announce at the beginning of the shows that photography was welcome, but I suggested to please only post shots and videos where we look good.

To a very good account of the power relationships reflected in ascribing authorship (and ownership, and copyright) to melody, but not to rhythms and grooves and textures, though these are just as important to the music's aesthetic effect.

Byrne doesn't focus exclusively on recording, distribution and playback technology. He is also a keen theorist of the musical implications of architecture, and presents a case-study of the legendary CBGB's and its layout, showing how these led to its center in the 1970s New York music scene that gave us the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television, and many other varied acts. Here, Byrne channels Jane Jacobs in a section that is nothing short of brilliant in its analysis of how small changes (sometimes on the scale of inches) make all the difference to the kind of art that takes place in a building.

There's a long section on the mechanics of the recording business as it stands today, with some speculation about where its headed, and included in this is a fabulous and weird section on some of Byrne's own creative process. Here he describes how he collaborated with Brian Eno on Everything That Happens Will Happen Today:

The unwritten rule in remote collaborations is, for me, "Leave the other person's stuff alone as much as you possibly can." You work with what you're given, and don't try to imagine it as something other than what it is. Accepting that half the creative decision-making has already been done has the effect of bypassing a lot of endless branching -- not to mention waffling and worrying.

And here's a mind-bending look into his lyrics-writing method:

...I begin by improvising a melody over the music. I do this by singing nonsense syllables, but with weirdly inappropriate passion, given that I'm not saying anything. Once I have a wordless melody and a vocal arrangement my my collaborators (if there are any) and I like, I'll begin to transcribe that gibberish as if it were real words.

I'll listen carefully to the meaningless vowels and consonants on the recording, and I'll try to understand what that guy (me), emoting so forcefully by inscrutably, is actually saying. It's like a forensic exercise. I'll follow the sound of the nonsense syllables as closely as possible. If a melodic phrase of gibberish ends on a high ooh sound, then I'll transcribe that, and in selecting the actual words, I'll try to try to choose one that ends in that syllable, or as close to it as I can get. So the transcription process often ends up with a page of real words, still fairly random, that sounds just like the gibberish.

I do that because the difference between an ooh and an aah, and a "b" and a "th" sound is, I assume, integral to the emotion that the story wants to express. I want to stay true to that unconscious, inarticulate intention. Admittedly, that content has no narrative, or might make no literal sense yet, but it's in there -- I can hear it. I can feel it. My job at this stage is to find words that acknowledge and adhere to the sonic and emotional qualities rather than to ignore and possibly destroy them.

Part of what makes words work in a song is how they sound to the ear and feel on the tongue. If they feel right physiologically, if the tongue of the singer and the mirror neurons of the listener resonate with the delicious appropriateness of the words coming out, then that will inevitably trump literal sense, although literal sense doesn't hurt.

Naturally, this leads into a great discussion of the neuroscience of music itself -- why our brains like certain sounds and rhythms.

How Music Works gave me insight into parts of my life as diverse as my email style to how I write fiction to how I parent my daughter (it was a relief to read Byrne's discussion of how parenting changed him as an artist). I've been a David Byrne fan since I was 13 and I got a copy of Stop Making Sense. He's never disappointed me, but with How Music Works, Byrne has blown through my expectations, producing a book that I'll be thinking of and referring to for years to come.

Byrne's touring the book now, and as his tour intersects with my own book tours, I'll be interviewing him live on stage in Toronto on September 19th, at the Harbourfront International Festival of Authors.

How Music Works

https://boingboing.net/2012/09/12/david-byrnes-how-music-w.html

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#6yrsago David Byrne's How Music Works

Former Talking Heads frontman and all-round happy mutant David Byrne has written several good books, but his latest, How Music Works, is unquestionably the best of the very good bunch, possibly the book he was born to write. I could made good case for calling this How Art Works or even How Everything Works.

Though there is plenty of autobiographical material How Music Works that will delight avid fans (like me) -- inside dope on the creative, commercial and personal pressures that led to each of Byrne's projects -- this isn't merely the story of how Byrne made it, or what he does to turn out such great and varied art. Rather, this is an insightful, thorough, and convincing account of the way that creativity, culture, biology and economics interact to prefigure, constrain and uplift art. It's a compelling story about the way that art comes out of technology, and as such, it's widely applicable beyond music.

Byrne lived through an important transition in the music industry: having gotten his start in the analog recording world, he skilfully managed a transition to an artist in the digital era (though not always a digital artist). As such, he has real gut-feel for the things that technology gives to artists and the things that technology takes away. He's like the kids who got their Apple ][+s in 1979, and keenly remember the time before computers were available to kids at all, the time when they were the exclusive domain of obsessive geeks, and the point at which they became widely exciting, and finally, ubiquitous -- a breadth of experience that offers visceral perspective.

There were so many times in this book when I felt like Byrne's observations extended beyond music and dance and into other forms of digital creativity. For example, when Byrne recounted his first experiments with cellular automata exercise for dance choreography, from his collaboration with Noemie Lafrance:

1. Improvise moving to the music and come up with an eight-count phrase (in dance, a phrase is a short series of moves that can be repeated).

2. When you find a phrase you like, loop (repeat) it.

3. When you see someone else with a stronger phrase, copy it.

4. When everyone is doing the same phrase, the exercise is over.

It was like watching evolution on fast-forward, or an emergent lifeform coming into being. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere.  At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. Then one could see that folks had chosen their phrases, and almost immediately one could see a pocket of dancers who had all adopted the same phrase. The copying had already begun, albeit in just one area. This pocket of copying began to expand, to go viral, while yet another one now emerged on the other side of the room. One clump grew faster than the other, and within four minutes the whole room was filled with dancers moving in perfect unison. Unbelievable! It only took four minutes for this evolutionary process to kick in, and for the "strongest" (unfortunate word, maybe) to dominate.

I remembered the first time I programmed an evolutionary algorithm and watched its complexity emerging from simple rules, and the catch in my throat as I realized that I was watching something like life being built up from simple, inert rules.

The book is shot through with historical examples and arguments about the nature of music, from Plato up to contemporary neuroscience, and here, too, many of the discussions are microcosms for contemporary technical/philosophical debates. There's a passage about how music is felt and experienced that contains the phrase, "music isn't merely absorbed above the neck," which is spookily similar to the debates about replicating human consciousness in computers, and the idea that our identity doesn't reside exclusively above the brainstem.

The same is true of Byrne's account of how music has not "progressed" from a "primitive" state -- rather, it adapted itself to different technological realities. Big cathedrals demand music that accommodates a lot of reverb; village campfire music has completely different needs. Reading this, I was excited by the parallels to discussions of whether we live in an era of technological "progress" or merely technological "change" -- is there a pinnacle we're climbing, or simply a bunch of stuff followed by a bunch of other stuff? Our overwhelming narrative of progress feels like hubris to me, at least a lot of the time. Some things are "better" (more energy efficient, more space-efficient, faster, more effective), but there are plenty of things that are held up as "better" that, to me, are simply different. Often very good, but in no way a higher rung on some notional ladder toward perfection.

When Byrne's history comes to the rise of popular recorded music, he describes a familiar dilemma: recording artists were asked to produce music that could work when performed live and when listened to in the listener's private playback environment -- not so different from the problems faced by games developers today who struggle to make games that will work on a wide variety of screens. In a later section, he describes the solution that was arrived at in the 1970s, a solution that reminds me a lot of the current world of content management systems like WordPress and Blogger, which attempt to separate "meaning" from "form" for text, storing them separately and combining them with little code-libraries called "decorators":

[Deconstruct and isolate] sums up the philosophy of a lot of music recording back in the late seventies. The goal was to get as pristine a sound as possible... Studios were often padded with sound-absorbent materials so that there was almost no reverberation. The sonic character of the space was sucked out, because it wasn't considered to be part of the music. Without this ambiance, it was explained, the sound would be more malleable after the recording had been made. Dead, characterless sound was held up as the ideal, and often still is. In this philosophy, the naturally occurring echo and reverb that normally added a little warmth to performances would be removed and then added back in when the recording was being mixed...

Recording a performance with a band and singer all playing together at the same time in the same room was by this time becoming a rarity. An incredible array of options opened up as a result, but some organic interplay between the musicians disappeared, and the sound of music changed. Some musicians who played well in live situations couldn't adapt to the fashion for each player to be isolated. They couldn't hear their bandmates and, as a result, often didn't play very well.

Changing the technology used in art changes the art, for good and ill. Blog-writing has a lot going for it -- spontaneity, velocity, vernacular informality, but often lacks the reflective distance that longer-form works bring. Byrne has similar observations about music and software:

What you hear [in contemporary music] is the shift in music structure that computer-aided composition has encouraged. Though software is promoted as being an unbiased toold that helps us do anything we want, all software has inherent biases that make working one way easier than another. With the Microsoft presentation software PowerPoint, for example, you have to simplify your presentations so much that the subtle nuances in the subject being discussed often get edited out. These nuances are not forbidden, they're not blocked, but including them tends to make for a less successful presentation. Likewise, that which is easy to bullet-point and simply visualize works better. That doesn't mean it actually is better; it means working is certain ways is simply easier than working in others...

An obvious example is quantizing. Since the mid-nineties, most popular music recorded on computers has had tempos and rhythms that have been quantized. That means that the tempo never varies, not even a little bit, the the rhythmic parts tend toward metronomic perfection. In the past, the tempo of recordings  would always vary slightly, imperceptibly speeding up or maybe slowing down a little, or a drum fill might hesitate in order to signal the beginning of a new section. You'd feel a slight push and pull, a tug and then a release, as ensembles of whatever type responded to one another and lurched, ever so slightly, ahead of and behind an imaginary metronomic beat. No more. Now almost all pop recordings are played to a strict tempo, which makes these compositions fit more easily into the confines of editing and recording software. An eight-bar section recorded on a "grid" of this type is exactly twice as long as a four-bar section, and every eight-bar section is always exactly the same length. This makes for a nice visual array on the computer screen, and facilitates easy editing, arranging, and repairing as well. Music has come to accommodate software, and I have to admit a lot has been gained as a result.

Byrne is well aware of the parallels between music technology and other kinds of technology. No history of the recording business would be complete without a note about the format wars fought between Edison and his competitors like RCA, who made incompatible, anti-competitive playback formats. Byrne explicitly links this to modern format-wars, citing MS Office, Kindles, iPads and Pro Tools. (His final word on the format wars rings true for other media as well: "Throughout the history of recorded music, we have tended to value convenience over quality every time. Edison cylinders didn't really sound as good as live performers, but you could carry them around and play them whenever you wanted.")

Likewise, debates over technological change (pooh-poohing the "triviality" of social media or the ephemeral character of blogs) are played out in Byrne's history of music panics, which start in ancient Greece, and play out in situations like the disco wars, which prefigured the modern fight over sampling:

The most threatening thing to rockers in the era of disco was that the music was gay, black and "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings.

Like mixtapes. I'd argue that other than race and sex, [the fact that disco was "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings] was the most threatening aspect. To rock purists, this new music messed with the idea of authorship. If music was now accepted as a kind of property, then this hodgepodge version that disregarded ownership and seemed to belong to and originate with so many people (and machines) called into question a whole social and economic framework.

But as Byrne reminds us, new technology can liberate new art forms. Digital formats and distribution have given us music that is only a few bars long, and compositions that are intended to play for 1,000 years. The MP3 shows us that 3.5 minutes isn't an "ideal" length for a song (merely the ideal length for a song that's meant to be sold on a 45RPM single), just as YouTube showed us that there are plenty of video stories that want to be two minutes long, rather than shoehorned into 22 minute sitcoms, 48 minute dramas, or 90 minute feature films.

And Byrne's own journey has led him to be skeptical of the all-rights-reserved model, from rules over photography and video in his shows:

The thing we were supposed to be fighting against was actually something we should be encouraging. They were getting the word out, and it wasn't costing me anything. I began to announce at the beginning of the shows that photography was welcome, but I suggested to please only post shots and videos where we look good.

To a very good account of the power relationships reflected in ascribing authorship (and ownership, and copyright) to melody, but not to rhythms and grooves and textures, though these are just as important to the music's aesthetic effect.

Byrne doesn't focus exclusively on recording, distribution and playback technology. He is also a keen theorist of the musical implications of architecture, and presents a case-study of the legendary CBGB's and its layout, showing how these led to its center in the 1970s New York music scene that gave us the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television, and many other varied acts. Here, Byrne channels Jane Jacobs in a section that is nothing short of brilliant in its analysis of how small changes (sometimes on the scale of inches) make all the difference to the kind of art that takes place in a building.

There's a long section on the mechanics of the recording business as it stands today, with some speculation about where its headed, and included in this is a fabulous and weird section on some of Byrne's own creative process. Here he describes how he collaborated with Brian Eno on Everything That Happens Will Happen Today:

The unwritten rule in remote collaborations is, for me, "Leave the other person's stuff alone as much as you possibly can." You work with what you're given, and don't try to imagine it as something other than what it is. Accepting that half the creative decision-making has already been done has the effect of bypassing a lot of endless branching -- not to mention waffling and worrying.

And here's a mind-bending look into his lyrics-writing method:

...I begin by improvising a melody over the music. I do this by singing nonsense syllables, but with weirdly inappropriate passion, given that I'm not saying anything. Once I have a wordless melody and a vocal arrangement my my collaborators (if there are any) and I like, I'll begin to transcribe that gibberish as if it were real words.

I'll listen carefully to the meaningless vowels and consonants on the recording, and I'll try to understand what that guy (me), emoting so forcefully by inscrutably, is actually saying. It's like a forensic exercise. I'll follow the sound of the nonsense syllables as closely as possible. If a melodic phrase of gibberish ends on a high ooh sound, then I'll transcribe that, and in selecting the actual words, I'll try to try to choose one that ends in that syllable, or as close to it as I can get. So the transcription process often ends up with a page of real words, still fairly random, that sounds just like the gibberish.

I do that because the difference between an ooh and an aah, and a "b" and a "th" sound is, I assume, integral to the emotion that the story wants to express. I want to stay true to that unconscious, inarticulate intention. Admittedly, that content has no narrative, or might make no literal sense yet, but it's in there -- I can hear it. I can feel it. My job at this stage is to find words that acknowledge and adhere to the sonic and emotional qualities rather than to ignore and possibly destroy them.

Part of what makes words work in a song is how they sound to the ear and feel on the tongue. If they feel right physiologically, if the tongue of the singer and the mirror neurons of the listener resonate with the delicious appropriateness of the words coming out, then that will inevitably trump literal sense, although literal sense doesn't hurt.

Naturally, this leads into a great discussion of the neuroscience of music itself -- why our brains like certain sounds and rhythms.

How Music Works gave me insight into parts of my life as diverse as my email style to how I write fiction to how I parent my daughter (it was a relief to read Byrne's discussion of how parenting changed him as an artist). I've been a David Byrne fan since I was 13 and I got a copy of Stop Making Sense. He's never disappointed me, but with How Music Works, Byrne has blown through my expectations, producing a book that I'll be thinking of and referring to for years to come.

Byrne's touring the book now, and as his tour intersects with my own book tours, I'll be interviewing him live on stage in Toronto on September 19th, at the Harbourfront International Festival of Authors.

How Music Works

https://boingboing.net/2012/09/12/david-byrnes-how-music-w.html

[mostlysignssomeportents]

David Byrne's How Music Works #5yrsago

Former Talking Heads frontman and all-round happy mutant David Byrne has written several good books, but his latest, How Music Works, is unquestionably the best of the very good bunch, possibly the book he was born to write. I could made good case for calling this How Art Works or even How Everything Works.

Though there is plenty of autobiographical material How Music Works that will delight avid fans (like me) -- inside dope on the creative, commercial and personal pressures that led to each of Byrne's projects -- this isn't merely the story of how Byrne made it, or what he does to turn out such great and varied art. Rather, this is an insightful, thorough, and convincing account of the way that creativity, culture, biology and economics interact to prefigure, constrain and uplift art. It's a compelling story about the way that art comes out of technology, and as such, it's widely applicable beyond music.

Byrne lived through an important transition in the music industry: having gotten his start in the analog recording world, he skilfully managed a transition to an artist in the digital era (though not always a digital artist). As such, he has real gut-feel for the things that technology gives to artists and the things that technology takes away. He's like the kids who got their Apple ][+s in 1979, and keenly remember the time before computers were available to kids at all, the time when they were the exclusive domain of obsessive geeks, and the point at which they became widely exciting, and finally, ubiquitous -- a breadth of experience that offers visceral perspective.

There were so many times in this book when I felt like Byrne's observations extended beyond music and dance and into other forms of digital creativity. For example, when Byrne recounted his first experiments with cellular automata exercise for dance choreography, from his collaboration with Noemie Lafrance:

1. Improvise moving to the music and come up with an eight-count phrase (in dance, a phrase is a short series of moves that can be repeated).

2. When you find a phrase you like, loop (repeat) it.

3. When you see someone else with a stronger phrase, copy it.

4. When everyone is doing the same phrase, the exercise is over.

It was like watching evolution on fast-forward, or an emergent lifeform coming into being. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. Then one could see that folks had chosen their phrases, and almost immediately one could see a pocket of dancers who had all adopted the same phrase. The copying had already begun, albeit in just one area. This pocket of copying began to expand, to go viral, while yet another one now emerged on the other side of the room. One clump grew faster than the other, and within four minutes the whole room was filled with dancers moving in perfect unison. Unbelievable! It only took four minutes for this evolutionary process to kick in, and for the "strongest" (unfortunate word, maybe) to dominate.

I remembered the first time I programmed an evolutionary algorithm and watched its complexity emerging from simple rules, and the catch in my throat as I realized that I was watching something like life being built up from simple, inert rules.

The book is shot through with historical examples and arguments about the nature of music, from Plato up to contemporary neuroscience, and here, too, many of the discussions are microcosms for contemporary technical/philosophical debates. There's a passage about how music is felt and experienced that contains the phrase, "music isn't merely absorbed above the neck," which is spookily similar to the debates about replicating human consciousness in computers, and the idea that our identity doesn't reside exclusively above the brainstem.

The same is true of Byrne's account of how music has not "progressed" from a "primitive" state -- rather, it adapted itself to different technological realities. Big cathedrals demand music that accommodates a lot of reverb; village campfire music has completely different needs. Reading this, I was excited by the parallels to discussions of whether we live in an era of technological "progress" or merely technological "change" -- is there a pinnacle we're climbing, or simply a bunch of stuff followed by a bunch of other stuff? Our overwhelming narrative of progress feels like hubris to me, at least a lot of the time. Some things are "better" (more energy efficient, more space-efficient, faster, more effective), but there are plenty of things that are held up as "better" that, to me, are simply different. Often very good, but in no way a higher rung on some notional ladder toward perfection.

When Byrne's history comes to the rise of popular recorded music, he describes a familiar dilemma: recording artists were asked to produce music that could work when performed live and when listened to in the listener's private playback environment -- not so different from the problems faced by games developers today who struggle to make games that will work on a wide variety of screens. In a later section, he describes the solution that was arrived at in the 1970s, a solution that reminds me a lot of the current world of content management systems like WordPress and Blogger, which attempt to separate "meaning" from "form" for text, storing them separately and combining them with little code-libraries called "decorators":

[Deconstruct and isolate] sums up the philosophy of a lot of music recording back in the late seventies. The goal was to get as pristine a sound as possible... Studios were often padded with sound-absorbent materials so that there was almost no reverberation. The sonic character of the space was sucked out, because it wasn't considered to be part of the music. Without this ambiance, it was explained, the sound would be more malleable after the recording had been made. Dead, characterless sound was held up as the ideal, and often still is. In this philosophy, the naturally occurring echo and reverb that normally added a little warmth to performances would be removed and then added back in when the recording was being mixed...

Recording a performance with a band and singer all playing together at the same time in the same room was by this time becoming a rarity. An incredible array of options opened up as a result, but some organic interplay between the musicians disappeared, and the sound of music changed. Some musicians who played well in live situations couldn't adapt to the fashion for each player to be isolated. They couldn't hear their bandmates and, as a result, often didn't play very well.

Changing the technology used in art changes the art, for good and ill. Blog-writing has a lot going for it -- spontaneity, velocity, vernacular informality, but often lacks the reflective distance that longer-form works bring. Byrne has similar observations about music and software:

What you hear [in contemporary music] is the shift in music structure that computer-aided composition has encouraged. Though software is promoted as being an unbiased toold that helps us do anything we want, all software has inherent biases that make working one way easier than another. With the Microsoft presentation software PowerPoint, for example, you have to simplify your presentations so much that the subtle nuances in the subject being discussed often get edited out. These nuances are not forbidden, they're not blocked, but including them tends to make for a less successful presentation. Likewise, that which is easy to bullet-point and simply visualize works better. That doesn't mean it actually is better; it means working is certain ways is simply easier than working in others...

An obvious example is quantizing. Since the mid-nineties, most popular music recorded on computers has had tempos and rhythms that have been quantized. That means that the tempo never varies, not even a little bit, the the rhythmic parts tend toward metronomic perfection. In the past, the tempo of recordings would always vary slightly, imperceptibly speeding up or maybe slowing down a little, or a drum fill might hesitate in order to signal the beginning of a new section. You'd feel a slight push and pull, a tug and then a release, as ensembles of whatever type responded to one another and lurched, ever so slightly, ahead of and behind an imaginary metronomic beat. No more. Now almost all pop recordings are played to a strict tempo, which makes these compositions fit more easily into the confines of editing and recording software. An eight-bar section recorded on a "grid" of this type is exactly twice as long as a four-bar section, and every eight-bar section is always exactly the same length. This makes for a nice visual array on the computer screen, and facilitates easy editing, arranging, and repairing as well. Music has come to accommodate software, and I have to admit a lot has been gained as a result.

Byrne is well aware of the parallels between music technology and other kinds of technology. No history of the recording business would be complete without a note about the format wars fought between Edison and his competitors like RCA, who made incompatible, anti-competitive playback formats. Byrne explicitly links this to modern format-wars, citing MS Office, Kindles, iPads and Pro Tools. (His final word on the format wars rings true for other media as well: "Throughout the history of recorded music, we have tended to value convenience over quality every time. Edison cylinders didn't really sound as good as live performers, but you could carry them around and play them whenever you wanted.")

Likewise, debates over technological change (pooh-poohing the "triviality" of social media or the ephemeral character of blogs) are played out in Byrne's history of music panics, which start in ancient Greece, and play out in situations like the disco wars, which prefigured the modern fight over sampling:

The most threatening thing to rockers in the era of disco was that the music was gay, black and "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings.

Like mixtapes. I'd argue that other than race and sex, [the fact that disco was "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings] was the most threatening aspect. To rock purists, this new music messed with the idea of authorship. If music was now accepted as a kind of property, then this hodgepodge version that disregarded ownership and seemed to belong to and originate with so many people (and machines) called into question a whole social and economic framework.

But as Byrne reminds us, new technology can liberate new art forms. Digital formats and distribution have given us music that is only a few bars long, and compositions that are intended to play for 1,000 years. The MP3 shows us that 3.5 minutes isn't an "ideal" length for a song (merely the ideal length for a song that's meant to be sold on a 45RPM single), just as YouTube showed us that there are plenty of video stories that want to be two minutes long, rather than shoehorned into 22 minute sitcoms, 48 minute dramas, or 90 minute feature films.

And Byrne's own journey has led him to be skeptical of the all-rights-reserved model, from rules over photography and video in his shows:

The thing we were supposed to be fighting against was actually something we should be encouraging. They were getting the word out, and it wasn't costing me anything. I began to announce at the beginning of the shows that photography was welcome, but I suggested to please only post shots and videos where we look good.

To a very good account of the power relationships reflected in ascribing authorship (and ownership, and copyright) to melody, but not to rhythms and grooves and textures, though these are just as important to the music's aesthetic effect.

Byrne doesn't focus exclusively on recording, distribution and playback technology. He is also a keen theorist of the musical implications of architecture, and presents a case-study of the legendary CBGB's and its layout, showing how these led to its center in the 1970s New York music scene that gave us the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television, and many other varied acts. Here, Byrne channels Jane Jacobs in a section that is nothing short of brilliant in its analysis of how small changes (sometimes on the scale of inches) make all the difference to the kind of art that takes place in a building.

There's a long section on the mechanics of the recording business as it stands today, with some speculation about where its headed, and included in this is a fabulous and weird section on some of Byrne's own creative process. Here he describes how he collaborated with Brian Eno on Everything That Happens Will Happen Today:

The unwritten rule in remote collaborations is, for me, "Leave the other person's stuff alone as much as you possibly can." You work with what you're given, and don't try to imagine it as something other than what it is. Accepting that half the creative decision-making has already been done has the effect of bypassing a lot of endless branching -- not to mention waffling and worrying.

And here's a mind-bending look into his lyrics-writing method:

...I begin by improvising a melody over the music. I do this by singing nonsense syllables, but with weirdly inappropriate passion, given that I'm not saying anything. Once I have a wordless melody and a vocal arrangement my my collaborators (if there are any) and I like, I'll begin to transcribe that gibberish as if it were real words.

I'll listen carefully to the meaningless vowels and consonants on the recording, and I'll try to understand what that guy (me), emoting so forcefully by inscrutably, is actually saying. It's like a forensic exercise. I'll follow the sound of the nonsense syllables as closely as possible. If a melodic phrase of gibberish ends on a high ooh sound, then I'll transcribe that, and in selecting the actual words, I'll try to try to choose one that ends in that syllable, or as close to it as I can get. So the transcription process often ends up with a page of real words, still fairly random, that sounds just like the gibberish.

I do that because the difference between an ooh and an aah, and a "b" and a "th" sound is, I assume, integral to the emotion that the story wants to express. I want to stay true to that unconscious, inarticulate intention. Admittedly, that content has no narrative, or might make no literal sense yet, but it's in there -- I can hear it. I can feel it. My job at this stage is to find words that acknowledge and adhere to the sonic and emotional qualities rather than to ignore and possibly destroy them.

Part of what makes words work in a song is how they sound to the ear and feel on the tongue. If they feel right physiologically, if the tongue of the singer and the mirror neurons of the listener resonate with the delicious appropriateness of the words coming out, then that will inevitably trump literal sense, although literal sense doesn't hurt.

Naturally, this leads into a great discussion of the neuroscience of music itself -- why our brains like certain sounds and rhythms.

How Music Works gave me insight into parts of my life as diverse as my email style to how I write fiction to how I parent my daughter (it was a relief to read Byrne's discussion of how parenting changed him as an artist). I've been a David Byrne fan since I was 13 and I got a copy of Stop Making Sense. He's never disappointed me, but with How Music Works, Byrne has blown through my expectations, producing a book that I'll be thinking of and referring to for years to come.

Byrne's touring the book now, and as his tour intersects with my own book tours, I'll be interviewing him live on stage in Toronto on September 19th, at the Harbourfront International Festival of Authors.

How Music Works

https://boingboing.net/2012/09/12/david-byrnes-how-music-w.html

[mostlysignssomeportents]

David Byrne's How Music Works #5yrsago

Former Talking Heads frontman and all-round happy mutant David Byrne has written several good books, but his latest, How Music Works, is unquestionably the best of the very good bunch, possibly the book he was born to write. I could made good case for calling this How Art Works or even How Everything Works.

Though there is plenty of autobiographical material How Music Works that will delight avid fans (like me) -- inside dope on the creative, commercial and personal pressures that led to each of Byrne's projects -- this isn't merely the story of how Byrne made it, or what he does to turn out such great and varied art. Rather, this is an insightful, thorough, and convincing account of the way that creativity, culture, biology and economics interact to prefigure, constrain and uplift art. It's a compelling story about the way that art comes out of technology, and as such, it's widely applicable beyond music.

Byrne lived through an important transition in the music industry: having gotten his start in the analog recording world, he skilfully managed a transition to an artist in the digital era (though not always a digital artist). As such, he has real gut-feel for the things that technology gives to artists and the things that technology takes away. He's like the kids who got their Apple ][+s in 1979, and keenly remember the time before computers were available to kids at all, the time when they were the exclusive domain of obsessive geeks, and the point at which they became widely exciting, and finally, ubiquitous -- a breadth of experience that offers visceral perspective.

There were so many times in this book when I felt like Byrne's observations extended beyond music and dance and into other forms of digital creativity. For example, when Byrne recounted his first experiments with cellular automata exercise for dance choreography, from his collaboration with Noemie Lafrance:

1. Improvise moving to the music and come up with an eight-count phrase (in dance, a phrase is a short series of moves that can be repeated).

2. When you find a phrase you like, loop (repeat) it.

3. When you see someone else with a stronger phrase, copy it.

4. When everyone is doing the same phrase, the exercise is over.

It was like watching evolution on fast-forward, or an emergent lifeform coming into being. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. At first the room was chaos, writhing bodies everywhere. Then one could see that folks had chosen their phrases, and almost immediately one could see a pocket of dancers who had all adopted the same phrase. The copying had already begun, albeit in just one area. This pocket of copying began to expand, to go viral, while yet another one now emerged on the other side of the room. One clump grew faster than the other, and within four minutes the whole room was filled with dancers moving in perfect unison. Unbelievable! It only took four minutes for this evolutionary process to kick in, and for the "strongest" (unfortunate word, maybe) to dominate.

I remembered the first time I programmed an evolutionary algorithm and watched its complexity emerging from simple rules, and the catch in my throat as I realized that I was watching something like life being built up from simple, inert rules.

The book is shot through with historical examples and arguments about the nature of music, from Plato up to contemporary neuroscience, and here, too, many of the discussions are microcosms for contemporary technical/philosophical debates. There's a passage about how music is felt and experienced that contains the phrase, "music isn't merely absorbed above the neck," which is spookily similar to the debates about replicating human consciousness in computers, and the idea that our identity doesn't reside exclusively above the brainstem.

The same is true of Byrne's account of how music has not "progressed" from a "primitive" state -- rather, it adapted itself to different technological realities. Big cathedrals demand music that accommodates a lot of reverb; village campfire music has completely different needs. Reading this, I was excited by the parallels to discussions of whether we live in an era of technological "progress" or merely technological "change" -- is there a pinnacle we're climbing, or simply a bunch of stuff followed by a bunch of other stuff? Our overwhelming narrative of progress feels like hubris to me, at least a lot of the time. Some things are "better" (more energy efficient, more space-efficient, faster, more effective), but there are plenty of things that are held up as "better" that, to me, are simply different. Often very good, but in no way a higher rung on some notional ladder toward perfection.

When Byrne's history comes to the rise of popular recorded music, he describes a familiar dilemma: recording artists were asked to produce music that could work when performed live and when listened to in the listener's private playback environment -- not so different from the problems faced by games developers today who struggle to make games that will work on a wide variety of screens. In a later section, he describes the solution that was arrived at in the 1970s, a solution that reminds me a lot of the current world of content management systems like WordPress and Blogger, which attempt to separate "meaning" from "form" for text, storing them separately and combining them with little code-libraries called "decorators":

[Deconstruct and isolate] sums up the philosophy of a lot of music recording back in the late seventies. The goal was to get as pristine a sound as possible... Studios were often padded with sound-absorbent materials so that there was almost no reverberation. The sonic character of the space was sucked out, because it wasn't considered to be part of the music. Without this ambiance, it was explained, the sound would be more malleable after the recording had been made. Dead, characterless sound was held up as the ideal, and often still is. In this philosophy, the naturally occurring echo and reverb that normally added a little warmth to performances would be removed and then added back in when the recording was being mixed...

Recording a performance with a band and singer all playing together at the same time in the same room was by this time becoming a rarity. An incredible array of options opened up as a result, but some organic interplay between the musicians disappeared, and the sound of music changed. Some musicians who played well in live situations couldn't adapt to the fashion for each player to be isolated. They couldn't hear their bandmates and, as a result, often didn't play very well.

Changing the technology used in art changes the art, for good and ill. Blog-writing has a lot going for it -- spontaneity, velocity, vernacular informality, but often lacks the reflective distance that longer-form works bring. Byrne has similar observations about music and software:

What you hear [in contemporary music] is the shift in music structure that computer-aided composition has encouraged. Though software is promoted as being an unbiased toold that helps us do anything we want, all software has inherent biases that make working one way easier than another. With the Microsoft presentation software PowerPoint, for example, you have to simplify your presentations so much that the subtle nuances in the subject being discussed often get edited out. These nuances are not forbidden, they're not blocked, but including them tends to make for a less successful presentation. Likewise, that which is easy to bullet-point and simply visualize works better. That doesn't mean it actually is better; it means working is certain ways is simply easier than working in others...

An obvious example is quantizing. Since the mid-nineties, most popular music recorded on computers has had tempos and rhythms that have been quantized. That means that the tempo never varies, not even a little bit, the the rhythmic parts tend toward metronomic perfection. In the past, the tempo of recordings would always vary slightly, imperceptibly speeding up or maybe slowing down a little, or a drum fill might hesitate in order to signal the beginning of a new section. You'd feel a slight push and pull, a tug and then a release, as ensembles of whatever type responded to one another and lurched, ever so slightly, ahead of and behind an imaginary metronomic beat. No more. Now almost all pop recordings are played to a strict tempo, which makes these compositions fit more easily into the confines of editing and recording software. An eight-bar section recorded on a "grid" of this type is exactly twice as long as a four-bar section, and every eight-bar section is always exactly the same length. This makes for a nice visual array on the computer screen, and facilitates easy editing, arranging, and repairing as well. Music has come to accommodate software, and I have to admit a lot has been gained as a result.

Byrne is well aware of the parallels between music technology and other kinds of technology. No history of the recording business would be complete without a note about the format wars fought between Edison and his competitors like RCA, who made incompatible, anti-competitive playback formats. Byrne explicitly links this to modern format-wars, citing MS Office, Kindles, iPads and Pro Tools. (His final word on the format wars rings true for other media as well: "Throughout the history of recorded music, we have tended to value convenience over quality every time. Edison cylinders didn't really sound as good as live performers, but you could carry them around and play them whenever you wanted.")

Likewise, debates over technological change (pooh-poohing the "triviality" of social media or the ephemeral character of blogs) are played out in Byrne's history of music panics, which start in ancient Greece, and play out in situations like the disco wars, which prefigured the modern fight over sampling:

The most threatening thing to rockers in the era of disco was that the music was gay, black and "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings.

Like mixtapes. I'd argue that other than race and sex, [the fact that disco was "manufactured" on machines, made out of bits of other peoples' recordings] was the most threatening aspect. To rock purists, this new music messed with the idea of authorship. If music was now accepted as a kind of property, then this hodgepodge version that disregarded ownership and seemed to belong to and originate with so many people (and machines) called into question a whole social and economic framework.

But as Byrne reminds us, new technology can liberate new art forms. Digital formats and distribution have given us music that is only a few bars long, and compositions that are intended to play for 1,000 years. The MP3 shows us that 3.5 minutes isn't an "ideal" length for a song (merely the ideal length for a song that's meant to be sold on a 45RPM single), just as YouTube showed us that there are plenty of video stories that want to be two minutes long, rather than shoehorned into 22 minute sitcoms, 48 minute dramas, or 90 minute feature films.

And Byrne's own journey has led him to be skeptical of the all-rights-reserved model, from rules over photography and video in his shows:

The thing we were supposed to be fighting against was actually something we should be encouraging. They were getting the word out, and it wasn't costing me anything. I began to announce at the beginning of the shows that photography was welcome, but I suggested to please only post shots and videos where we look good.

To a very good account of the power relationships reflected in ascribing authorship (and ownership, and copyright) to melody, but not to rhythms and grooves and textures, though these are just as important to the music's aesthetic effect.

Byrne doesn't focus exclusively on recording, distribution and playback technology. He is also a keen theorist of the musical implications of architecture, and presents a case-study of the legendary CBGB's and its layout, showing how these led to its center in the 1970s New York music scene that gave us the Ramones, Talking Heads, Television, and many other varied acts. Here, Byrne channels Jane Jacobs in a section that is nothing short of brilliant in its analysis of how small changes (sometimes on the scale of inches) make all the difference to the kind of art that takes place in a building.

There's a long section on the mechanics of the recording business as it stands today, with some speculation about where its headed, and included in this is a fabulous and weird section on some of Byrne's own creative process. Here he describes how he collaborated with Brian Eno on Everything That Happens Will Happen Today:

The unwritten rule in remote collaborations is, for me, "Leave the other person's stuff alone as much as you possibly can." You work with what you're given, and don't try to imagine it as something other than what it is. Accepting that half the creative decision-making has already been done has the effect of bypassing a lot of endless branching -- not to mention waffling and worrying.

And here's a mind-bending look into his lyrics-writing method:

...I begin by improvising a melody over the music. I do this by singing nonsense syllables, but with weirdly inappropriate passion, given that I'm not saying anything. Once I have a wordless melody and a vocal arrangement my my collaborators (if there are any) and I like, I'll begin to transcribe that gibberish as if it were real words.

I'll listen carefully to the meaningless vowels and consonants on the recording, and I'll try to understand what that guy (me), emoting so forcefully by inscrutably, is actually saying. It's like a forensic exercise. I'll follow the sound of the nonsense syllables as closely as possible. If a melodic phrase of gibberish ends on a high ooh sound, then I'll transcribe that, and in selecting the actual words, I'll try to try to choose one that ends in that syllable, or as close to it as I can get. So the transcription process often ends up with a page of real words, still fairly random, that sounds just like the gibberish.

I do that because the difference between an ooh and an aah, and a "b" and a "th" sound is, I assume, integral to the emotion that the story wants to express. I want to stay true to that unconscious, inarticulate intention. Admittedly, that content has no narrative, or might make no literal sense yet, but it's in there -- I can hear it. I can feel it. My job at this stage is to find words that acknowledge and adhere to the sonic and emotional qualities rather than to ignore and possibly destroy them.

Part of what makes words work in a song is how they sound to the ear and feel on the tongue. If they feel right physiologically, if the tongue of the singer and the mirror neurons of the listener resonate with the delicious appropriateness of the words coming out, then that will inevitably trump literal sense, although literal sense doesn't hurt.

Naturally, this leads into a great discussion of the neuroscience of music itself -- why our brains like certain sounds and rhythms.

How Music Works gave me insight into parts of my life as diverse as my email style to how I write fiction to how I parent my daughter (it was a relief to read Byrne's discussion of how parenting changed him as an artist). I've been a David Byrne fan since I was 13 and I got a copy of Stop Making Sense. He's never disappointed me, but with How Music Works, Byrne has blown through my expectations, producing a book that I'll be thinking of and referring to for years to come.

How Music Works

https://boingboing.net/2012/09/12/david-byrnes-how-music-w.html