Zero nuove infezioni, zero discriminazioni, zero morti Aids-correlate. Questo significa GETTING TO ZERO, slogan della Giornata mondiale di lotta contro l’Aids del 1° dicembre 2011.
http://www.worldaidscampaign.org/
Sylvia Robinson (March 6, 1936 – September 29, 2011) was an American singer, musician, record producer, and record label executive, most notably known for her work as founder/CEO of the hip hop label Sugar Hill Records. She is credited as the driving force behind two landmark singles in the genre. The first was “Rapper’s Delight” by the Sugarhill Gang, which was the first rap song to be released by a hip hop act.[1] The second was “The Message” by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five.
She co-wrote and produced Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s most successful single, “The Message”, which is credited as the rap song that brought socially conscious lyrics into hip hop. She persuaded the group to record the song while it was still an estranged demo recording, surprisingly created by a studio percussionist for the Sugar Hill Gang.[8] By commercializing the market for rap records, Robinson is credited as the mother of modern hip hop. The song “Rapper’s Delight” brought rap into the public music arena, and revolutionized the music industry as it introduced the idea of re-using existing compositions, a practice that later became known as “sampling”.
THX & WJM (Sistemi Audiofobici Burp) at the controls
start h 19,30
giovedì 1 dicembre 2011 presso la libreria cafe La Citè, borgo San Frediano 20r
info — http://www.lacitelibreria.info/
Mutated barbarian loop -87bpm- 24bit 96khz
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Broken dreams loop -99bpm- 24bit 96khz
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loops made by THX with a Boss RC-20XL loopstation
Dr. Octagon – Instrumentalyst (Octagon beats)
production: Dan The Automator
scratching: DJ Qbert
http://soundcloud.com/fux/sets/dan-the-automator/
Kool Keith and Sir Menelik in action…
lyrics
[Kool Keith]
Yeah, at forty thousand Kelvin it’s Dr. Octagon
With, the emperor general
Drop down to 40 G’s
[Sir Menelik]
Can science achieve a unified theory of a complex system
Permanently skeptical of friends of the institute
External faculty, that routinely exerts selective pressure
by killing less fit programs, life evolves, in cyberspace
Green and blue objects in self-replicating lightning
represents random mutations completely chaotic systems
such as turbulent fluids or heating gases are formless
Truly, complex amino bond traders appear at the border
between individual order {?} torturing stick to terms compiled
Among a list of 31 ways to define, grammatical
The degree of universiality in a language required to describe a style
Effective
The degree of regular, rather than random, information
For instance, complexity equals the capacity of an unexpecting observer
Thermodynamic depth, the amount of resources to put back a system
together from scratch, pioneering, engineering, cybernetic cellular calculus
Cooperating flatly contradicting predictable circumstances
Including uranium-235, is obtained, for bomb fission
[Sir Menelik] + (Kool Keith)
Can science achieve a unified theory of complex systems? (Maybe so)
Can science achieve a unified theory of complex systems? (Maybe so)
Can, science, ACHIEVE, a unified theory of complex systems? (Maybe so)
Can science achieve a unified theory of complex systems?
[Kool Keith]
Like carbon dioxide, you messin with the chemicals warfare
Different stars in atmosphere
Like Hailey’s Comet, computers that’ll make you vomit
CHANGE the earth cell saliva runnin in your mouth, gastric juice
More beyond since Mother Goose
Created shapes the first man with hairy apes
Seven, thirty-five, P.M.E.T.D.
Over props sprayin crops like D-D-T
The first arrival of Apollo 13 beamin down through raindrops
while pieces hit the scene
Atomic formats complex playin on, silver DAT’s
Guarded by sonic steel and takin off by Thundercats
You’re on the avenue wishin you could see me
My forcefield shuts in two eyes seein three of me
Illusions, fusion, particle gas confusion
I run space shuttles and me I’m gettin the solution
Takin off in bold, meet me at the black hole
Enzymes for your mind seems to move in tighter showin you the spectrums
The past WITH perfect lighter, you in my future now
[Kool Keith] + (Sir Menelik)
Is H20 a gas or a liquid? (Perhaps concepts could not explain)
Is H20 a gas or a liquid? (Perhaps concepts could not explain)
Is H20 a gas or a liquid? (Perhaps concepts could not explain)
Is H20 a gas or a liquid?
[Sir Menelik]
Psychology, is not applied biology
Nor is biology, applied chemistry
Level independent some degree of the levels above and below captive
Intricacies after a frenzy of interest, theories collapse
Perhaps concepts could not explain
irreversible concrete philosophical developments
Such an analysis, indicate, emergence
Naturally in simple society
The payoff matrix summarizes the scoring
Absolute software, thirty arc second strategy
like drops of water floating in a void
Unstable atoms orbit distant clouds, nuclear having, excess neutrinos
All protons teeter, on the edges of nuclear stability
or at drift lines under the stress, some develop a halo
Beo-radioactivity isotopes exotic
Depending on their velocities and charges narrow momentum distribution
forces directly reflected, electric, magnetic
C-22 ally 11, escape particle with vomit
Properties of the nucleus, V8
And a sun that produces easily detected, neutrinos
Much less than predicted standards can be designed can be ended
And it provides for continuing evolution of technology
while remaining compatible with existing, applications
And programming languages
[Sir Menelik] + (Kool Keith)
Psychology is not applied biology, nor is biology applied chemistry (what’s the issue?)
Psychology is not applied biology, nor is biology applied chemistry (what’s the issue?)
Psychology is not applied biology, nor is biology applied chemistry (what’s the issue?)
Psychology is not applied biology (what’s the issue) nor is biology applied, chemistry
[Kool Keith]
Delta 9, approximate time, I’m facin Venus
The sun is over there and nothin gets between us
You’re the earthling, try to float, it’s a mental thing
I got oxygen, eight hours of space time, you must return quick
Please, don’t waste time, you could die out here
The moon is a place of fear
With two minutes on the planet you’re only bound to panic
We have no extras, bags et cetera
Whenever your obstacles backfires you inflate in seconds
Nervous like flat tires, one second’s left to orbit his last breath
Telecast to Earth a astronaut didn’t make it
We move beyond your navigation and level of 32
Switchin like channel 13
Late at night you see a blank screen
Focus on “The Outer Limits” but you’re back on stage
On the line of scrimmage, I’m out here, come and get me
with no equipment call the President
Not even rocks or fossils left
Damaged by, the elements
[Kool Keith] + (Sir Menelik)
Is light, the source? (Touch my delicate instruments)
Is light, the source? (Touch my delicate instruments)
Is light, the source? (Touch my delicate instruments)
Is light, the source? (Touch, my delicate instruments)
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mp3 donwload link — http://www.youtube-mp3.org/#v=tS64Mz-Z_7I
Octagonecologyst LP lyrics — http://www.ohhla.com/YFA_koolkeith_two.html#dr_oct
Dr. Octagon/Kool Keith
B-Real live al Brancaleone stasera!
Via Levanna, 11
00141 – Roma (RM)
telefono: 0682004382
fax: 0682000851
Godzilla beat (24bit 96khz)
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Dusted pixels (mp3)
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many thanks to SuperKate for supporting me for years
Wire tones, EQ and needle drumming and feedback theory
info — http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scratch_Perverts
Prime Cuts, Plus One and Tony Vegas at BUSC, April 2008
Articolo tratto dal blog di Pralina Tuttifrutti superpralinix che è in via di estinzione a causa della negligenza dei gestori della piattaforma spilnder. Se volete potete lasciare un commento in proposito qui:
http://superpralinix.splinder.com/
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fonte http://superpralinix.splinder.com/post/24493276/analogico
ululato da Pralina alle ore 21:07 mercoledì, 27 aprile 2011
Dedicata a Roberta WJ Meatball, Mat Pogo, Morga Cosimo e Freddie Villarosa
Noi che abbiamo vissuto l’analogico, l’imperfezione ruvida del disco graffiato, la polvere depositata nei solchi della vita, le smagliature delle videocassette, le onde che rompevano la superficie del video proprio dove la cassetta osava iniziare.
La puntina del disco in vinile succoso, affondava nella melassa di liquerizia, alzandosi e abbassandosi con levità ed eleganza in quelle onde nere, restituendo un suono a volte “disturbato” da un sottile fruscio. Sottile o no, era sempre un non so che. La “premiata friggitoria” così io la chiamavo, non mi disturbava, anzi, mi ipnotizzava, rendeva il suono umano. Così umano come non è più stato, perché la Sacra Perfezione Unita ha preso il sopravvento, cercando di eliminare tutto ciò che è imperfetto, impuro, asimmetrico, dispari, differente e diverso perché non omologato e non conforme.
Eppure in quelle pieghine, in quelle smagliaturine che increspavano appena l’inizio dei vhs a volte, c’era poesia.
C’era poesia nelle cassette che per cazzi loro rallentavano la corsa, storpiando appena il suono, perché in macchina, andando alle manifestazioni o a cercare un posto per farci una passeggiata le avevamo ascoltate talmente tante volte che.
Io mi divertivo quando la cassetta cominciava ad essere usurata. A volte i nastri si “incartavano” e si avvolgevano, creando musica ex novo.
A volte, se non era abbastanza, mettevo i dischi a 78 giri, anzi, li spingevo oltre con il dito indice, poi li registravo così. Era bello sentire “Sebben che siamo donne” a 78 giri. Ma anche “Tu scendi dalle stelle” perché no.
Mi piaceva stampare le foto in bianco e nero nella camera oscura, perché c’era della magia nel vedere le immagini che si formavano nel buio. E non importava se la luce rossa si era poi fulminata, e se mancava il timer, e se.
Man Ray, sì certo, le manrayzzavo, le sgranavo, ci mettevo sopra delle mascherine, dei centrini di pizzo, le viravo color seppia, le elaboravo con la china colorata.
Le foto le lavavo tutte nell’acqua corrente, e le attaccavo alle piastrelle del bagno mentre mio marito dormiva, ed ero come febbricitante e felice.
Erano imperfette? Anzi, meglio, erano proprio belle da essere ritoccate poi col pennarello.
Mi piacevano le fotocopie, non le copie laser, proprio le fotocopie, quelle belle grezze, coi bordi un po’ slavati e nemmeno tutte uniformi. E che dire del ciclostile, e poi delle fanze fatte con le fotocopie. Avete mai fatto una fanzine? Sapete cosa vuol dire perdere notti a graffettare fotocopie assurde, di donne coi baffi disegnati, che alla fine vengono anche un po’ storte? No… peccato…
A volte appoggiavo la faccia al vetro, di nascosto dalla padrona della fabbrica, o della cartolaia, e me la fotocopiavo. Mi piaceva vedere la mia faccia fotocopiata. Sono una figa della madonna, lo sappiamo io e lo specchio, che non è mai perfettamente pulito.
A volte la bellezza è nelle cose che ti portano oltre, in un graffio, in un’anomalia, in un disturbo.
Ecco, quei vinili, quelle cassette, quei vhs, quelle stampanti che non funzionavano mai perfettamente, che ti facevano sempre una “sorpresa”, erano disturbati.
Non mi piacciono le cose uguali, perfette, omologate, non amo le superfici troppo liscie, le donne coi seni rifatti, le pance assenti, l’invecchiamento cutaneo da combattere, le immagini levigate quando non esprimono nulla. Non ho mai preso tranquillanti, non ho mai pensato alla prova costume, non mi frega un cazzo del botox o di perdere quei chili che ho fatto tanta fatica a guadagnare. Preferisco avere un margine per sognare, immaginare oltre, e ancora, per elaborare, ricamare proprio a partire da una “imperfezione” la mia vera bellezza.
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“Stuzzicadenti Cadenti” Patrizia Diamante