lowquality.net

I saw this video on VH-1 about a month ago and it has been haunting me ever since. I think I dreamed myself explaining it to someone last night. It’s astounding how such a joyful tune can have an entirely different meaning when put into a different context. I’m not an especially big Beatles fan, or solo John Lennon fan, but I have always placed the murder of John Lennon somewhere in my top 5 of “things I’d change if I ever got the money together to build a time machine.”

I just gave a productive lesson to a student concerning the modes of the major scale. We’d gone over them in the past but this was the first time I think he really had a lightbulb moment and GOT it. I won’t bore you with too many of the mundane details concerning diatonic music theory, but, essentially, what suddenly came into focus for Mark was that the more you learn the rules of music, the more you realize how flexible those rules are. Yeah, the text book answer is that you play a D Dorian scale over a D-7 chord in the key of C, but can you play D natural minor? Sure. You can if you know how to make it work.. and in saying that I had my own kind of lightbulb moment.

What makes music so damned cool is that it isn’t predictable. Sure there’s a lot of rules that we learn as students, and, sure, when we achieve a certain level of proficiency we come to realize that every one of those rules can be broken at our whim, but it isn’t ever so simple as “music has lots of rules” or “music has no rules.” In the middle somewhere we realize that every musical situation poses its own challenges and its own set of rules and “un-rules.”

An example I gave Mark is that every musical situation is kind of like you are throwing a party with everyone you know invited. Some people you can joke around with, tease and pester them and they laugh and joke back with you. You can say anything you want to some of your friends, be as irreverent as you can imagine, and you’re always going to be cool. Some people are so familiar you can even eat the fries right off their plates and they don’t care, because you know them really well and you know how they will react to every situation. But everyone has a button that can be pushed that you just have to be careful with. You can’t make the same jokes, with everyone and some topics are off limits with just about everyone, you can’t smoke or drink around certain people and with others you can’t really do much more than stick to the standard chit-chat about the weather or sports. Nevertheless,  you have to engage them somehow, because this is your party and you want to be a good host.

Interestingly enough, where you will always have to be careful what you say to certain people, others will not. Everyone has their own way about them, their own approach to social situations, their own personal experiences, and cultural identities that change up the playing field of “having a party.” Where I find that I cannot play a B natural on a G minor chord without getting a nasty look from the pianist, someone else may be able to. Maybe its my sense of the song, my understanding of the chord, the timbre of my instrument– shit, maybe its the fact that I play bass and the role of the bass demands a certain level of harmonic stability. Miles Davis played all kinds of wrong notes and made them work, maybe its because he plays the trumpet… or maybe its just because he’s Miles.

The point is this: We HAVE to entertain our guests, which means we have to learn social conventions of throwing a party. Learn how to keep the most basically successful party going without anyone getting offended, hungry, or bored. We have to learn all of the most basic rules… first. Once we get to know how to throw a party then we can figure out what kind of people our guests are and how we can react to them dynamically. The rules change from person to person and from song to song and from note to note.

If this blog is my life then my life is a mess.

I need a new focus for lowquality.net. Right now it’s a mess. I know I will never have any kind of envious design on here, because I am just not very gifted in that department, but if I had some kind of theme or something I think this site could be something fun.

I’ve been thinking about relaunching lowquality.net as a music / bass-centric blog with occasional touchings upon technology (specifically music technology, and open-sourced music solutions) and then getting a tumblr account or even a blogger account for my day-to-day ramblings. Actually, an anonymous blog for my personal rantings wouldn’t be a bad idea at all would it? No. I don’t think so either.

I read so many blogs on the web now and its making me hyper-sensitive to the fact that mine just stinks. I need some kind of a theme.

Idea boosted from Drew, who probably doesn’t think I read his blog.

- Listen to… Isotope 217. They’ve been broken up for awhile but I am just now getting into them. Some members have worked with Tortoise, if you dig them, you might like this.

- Watch… Giant Gila Monster. It  is one of the worst “horror” movies ever and one of Brett’s favorites.

- Buy… A new coffee press from Bodum. I have one that is perfectly functional, but I want a new one anyway.

- Eat… At Pasha Mezze. Excellent choice for Sunday brunch.

- Drink… Williamsburg Alewerks but disregard their shitty website and logos. The beer is exceptional.

- Learn… The Official Twitter Txt Commands. Easily my favorite feature of Twitter is its integration with SMS, making it backwards compatible with “inferior” technology. No need for an iPhone just to tweet, you could use Twitter with an old Motorola Startac.

- Visit…. Retrothing.com. It’s my new favorite website.

But I am gladly taking some of the credit (and some of the blame).

After a steady stream of childish snorting and giggling at the celebrity Twitter feed of Helen Keller, Paul told me he was going to make a Helen Keller web app based on the concept of an online language translator.

Thus the Helen Keller-izer was born. Somehow my reputation towards inappropriateness got me credit in the disclaimer at the bottom. Whatever the reason I am shouting the praises of this from the mountain tops, this is making me laugh out loud every time I use it.

Something I think is fascinating about Hellen Keller is how she is only ever remembered as the little deaf and blind girl who, through the help of Anne Sullivan, learned to speak, read, and write. Keller was extremely well educated despite her deficiencies and wrote several books. Furthermore, she was also a socialist and activist for womens’ suffrage. I have no idea why this stuff is left out of the history books. Perhaps if Paul and I were raised to think of Helen Keller as a person of substance and not a disabled person, we wouldn’t be defiling her memory with this silly application.

Yes, America, it’s your fault, not ours.

This video (via Dug) is worth a watch. I think its completely amazing.

I don’t know if I ever heard Ernesto play guitar the whole time we were in college together but he’s been posting a lot of great stuff on youtube and facebook and it needs to be shared.

Also check out his project “Death And The Maiden” where he tackles some of the greatest string quartets in history with the electric guitar– not as “wanky” as you might expect, it’s totally tasteful. Kind of an inversion of the concept presented by Apocalyptica.

The blues are over.

I don’t usually shop on ebay. I have had notoriously bad luck with ebay the last few times I’ve bought or sold anything on it. It’s a good place for old stuff you can’t find, but people generally know what they are selling these days and they know how to subsidize extra charges into the shipping and handling fees and, really, the bid-junkies have ruined eBay. People don’t go on eBay to get a deal anymore, they are addicted to winning auctions. It doesn’t matter to eBayers that they voided the opportunity to have a store warranty and are paying full price plus shipping for something they could get at their local mall (or, better yet, a legitimate online store). They gotta win. The age of the great eBay deals seems to be long past.

Or so I thought.

A student of mine had been professing a great longing to own an American Fender bass but not really having the money for a brand new one, he was looking for either a used American Fender and entertaining the thoughts of compromising and grabbing a Mexican or Japanese instrument. I told him the ins and outs of the different degrees of Fender instruments and then, at his next lesson, he rolls up in my studio with a used natural finish American P-Bass. He got a pretty solid deal for it on Craigslist, but had also been looking on eBay as well. Basically he gave me a whole run down about the deals he was seeing out there because people are selling used gear and some stores are unloading new gear that they can sell locally. After his lesson I sat down and fired up the ol’ computer machine.

In the midst of an IM conversation with Jsleeper about how we are both drooling over gear we can’t afford (photography gear in his case), I see an Aguilar AG 500, new in box, being sold around $1200 (which is normal street value) on ebay. I was about to navigate to aimlessly window shop at some of my usual music retailer web haunts when I realize that the auction is a “Buy It Now or Make An Offer” sale. Thinking I had nothing to lose, because of Aguilar’s excellent factory warranty, I thought I’d take a chance and bid $1000… but then, presumably possessed by the same spirit that told me to only take $80 dollars out of the ATM when his friend was being held at gunpoint in Brighton, MA, I decided to bid $900 instead.

I go back to my conversation with Joe, tell him what I did, and how it will probably be fruitless and then 15 minutes later I get a notice that they accepted my offer! Aguilar AG 500 for $900! Sweet! The only bummer was the slow transaction due to Paypal, but it was an ideal ebay sale otherwise. I can’t be more pleased. The amp was totally new in box, as advertised, and sealed from the factory.

I’ve been playing it at home, and I took it and my Bergantino HT210 & HT115 cabinets out to my folks’ garage to take it for a proper spin and it definitely cranks. In my apartment I can’t turn the volume up above 7 o’clock without it being dangerously loud– even to my really cool neighbors who never call the cops on me. I might get around to a proper review once I get it cranking with a drummer (which should be soon enough), but it’s really a fantastic piece of equipment.

So today, at lunch, I go for a walk around Town Center, to Barnes & Noble and then across Virginia Beach Blvd. to Kohl’s and walk through the store and into the mall. Somewhere inside of the hobby shop that has a Lego sign but no actual Lego products, it hits me that I can eat a little dark chocolate during Phase 1 of south beach so I head for Sweet Tooth at Pembroke mall to get a couple of those Ghiradelli squares (which are perfect because they aren’t too much candy but still hit the spot).

When I get there, the lady behind the counter is chatting away on her cell with someone about co-pays and doctor’s offices. Basically sounding like a know-it-all. I walk past her towards the pre-wrapped candy bars like a man on a mission and, about a minute later, I guess, it occurs to her that I might need some help and she yells (really, YELLS) “CAN I HELP YOU!?!” in her nasally, obnoxious Long Island-ish, Muppet voice and I say, almost under my breath, “no, I’m ok.”

I locate the 60% cocoa Ghiradelli squares and snatch up three of them. I go up to the counter and she puts her call on hold and says “How many? Three?” and I nod.

She rings them up at $1.51 and I whip out my bank card.

“Are you kidding me?” she says.

Even though it was obvious that she was a pain in the ass before I hit the counter, her complete rudeness caught me off guard. “I don’t have any cash,” I say.

“You should always carry some cash,” she scolds. “at least five dollars.”

“Never. I lose it too easily. I don’t even have a billfold.” I hold up my open wallet and make the big-eyed you so stoopid face at her.

“Really?” she paused and made the kind of condescending exhalation that means the same as rolling your eyes without the stigma of getting immediately punched in the face by a husky nerd on a diet.

I was seriously about to let her get the last word until she did that.

“This is the year 2009, you know,” I said. Kind of picking a fight.

“Well some businesses won’t accept credit cards for only 1.50.”

I scanned the cash register for a minimum card purchase sign. I saw no such sign. “I don’t go to those businesses,” I said.

“Well have a nice day.”

“Enjoy your phone call.”

The truth is that I DO sometimes go to cash-only places. Kin’s Wok on 21st street is one of my favorite Chinese restaurants and I will make a trip to the ATM to go there. If I happen to have some extra singles and no coffee beans in the house, I will hit up Elliott’s for coffee on Colley Ave (they accept credit cards but have a $20 minimum which is El Retardo, in my book). I understand why over-privileged small business owners think its such a hassle to accept credit transactions for such small amounts, its because they don’t feel they should pay a fee for $1.51. What they don’t understand (or care about) is that as soon as I take a $20 bill out of an ATM, it’s gone. Instead of going to a coffee shop and paying a couple of bucks for an Americano with my bank card, I’ve taken out 20 bucks I can no longer account for. It’s spent. Maybe I should be better at managing my cash, but I’m the customer, so fuck you and gimme my damn candy.

She was obviously the (or one of) the owners, no retail employee would give a customer that much shit about a credit card transaction, they would just do it. I can’t decide if I should reward her disservice by avoiding her shop and paying a little extra at the very fancy Royal Chocolate in Town Center or if I should KEEP going there every week so she keeps getting charged a fee every time she swipes my card. I should add that I was the only customer in the store. At 12:30PM on a weekday, and she’s giving me shit about using my credit card.

In some ways Elvis was lucky to have died before everyone really knew how much of a whacko he was in his later years. Michael Jackson has the unfortunate fate of outlasting his fame and enduring the fallout. As much as I enjoy this photo set for the innate weirdness presented (can you imagine being stuck in Neverland Ranch alone at night in a power outage? Eeep!) part of me feels really sad because it seems like an entire generation of people only know MJ as an eccentric plastic surgery addicted freakshow with possible tendencies towards pederasty and have no memory of the Michael Jackson of the 80’s where the whole world– and I mean, literally, the WHOLE (FUCKING) WORLD was his fanbase.

It is unlikely that we’ll ever have another superstar on the leve thatl MJ was at the peak of his career because of the internet and paparazzi and how much of an industry there is making famous people look like buffoons. On the other hand, its not really that hard when you have several was figures made in your image and paintings of yourself as royalty hanging in your living room.

To clear your pallete after you browse this photo gallery (and laugh at the many funny comments), go listen to Off The Wall.