Vs ~ Pearl Jam
DJ QUIK - Born and raised in compton
Fleetwood Mac: Future Games
ooo first time posting in this thread...
Iron Maiden - Murders in the Rue morgue
Iron Maiden - The Trooper
Originally Posted by Fugazi Dave
i like it a lot.....in my carrier...played it in the coffeeshop i work in today for the first time....
Race Against Myself-The Offspring
The Life Aquatic Soundtrack
"Riding bikes on the street is the fuggin jam!" Juvi-Kyle
pardon the delayed response... actually, the self-titled album on Emperor Norton Records.Originally Posted by Agent_Embryo
slint - chicago, illinois - 08/19/89
Cheap Trick - dream police
Junior Murvin - Police & Thieves.
I donít know that I am qualified to postulate on the psychology and motivations present in the audiophile experience, but I do have a rather long view of the situation and maybe it will strike a cord with some of you.
My position here is going to be that under different situations we listen to different aspects of music to derive a level of pleasure or other emotional stimulus from it.
My first introduction to music was my mother singing to me. It was the sound of her lyrical voice and the fact that it was directed at me that was the drug, not the song, or the melody, although they were bonded irrevocably in my mind as a result of the experience.
Then it was the songs that our family sang together as we drove in the car. Songs that had craze hand motions (Do your ears hang low?) songs with verses that each of us added as we sang (Oh the Deacon went down) Songs that were on the top forty (Que Sera Sera) Once again it wasnít the songs or the sound of our little choir, it was the fun of performing as a group.
Then there was Rock and Roll, that heathen devil music that was shunned in all cultured circles. It was so expressive and alive and forbidden. Again it wasnít a wonderful sound that sprang from the portable phonographs that spun our cherished 45ís, it was the beat, and the rhythm, and the lyrics that no adult could understand; that was our thrill.
When I was dragged along to one of my sisterís piano recitals, it was not the songs that were played, that I was listening to; it was the piano and the room. This big black grand sounded different than our old third hand standup in the den, it had character. That piano had the power. Something in my brain had clicked, the music sounded better to me. It was not just because my sister had risen to the occasion and was playing better, it was because I had realized that I could hear a difference between the two pianos and this one sounded good.
When I put on a suit and take my lady to the opera it is not the aria that is washing over me, it is the glow of my best friend in her gorgeous evening gown that is bathing me.
At the ballet it is the muscular legs of the male dancers and the slight lithe frames of the ballerinas that have my eyes, but my ears are counting the oboeís and anticipating the moment when the bassoon will join in.
The music is an experience and different times and settings call for a slightly difference focus on our parts.
This is especially true in our homes. We use music as a background wash to either slow or speed the tempo of our internal clock. We use it to engage and entertain our children, and sometimes as a potion to help us recall a pleasant time or experience.
Music is mathematics, music is emotion and music is magic. Part of that magic is that it works in person, and it works over the phone when your little girl calls you up at work and sings happy birthday to you. It works in real time at the founders day parade, and it works when you put on a scratchy John Philips Souza LP on the Victrola.
The other day I placed a new cd into my very average cd player and sat back to listen. My system is nothing exceptional, all but the cd player are all very old pieces, and not even state of the art in their day. I have certainly heard much better systems and even owned better, but this is what I have, and so this is what I listen to. But what I heard, oh my God! What I heard was amazing.
Yo-yo Ma sat behind his cello, stage right (no, not your right, stage right) and there was a concert grand behind him. The complex rhythm was latten and heavy, the tango that flowed from his bow filled my sole with fire. I was not hearing the deficiencies in my speakers I was hearing the passion that Yo-yo Ma had for this music, and he had me totally in his grasp. The mastery of his instrument the emotion that he was able to project in the music, more than made up for the sonic shortcomings of my system.
My life is fuller now, not because I can listen to cello music on my Dahlquist DQ10ís but because I can listen to Yo-yo Maís cello music on them.
Nine Pound Hammer~Smokin' Taters
beach boys~ pet sounds
Iggy and the Stooges - Raw Power
S.H.O.K.K- Isn't it all a little strange? [Krazy Nut Mix]
dB's - Stands for deciBels/Percussion
Stereolab-First of the Microbe Hunters