Emery Marc Petchauer
Today I thought this certain 12 year old was just messing around for about 30 minutes during session, laughing and giggling and mashing about. Then at the end he programmed something I’d never seen him program before. Just like that. Then an hour later I realized he wasn’t messing at all. He was exploring. The laughs and giggles were just the soundtrack.
Added bass and melody to the drums we laid down last week. At the end of class after the mini showcase, one student came up beside me and said, “Me and you, we should make a beat together.”
What a fun little article on listening to music (and beyond) in The Paris Review.
Listening, for most of us, doesn’t feel like doing anything. It’s more of a sensation than activity, a dreamy, ill-defined feeling stretching through us. We’re often not aware we are doing it, or even fully conscious. We literally—when we forget to shut off the television or our Spotify playlists—do it in our sleep.
But sometimes I wonder what would happen if we listened harder, or better, or more rigorously. This might seem exhausting. Am I incapable of relaxing? Probably. But music scholars insist that if we listened to music the way a musician would, understanding how notes trigger feelings, how tones take on their own textures and meanings, then we might experience something more visceral and expansive. We could push deeper into every song.
Doing my favorite thing this afternoon: making beats and sounds with kids. Each one teach as many as they can.
Putting together an hour long set for Universal Rhythm this week and contemplating just playing SAULT 7 on the turntable for the whole hour because.
“What relational conditions are necessary for X to happen?” That seems to be the question I’m asking myself in a lot of areas right now: outcomes in class, exchanges among artists in a research project, equity hack sessions with organziers, etc. I seem to be operating on a theory of change rooted in relational conditions and what they might afford.
Been following this story for a while. Another world is possible.
Newsom signs bill to return Bruce’s Beach to Black family - Los Angeles Times
How much do you really care about your collaborators if you’re not trouble shooting the vibes n sound x Koala Sampler integration over Zoom before the first exchange session?
Tyshawn Sorey on writing music for the Paul Motian Trio:
It’s really about how we breathe together, how we move together, how we listen, how we experience each other, what it feels like to play as a trio but not sound like three people. The way I’ve always viewed the notion of trio is that trio means one.
First class…back. I asked students to think about the people who got them through the last 18 months to where they are today — back in this classroom, the people they supported during the last 18 months, and the people whose names we know who are not here. I told them this isn’t something we should just do on this first, inaugural day “back.” It should become a ritual, an ongoing offering as we move forward uncertainly: “I want you to know and remember…” like SOLHOT does. I hope to carry this through next week and the rest of the semester, whatever it holds.
Do thyself a favor and click on the Detroit Jazz Festival live feed this afternoon.
Me: Okay, but why??
Also me: NEED NOW!!
This new vertical turntable attaches to the wall thevinylfactory.com/news/this…
This track by Kamaal Williams and Lauren Faith makes my day better everytime it comes on.
Snowber:
I have often wondered if the gift of the body’s knowledge is the best kept secret. We are bodies, we do not have bodies. They are a place of deep learning, and both bodily knowledge and bodily wisdom are available to us.
Rewatching GET OUT. Never noticed Chris leaning down to see the cotton lifting out of the leather chair he scratched out. This is a perfect film.
Not sure if anyone feels the same way, but the difference between (Name, date) and (e.g., Name, date) is so crucial.
Ready to go for DEMC at DIME. The topic: Adding simple DJ cuts to tracks — skill and philosophy. Free online stream if you can find it!
This creative non fiction piece about mathematics, teaching, and the wonder of infinity had me tearing up both times I read it. I can’t wait to read it a third.
I try holding not too tightly onto specific sentences in early drafts. That’s because I know things will get chopped and changed over time. But there’s one sentence in this essay I’m writing that I love so much. Too much, in fact. It’s gonna get me into trouble, have me saying something nasty to any editor who suggests I change even one word in it. This kind of love will have me giving up the whole essay just to save this little sentence of my heart.