Friday, August 10, 2012
final thoughts from the Karate Kid - abridged
I look at this experience much like I think Daniel Russo did while
learning karate from Mr. Miyagi. Here's a kid who wants nothing more
than to learn the mechanics of fighting. His teacher is more interested
in the spiritual approach, knowing that the physical aspects will
follow. I see some real parallels here - though sophomoric.
Nonetheless, I went into this course wanting to learn how to become a
better writer. I needed concrete examples and concise critique of my
writing. I wanted to know how to kick and punch. To my chagrin, I got
flowery exposition wound in circles of enigmatic bluster. Wash my
cars. Sand my deck. Paint my fence. Oblivious to the real lesson.
Process. This is where I see the similarities end. I haven't been
faced with recalling moves from muscle-memory. "Wax on!" "Wax off!"
Has the product developed the process that improves what we produce? I
guess I wanted writing's equivalent of the Crane Technique.
Monday, August 6, 2012
a name can be a many splintered thing...
new names for the soon to be until recently named The Heard:
Part 1
music
genre
tunes
concert
gig
wire
blend
mix
stir
plug
hype
tribe
mode
chord
stasis
burst
gig-tribe
tribewire
tribe-wire
gig-wire
gigburst
kind
tribe
Part 1
gig
wire
mix
tribe
tribewire
tribe-wire
gig-wire
kind
tribe
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Have You HEARD the Marketing Plan?
The Heard application requires social media blitz in advance of distribution. I'd like to have campaigns on the likes of Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Youtube, etc. Making connections and friends; getting users excited for the launch. I want to have a web-site built as an anchor to the social media campaign to answer questions, promote, sign-up and engage. I would want to initiate an advertisement campaign through Youtube, Facebook, Android, Apple, Grooveshark, Spotify, Last.fm (among others) that make the intended target audience knowledgeable about The Heard and what it will have to offer. A countdown to release could be used along with a re-direct to the website for more information. Twitter for instance would be very powerful. I would make an effort to follow as many artists and their followers as possible to hopefully gain their support and excitement for the app release. I would carefully craft and push from the anchor website several (about 5 + or -) tweets per day, careful not to over-saturate. Each would endeavor to encourage the reader to think and then act by clicking a link to the anchor website or to another designated site. Youtube would be another social site I would try to exploit. I think I'd spend a lot of time creating a series of videos that highlight the functionality of the app in short, stylish bursts. Here, in addition to the videos could be placed ads for the app and redirection to the anchor web site. Sites like Spotify and Grooveshark are going to be key to success. A partnership with these and other entities would be key also. Spotify for instance plays audible ads after five or so songs are played. With it, there is a visual component that could make for some interesting real-estate for driving eyes to the website. Spotify also offers an "App Finder" which enables users to access apps within the confines of the Spotify dashboard. These apps can draw information about favorite artists from Spotfiy and populate their environments with user familiar data. Facebook is an obvious draw. It is used by billions of users all over the world. Utilizing this platform is also going to be key. Scrobbling artists and the tunes users listen to is already in full swing, but figuring out a way to scrobble concerts users are attending might have potential for proof of performance visibility. Likewise a page would be built to be liked and followed. The anchor website would then push ads, contests, and other engaging content to Facebook (and other outlets) to draw new users to the fold. A campaign of advertising would be initiated on satellite radio and at large venue concerts. At concerts, something as simple as a coupon for a dollar off a drink at the bar could be given to anyone downloading and signing up for the app. This campaign for pre-launch and release is, without a doubt, huge in scale and scope. The strategy should be one of partnership with concert promoters and music sites along with a creative team of marketing and media geniuses creating a brand that users should be excited about before release and equally excited about and more than satisfied upon distribution.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
East Meets West - a film script
Ext. Deserted South Texas highway.
Near sunset.
FADE UP
The sun hangs low in the western horizon of the Texas oil-fields bathed in hues of copper and multitudes of gold. A lone miniature oak tree casts a shadow thrice its height over parched pasture grasses, cactus and nettle. Four weary long-horn stand vigil over their watering hole while chomping lengths of sun baked hay. The air ripples with heat and bears the rusty groans of the hulking oil wells peppered from horizon to horizon. One rig nearby, drenched in rust and tar, groans in monotonous exertion. The sunlight is momentarily blocked by the nodding "donkey well" as it dips doggedly. Again the sun pierces in shards of blazing light as the horse head ascends, returning to its elevated perspective.
A flash of pitch coupled with an engine's roar snap the otherwise quiet Texas country side . The 1966 jet black Lincoln Continental barrels past the four head of long-horn. The beasts' dark, fly encrusted eyes follow the specter as it screams down the Texas artery never missing a metronome precision chew of their cud. The sleek "clap-door" is pristine save for the crumpled front fender smeared red with blood, hair and bone fragments. Also - - the hood is caved in and the passenger side windshield is a spiderweb of cracks splintering the setting sun's rays in a million directions. A lone figure dressed in an ebony suit, white shirt and black tie faces the setting sun, both hands adhered to the steering wheel. Disco-ball refractions of sunlight from the mangled windshield glint playfully on the driver's inky sunglasses. A swatch of red light roams the back rest of the empty passenger seat - the sun light piercing a large but rather neat blood spatter on the windshield. Silently the crimson patch saunters south to the empty seat where it meets gold and explodes into a shower of orange reflected sparks. The Samurai sword is sheathed in an unassuming, not so gently used black scabbard. Not flamboyant like the knock-offs purchased at American flea markets. This sword has been passed from father to son for generations and looks every bit the relic that it is.
A hand gently moves the sword into the driver's lap and away from the laser red shaft causing the eruption of light to extinguish. The driver's black coat and white shirt sleeve ride up briefly revealing the Yakuza tattoo cuff around the bronze, hairless wrist. The hand glides back to the steering wheel. The driver's square face is unconcerned as the Continental's unmistakable linear speedometer passes 120 and goes out of site behind the reflective aluminum panel. A piercing screech overtakes the thunder of the motor as the monstrous vehicle fish-tales in response to the break-pedal being driven into the floor board by the size 13 black Brunomaglis. The Lincoln drifts into a turn north on to a forgettable dirt road. A gale of stones and choking dust engulf the back-end as it tries to find its footing on new terrain. The headlights spike the roiling cloud like two white swords hacking this way and that in time with the vehicle's gyrating. She finds her gripping and rockets forward, still swerving, still in control.
FADE BLACK
Ext. Paso oil rig.
Near sunset.
FADE UP
The Paso oil rig is newer than most. The horse-head dips and ascends with little more than a well-lubricated hum. Not completely unravaged by the elements, patches of rust have infiltrated the worn white paint like a chain of dark islands in an ashen sea. A bus sized reservoir tank hunkers nearby, sloppily painted like its repetitive mate with the word "PASO" centered and emblazoned with red block letters. Perched on top of the tank is the figure of a man. His blue-jean covered legs flop to and fro, boot-scoot'n to a tune he hums under his breath. His boots, dulled with dirt, leave wakes of airborne dust as they strut through the air. He wears a sleeveless white t-shirt complete with the faded cartoon character Calvin smugly urinating on a Chevy logo. He takes a long gulp from his Shiner beer bottle. The man has to tip his sweat stained cowboy hat back with his free hand to finish it off. An air of accomplishment illustrates his tan, stubbled features. Flipping the dead soldier in the air and catching it by the neck, he throws the bottle. As the flashing missile flips away into the quickly fading light, a feint whistle signals every rotation. It collides with the ground at the feet of a second man and explodes into a cloud of glittering shards and granules. The first man smirks and re-adjusts his hat.
(PICTURE UNFREEZES)
He grabs his blade and slams the passenger side door. Cody runs without thinking or breathing. He's in flight mode, swinging his head left and right when possible, looking over his shoulder for signs of his pursuer. Panic driven inhaling and exhaling reverberate the barren pastures as the last traces of gold drain from the Texas night sky.
FADE BLACK
dissolve title: 24 hours earlier...
Near sunset.
FADE UP
The sun hangs low in the western horizon of the Texas oil-fields bathed in hues of copper and multitudes of gold. A lone miniature oak tree casts a shadow thrice its height over parched pasture grasses, cactus and nettle. Four weary long-horn stand vigil over their watering hole while chomping lengths of sun baked hay. The air ripples with heat and bears the rusty groans of the hulking oil wells peppered from horizon to horizon. One rig nearby, drenched in rust and tar, groans in monotonous exertion. The sunlight is momentarily blocked by the nodding "donkey well" as it dips doggedly. Again the sun pierces in shards of blazing light as the horse head ascends, returning to its elevated perspective.
A flash of pitch coupled with an engine's roar snap the otherwise quiet Texas country side . The 1966 jet black Lincoln Continental barrels past the four head of long-horn. The beasts' dark, fly encrusted eyes follow the specter as it screams down the Texas artery never missing a metronome precision chew of their cud. The sleek "clap-door" is pristine save for the crumpled front fender smeared red with blood, hair and bone fragments. Also - - the hood is caved in and the passenger side windshield is a spiderweb of cracks splintering the setting sun's rays in a million directions. A lone figure dressed in an ebony suit, white shirt and black tie faces the setting sun, both hands adhered to the steering wheel. Disco-ball refractions of sunlight from the mangled windshield glint playfully on the driver's inky sunglasses. A swatch of red light roams the back rest of the empty passenger seat - the sun light piercing a large but rather neat blood spatter on the windshield. Silently the crimson patch saunters south to the empty seat where it meets gold and explodes into a shower of orange reflected sparks. The Samurai sword is sheathed in an unassuming, not so gently used black scabbard. Not flamboyant like the knock-offs purchased at American flea markets. This sword has been passed from father to son for generations and looks every bit the relic that it is.
A hand gently moves the sword into the driver's lap and away from the laser red shaft causing the eruption of light to extinguish. The driver's black coat and white shirt sleeve ride up briefly revealing the Yakuza tattoo cuff around the bronze, hairless wrist. The hand glides back to the steering wheel. The driver's square face is unconcerned as the Continental's unmistakable linear speedometer passes 120 and goes out of site behind the reflective aluminum panel. A piercing screech overtakes the thunder of the motor as the monstrous vehicle fish-tales in response to the break-pedal being driven into the floor board by the size 13 black Brunomaglis. The Lincoln drifts into a turn north on to a forgettable dirt road. A gale of stones and choking dust engulf the back-end as it tries to find its footing on new terrain. The headlights spike the roiling cloud like two white swords hacking this way and that in time with the vehicle's gyrating. She finds her gripping and rockets forward, still swerving, still in control.
FADE BLACK
Ext. Paso oil rig.
Near sunset.
FADE UP
The Paso oil rig is newer than most. The horse-head dips and ascends with little more than a well-lubricated hum. Not completely unravaged by the elements, patches of rust have infiltrated the worn white paint like a chain of dark islands in an ashen sea. A bus sized reservoir tank hunkers nearby, sloppily painted like its repetitive mate with the word "PASO" centered and emblazoned with red block letters. Perched on top of the tank is the figure of a man. His blue-jean covered legs flop to and fro, boot-scoot'n to a tune he hums under his breath. His boots, dulled with dirt, leave wakes of airborne dust as they strut through the air. He wears a sleeveless white t-shirt complete with the faded cartoon character Calvin smugly urinating on a Chevy logo. He takes a long gulp from his Shiner beer bottle. The man has to tip his sweat stained cowboy hat back with his free hand to finish it off. An air of accomplishment illustrates his tan, stubbled features. Flipping the dead soldier in the air and catching it by the neck, he throws the bottle. As the flashing missile flips away into the quickly fading light, a feint whistle signals every rotation. It collides with the ground at the feet of a second man and explodes into a cloud of glittering shards and granules. The first man smirks and re-adjusts his hat.
2nd man
Watch it! You sum-bitch! Shane, that ain't cool man!
Shane
Crack baby!! Cody - (pointing) why don't you peddle your dumb ass
over to that cooler and get me another beer before he shows up.
Cody
Alright.
Cody sheepishly does as commanded and wanders to the blue and white cooler stashed next to a stack of steel pipe. Tall and skinny, Cody sports a layer of stubble that covers his unexceptional features shadowed by the brim of his green John Deere trucker's hat. His button-up, electric orange shirt stained with oil and wear looks one size too big for his thin frame. His faded jeans droop off of his hip bones revealing a pocket of emptiness where is hind-end should reside. His jean cuffs are split at the seam and torn from being continuously stepped on by his well past their prime Redwings. Cody kneels to open the soiled lid and searches through the ice and bobbing empties. A sliver of light cuts the nearby darkness with a train of hurtled sand in tight trail. Shane snaps out of his planted dance, his penetrating gaze affixed to the veering intruder.
Shane
Cody! Forget it. Get over here...he's coming!
Cody ceases rooting in the ice and looks over his shoulder, letting go of the cooler lid. Anxiety and purpose shade Cody's features as he sprints to the tank. Shane slides effortlessly to ground from his roost atop the tank. The single light becomes two on the golden horizon. The dull murmur of a pushed to the limit motor increases in volume over the motions of the oil well. Shane reaches into the waistband of his pants and retrieves a Smith & Wesson .38 special. Shane instinctively clicks open the barrel to check his ammunition, flicks his wrist sending the barrel back to the firing position and cocks his weapon. Cody's eyes widen in distress when seeing the gun. Shane slips the gun back into his waistband.
Shane
Never bring a knife to knife fight...right little brother?
Cody nods in coerced agreement. The headlights of the black Lincoln smear the darkness nearby, kicking up a spray of gravel. The vehicle fishtails to a stop some 20 yards from the two men. A fog of sterile dust envelops the black beauty in seconds. Shane and Cody soon succumb to the haze too, waving their hands in front of their faces as if such action might actually work. The high-beams cut off diminishing the unnatural electric glow of the smog. The motor of the Lincoln Continental shuts down followed by stillness. Cody and Shane steal a glance at each other, questioning with their eyes the inaction from their guest. The pendulum movements of the droning well are deafening in the tension laced, swirling grit. The clicks of a door handle and squeal of dirt-caked hinges startle the well's frictionless chorus. The droughty soot begins to find it's way back to earth revealing the Lincoln and a hulking figure standing next to her silhouetted in the dissipating cloud.
Yakuza
あなたは、それを持ってしましたか ?
(Japanese: Did you bring it?)
Shane
Now...you know we don't speak Chink. If you're asking
about the case...it's safe.
Yakuza
それはどこですか ?
(Japanese: Where is it?)
Shane
I told you...We don' - -
A flash of light and a deafening explosion gash the still. The gun shot's echo reverberates inside the oil tank like the clang of a church bell. Shane's head recoils from being hit. His body flops to the ground in a mangled pile like an unmanned puppet. Cody's eyes pop with terror while falling to the ground to aid his brother. Shane's eyes gaze upward, lifeless. Cody twists his head in the direction of the shooter - his face a haunting mix of horror and rage.
(PICTURE FREEZES)
(PICTURE FREEZES)
Voice of Cody
I guess he didn't bring a knife to a knife fight either.
(PICTURES UNFREEZES)
Cody picks himself up and bolts into the darkness. The Yakuza holsters his weapon in his coat, strolls in front of the Lincoln, now a viscous gray from the Texas dust.
Cody picks himself up and bolts into the darkness. The Yakuza holsters his weapon in his coat, strolls in front of the Lincoln, now a viscous gray from the Texas dust.
Voice of Cody
My day started out pretty shitty. But...I suspect it's about...
The passenger side door screams opens and the Yakuza reaches for his sword.
(PICTURES FREEZES)
(PICTURES FREEZES)
Voice of Cody
...to get a whole lot worse. Looks like the knife fight is with me.
(PICTURE UNFREEZES)
He grabs his blade and slams the passenger side door. Cody runs without thinking or breathing. He's in flight mode, swinging his head left and right when possible, looking over his shoulder for signs of his pursuer. Panic driven inhaling and exhaling reverberate the barren pastures as the last traces of gold drain from the Texas night sky.
FADE BLACK
dissolve title: 24 hours earlier...
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The Heard - Presentation
Slide 1
Digital Sanctuary, a global media design company presents…
Slide 2
A leap forward in the way we enjoy, share and experience
music.
Slide 3
The Heard. The title
implies two things. The first and most
obvious is that conveys listening to various things. 2nd, it implies that it is a
collection of things – and that is what I find most exciting about this
project.
Slide 4
This application is going to be released on Apple and
Android operating systems simultaneously.
Too often there is a disconnect between what is offered in the Apple App
store and what is offered on the Android market.
Slide 5
We want the Heard to be a music information destination for
mobile users. What that means is we want
the Heard to do what 4 or 5 separate and unrelated applications will do and
more. Let’s look at some the functions
we’re talking about…
Slide 6.5
The Heard will provide what others cannot. The features include:
A Live Calendar -
which I’m going to discuss in more detail in a minute.
The News tab –
which will troll the web for news on specific artists or genres user defines.
Discographies –
giving the user the ability to see what artists have produced in terms of
records or appearances.
The Box Office –
giving the user the ability to buy tickets.
I’m going to come back to this one in a minute also. It has some exciting possibilities.
Radio – we’re in
negotiations with Spotify to partner with them to allow users to experience
genre/artist defined music.
The Media section
will allow users to be exposed to images and video of their favorite
bands.
Slide 6.7
What makes this application different and ground breaking is
how it can be modified to the user’s tastes using three distinct components. The user can employ their location and
designate a defined mile radius to keep them informed as to performances they
may like to see in their area. Second,
the app can be further refined by choosing a genre or genres the user is
interested in. And third, users can keep
a list of favorite artists that will populate each of the tabs.
Slide 6.8
This brings me to some of the exciting features The Heard
has. Let’s take a closer look at the
Live Calendar. It gives the user the
ability follow their favorite artist or genre simply.
Slide 7
The calendar will populate itself with artists based on the
user defined mile radius of a location, genres they have chosen as well as specific
artists. The user can click the day they
are interested in and will find…
Slide 8
Access to maps and directions to the venue, the venue’s
phone number, reviews of the venue by other Heard users and links to performer’s
web site, venue’s web site, etc.
Slide 11
Another exciting element of The Heard is the Box Office
tab. Here users can buy and reserve
tickets to their shows in a snap. What
makes this function unique is the…
Slide 12
Digital ticket feature.
Users have the option to download a digital ticket to their device which
will be honored at the venue.
Slide 13
The revenue stream for the Heard has three distinct parts. The application will be available in 2
formats. The first being a free version
with some limited usability and opportunities for advertisements.
Slide 14
The Paid version will be advertisement free and has a
purchase price of $2.99.
Slide 15
Third, a onetime service charge will added to any ticket purchase
when users opt for the digital ticket.
This option is especially relevant to the environmentally conscious.
Slide 16
The Heard - Funneling multiple resources into a music rich experience
and one mobile application.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Executive Summary
With the explosion of mobile applications, plans are in the works to launch a new cross platform application called "The Heard". This app is being designed and produced by Digital Sanctuary with worldwide offices located in Seattle, Berlin, Rio, Osaka and Johannesburg. As the application's title suggests, this will be a music information destination application like no other on any mobile or web based platform. Users will be provided with a GPS sensitive Live Calender, Discographies, News, Box Office, Media, Radio Station and more. The idea being to funnel everything a music lover may want into one stylistic, modifiable application. Revenue streams will be threefold. Two versions of the app will be delivered to market. The first will be free with advertisement placement opportunities. The second version will be advertisement free but will cost an initial purchase price of $2.99. Third, for users purchasing tickets through the Box Office portion of the app - a one time service charge will be added to the total purchase price. The purchaser will have a paperless, digital version of their ticket sent to their mobile device which will be honored at the venue. We are looking for financial backing in this endeavor and would like to invite you to participate. In addition to the cost of creating the app, we plan to advertise heavily on the web, on mobile and satellite radio for maximum reach on release. For this reason we are asking you for a one time investment of $50,000 which will afford you 10% stake in the app and its dividends. Thank you for your interest and we look forward to taking the music and app world by storm with you as a valued partner.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Jimmy Buffet - Savior of Our World
I'm back. A bit defeated but never fully. I spent most of last week working on graphics for the PSA I did for Media Production. Something that I really enjoy doing and admittedly avoiding the things I did not. I had an idea for a series of graphics for the project that were difficult to pull off. I love a challenge - in the graphics world that is. Obviously I didn't write much. That doesn't mean it wasn't out of mind. Quite the contrary. We were spending the week on the Texas coast. My wife would catch me in a stare while at the beach or pool and ask, " Are you thinking about writing again?" She knows me well. I was experiencing writer's remorse, or grief or whatever they call it. I spent my time pondering - what can I write about? No rush of ideas would come. I sat at my laptop late at night and would try letting words pour out free association style. Didn't happen. So let it be known that I wasn't not doing the work - I was experiencing brain lock. Not a broken spirit. A neurological short circuit if you will.
I started to write about an experience I had while taking a sunset tour of Aransas Bay. I have four barren attempts saved in the depths of this blog. It is here that I want attempt again. My family joined 30 people on a dinky two-level boat traveling to the outer banks in search of dolphins and a stunning sunset. Captain Jake - a professional fisherman and part time tour guide piloted the vessel from the top of the boat. A rather plain fellow and not at all salty like you might imagine. Salt and pepper hair, clean shaven, electric pink t-shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flops. He had the air of construction foreman about him - a problem solver yet unassuming. As we pulled away from the dock - a very familiar sound reached my ears via the set of radio-shack speakers bolted to the four corners of the below deck ceiling. "Margaritaville" by Jimmy Buffet. The sound was scratchy and over-modulated as if cloaked by a layer of salt, sand and rust. It was, sadly, still recognizable. It occurred to me that I've heard this song in similar situations. Bars in Orlando and Miami. A catamaran cruise my wife and I took while honeymooning in Barbados. Numerous snorkeling expeditions in the Bahamas and Caymans. Even a bus tour in Hawaii. This song is everywhere and tightly wound in beach tourism culture. I just sniffed at the song and went above to get away from the annoying noise.
Now, with my feet firmly on terra firma I began to think why is this song so prevalent. Is it because the tour guides really like the song? Or, more likely, that the tour guides have a certain rotation of music that they think the tourists want or expect to hear? I wonder if Jimmy knew what he was about to unleash on countless tourist destinations. I'm sure he didn't. He was writing a song that spoke to him at that moment in his life. I haven't researched where he was mentally when he wrote this song. Perhaps I need to. He probably wasn't in a funk though. I wonder what he would have produced if he were going through a nasty divorce, the death of a child or taking a writing course at that point in his career. Certainly not Margaritaville. And what song would be in its stead had that song never been written? We'll probably never know unless time and multidimensional travel are discovered. And even then - would scientists want to discover something as mundane as what the world would have been like without Margaritaville? Doubtful. But it's the miniscule details around us that shape our world. Perhaps without Jimmy's songs - the world might have been plunged in to a thousand years of darkness. Who knows. The next time I hear his music - I'm not going to grimace. I'm simply going to say, "Thanks Jimmy." Thanks for saving the world as we know it.
I started to write about an experience I had while taking a sunset tour of Aransas Bay. I have four barren attempts saved in the depths of this blog. It is here that I want attempt again. My family joined 30 people on a dinky two-level boat traveling to the outer banks in search of dolphins and a stunning sunset. Captain Jake - a professional fisherman and part time tour guide piloted the vessel from the top of the boat. A rather plain fellow and not at all salty like you might imagine. Salt and pepper hair, clean shaven, electric pink t-shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flops. He had the air of construction foreman about him - a problem solver yet unassuming. As we pulled away from the dock - a very familiar sound reached my ears via the set of radio-shack speakers bolted to the four corners of the below deck ceiling. "Margaritaville" by Jimmy Buffet. The sound was scratchy and over-modulated as if cloaked by a layer of salt, sand and rust. It was, sadly, still recognizable. It occurred to me that I've heard this song in similar situations. Bars in Orlando and Miami. A catamaran cruise my wife and I took while honeymooning in Barbados. Numerous snorkeling expeditions in the Bahamas and Caymans. Even a bus tour in Hawaii. This song is everywhere and tightly wound in beach tourism culture. I just sniffed at the song and went above to get away from the annoying noise.
Now, with my feet firmly on terra firma I began to think why is this song so prevalent. Is it because the tour guides really like the song? Or, more likely, that the tour guides have a certain rotation of music that they think the tourists want or expect to hear? I wonder if Jimmy knew what he was about to unleash on countless tourist destinations. I'm sure he didn't. He was writing a song that spoke to him at that moment in his life. I haven't researched where he was mentally when he wrote this song. Perhaps I need to. He probably wasn't in a funk though. I wonder what he would have produced if he were going through a nasty divorce, the death of a child or taking a writing course at that point in his career. Certainly not Margaritaville. And what song would be in its stead had that song never been written? We'll probably never know unless time and multidimensional travel are discovered. And even then - would scientists want to discover something as mundane as what the world would have been like without Margaritaville? Doubtful. But it's the miniscule details around us that shape our world. Perhaps without Jimmy's songs - the world might have been plunged in to a thousand years of darkness. Who knows. The next time I hear his music - I'm not going to grimace. I'm simply going to say, "Thanks Jimmy." Thanks for saving the world as we know it.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Elevator Pitch #2 - The Union
I'm interested in starting a new website for news production professionals. Its seems to me that as there is an extreme equality issue in terms of pay scale for those behind the camera versus those in front. These people have agents that will search out jobs and negotiate salaries for them. Producers and directors have to rely on themselves and are usually at the employer's mercy for salary. I'm proposing to build a community of behind the scenes professionals that can collectively negotiate a better wage than they could on their own. This web site would give the subscribers job leads, resume tips, access to work shops and negotiation services. This would be an invaluable resource for these struggling folks trying to make a career in broadcast television. There are other sites that are job boards - which we'd be providing too. The major difference is that we'd be able to collectively negotiate better wages for folks that fit certain levels of criteria. Employers would know what level of professional they'd be getting while employees would know what they're negotiating potential is based on skills learned. These individuals would also be able to learn what criteria they would need to fill to move up the pay scale. This kind of web service would be a volunteer union without the pay period dues.
Elevator Pitch #1 - The Heard
I was window-shopping on the android market the other day and noticed an entire series of apps that are designed as a news gathering source for specific smart-phone models. That made me think - why isn't there a series of popular music apps that are honed to specific genres of music? It could be called...The Heard. I want to create an application that would be a music exploration and information destination. For example - I like punk rock. I would download the punk rock version of The Heard. Once there, the app would provide news, media and links in reference to the punk genre. What sets this app apart is the band specific search function. Once a band or artist is chosen, the user would be presented with a series of buttons: Live Calendar, News, Music, Media, Discography, Radio, and Tickets. Utilizing search engines - the app would import information found as a series of articles, lists or a calendar that is populated within the confines of the stylistic application. For example, the calendar would populate with tour dates and destinations. It would also highlight dates that are within a set number of miles from the GPS determined position or preselected city. The calendar would also give the user the ability to find venue phone numbers, maps and other concerts on the venue's roster of upcoming events. You get the idea. Really hone an app that is literally a one-stop shop for the music lover. Whether they are interested in seeing a band live, seeing a video interview recorded ten years ago or learning about the groups members. It could be a place to find all things music and tailored to the user's musical tastes.
Another Sucky Cover?
I usually don't care for covers. I especially detest covers of songs by my beloved Sisters of Mercy. This Corrosion was the song that introduced me to the Sisters. I remember listening to This Corrosion on repeat - by myself, in the dark, and chemically enhanced. What made things interesting in my condition, the song was on cassette - so I had to fumble the rewind button each time to repeat. Not my usual style, the Sisters are not exactly punk rock. The Sisters are the god fathers of the Gothic movement. A melding of English post-punk and glam-pop by the likes of Joy Division, The Damned, Bauhaus and Siouxsie and the Banshees. Interestingly the German underground culture glommed onto this genre and in my opinion ruined some incredible music. Bands with names like Sepulcrum Mentis, Dreadful Shadows and Babylon Will Fall created a tribute to The Sisters of Mercy album. Dressed in shadow and siting direct lineage to Vlad Tepes these androgenes kooks slither in slow motion behind a permanent bank of artificial fog. The singers of these bands give Barry White a run for deepest voice while encouraging their listeners to slit their wrists in a cloud of white facial powder and pagan spells. Who can out Dracul the other. It's all about the theatrics - not about the music.
It was with some hesitation I decided to give the Maryslim version of This Corrosion a run through. These guys hail from Sweden and though they aren't German, I was still expecting another vampire suck fest. They brought Jyki69 from The 69 Eyes on board to sing a duet with Maryslim. This version is considerably rocked up compared to the original. Jyrki69's growls in the deeper registers while Maryslim's frontman sings a couple notches shy of falsetto. Together they make the song their own and it is awesome.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Words
These past few weeks, hearing my voice has become more
demanding to discern among the whispers and groans darting about in my
head. Listening to the voices of others have
become rather difficult as well. I'm not
sure if it was a happy accident or evil genius, grouping me with two sports
writers to whom I have nothing to say. While one writes with clarity and
cleverness both blogs make me want to eat a hollow point. It has nothing
to do with their ability or creativity. It's the topic that drives me to
thoughts of snuffing it. Perhaps my topic has the same effect on
them. And that's probably the lesson here. By learning how to critically read content
that, down the simplest biological terms, holds no interest to us - we can
ourselves become better writers.
I don't have anything to say with words. I
have plenty to say with the visual. If I wanted to write in my present
field I'd have been a news producer. I definitely have the aptitude for
it. I can copy and paste with the best of them. What interests me
are effects, animations, 3D, editing, graphics - anything visual. The
content that I fashion these effects for is another story and one I'd like to
distance myself from. I wretch every time I use one of my effects to
transition to yet another overnight house fire video. Or punch up a mug
of a nouveau zombie who, high on bath salts, prefers dining on another man's
face. My objective: to get out of the news business but to continue
expressing myself with video and graphic design. There are plenty of
outlets where positive media is produced and none more prolific than the
web. My interactive voice will be seen, not heard or read.
I'm not a music critic and I don't claim to
be. But I'm glad I got to play one.
My friend whose band I had the honor of reviewing loves my piece. I may try to have it published on a punk rock
web site in the near future. Still, my interactive writing voice seems
muzzled. It hasn't stopped me from focusing on the quest. My plan
for this program is twofold. I want to teach video production at the
university level. I also want to leave myself open to other opportunities
that come into focus as the program trundles along. Among careers not
sought - writer. Most especially after this experience. If part of the plan is to separate the wheat from the
chaff - then consider me chaffed.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Wiki - Drunk In A Dumpster
Drunk In A Dumpster
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"Our body isn't a temple - it's an amusement park."
Drunk In A Dumpster is a retro 80's Hardcore band based in Asheville, North Carolina. Formed in 2010 and founded by longtime friends David Baird (vocalist) and Alex Altgilbers (guitar/producer). David, the former singer of bands The Slutty Church Chixxx and The Square Sheep founded No Profit Records - an indie label that supports up and coming hardcore and punk acts. Along with the producing and distributing Drunk In A Dumpster's first record, No Profit Records has bands Blood Red Baby Blue and The Slutty Church Chixxx on their roster of artists.
Alex, former member of Sav and current member of Killing Solves Everything and David were writing songs for a second Square Sheep record when Drunk In A Dumpster started to take shape. Alex, who works with Page Sigmon got the idea to join forces with Page's heavy metal cover band Doppelganger out of Ashville, NC to form Drunk In A Dumpster. David, Alex and Page (guitar/backing vocal) are joined by bassist Stephen Hawk and drummer Matt Hudson.
David lives in the eastern third of the state while the other members live in the western third, a 4 hour drive. The song writing process is a challenge with Alex, Page, Matt & Stephen writing and recording the music. Once complete, the recording is sent to David via e-mail for him to write lyrics to. Once complete, David travels to Ball Sweat Studios in Ashville to record a demo. The five members of the band have practiced together a total of three times before performing live the first time.
Drunk In A Dumpster has numerous influences including Circle Jerks, D.R.I., Black Flag, Corrosion of Conformity and Suicidal Tendencies. The band is a quasi-serious affair. They formed out of the love for the hardcore genre and perform live when their schedules permit. The band members are in their mid to late 30's and have serious careers and families that require much of their attention. Additionally, the members are over-educated for a typical hardcore band. David has three Bachelors degrees, Alex has a PhD, Page has a Masters in engineering, Stephen is a med-school drop-out.
In March of 2012 Drunk In A Dumpster performed with nationally renown punk band Sloppy Seconds at the Get Down in West Asheville, NC.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"Our body isn't a temple - it's an amusement park."
Drunk In A Dumpster is a retro 80's Hardcore band based in Asheville, North Carolina. Formed in 2010 and founded by longtime friends David Baird (vocalist) and Alex Altgilbers (guitar/producer). David, the former singer of bands The Slutty Church Chixxx and The Square Sheep founded No Profit Records - an indie label that supports up and coming hardcore and punk acts. Along with the producing and distributing Drunk In A Dumpster's first record, No Profit Records has bands Blood Red Baby Blue and The Slutty Church Chixxx on their roster of artists.
Alex, former member of Sav and current member of Killing Solves Everything and David were writing songs for a second Square Sheep record when Drunk In A Dumpster started to take shape. Alex, who works with Page Sigmon got the idea to join forces with Page's heavy metal cover band Doppelganger out of Ashville, NC to form Drunk In A Dumpster. David, Alex and Page (guitar/backing vocal) are joined by bassist Stephen Hawk and drummer Matt Hudson.
David lives in the eastern third of the state while the other members live in the western third, a 4 hour drive. The song writing process is a challenge with Alex, Page, Matt & Stephen writing and recording the music. Once complete, the recording is sent to David via e-mail for him to write lyrics to. Once complete, David travels to Ball Sweat Studios in Ashville to record a demo. The five members of the band have practiced together a total of three times before performing live the first time.
Drunk In A Dumpster has numerous influences including Circle Jerks, D.R.I., Black Flag, Corrosion of Conformity and Suicidal Tendencies. The band is a quasi-serious affair. They formed out of the love for the hardcore genre and perform live when their schedules permit. The band members are in their mid to late 30's and have serious careers and families that require much of their attention. Additionally, the members are over-educated for a typical hardcore band. David has three Bachelors degrees, Alex has a PhD, Page has a Masters in engineering, Stephen is a med-school drop-out.
In March of 2012 Drunk In A Dumpster performed with nationally renown punk band Sloppy Seconds at the Get Down in West Asheville, NC.
Why Don't I know Who Invented The Cell Phone?
I love art. I deeply admire those who create what we listen to and what we see. But what about artists using their notoriety as a political platform to push their views on certain social or economical issues? Or artists elevated to God-like status while scientists, engineers and teachers are considered sub-human? And who in the art world are the worst offenders? Actors and musicians. If an alien race was researching and trying understand the western mind-set, they would be amused by our veneration of singers and actors, not inventors. What do musicians and actors really produce? Sights and sounds for the masses to enjoy. While I think their contributions to society certainly have value, there is a disconnect between their social status and that of the scientists and inventors of the world. There are hundreds of singers and actors that my 72 year old mother can rattle off with ease. The likes of Bono, Clint Eastwood, Flea, Lady Gaga, Angelina Jolie, Sting, John Travolta, Justin Bieber and the list would go on immemorial. How many scientists can you name? I can name four or five off the top of my head. How about engineers? Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. Teachers? Professor Moriarty comes to mind - but he doesn't count. Zero. Entrepreneurs? Inventors?
Why aren't these creative people as widely revered as the guy who invented the moon walk, the stars of Twilight or Lady Gaga and her meat dress. Compared to the guy who invented the cell phone? I don't even know who that is. I'm going to have to look that one up. Or the Person who built the first personal computer or designed the first GPS? What about the astronauts on any of the shuttle missions? Who's on the international space station right now? The balance of notoriety between these two groups is obscenely skewed. Contributions to science and technology and those behind them aren't viewed as relevant compared to those who sing and act. There isn't an overnight cure for this societal discord. One article or a single blog isn't going to change a mind-set that has taken the better part of a century to form. Bringing this issue to light for just a few may cause a ripple effect. We're talking a about shift in social values that could easily take equally as long to manifest.
It all starts in the home and schools. It's a question of ideals so that the children fantasize about growing up to be the next software engineer, scientist or teacher instead of moving to Hollywood to be star. The problem being that children from the moment of birth are targeted by countless televisions programs that seem to say being stupid, thin and loud is how one makes it to god-like status. An idea to turn the tide I would like to steal from the Harry Potter series. The chocolate frog that was introduced on the train ride to Hogwarts came with trading cards of a famous witch or wizard. The same could be created for scientists, inventors and notable teachers. For example: Dr. Martin Cooper, inventor of the modern cell phone. There are is ample potential, the real challenge is getting kids interested in something like this. Another observation I have is that people in the public spotlight have legions of "handlers" in the background that coach these stars on how to respond during interviews among other things. The vast majority of scientists, inventors, engineers, entrepreneurs don't have this luxury. And when and if they get interviewed they come across boring or socially constipated. Let's make an effort to positively shape perceptions of these people too.
We, the consumers of media have a responsibility to the children change the values from worshiping anybody with the last name of Kardashian to recognizing and admiring the talents of our scientists, entrepreneurs, teachers and engineers. These are the people who are truly shaping our future.
Why aren't these creative people as widely revered as the guy who invented the moon walk, the stars of Twilight or Lady Gaga and her meat dress. Compared to the guy who invented the cell phone? I don't even know who that is. I'm going to have to look that one up. Or the Person who built the first personal computer or designed the first GPS? What about the astronauts on any of the shuttle missions? Who's on the international space station right now? The balance of notoriety between these two groups is obscenely skewed. Contributions to science and technology and those behind them aren't viewed as relevant compared to those who sing and act. There isn't an overnight cure for this societal discord. One article or a single blog isn't going to change a mind-set that has taken the better part of a century to form. Bringing this issue to light for just a few may cause a ripple effect. We're talking a about shift in social values that could easily take equally as long to manifest.
It all starts in the home and schools. It's a question of ideals so that the children fantasize about growing up to be the next software engineer, scientist or teacher instead of moving to Hollywood to be star. The problem being that children from the moment of birth are targeted by countless televisions programs that seem to say being stupid, thin and loud is how one makes it to god-like status. An idea to turn the tide I would like to steal from the Harry Potter series. The chocolate frog that was introduced on the train ride to Hogwarts came with trading cards of a famous witch or wizard. The same could be created for scientists, inventors and notable teachers. For example: Dr. Martin Cooper, inventor of the modern cell phone. There are is ample potential, the real challenge is getting kids interested in something like this. Another observation I have is that people in the public spotlight have legions of "handlers" in the background that coach these stars on how to respond during interviews among other things. The vast majority of scientists, inventors, engineers, entrepreneurs don't have this luxury. And when and if they get interviewed they come across boring or socially constipated. Let's make an effort to positively shape perceptions of these people too.
We, the consumers of media have a responsibility to the children change the values from worshiping anybody with the last name of Kardashian to recognizing and admiring the talents of our scientists, entrepreneurs, teachers and engineers. These are the people who are truly shaping our future.
Friday, June 22, 2012
The Perfect Memory
While dining with our kids in the arts district of Memphis, my wife almost didn't notice an advertisement that would initiate instant drooling on my part. She did thankfully and sent me a picture of the handbill as a text message. Small but recognizable - a painting in hues of blue and grey of an empire era clipper ship carving through a canyon of water, white sails bloated and outlined by roiling seas squally and pitch . At the bottom, a gold cloth banner with "Westwinds" written upon it. I knew the painting well. It was the cover art for the latest release by The Real Mckenzies. Monday, June 18th - The Real McKenzies in concert. The band hails from Canada - but is loosely defined as a Scottish punk/folk/rock-n-roll outfit. They love their scotch
and wearing their kilts the highland way. Commando. Tartan butterflies did acrobatics in my stomach. Finally, a band worth seeing in this god forsaken town. I saw them in the early 90's half past the 10 O'clock news. The bar was called The Green Onion. Imagine a tractor-trailer sized enclosure reeking of cheap beer and twist-tied with Christmas lights. A charming establishment filled with charity furniture and dotted with patches of bare earth where flooring should have been. Twenty strangers, I included, slam-danced the night away. We left the bar best of friends caked with sweat-soaked mud and entirely less sober.
Recollections of that evening bounced about in my mind transforming to thoughts of reprising my role as a human pogo. The last show I had been to was The Sisters Of Mercy in Detroit 2 years ago. And here was an opportunity in my town no less. To go see a band I actually cared about. A thought occurred to me soon after the winged anticipation left my stomach and calm returned. Trying to relive a spiritual memory such as mine would have been a disappointment. That evening all those years ago was perfect and remains the candle to which I judge all others. It is for that reason I didn't attend the The Real McKenzies concert this past Monday. Perhaps I missed out on a better than perfect experience. It wasn't worth the risk.
Recollections of that evening bounced about in my mind transforming to thoughts of reprising my role as a human pogo. The last show I had been to was The Sisters Of Mercy in Detroit 2 years ago. And here was an opportunity in my town no less. To go see a band I actually cared about. A thought occurred to me soon after the winged anticipation left my stomach and calm returned. Trying to relive a spiritual memory such as mine would have been a disappointment. That evening all those years ago was perfect and remains the candle to which I judge all others. It is for that reason I didn't attend the The Real McKenzies concert this past Monday. Perhaps I missed out on a better than perfect experience. It wasn't worth the risk.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
It's All In The Name
Ever wonder how bands come up with their names? The name of the band, in most cases, has a direct relationship with the kind of music that is produced. For instance - MC 900 Foot Jesus doesn't sound like they'd be a gospel outfit. The Kidney Thieves probably won't be playing at your local honky-tonk. The Warlock Pinchers most likely won't be going on tour with the Barney & Friends stage show. But how do these groups come up with such rich and colorful names? And how do they come up with names that connote the kind of experience fans will have when seeing them live. I don't presume to have the answers, as coming up with the names of bands are varied and individualized. I can, however, pass along what a friend and I did to come up with the name of our "band" that never was. We didn't realize that talent, musical ability and hard work were part of the equation. But we had a killer name!
The requirements for this project are simple though a bit antiquated. I may need to redesign this exercise due to the advent of on-line resources. Good things in good time. You'll need a hard copy of a thesaurus and dictionary, a large and and preferably empty room, a single dart and a pen and paper. You'll also need a pinch of patience and a dash of humor. Your first goal is to look at bands you like and discern the word structure you'd like to have. Most band names are comprised of either of one word or two words. We're going to create a two word name in this exercise. What are the words doing? Are they nouns or adjectives or something else. There are two schools of thought in this regard. You can have an adjective (or is this an adverb?????) followed by a noun - for example: Living Colour, Revolting Cocks, or Bad Religion. Or you can have two nouns back to back where one helps describe the other. For example: The Butthole Surfers, Cobra Skulls, and Tsunami Bomb. Decide amongst your band mates which direction you want to go. You may also want to let the results decide. Get ready to find your name.
The idea is simple enough. You are going to throw the thesaurus into the air and when it lands open you will throw a dart at the pages. Where the dart lands is your word if it corresponds to the type of word (adjective, noun, etc.) you decided on. Before you get started though, it is important that you decide who is going to do what. I wouldn't want to be responsible for your first band squabble. Flip a coin for each position: the book thrower, the dart chucker and the writer of the words. Once your team is set, start with the dictionary. Keep in mind that for the dictionary - after throwing the dart, the root word or the definition of the the word is what you will use. We're looking for unusual words that speak to the essence of your band. The meaning of the word isn't necessarily what I mean either. The sound the word makes when spoken is equally important. For instance - the word my band-mate and I came up with was hake. Not your typical everyday word. We didn't have an affiliation to the word - we weren't fishermen. It had a terseness that we both liked. It also sounded a bit naughty. As you continue to discover words, write them down. You may find your band's name with only the dictionary.
Next, use the thesaurus in the same manner. More often then not, your dart will land on one of the synonyms for a root word. If doesn't land on a word, begin again. Make a list of these words next to your dictionary list until you have an equal number - about ten of each. Your next endeavor is to try combinations of your words until a name emerges. Don't limit yourself by only using a thesaurus word then a dictionary word - mix it up. There is a name for a rock n' roll band in there. In my case, the thesaurus word that we finally decided on was licentious with the band name of Licentious Hake. We were going to take over the world! We had drawings made up for t-shirts and album covers. Picture a whore house in a fish tank. As soon as we learned how to play some instruments that is.
There are other ways to be sure. I even discovered a web-site that will generate a name for you. A band's name is a very important part of your image. How ever you arrive at your band's name is inconsequential - as long as it is memorable and says who you are.
The requirements for this project are simple though a bit antiquated. I may need to redesign this exercise due to the advent of on-line resources. Good things in good time. You'll need a hard copy of a thesaurus and dictionary, a large and and preferably empty room, a single dart and a pen and paper. You'll also need a pinch of patience and a dash of humor. Your first goal is to look at bands you like and discern the word structure you'd like to have. Most band names are comprised of either of one word or two words. We're going to create a two word name in this exercise. What are the words doing? Are they nouns or adjectives or something else. There are two schools of thought in this regard. You can have an adjective (or is this an adverb?????) followed by a noun - for example: Living Colour, Revolting Cocks, or Bad Religion. Or you can have two nouns back to back where one helps describe the other. For example: The Butthole Surfers, Cobra Skulls, and Tsunami Bomb. Decide amongst your band mates which direction you want to go. You may also want to let the results decide. Get ready to find your name.
The idea is simple enough. You are going to throw the thesaurus into the air and when it lands open you will throw a dart at the pages. Where the dart lands is your word if it corresponds to the type of word (adjective, noun, etc.) you decided on. Before you get started though, it is important that you decide who is going to do what. I wouldn't want to be responsible for your first band squabble. Flip a coin for each position: the book thrower, the dart chucker and the writer of the words. Once your team is set, start with the dictionary. Keep in mind that for the dictionary - after throwing the dart, the root word or the definition of the the word is what you will use. We're looking for unusual words that speak to the essence of your band. The meaning of the word isn't necessarily what I mean either. The sound the word makes when spoken is equally important. For instance - the word my band-mate and I came up with was hake. Not your typical everyday word. We didn't have an affiliation to the word - we weren't fishermen. It had a terseness that we both liked. It also sounded a bit naughty. As you continue to discover words, write them down. You may find your band's name with only the dictionary.
Next, use the thesaurus in the same manner. More often then not, your dart will land on one of the synonyms for a root word. If doesn't land on a word, begin again. Make a list of these words next to your dictionary list until you have an equal number - about ten of each. Your next endeavor is to try combinations of your words until a name emerges. Don't limit yourself by only using a thesaurus word then a dictionary word - mix it up. There is a name for a rock n' roll band in there. In my case, the thesaurus word that we finally decided on was licentious with the band name of Licentious Hake. We were going to take over the world! We had drawings made up for t-shirts and album covers. Picture a whore house in a fish tank. As soon as we learned how to play some instruments that is.
There are other ways to be sure. I even discovered a web-site that will generate a name for you. A band's name is a very important part of your image. How ever you arrive at your band's name is inconsequential - as long as it is memorable and says who you are.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Shock is the Reason
Last Caress
I've got something to say
I've got something to say
I killed your baby today
and it doesn't matter much to me
as long as it's dead
Charming. Probably not for the kiddies and their mp3 players. Here is a lyric that can terrorize, sicken and appall the most sturdy of listeners. What is it that moves people to write and perform depraved material such as this? Moreover, what drives scores of listeners to procure and listen to music with such a gruesome message? You guessed it, I love this song. I was introduced to this tune by the heavy metal outfit Metallica on their Garage Days Re-Revisited record. The song was a cover and originally written and performed by the Misfits, a B-movie horror punk band who's claim to fame in the fashion world was the devil lock. Upon discovering the original purveyors of this tribute to death, I was immediately in the the local record shop gobbling up the Misfits catalog. The "why" is another matter entirely. I never really thought about it.
I've got something to say
I raped your mother today
and it doesn't matter much to me
as long as she's spread
Sweet lovely death
I am waiting for your breath
Come sweet death, one last caress
I'm also a passionate believer in freedom of speech especially where art and music are concerned. I followed with much disdain the crusade spearheaded by Tipper Gore to save the youth of America from her perception of offensive lyrics. Her first bulls-eye was on Prince of all people. She caught her 11 year old daughter listening to his hit, Darling Nikki, and was outraged. The Misfits make that song sound like Disney radio. I believe the Misfits created their song, not because they had something momentous to say, but because they could. They didn't create the song to convert youth to satanism or bring down the foundations of religion. This is the band's lawful and 1st amendment protected artistic expression. If Mrs. Gore finds the lyrics offensive she shouldn't listen. She, as a parent, should have a tighter leash on what her daughter listens to. And she shouldn't presume that her idea of what is or what isn't offensive is universal. Mrs. Gore nominating herself as a moral missionary saving one listener at a time is what I find offensive.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
In Search of a CD Collection and Discovering My Focus
When I started this writing course, I was a basket case solving the
mystery
of my blog's focus. While I was stressing over my decidedly
indecisiveness, I was getting the hang of Spotify - the online music
service. What a sublime product this is. Each song, whether old or
new, sparked the desire to hear the next. While reminiscing it
occurred to me that I should continue uploading my CD collection to
my computer; or do some writing on my as yet defined topic. Finally -
an effortless decision to make.
This meant, of course, having to open the closet door in my study. It's not quite as bad as opening the door and being bowled over by an assortment of random sporting goods, electronic components, missing socks and various disco era jump suits. But close. I delicately opened the door and was encouraged by the darkness. "This isn't going to be too bad," I naively thought to myself. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I realized that closets are fibbers.
Stacked floor to ceiling were umpteen plastic crates smothered in wires, cables, and long unused chargers. An acoustic guitar and a partly deflated exercise ball were stuffed carelessly into the last of the jagged air pockets. Two elderly computer towers sat on what I expected was muddied carpet. They were acting as a structural foundation for the boxes, crates, bags, and cases stacked and stammering as if waiting for the key stone to be removed to unleash shock and awe. Folders of odd bills, contracts and ugly personnel letters served as mortar for my version of Jericho's wall. I didn't expect a job this size, but it was either come up with a focus for my blog or find my CD collection.
Methodically, I dislodged the boxes, the crates, the poster tubes, the cameras, the monitors and the other undefinable doodads. Less than carefully, I dispersed the contents to the not so distant corners of my study. My wife stopped at the doorway, curious about the noise, cocked an eyebrow and headed for saner pastures. Unhurriedly my CD collection came into view. First, the top of the quad-level CD bookcase, then the second. Unmistakably Wal-mart value section. I knew this wasn't going to do any good. These CD's were already in my computer. I needed to dig deeper.
Heaving the last obstruction, a computer bag that had not one but two ancient laptops tucked inside, I could see the prize. The lower two shelves of my CD collection. I half expected a rush of air as my closet made contact with the atmosphere for the first time in years. Still bathed in black - I removed the phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight app. There they were. I felt like Howard Carter discovering King Tut's CD collection for the first time. Depeche Mode, Madness, Duran Duran, The Sex Pistols, David Bowie, Youth of Today, Greenday and many more. "I see wonderful things," I joked to myself. Then it hit me.
It was at that moment I channeled the clarity I so desperately craved hours earlier. I decided I wanted to blog about music. Like my desire to see my CD collection again, I wanted to write about my discovery of new bands and rediscovery of bands I dismissed as an afterthought. I suppose digging around in a closet, breaking a sweat and making an entirely new mess to clean up can have strangely positive effects on one's train of thought. I focused my stress on a physical task and a solution presented itself. The focus was always there - it was just behind a wall old junk that needed moving. Sounds ridiculous and new age to me. Crystal chanting, burning man, hippie nonsense. I'm a convert though.
This meant, of course, having to open the closet door in my study. It's not quite as bad as opening the door and being bowled over by an assortment of random sporting goods, electronic components, missing socks and various disco era jump suits. But close. I delicately opened the door and was encouraged by the darkness. "This isn't going to be too bad," I naively thought to myself. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I realized that closets are fibbers.
Stacked floor to ceiling were umpteen plastic crates smothered in wires, cables, and long unused chargers. An acoustic guitar and a partly deflated exercise ball were stuffed carelessly into the last of the jagged air pockets. Two elderly computer towers sat on what I expected was muddied carpet. They were acting as a structural foundation for the boxes, crates, bags, and cases stacked and stammering as if waiting for the key stone to be removed to unleash shock and awe. Folders of odd bills, contracts and ugly personnel letters served as mortar for my version of Jericho's wall. I didn't expect a job this size, but it was either come up with a focus for my blog or find my CD collection.
Methodically, I dislodged the boxes, the crates, the poster tubes, the cameras, the monitors and the other undefinable doodads. Less than carefully, I dispersed the contents to the not so distant corners of my study. My wife stopped at the doorway, curious about the noise, cocked an eyebrow and headed for saner pastures. Unhurriedly my CD collection came into view. First, the top of the quad-level CD bookcase, then the second. Unmistakably Wal-mart value section. I knew this wasn't going to do any good. These CD's were already in my computer. I needed to dig deeper.
Heaving the last obstruction, a computer bag that had not one but two ancient laptops tucked inside, I could see the prize. The lower two shelves of my CD collection. I half expected a rush of air as my closet made contact with the atmosphere for the first time in years. Still bathed in black - I removed the phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight app. There they were. I felt like Howard Carter discovering King Tut's CD collection for the first time. Depeche Mode, Madness, Duran Duran, The Sex Pistols, David Bowie, Youth of Today, Greenday and many more. "I see wonderful things," I joked to myself. Then it hit me.
It was at that moment I channeled the clarity I so desperately craved hours earlier. I decided I wanted to blog about music. Like my desire to see my CD collection again, I wanted to write about my discovery of new bands and rediscovery of bands I dismissed as an afterthought. I suppose digging around in a closet, breaking a sweat and making an entirely new mess to clean up can have strangely positive effects on one's train of thought. I focused my stress on a physical task and a solution presented itself. The focus was always there - it was just behind a wall old junk that needed moving. Sounds ridiculous and new age to me. Crystal chanting, burning man, hippie nonsense. I'm a convert though.
Resume - Restored
Vonn Said - Television Production Professional
Working in television production since 1995, Vonn Said is dedicated to mastering all things behind the camera. Shooting, studio positions, TDing, directing, graphic art and editing. Vonn is the complete package.
Television Station Experience:
WHBQ FOX 13 - Memphis, TN 4/12-present
Director
Brought on board to direct part of FOX's 5 hour live morning show and round out a complement of 3 star directors. Part of a new staff put in place for generating growth in WHBQ's morning news.
WREG CBS 3 - Memphis, TN 1/06 - 4/12
Senior Director
Directs the info-tainment hit Live @ 9. Hired for for skills and experience with directing organic and ad-lib driven newscasts and knack for creating effects.
KPTM FOX 42 - Omaha, NE 10/01 - 1/06
Production Manager
Appointed News Production Manager and charged with turning around rather lackluster production delivery through tight direction and dynamic graphic art.
KMSP FOX 9 - Minneapolis, MN 7/99 - 9/01
Director
One of three directors hired to lay out and execute a three and a half hour morning show start-up with a emphasis in organic, out-of-the-box directing.
KSAT ABC 12 - San Antonio, TX 2/95 - 7/99
Director/TD
First employer out of college. Started off as a part-time studio camera operator and was promoted to studio supervisor and finally Director/TD. Discovered aptitude for creating complex effects for newscasts.
Freelance Editing Experience:
Kingdom Quality Communications
Edited and co-produced a stylistic mission statement video for KQ's web site and inclusion with marketing material.
Watoto D'Afrika
Shot and edited three music videos for Memphis dance troupe for use in gaining financial support for locally producing a children's educational program.
Bob Hetherington & Associates
Shot and edited 2 proof of performance videos for Peer Power, a high school level tutoring program. These videos were used as a marketing tool franchising concept nationally.
The Project Chef Group
Co-owner, co-producer, shooter, graphic designer and editor for a Memphis produced cooking competition show. Pilot completed and continues to be shopped to potential investors. Trailer.
Equipment and Software:
Working in television production since 1995, Vonn Said is dedicated to mastering all things behind the camera. Shooting, studio positions, TDing, directing, graphic art and editing. Vonn is the complete package.
Television Station Experience:
WHBQ FOX 13 - Memphis, TN 4/12-present
Director
Brought on board to direct part of FOX's 5 hour live morning show and round out a complement of 3 star directors. Part of a new staff put in place for generating growth in WHBQ's morning news.
WREG CBS 3 - Memphis, TN 1/06 - 4/12
Senior Director
Directs the info-tainment hit Live @ 9. Hired for for skills and experience with directing organic and ad-lib driven newscasts and knack for creating effects.
KPTM FOX 42 - Omaha, NE 10/01 - 1/06
Production Manager
Appointed News Production Manager and charged with turning around rather lackluster production delivery through tight direction and dynamic graphic art.
KMSP FOX 9 - Minneapolis, MN 7/99 - 9/01
Director
One of three directors hired to lay out and execute a three and a half hour morning show start-up with a emphasis in organic, out-of-the-box directing.
KSAT ABC 12 - San Antonio, TX 2/95 - 7/99
Director/TD
First employer out of college. Started off as a part-time studio camera operator and was promoted to studio supervisor and finally Director/TD. Discovered aptitude for creating complex effects for newscasts.
Freelance Editing Experience:
Kingdom Quality Communications
Edited and co-produced a stylistic mission statement video for KQ's web site and inclusion with marketing material.
Watoto D'Afrika
Shot and edited three music videos for Memphis dance troupe for use in gaining financial support for locally producing a children's educational program.
Bob Hetherington & Associates
Shot and edited 2 proof of performance videos for Peer Power, a high school level tutoring program. These videos were used as a marketing tool franchising concept nationally.
The Project Chef Group
Co-owner, co-producer, shooter, graphic designer and editor for a Memphis produced cooking competition show. Pilot completed and continues to be shopped to potential investors. Trailer.
Equipment and Software:
GVG Kalypso &
3000 Switchers
Abekas DVEous & A-51 DVE
Pinnacle Flashfile & Lightning
Ross Overdrive
ADOBE CS5 Production Preminium
Word, Excel & PowerPoint
VizRT
Chyron IFINIT! & MAXINE
News View, ENPS, Opus, INews & News King
Education:
Quinnipiac University 1/12 - present
M.S. in Interactive Media
University of Denver 8/90 - 8/94
B.A. in Mass Communications
Web Presence For Vonn
Vonn Said | Visionmixer
www.visionmixer.net Working in television production since 1995, Vonn Said is dedicated to
mastering all things behind the camera. Shooting, studio functions, TDing,
directing, graphic art and editing.
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Greater Memphis Area - Director, Editor,
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6 days ago –Music has been a crucial part of my identity since the summer of 1984.
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Kingdom Quality Communications - Youtube
http://.youtube.com/watch?v=oTejAvMzYEc
New16 hours ago - Uploaded by mrvonnsaid
Edited and co-produced a stylistic mission statement video for KQ's web site and
Edited and co-produced a stylistic mission statement video for KQ's web site and
inclusion with marketing materials.
Bike Song: Come Ride With Me - Youtube
http://.youtu.be/EXIK0WjvuQU
New4 hours ago - Uploaded by mrvonnsaid
1 of 3 videos I did for Memphis dance troupe Watoto D'Afrika for financial support to
locally produce children's educational television program.
Bob Hetherington & Associates - Youtube
http://.youtu.be/75qhTJVBS0w
New1 1 hour ago - Uploaded by mrvonnsaid
One of two roof of performance videos for Peer Power, a high
school level tutoring program.
These videos were used as a marketing
tool for franchising this concept nationally.
Vonn Said DVEous Effects - Youtube
http://youtu.be/anQ1qhyuB
9 months ago - Uploaded by mrvonnsaid
A montage of effects I built while at KSAT TV 12 in San Antonio, TX using the
Abekas DVEous. 1997-1999.
Project Chef: Memphis - Youtube
https://plus.google.com/u/0/116096411537389830386/videos
5 months ago - Uploaded by mrvonnsaid
Trailer for upcoming local competition cooking show in Memphis Tennessee. Vonn Said,
Marybeth Connly, Amy Rosenberg producers. Project Chef Group, LLC.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Amorality - a study on the argument for censorship
I’m here to tell you that music and other forms of artistic
expression should be regulated. Where
else can an artist be glorified for writing or singing about beating his
girlfriend, killing police officers, having an abortion and blowing up an
embassy? Music is the biggest offender. Our children are being bombarded from every
possible nook and cranny with these kinds of messages. With the advent of “services” like Spotify, Grooveshark,
Pandora and countless others, our children are subjected to amoral messages
with impunity. Likewise, the sharing of
music among children has spread like a virus.
New technologies have made copying, collecting and transmitting depraved content
as easy as sending an email.
You’ll recognize them.
The dark hoodies. The
ear-buds. These individuals can be seen
slinking around the neglected streets without a care for their fellow human
being. Likened to the walking dead –
they appear emotionless and pale from spending hours on their computers in
darkened rooms or basements. We are
truly seeing the zombie apocalypse embodied in our youth and the musical filth
they listen to. It is time for
action. The government is our last and
only hope. Only they have the reach and
the resources to rid our society of this technological plague.
There are a number of reasons we need censorship now. First, there are countless instances where content
reinforces negative behaviors such as violence and physical abuse in the
home. Why is government expected to aid
victims and prosecute offenders and not expected to regulate music that
reinforces this kind of behavior? Government, with censorship, can help
decrease these kinds of incidents simply by eradicating the glorification of
dangerous or illegal behavior.
Secondly, the government should be committed to uphold the
morals dictated by society. And by doing
so, protect young and easily influenced minds from vulgarity and sexually explicit
content. Indeed, some of these individuals
may not understand the difference between reality and fantasy and may act on the
content as we saw in the suicide case of John McCollum. Here, the case was dismissed but bitterly
reminds us that lyrics can have a savage effect on the unstable or depressed.
Lastly, the music industry has been invited to self-regulate
for years and has fought the idea with their vast resources. We believe they will never entirely
self-regulate. This is where the
government is needed to help in the prevention of amoral lyrics reaching the
minds of our youth. Likewise, the
censorship is needed to prevent obscene and sexually explicit lyrics from
reaching everyday listeners. The
government’s mission is to uphold and maintain the morals for the society it
serves.
I look forward to a future where music and artistic expression
are created for the betterment of society and done so solely by the artist without
the encouragement of government. For all
of those 1st amendment peddlers – you must concede that society has
degraded immensely in the past 60 years. We live
in a different time where terrorists are trying to unravel what is left of our
society. They will infiltrate any and
all avenues that are open to them. The
government is obligated to protect our interests as well as our delicate
societal structure. We are straddling
the razor’s edge between functional society and amoral anarchy. Censorship is one small piece of a vast
puzzle that requires government action.
Are you ready to jump blindly into the breach of depravity?
About The Author - redux
Music has been a
crucial part of my identity since the summer of 1984. My parents
and I moved to Lausanne, Switzerland where losing myself in familiar music was my only tie to home. Swiss radio stations were brainwashed by
France's pop/synth culture. I couldn't listen to that
spineless Franco-fluff. Dismal disco book-ended by DJ's that I wanted
to reach through the radio waves and throttle. Thankfully, my
British school-mates tuned me into the punk movement that exploded
in England some years earlier. I got my first dose of the Sex Pistols - the most
notorious and vilified band from that movement. And I was hooked. Soon
followed bands like the Damned, The Clash, Siouxsie & The Banshees,
Generation X, The Slits, The Adicts, The X-Ray Spex and many, many
others.
I started high school the following year in San Antonio, Texas. Talk about culture shock. I went from a school with eight kids in the entire 8th grade to a freshman class with over 1,500. Freshman lunches consisted of barricading myself in a vacant stairwell and comforting myself with music. There, I heard whisperings of a band called Suicidal Tendencies. One of their songs - I Saw Your Mommy - describes discovering with pubescent glee the mutilated body of a friend's mother. What could be more perfect for a teenage basket-case? I played my cassette until it too committed hara-kiri. I made other discoveries, though trial and error were my main influences. The Misfits, The Circle Jerks, Social Distortion, Love & Rockets, Bauhaus, Fearless Iranians From Hell and countless others.
With college came a new appreciation for slower, more psychedelic music. Moshing and pot smoking don't mix well. I'm not talking about bands like The Grateful Dead or Phish - favorites among my granola friends. I still needed some "melt-your-face-off" elements in my music. I'm referring to the likes of Jane's Addiction, Primus, The Sisters Of Mercy, Tripping Daisy, Nirvana, 311 and so forth. These bands were played as a compromise since most of my collection was deemed "too scary" by the hippie majority.
Fast forward to today. Life's priorities have taken center stage. Job. Mortgage. Kids. With that said, I have lost touch with my particular music scene with the exception of a chance find or two. My goal with this blog is to uncover some new bands and some old ones. I want you come with me on this sonic excursion. Let's see what's out there.
I started high school the following year in San Antonio, Texas. Talk about culture shock. I went from a school with eight kids in the entire 8th grade to a freshman class with over 1,500. Freshman lunches consisted of barricading myself in a vacant stairwell and comforting myself with music. There, I heard whisperings of a band called Suicidal Tendencies. One of their songs - I Saw Your Mommy - describes discovering with pubescent glee the mutilated body of a friend's mother. What could be more perfect for a teenage basket-case? I played my cassette until it too committed hara-kiri. I made other discoveries, though trial and error were my main influences. The Misfits, The Circle Jerks, Social Distortion, Love & Rockets, Bauhaus, Fearless Iranians From Hell and countless others.
With college came a new appreciation for slower, more psychedelic music. Moshing and pot smoking don't mix well. I'm not talking about bands like The Grateful Dead or Phish - favorites among my granola friends. I still needed some "melt-your-face-off" elements in my music. I'm referring to the likes of Jane's Addiction, Primus, The Sisters Of Mercy, Tripping Daisy, Nirvana, 311 and so forth. These bands were played as a compromise since most of my collection was deemed "too scary" by the hippie majority.
Fast forward to today. Life's priorities have taken center stage. Job. Mortgage. Kids. With that said, I have lost touch with my particular music scene with the exception of a chance find or two. My goal with this blog is to uncover some new bands and some old ones. I want you come with me on this sonic excursion. Let's see what's out there.
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