Continuing along the idea of referential culture and pop-mashing, I want to write a bit about something I've been more than a little in love with as of late. Kids & Explosions is a musician whose work is no doubt polarizing. Simple googling of his nom-de-pc will turn up more than a handful of articles making the inevitable comparisons to the massively popular Girl Talk. The main difference, I've been able to ascertain, is that while Girl Talk has masterfully crafted his mash-ups to become a giant party mix that makes revelers say "Aha!", Kids & Explosions' ouvre seems to suggest more of a deconstruction of cherished and personal selections. Instead of taking a hook or chorus or instantly placable piece of history, K&E takes fragments that are less identifiable, less obvious, but more meaningful and in an odd way, more personal.
The resulting album, S*** Computer, available for whatever you wish to pay. somehow feels more cohesive, organic even, when listened to as a whole. Instead of one massive mega-mix for parties, separate songs are established and realized by a musical alchemy of sorts. As pointed out in this break down Josh Raskin observed several rules for his construction of this album. While it's admirable that rule one was "The songs have to mean something to him" I think the real essence or trick lies in two and three - no effects applied and no pitch shifting what so ever. By breaking down songs and piecing them back together via similarities the original artists never intended, the resulting product is both novel and familiar. It bridges that gap in our minds where we know something and yet are figuring it out. Its as if the entire album exists in that transitional moment of recognition, which is an astounding accomplishment in my mind. It's as though you were falling in love forever, or permanently tasting a new dish with every bite. Along these lines, the music created by adding say, two samples together, creates not just the one on top of the other, as is often the case with mash-ups, but actually touches on a third separate song that until now may have existed, albeit only potentially. The musical equivalent of potential energy, if you will.
An interesting cheat or caveat to the aforementioned rules is that while there is no pitch shifting to be found, there are deconstructions, tweaks and clear rearrangements. In the first minute of the album it's apparent Eminem's vocals have been chopped up and reordered. What we hear is odd - it feels like you're hearing the song you know, yet because it's in a manner that flips your expectations, as well as over the piano chords of Bryan Adam's 'Everything I Do', your mind again construes it as having been previously experienced yet feeling entirely unfamiliar. The product is thoroughly uncanny. To reiterate what I stated earlier, the feeling of two or more preexisting pieces coming together to create a unique third piece is akin to procreation, which Raskin jokes about in the aforementioned interview with Laura Lanktree. He describes it as songs "having sex" and the results feel suitably organic despite the buzzes and twists. One could guess the title of the album refers to the idea of a hard drive crashing and we're hearing the neurons cross-firing, like HAL in 2001 as it sings 'Daisy' during shutdown.
A further distinction from his Mash-Up bretheren lies in the mood of the album, which instead of being a thumping club banger, is more wistful and even haunting at times. Josh Raskin has made choices and discoveries via his palate that have meshed incredably well. I feel like it serves better as music for a small gathering for cocktails than ripping up a houseparty. Maybe I'm just getting older. OR maybe I'm just playing favorites. To be perfectly honest I didn't even have my ear to the ground. Rather, I stumbles across the album via Popmatter's excellent year-end list of the best free music of 2010. Looking to broaden horizons without breaking any laws (which, given the legal grey area of sampling to this extent is more than a little bit ironic) I checked out their recommendations and was blown away by what I had found. Among the many awesome recommendations was Kids & Explosions.
While the list I linked above is filled with excellent new music, please give a listen to Kids & Explosions, if for no other reason than to hear the future of our modern culture twisting referentiality into a genre of music.
The resulting album, S*** Computer, available for whatever you wish to pay. somehow feels more cohesive, organic even, when listened to as a whole. Instead of one massive mega-mix for parties, separate songs are established and realized by a musical alchemy of sorts. As pointed out in this break down Josh Raskin observed several rules for his construction of this album. While it's admirable that rule one was "The songs have to mean something to him" I think the real essence or trick lies in two and three - no effects applied and no pitch shifting what so ever. By breaking down songs and piecing them back together via similarities the original artists never intended, the resulting product is both novel and familiar. It bridges that gap in our minds where we know something and yet are figuring it out. Its as if the entire album exists in that transitional moment of recognition, which is an astounding accomplishment in my mind. It's as though you were falling in love forever, or permanently tasting a new dish with every bite. Along these lines, the music created by adding say, two samples together, creates not just the one on top of the other, as is often the case with mash-ups, but actually touches on a third separate song that until now may have existed, albeit only potentially. The musical equivalent of potential energy, if you will.
An interesting cheat or caveat to the aforementioned rules is that while there is no pitch shifting to be found, there are deconstructions, tweaks and clear rearrangements. In the first minute of the album it's apparent Eminem's vocals have been chopped up and reordered. What we hear is odd - it feels like you're hearing the song you know, yet because it's in a manner that flips your expectations, as well as over the piano chords of Bryan Adam's 'Everything I Do', your mind again construes it as having been previously experienced yet feeling entirely unfamiliar. The product is thoroughly uncanny. To reiterate what I stated earlier, the feeling of two or more preexisting pieces coming together to create a unique third piece is akin to procreation, which Raskin jokes about in the aforementioned interview with Laura Lanktree. He describes it as songs "having sex" and the results feel suitably organic despite the buzzes and twists. One could guess the title of the album refers to the idea of a hard drive crashing and we're hearing the neurons cross-firing, like HAL in 2001 as it sings 'Daisy' during shutdown.
A further distinction from his Mash-Up bretheren lies in the mood of the album, which instead of being a thumping club banger, is more wistful and even haunting at times. Josh Raskin has made choices and discoveries via his palate that have meshed incredably well. I feel like it serves better as music for a small gathering for cocktails than ripping up a houseparty. Maybe I'm just getting older. OR maybe I'm just playing favorites. To be perfectly honest I didn't even have my ear to the ground. Rather, I stumbles across the album via Popmatter's excellent year-end list of the best free music of 2010. Looking to broaden horizons without breaking any laws (which, given the legal grey area of sampling to this extent is more than a little bit ironic) I checked out their recommendations and was blown away by what I had found. Among the many awesome recommendations was Kids & Explosions.
While the list I linked above is filled with excellent new music, please give a listen to Kids & Explosions, if for no other reason than to hear the future of our modern culture twisting referentiality into a genre of music.
