Simon Firth - Unknown Zone EP for Resident Advisor

This is actually the first not-so-positive review I've written for Resident Advisor. I was seeking out a release of an artist that I'd had no prior knowledge of, and this one immediately grabbed me. Over the course of the holidays, I let it digest and play alongside the other tracks that littered my iPod. Over time, I grew bored with it, and wasn't sure if I was disappointed more in the tracks' staminas to impress me or my faulty initial judgment. Is it a waste of time to review a record that isn't good? There's so much on the Internet that you may notice a large amount of blogs and online magazines (RA excluded) focusing solely on what they do like. I can't say that Basstown has ever written about anything it didn't favor.

I have to admit it was a challenge. If a record review is answering the question "Why?" (Why do is this record good/bad? Why do you like it? Why should anyone else like it?), then to do so for tracks that hardly reach out and grab you leaves you feeling stumped (Why are you stumped?). I think I'd embrace another record if it turned out to leave this bland taste in my mouth over time, but I can safely say that doesn't seem to happen all too often - phew!

You can read the review, posted here: Simon Firth - Unknown Zone

Noisecreep Archive Still Going Strong

For the past several months, Noisecreep has been a busy blur of metal, hardcore and punk write-ups. Ronnie Dio got stomach cancer, Rammstein went mega-pr0n, Mayhem destroyed a hotel room and studies show that soldiers in Iraq utilize metal on their iPods to pump them up for war. The news never stops coming in, and while I used to post each published Noisecreep piece up here, it's best to do so in bulk because the resulting adjective for both you and I would be: tedious. Rather, while we now have little blogger bios (see below), I'll work on getting the accompanying photo link fixed. Enjoy...

You can read the archive, posted here: Noisecreep / Vicki Siolos

Area Bio for Wave Music

Another recent biography contributed towards the Wave Music roster is for Area, better known under his m50 DJ alias. He has a new EP coming out which features a favorite new track, titled "Missing A Few." The fluttery, ambient vibe draws from the highlights of Autechre's softer moments, similar to the effect in "VI Scose Poise," the first track off of 'Confield.' Area has an empire to build with his productions, but the new EP proves to be a solid part of its foundation.

You can read the bio, posted here: Area

XDB Bio for Wave Music

Writing band biographies was something I grew to love as a publicist. After a long period of dormancy in that field, I recently rewrote Lo-Fi-Fnk's bio and realized how much I'd missed the task. Now on the team at Forward Management, I've also been working with my company to rewrite a few bios for Wave Music artists. So far, it's been an absolute blast, and the only reason why I haven't been doing it more and more is the general lack of its presence in my routine. It's something I'd very much like to change in the near future.

You can read the bio, posted here: XDB

Modeselektor - Body Language Vol. 8 for Resident Advisor

Modeselektor are a significant part of my musical dialect, and I've been a fan for many years. It was no surprise, then, that this would be a challenging review for me. The pressure was on before I wrote the first sentence, and I discovered that not being a DJ might prove to be a challenge when writing about mixes.

While my wheels are in constant motion with AOLmusic, the in-depth reviews on electronic music have been more infrequent because I've been focusing on writing bios for producers. That can be tricky - making sure your reviews don't sound like press releases and vice-versa. I won't deny that it has been on my mind in the writing process, but I think the outcome has been successful.

You can read the review, posted here: Modeselektor - Body Language Vol. 8

The Afterlife Of My Memories

I started writing a simple post for my blog, Onward Charles, and the plan was a brief run-down of Maura's birthday wishes to CD player on Idolator. My personal and assigned writing has been short, with everything from journal entries to record reviews being 250 words or under.

But today it was different. It was much more personal, and as I reached the end of my final sentence, I decided it was more fitting to post here - in a place where my published opinion and career as a member of the music industry are followed.

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27 years ago today, the CD player was born. I vaguely remember them being a considerable amount of money, but my memory tells me that my family didn't get one until about 1992.

Can that be right? I remember tapes and tapes and even 8-tracks (my parents were never that big on vinyl, though there's an interesting but modest collection in their den), but did CDs fit into my 80s experience? I honestly cannot remember. That also begs the question: do people still have dens? My parents' house has a den and a living room. Are those the same now?

In any case, my first CD was Green Day's Dookie (with the banned Ernie puppet on the back cover). Shortly after that, Garbage's self-titled debut, Smashing Pumpkin's Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness, Nirvana's Nevermind and Michael Jackson's HIStory came as birthday and Christmas gifts. I remember how special I felt, after inheriting my sister's first compact stereo system. I used that machine for years. Nine Inch Nail's Downward Spiral would go on to be both one of my all-time favorite albums as well as one that I wouldn't buy, in CD form, until I'd graduated college. I spent my high school years constantly re-playing the dubbed cassette I'd made from my bio lab partner's CD, and the same holds true for Marilyn Manson's Anti-Christ Superstar.

I fell in love with Led Zeppelin through a cassette tape that a boy made me when I was 14. I listened to it the morning he moved away for college and cried in my bed. I had made him a Tori Amos "best of" in return. During college, a guy communicated a break-up through cassette tape. There were hundreds of miles between us and I sneer at the thought of him still. My ego was cracked harder than my heart, but I still remember the songs on the tape, which only took up about 15 minutes of plastic, polyester film.

And Tori Amos...she was my hero in high school. If I remember correctly, I own about 80 of her CDs: albums, singles and bootlegs. Back then the UK import singles came in two parts, and I would dilligently buy both from Tower Records in Huntington, NY (now out of business) whenever I laid eyes on them. For months I found the same goddamn issue of Caught A Lite Sneeze, and was thrilled when I got my hands on the UK version. It had a different cover - taken from the Boys For Pele photo shoot - and B-sides I'd never known about. Still, I wanted it all. I wanted the German version, and would gladly pay over $9.99 to get it. The funny thing is that it was the same artwork as the US version. It also contained two of four B-sides already on the domestic...but there was a third. It was called "Hungarian Wedding Song," and clocked in at exactly 60 seconds. It was childish and nonsensical but when I walked into Tower Records on one of my Saturday visits...there it was.

And it was all mine.

There were no waffles.fm or what.cd accounts. I don't even think Napster existed at the time, and I wouldn't get the internet until sometime in 1997. It was my moment...my music, my format and my money. I can still hear the click of the magnet in the top corner of my stereo cabinet. Push in...click...release. A wall of glass glided towards me and the modest facade of my CD/cassette/radio system with detached speakers was before me like the monolith in 2001. It was beautiful.

With all that said, the New York Times published a much talked about story about Downtown 161 records this week, and the point I took from it was this: people cling to vinyl and continue to cultivate an unavoidable digital music library. That's all. Cassettes receive affectionate attempts of ressurrection because of the endearing nostalgia of "the mix tape," but CDs and 8-tracks dont's have that. For the commercial consumer, the latter was never possible and the prior is just too cold, plastic and lifeless. Example: a music fiend can look at a vinyl record - just look at it - and remember key moments in their longtime affair with music. I truly don't believe that catharsis can come to life with a CD until after the play button has been triggered.

I'm not old enough to start prefacing my anecdotes with "When I was your age" to anyone, but college graduation is a distant memory and the woes of car insurance, 401k's and mutual funds are as staple as morning coffee. I'm part of the last generation that saw ghettoblasters as a top-selling model, and not kitsch factor. I remember when the mp3 came out. Reading about the birth of the CD during its death or journalists referring to the domino-like shutdown of brick & mortar record stores like a pandemonium of the past finds me sitting here thinking about the music collector. If we don't have a tangible format, will those private, bedroom moments still exist for future generations? While you can still stick the title tape that you carefully removed from the top spine of your new CD on the dashboard of your car in the record store's parking lot, it's just not the same. I cherish my relationship with music as equally material as I do metaphysical, but as I find more and more of my library existing in my iTunes...what will be lost?

The Actual Update

I had promised a substantial update after vanishing for the second half of the summer. It should come as no surprise that I've been too busy to update this site, but that's also unfair as lowering the level of urgency to update this "portfolio in progress" goes against its purpose.

The spring was difficult. I held together a worthwhile amount of freelance writing jobs, but the constant struggle to find steady work was taking its toll on me. I was eventually offered a job in fine dining food service on Fire Island, and I couldn't find a reason to say no. The idea of surrounding myself in a routine of manual labor seemed like an incredible break for my spirit and mental health, which were being constantly dragged down by the respective rise and fall of desirable interviews and reluctant rejections. I think everyone hated saying no because it was such a hard time for all of us - the economy, in my opinion, was at its absolute worst and while most of America remained or grew in its unemployment, the relationship between the music industry and the concept of job security was in shambles.

While the experience may not have been exact for everyone, this certainly describes the scenario for myself and many other hardworking artists that I have a personal connection to: editors, DJ/producers, label owners, publicists and [definitely, definitely] writers. By the time my birthday came around in mid-July, I went on official hiatus (if I could even call it that), and ceased to write for about two months.

Terrified of what the freelance world was going to be like when I returned, I am beyond grateful and thrilled to hold two great positions. One is a more involved writing position with NoiseCreep - AOL's metal blog that has been growing like a teenager on steroids - which requires me to be increasingly attached to the happenings in the metal world. Additionally, a very good friend connected me with Forward Management - a booking and management firm that was started by François K and his Wave Music business partner, Aurelie Brambilla. I'm now working part-time alongside Aurelie to book the artists on Forward's roster, which I'm also excited about. Electronic music - like most large and thriving genres - is full of a copious amount of crap, and it's an honor to have the opportunity to work with a particular company that has history, taste and integrity. The few people I've met who are a part of the project are truly genuine, and as far as gut feelings go the green light has been brighter than ever.

There are a few other projects, hopes and ideas on the horizon. I am still writing for Resident Advisor and already have my eye on outlets that I have been waiting for the right time to approach. The time is now!

(P.S. To fellow friends: I discovered the beauty that is Texas Hold 'em this summer, and if you feel like losing some money then bring it on.)

Back From The Fire

It's been a long month or two of silence, but it was much needed. While my summer was nothing near dreadful, it was impossible to keep up with the outside world. Fire Island is an interesting place, and the particular neighborhood I found myself in was incredibly insular, isolated from the rest of the world. An Internet connection alone wasn't enough, so I hung up my coat and sat on the beach for a month (and worked my ass of in a restaurant, to boot).

But now the pieces are being picked up exactly where they left off, and already the wheels are in considerable motion. You can expect to see much more on NoiseCreep and Resident Advisor, and I have some big plans for the coming fall. This also includes a move to Brooklyn, which, after much thought, turned out to be the wisest option for everything that I am wanting to do...which is, as always, a wide variety of things.

Jeff Mills for Resident Advisor & Fuck The Facts for NoiseCreep

One of my highest priorities is to post my writings right about the time they're published, but from time to time it's difficult to stay on point. I'm still living on a fantasy summer island, but have been keeping myself plugged into my two favorite genres: metal and techno. Before I left for Fire Island, I spent my final, epic weekend with a string of memorable nights. On Wednesday, my friend Mattis and I drove up to Boston for a RBMA Thomas Oberheim workshop and Le Loup at Midweek Techno. Thursday was Raster-Noton at Make It New, and Friday - the day the up button broke on my car stereo's volume - we drove back to Brooklyn with a full car for Bunker, which featured R-N and Insideout (I think Grant is my new hero) and an epic 6hour tagteam between Jan Krueger and Derek Plaslaiko. The following night was Jeff Mills at the Sullivan Room, topped with a Cadenza party on the Bar 13 rooftop the following afternoon. Easily one of the best (and longest) weekends of my life. My review of Mills was a feat - making sense of one night amongst all of that can be difficult when you consider how much one event will blend into another. It was truly a weekend of loving life, and Mills' set (especially when he played "The Bells") was the opposite of a heartbreak.

True love?

Secondly, I'm on the verge of digging into new metal, and I have big plans with NoiseCreep that hit on a very personal level in the near future. Still, we wanted to know what Fuck The Facts couldn't leave home without - aside from, of course, instruments and merch - because they are just an awesome band. Please go see them if they're coming to your town.

You can read the reviews, posted here:
Jeff Mills @ Sullivan Room for Resident Advisor
Fuck the Facts Hit the Road With Five Essential Items

Audion - "Look At The Moon" for Resident Advisor

Audion reviews are sparse on the Internet, and in my world he is a rather big deal. I'm happy to have reviewed the latest single, "Look At The Moon," which I've been hearing often and loving every second. I'm hoping to hear It's Full Of Blinding Light soon - the limited 12" that ran at a mere 50 copies and was only available via the Ghostly store and a small shop in Berlin. I know a lot of people, but I imagine I'll have to do a decent amount of digging just to lay eyes on the vinyl. Nevertheless, I'm always looking forward to more from Audion. "I Am The Car" and "Look At The Moon" are two pieces of what looks like a much larger puzzle, and I think this will be Dear's strongest alias yet.

You can read the review, posted here: Audion - Look At The Moon