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(04/25/12 7:45pm)
After quite an adventure, my time with the Cluster has come to a close. It’s impossible for me to capture how great of an experience I have had with this newspaper, and how thankful I am for the opportunities and experiences I earned under its tutelage. I’ve loved my time here and will always remember it fondly. However, it would belittle my experiences if I claimed I could capture them all in this article so briefly. I would also be misappropriating a final opportunity to share with the faithful community of readers I have grown to love. With these considerations, I submit this article not as a goodbye, but as a milestone in the change of my existence.
This is the sort of time in the life of a young graduate that forces the question, “What is next?” I can’t say what is next for any of us as individuals, but as a society, we are entering into the greatest period of technological marvel that has ever existed. My fresh-faced generation has the unprecedented benefit of growing up with the Internet. However, the future is more uncertain that it has ever been.
We are approaching a paradigm shift. The only constant in the universe is change. It was first geological change and then it was evolutionary change. As the animals that would become humans became sentient, the changes started happening even faster. In an article called “The Economics of Singularity”, George Mason Professor Robin Hanson estimates the rate of change at which the human economy has increased. At humanity’s earliest it doubled every quarter million years. Post-Agrarian society was up to every 900 years. Those plot points are miniscule compared to the exponential change to come.
Processors become doubly powerful every 18 months. It is not unreasonable or unfathomable that we are approaching a technological singularity. We are nearing a time in which we could create an artificial intelligence more capable than any human.
When such a thing happens, the intelligence would be able to improve itself in ways that are not quantitatively different, but qualitatively different. It is impossible to comprehend how different. It would be less like explaining the modern global economy to a silk trader and more like explaining the Internet to a paramecium.
I want to clarify that I am aware of the current differences between how human intelligence is measured as compared to computer intelligence. One can simply look at voice recognition software, although voice recognition is a very small part of the human intellect, it is only a few orders of magnitude less accurate in our artificially created simulations. Our concept of intelligence may be teetering on obsolescence.
Once we have made something smarter than us, either by augmenting our intellectual abilities or by engineering something totally new, it will be able to improve itself in ways that we couldn’t.
Humanity’s next decay can see the edge, but not the upper limit. Only one question remains. What’s next?
(04/11/12 8:17pm)
Cathartic and intimate, Barna Howard’s freshman recording leaves listeners feeling cleansed. His eponymous debut was released in February.
Originally from rural Eureka, Missouri, he’s worked his way through the country, living in Chicago, Boston, and currently Portland. With lyrics that could have been ripped out of his diary and warmly honeyed vocal styling Barna Howard helps purge old ghosts. He unassumingly crafts delicate guitar melodies that would befit the bank of any creek in the Ozarks.
I recently had the opportunity to share with Barna about his music and song writing
Barna Howard: [There are] several different ways I go about writing. Sometimes, it comes from a melody I have created. Ideas will start going through my head from what I feel from that melody. About 50% of the time I do it that way, the other half, I find a word or something I heard during the day. A lot of songs from this first album were stories about back home—being home in Missouri and leaving all that. The first album for me was very transient.”
I can see into his music. It’s more than a rural background; there is a universal element to his music. There is a relief that comes with seeing your own ghosts with different names.
In “Songs for Joe,” Barna reflects over a slow-walking guitard duet: He don’t laugh now/ He don’t cry/ Wish he’d stop and wonder why/ He’s all hooked up/ On a “precious” thing/ Between a needlepoint and a rubber string
While “Songs for Joe” is a chapter out of his life, it stirs up ancient pain from friends I have lost. Feelings like this are things you seal away. To indentify with music is to see yourself in it. Barna told me his “Joe” was a combination of two specific individuals. But it could as well be anyone who has slipped through the fingers of the ones that love them.
Barna’s music is about closure through release. He told me that, “literally every song” was about a part of his life. He added, “There were so many things I just had to get out.” When I asked if there was a particular song on the album that Barna “had to write,” he shared the inspiration of the album’s first single “Promise, I Won’t Laugh.”
BH: That was a song I wrote about my first love. We had been split up for a couple years. I wrote that song about 2 ½ years after we had broken up. I just wanted to say one more thing. I wanted to use it as a redemption song. I wanted to tell her not to be sad not to be in my life anymore. I wanted to celebrate it in a way, just thank her. That was sort of the “last song” I wanted to get out about that person.
I am watching the Georgia sun squeeze out the day’s last sweat as it slides over the horizon. With my day finally done, I’ll put on Barna Howard to remember, but mostly to forget.
(04/11/12 8:11pm)
Saintseneca is my favorite band. Period. With Zac Little’s songwriting, the gloriously raw delivery, and the catchiest refrains in this part of the cosmos, Saintseneca will blast you directly into the heart of the sun. Saintseneca’s most recent album, Last, was mostly recorded live. This record is a breathing thing. This album has absolutely no filler. This is one of those rare records on which you wouldn’t dare skip a song. Not one. From the first spindly chord progression in “Acid Rain” to the final second of the closing anthem “James,” Saintseneca inspires.
I had the pleasure of speaking with Zac Little about doubt, God, leaving home and constellations. Sadly, I don’t have the space to print the entirety of our conversation here. When the Cluster’s editorial staff finally gives in to my persistent requests to extend the Entertainment section to no less than 10,000 words, you might get to see the full conversation. I’ll share the more resonant moments with you.
One of the first things we talked about was religion. With religious imagery oozing through every seam, it was impossible not to bring it up early on.
Jonathan Popham: I’ve got a feeling of your band and your music. I’ve been going trying to pick out themes in your discography. There is an incredible amount of religious imagery in the songs that you have. It’s mostly Christian. What kind of role has religion played in your life?
Zac Little:It’s funny. I think that there are a lot of people who are keenly aware of that, but shy away from it. I think a lot of people are afraid to talk about it, for what they might get one way or the other. I’d say that it is obviously a pervading theme in the stuff I write. I guess in my own experiences it comes from a point of introspection. Saintseneca is certainly not a band out to proselytize music. Nothing like that. It is a sort of personal, cathartic means of introspection with all these issues I grapple with myself. It comes out in things that I write. I grew up deeply immersed in a [Christian] church background. When you “leave your parents nest” you enter into a process of reconciling what you have been exposed to by proximity for a long time. You are forced to reconcile that and say, ‘Well, what of these things actually feel resonate to me? What of these things actually feel important to me. What of these things don’t feel true or important?’ It’s an outlet for my own grappling with those things.
Today’s generation of 20-somethings is coming into the world in a unique time in history. I suppose every previous generation also thought that. But, with access to the greatest wealth of knowledge amassed in human history, we are limited by nothing but our imaginations. It seems like the more answers we come up with, the less we really understand. Through their empirical yet mystical questioning, Saintseneca could be a voice for my generation, “a voice for wandering yellow roman candles,” just waiting to explode “like spiders across the night sky.”
Little told me about how he hoped to finish recording the next album before summer, their tour of the Midwest, and their musical evolution. He then shared with me about the personal nature of his music.
JP: It’s an uneven thing for me or any other journalist to speak to a musician. Usually, [for interviews] I find people I really like– people I can identify with. By the time I finally talk to them, I’m intimately familiar with their entire catalogue of work. I already know what they are doing. I’ve looked into their soul. Relating to a stranger’s soul is serious, one-sided business.
ZL: That’s flattering to me. Especially since music just feels like something I have to do. The fact that people can ever connect to [my music] is the highest sort of honor to me. The fact that people take time to consider something that has taken your energy—there is no higher praise than that.
So, when was the last time that you looked into your own soul?
Do me a favor. After the sun sets and the stars rise, go outside. Look up. Take a moment to assess your size in the universe. That great abyss is pockmarked with ageless pinpricks. It’s okay to make a habit out of it. I’ve no guarantee that you’ll find the Constellation of the Dog, but you might find what you are looking for in yourself. You might even find that you need to start looking.
(03/28/12 8:27pm)
Accessibility has been a stumbling block for the propagation of scientific thought and empirical reason since the enlightenment. Furthermore, the speed, accuracy, and efficiency that information can be shared are at the very foundation of what life is. It is not just about modern thinking of what information is. The success and failure of how information is shared is as important on the level of an amino acid as it is in a classroom. A successful copy means a new life; an unsuccessful copy means a new life form. According to Chaos Theory, change is at the core of the universe. After eons of change, life on Earth has advanced to the stage of self-awareness. We know that we are here, but we do not know why or how. Science is laying the bricks to human understanding. Surely, this obelisk will tower to an unimaginable level. But for some, with the constantly increasing level of information required to grasp so many novel concepts, the uncompleted peak is already too tall to observe.
World-renowned biologist Richard Dawkins, considered by some to be today’s Charles Darwin, has released a new book called The Magic of Reality. The goal of his latest book is to build a metaphorical elevator in which the curious can get a boost in their understanding of nature’s observable wonder. Other works have tried previously. Only the truly hardcore actually seek out and finish things like The Origin of Species. Not to undercut the miraculous observation made by our scientific forefathers, but without a burning desire, razor-sharp intellect, and a lifetime of work can one examine the totality of a single subject in the realm of science. Dawkins successfully bridges this gap with this new, no-nonsense look into the core of our wonderful world.
The book succeeds so well because of its highly interactive nature. The hard-copy is beautifully illustrated. There is also a revolutionary application for the iPad which includes charming animations by David McKean and interactive games throughout. In each chapter, Dawkins first examines the “myths” associated with certain realms of scientific thought, and then outlines what science has observed so far in each case. Be forewarned, the book has no bibliography. This means that you are on your own if you want to research further topics; albeit, the work is formatted for a younger audience. Not to say that adults could not benefit from this engaging first look into mystifying topics like the nature of DNA, evolution, gravity, energy, the sun, planets, and plate tectonics.
The nature of the work is diverse. It is best taken as “kindling” to light the fire of curiosity for a children or anyone who just wants to know. This book begins to answer “what”, and “how”, so maybe one day we will know “why”.
As far as information sharing goes, we as humans perpetually find ourselves at a crossroads. Do we ask hard, sometimes uncomfortable questions or do we merely accept the answers we have been provided? One path could lead us to the stars, but the other will certainly take us back to the cave.
(03/14/12 8:20pm)
After witnessing a glorious display of violin-heavy folk from bands Little Tybee and River Whyless (formerly known as Do It to Julia) at the Hummingbird last Saturday, I was absolutely floored. Luckily, I was able to catch River Whyless’s violinist during takedown.
Jonathan Popham: I’m here at the Hummingbird, in Macon, Georgia with Halli Anderson. So you play the violin?
Halli Anderson: The Violin and the Xylophone. I also sing.
JP: Like a kid out in the rain, I should add. So you are on tour with Little Tybee right now?
HA: We both booked a tour together, we booked the first half, they booked the second. It’s about two months long-seven weeks. We are about a week in right now.
JP: So how has it been going so far?
HA: Great! Wonderfully! I don’t want to jinx it, but the Southeast has been great to us. It is familiar territory, them being from Atlanta, us coming from Asheville. We’ve decided when we hit Texas is when we have really gotten underway. Once we get out of our comfort zone here it will really resonate.
JP: When you get to Austin?
HA: Austin? That’s a whole different ballgame. Band bootcamp. Tons of bands, heat, people and beer. It’s going to be great. It’s a great town. We are obsessed with this one Taco Truck, Torchy’s. We go there every time. Not sure how we are going to find it, but it is our goal. We want to play awesome shows, make people happy, meet other bands, get inspired, and find Torchy’s. But, we’ll be splitting up with Little Tybee once we get to South by Southwest. We’ll tackle it, get back together, and then roll out.
JP: So how many dates do you have left?
HA: Thirty-five. We’ll go all the way out to Seattle and Portland then head back across through Wyoming, Boulder, and Omaha. Then up through Cleveland, Chicago, New York, then down the East coast.
JP: Anything else you’d like to say about the tour? Is there an album?
HA: There is an album. It is called “A Stone, A Leaf, An Unfound Door”—it’s a Thomas Wolfe reference. There is a memorial to him in Asheville. It’s on Bandcamp, so you can get it for free if you want.
JP: Last words?
HA: Yes. We’ll be back in Macon for Bragg Jam.
Needless to say, they killed it. I’m looking forward to seeing what this band will evolve into after this tour. It will certainly be a transformative process.
While they are going to be on the road for a while, you’ll have another chance to catch them here in Macon on July 28th. The bandcamp is riverwhyless.bandcamp.com. The album is “name your price,” so you can get it for free if you really want, you cheapskate.
If you miss that show and don’t download their free album, then you just don’t have any other excuses. Go get the album. Pick up Little Tybee’s while you are at it.
(02/22/12 9:09pm)
Greetings again dear reader! Something has brought us together again, maybe fate? More likely one of the editors hand delivered this to you at Jittery Joe’s. Fate is more romantic, so I’ll just run with it. Fate brought me yet again to the truly unique sound of Electro-Swing band Caravan Palace. I was going to write a stinging parody of the desperately insufficient Republican field, but they are doing well enough in that realm on their own.
I first heard Caravan Palace four or five years ago through the woefully unequipped laptop speakers of a French classmate who assured me they were incredible. They were.
Because of national licensing, the band’s music was not available in the United States. Most of their stuff is still hard to find in stores, but their eponymous 2008 release is now available on Spotify. Honestly, I find their newer work superior overall. I’m not saying their 2008 release is bad, it’s just that they had some more time to grow. If you are interested, their newer work is available on Youtube. I recommend the song “Clash”. That said, let’s look into Caravan Palace as a whole.
This French group introduces their first track, “Dragons” with a sound that can be only described as 1940’s St. Louis Swing as seen through the lens of the Parisian techno scene. This is the same scene that brought powerhouses like Kavinsky and Daft Punk. This first track starts off with coffee shop sounds and then rockets you to the moon. “Scar Scat” brings you to what I can only imagine is a “Big O” android singing scat over a well-oiled backing band. The guitar styling’s of Arnaud Vial would make Phil Keaggy blush.
Sonia Velasco and Camille Chapelière bring forth a sound that is uniquely French through a regular slow waltz and occasional breakneck clarinet.
Whenever we are all long dead, our descendants will want to emulate this. I proudly stand by that as I do all my other unverifiable claims.
“Ended With the Night” is like strolling through an impressionist painting of the stars, with reflections simmering on the Seine. The album really starts to impress with “Jolie Coquine.” It unabashedly rips you out of your chair and onto whatever danceable surface you can find. It’s last’s century’s sound churned out with the urgency of the digital age. “Ooh” allows you to catch your breath, but then they come back hard with “Suzy”. I must say, “it don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.” Play this at your next party and feel cool.
The next track, “Je m’amuse”, really starts to show how well this album is paced. I fall short of calling it musical genius, but I will admit that is a challenge. This song is more electronic than the previous tracks, but Caravan Palace is able to integrate synthesizers in such a way that it doesn’t seem over produced. The rest of the album continues at the same pace, and I couldn’t spoil that for you. Long story short, this French connection brings the old and the new together in a sharp, foot tapping, rush.
(02/08/12 9:55pm)
Dear reader, I find myself ensnared in yet another deadline. My father told me that Death was the only deadline. I tried to contend with him. He responded, “Well, you’ll be dead, and that’ll be the line.” Hard to argue with that. I could say that this fatalism inspired me in ways I am just beginning to understand. But, that is way too dark for anything I’d publish for this column. I suppose the only way to escape this impasse is to bring forth the antithesis to all things wrong in the word, the Puppy Bowl. Puppy Bowl VIII achieved everything an hour long stream of a cornucopia of canine cuteness. The cup was not without controversy. There is dispute surrounding the title of MVP (Most Valuable Puppy), which was awarded to Fumble, a four pound mix of indeterminate breeds. Fumble scored two touchdowns, a procedure so precious in nature that this columnist must take pause to contend with the endorphine overload inspired by this cute-ocaust. Aberdeen, an Australian Shepherd scored four consecutive touchdowns in the fourth quarter. Animal Planet has awarded Aberdeen a sort of “people’s champion” recognition on the Puppy Bowl website, which I assure you is filled with hours of footage that make you forget about any Godot-inspired existentialist meltdown you might be having. Apparently there are teams. I am inspired as an individual that an assuredly huge sum of money was poured into filming and airing this broadcast, which looked like it was more or less pieced together by interns that afternoon. This does not detract from the appeal of the show.
I can tell you that my new dream job is Puppy Bowl referee. A handful of Claritin’s effect on my kidneys will surely be justified by such an incredible day. It’s these foolish distractions, like the Puppy Bowl, the Super Bowl and whatever else we pour our “disposable” income into to escape. We’d surely go insane without these diversions.
There is something cleansing about the Puppy Bowl, a sort of existential rebirth of seeing new life in its most timid and playful form. At the Puppy Bowl religious divides don’t matter and national boundaries fade away. Anyone with any sort of heart can’t look at a Welsh Corgi crash into a baby Basset tumbling into a cardboard endzone and have a bad day. My suggestion: a weekly league sponsored by the Humane Society to showcase puppies up for adoption. It would reduce strays, and de-stress a tense country. Once a year is simply not enough.
@meepthebird was live tweeting all night. I didn’t watch Madonna’a half-time show, but I assure you that the Kitty Halftime Show would have been my pick any day of the week. The entire event is on Animal Planet’s website, but I am not sure how long the content with stay live. In closing, I’d like to remind you all that you are the universe experiencing itself. The fact that you exist at all is incredible beyond anything you’ll ever imagine. It’s easy to get in the dumps; it’s easy to lose sight of the good in the world. But, the answer is real. The answer is Puppy Bowl.
(01/25/12 5:28am)
With all this horseshit about censoring the internet, I’ve got to say something. The biggest problem with the legislation to “fix” the internet (SOPA/PIPA), other than the flood of lobbying money that is maintaining congressional support of the bills, is the plain fact that the people talking about doing this do not understand the internet. Imagine explaining how to install Google Chrome to your grandmother. Depending on how hip she is, her answers will range from “Boy, you know I already use Firefox!” to “What the hell is an internet?”. I get the vibe that our congressmen are on the latter end of the spectrum.
I can't make a technical commentary. While, I am not an expert on how domains are stored or how registries work, it is my understanding that the whole idea of deleting the URL of a offending website would detrimentally affect the performance of the world wide web. When my favorite Computer Scientist, Mercer Senior Levi Lewis, finally gets his column approved (tentatively titled “How I Learned How to Stop Worrying and Love the DDoS") you might get a better answer,
There is no doubt most of you are reading this from the Cluster’s website and not the print edition. Over the course of the next year, with my estimation of our circulation and last year’s web traffic, someone will be roughly twenty times more likely to read this online. That is a beautiful thing.
While piracy is definitely a part of the internet, it isn’t the entirety of the internet. There was once the same astroturf outrage over VCR tape and recordable cassettes. Home recording certainly did not ruin any industry. These anti-piracy claims are cut from the same cloth. Anything from a gun to a paperweight to a pen can be used to aid in underhanded activity. Does that mean that we should nerf our world? No. It is the opinion of this columnist that humanity’s core problems don’t exist because of drugs, alcohol, internet porn or the Pirate Bay. The problem will always lie with people.
So why punish everyone? As of last year, the U.N. declared the internet to be a basic human right. With internet censorship, we squelch voices.
I’ll leave you with an anecdote in defense of the web. When I was growing up, I was a shy kid. I met my oldest friend, Christopher, over SOCOM Navy Seals when we were 12. I’ve never met him. Usually when a 12-year-old talks about a new friend he met online, Chris Hansen asks him to take a seat. No pederasts here, I assure you. If he is, he is the most dedicated in the whole game. But I digress. Enabled by our horrible 12-year-old AIM screennames, we bonded. He remains one of my closest friends. Through a couple of moves and homeschooling, he was able to remain a constant in my life—a relationship that would have been utterly impossible a decade before.
It is through that kind of connection that the internet is on it’s best behavior. National boundaries, race, religion, sexual orientation, and proper grammar melt away. You can connect with people that you truly identify with, not just the people you get stuck next to.
(12/07/11 11:33pm)
So it goes. Drive-By Truckers loses another bassist with the departure of Shonna Tucker. Both the announcement posted by Tucker yesterday and another posted on DBT’s website were vague. The Drive-By Trucker’s official response reads, “We all love and respect her and wish her all of the best in everything she sets out for…David Barbe will be playing bass in our upcoming shows. He has been part of the DBT family since 2000.”
Only time will tell how the new lineup will affect the band. After a nearly decade long career with DBT, Shonna has spend thousands of hours on stage with the band. She did incredible work for the Truckers rhythm section and added a unique energy to the band.
Drive-By Truckers will be a new band after this. I look forward to their new projects with both anticipation and trepidation. I’m not saying that I think their direction will alter that much, the band has experienced numerous roster changes, but this is a pretty big one. Especially considering that Shonna was married to former DBT guitarist Jason Isbel. The Trucker's roadmap is unwritten. They’ve changed shape and size numerous times. They’ve cut lies about dives and hillbilly lives. They’ve told tales of times turning. They’ve been bards for the South. Earlier on in their career some critics claimed that they were some kind of Lynyrd Skynyrd knockoff, but they have shattered that mold, etching out their own special niche in the cannon of Alt-Country gods.
While all my speculation is fun, but it doesn’t really mean anything. If the Truckers can’t find a new groove without Shonna, then they had a good run. If they can, they have a potential to be a legendary band. I sincerely hope for the latter. Other DBT alumni have enjoyed solo success and good rest. In Shonna’s case, I’d love to see the former.
You can only stay on one train for so long. This one has come to the end of the line. While I hate to see the end of my favorite roster of my favorite band, I welcome it. Moments are precious because they are fleeting. Their music has changed before, but now that part of the Trucker’s catalog is now complete— for better or for worse. Will a paradigm shift occur? Doubtful. Will the rest of DBT get off at this stop? Probably.
I’ll be keeping an eye out on David Barbe for sure. Reports are unconfirmed whether or not his role as bassist will be a permanent gig. The band has made no comment. The band really hasn’t made much of a comment about anything. I guess in a lot of ways, that’s to be expected, but it doesn’t make things any less frustrating for concerned fans of the group.
My advice for the Truckers? Look to Lewis Carrol, If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there.
(11/17/11 1:15am)
The Athens-based Southern Rock act Drive-By Truckers burned rubber in Macon, Georgia on 11-11-11 at the Cox Capitol theater. The show opens their Fall 2011 tour. It was a delightful thrillbilly experience. With songs reminiscent of Aesop’s fables, DBT's writing style waxes fables that are markedly Southern. With guitar licks written by the ghost of Carl Perkins and their distinctive moaning vocals, it's hard not to feel like the law could come in and bust the show up at any moment. If the emotion in the Trucker’s sound isn’t real, then nothing is. The stories they spin bleed the same blood of all the folk legends that you hear growing up in rural Alabama (or Georgia in this columnist’s case). It captures the kind of hard-assed, shoot-to-thrill attitude that used to rule the rural South. I should note in some places, that attitude still rules. The band is skilled at always coming back to the moral of the story in their lyrics. In the song “Where the Devil Don’t Stay” from 2004’s Dirty South, they sing, “My Daddy played poker on a stump in the woods back when the world was gray/ Before black and white went and chose up sides and gave a little bit of both their way/ the only blood that’s any cleaner is the blood that’s blue or greener/ Without either you just get meaner and the blood you gave gives you away.”
So much could be said about that stanza alone, summing up the pre-WW2 mentality of work and prosperity in the South. If their music was a cocktail, one would find a hot copper wire and squeeze out one part William Faulkner, one Part Hank Williams, and just a touch of Jesco White. Said cocktail would be best served in the back of a hot '67 Charger.
The band, which has been together since 1998, has released 9 albums so far. They have a small, but tight following. It is no accident that Macon hosts a tribe of their followers. The kind of stuff Outlaw Country acts like Drive-By Truckers sing about is the kind of stuff that actually happens in places like the Hummingbird, Lake Juliet, or any forgotten place in Twiggs county where the liquor stills never quit. Both opener Alabama Shakes and Drive-By Truckers played with the sort of electicrity that shocks the system only like white lightning can. Finishing the job with an epic three-song encore suite culminating in the teenage love-letter to music, "Let There Be Rock", the Truckers left us thoroughly satisfied.
The Cox is the perfect atmosphere for DBT. Cold fall night. Standing room only. Grab a beer in the back. DBT isn’t the band Macon needs; they are the band Macon deserves. With a strength that just won’t quit, and a hard-working attitude, their music will surely be played for years. They are truly a legendary band-- storytellers of the real South. If you want to know what real, honest-to-God country music sounds like, then listen to DBT. If you want to know what it felt like to hear those old stories, listen to DBT. If you want to hear someone who feels like you feel, listen to DBT. I really don’t know why you are still reading this. Bless your heart, just go look them up on Spotify. Go!
(11/17/11 1:11am)
Skyrim is the best game ever. No, I’m serious. It is Half-Life 2 good. It is like Ocarina of Time’s older brother who was addicted to steroids but then went to India to cleanse himself with gurus. After he found his peace, he came to Cambridge to read European and Scandanavian History. He might have skipped a programming class or two.
There are jitters in the game. Sometimes characters look like they are standing on glass. They may shake uncontrollably. This game has numerous tech glitches. Technical flaws aside, this game is flawless. With an endless landscape, an incredible graphics engine, and the game's existential approach to storywriting, Skyrim creates a fully immersive experience. The game stars as-per-usual with the Elder Scrolls series; your character begins as an unknown prisoner. You effectively have no past. After you are (SPOILERS) freed as a prisoner in the first three minutes of the game (/SPOILERS) you are free to roam an area so vast, I can only compare it to hoofing it from one side of Metro-Atlanta to the other.
There are no backdrops. Ever. If you see a mountain in the distance you can climb to the top of that mountain. As I hear whispers around campus from all the buzz surrounding Modern Warfare 98, I must say, don’t buy that crap. Don’t buy any of that crap. Buy Skyrim. If you don’t have a computer that can run it, then buy it and play it on a friend’s console . I’m serious. Even if you have never played an RPG before. Even if your only game is NBA 2K9 and all you do is play as LeBron James. Even if you already bought it (kidding). If you haven’t heard of this game, then you either don’t play video games (read: you have a life) or you have been living under one big rock. This is the closest that modern Americans will come to fighting trolls, slaying dragons and drinking mead by the flagon. I suggest drinking mead and playing Skyrim.
Word of Caution: you will not be able to put it down. It might be prudent to wait until you are finished with your finals for Skyrim. Some intrepid gamers (read: neckbeards) logged in 100 play hours in the long weekend following the games release. This is especially impressive considering most three day periods only last 72 hours.
Skyrim goes deep. Like Mines of Moria deep. In the beginning of my game, some virtual schmuck made the mistake of trash talking my character, who of course pummeled him. This guy was a significant figure in the game. Later on I was randomly attacked by three marauders. It seemed especially unusual because they were uniformed and organized. They were contract killers. After dispatching them, I looted their possessions. I found a note. It was a hit. It was issued by the guy I roughed up at the start of the game. If I stumble upon a non-player character who I interacted with before, they will remember me. It is weird. Creepy, even. Whatever, I’m going to go play again. I can see that my normal life isn't going to happen over the next few days. Until I finish this game, my life is going to be slaying dragons. I have no problem with that. This game gets 4.5 out of 5 Septims.
(11/02/11 10:39pm)
Anything worthwhile deserves protecting. I think most rational people could agree with that. Quality of life is inarguably worthwhile. The cities that are usually rated with the highest quality of life are generally also rated the most cycling friendly cities in the world. Because of this, I conclude that there is likely a correlation between cycling and quality of life. With this logic, it makes great sense to promote cycling as a means of transportation, personal wellness, and as a benefit to the environment. Mercer University, the College Hill Corridor Commission, and the city of Macon all recognize this to some extent.
Cycling is a legitimate form of transportation, especially in urban areas. The problem is cycling can be highly dangerous for the cyclist. According to the most recent Crash Analysis, Statistics & Information (CASI) released by the Georgia Department of Transportation (GDOT) cyclists are 10 times more likely to be killed in a collision with an automobile than a person inside of a motor vehicle. A car is much different than a bicycle. While this seems like common sense, the law says otherwise. Georgia law says that regardless of the obvious differences in speed, mass, and protection, a bicycle is legally identical to an automobile.
The worst part? Georgia Senate Bill 196 declares that (40-6-144) “Except as provided by resolution or ordinance of a local government for sidewalks within the jurisdiction of such local government authorizing the operation of bicycles on sidewalks by persons 12 years or younger, no person shall drive any vehicle upon a sidewalk area except upon a permanent or duly authorized driveway”. In plain English, this means that if you are over 12 you can not ride your bike on the sidewalk. I’m not saying that we should have all cyclists ride on the sidewalk in lieu of bike lanes; I’m saying that we should at least allow for the possibility for cyclists to share the sidewalk as well as the road. Cyclists on the sidewalk can be dangerous for pedestrians, but until bike lanes are ubiquitous in Macon (see: never), it should be allowable in a given circumstance. Disrupting pedestrian should remain ticket-able at the discretion of police. Would you ever ride your bike down Vineville Avenue at noon on a Monday? Would you ever take your morning jog through a minefield?
Since Macon lacks the funds, infrastructure, and political will for bicycle lanes, we should protect our citizens in the next best way. Cyclists should ride in the road for the safety of pedestrians, but on the sidewalk for their own safety. An informal poll around campus shows that not only is this the opinion of most students, the illegal status of sidewalk-riding amazed them.
Cycling isn’t going anywhere. Until Macon’s city government or the State government change their stance, I recommend Thomas Jefferson’s advice, “If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so”.
(10/20/11 1:07am)
It was a gorgeous Pensacola October, with warm air and a cooling ocean. Casino Island adrift in a perfect, clear blue sea. The city itself moves like tides, with the people gently rolling in to town in the morning and away again at night. On day two of our DeLuna Fest coverage, I awoke at 7:00 A.M., with the rest of the news crew asleep, I assembled my room key and some shoes and set out to get a feel of the place. My first thought was breakfast. At the Hotel, it was $9.00. Forget that.
In an attempt to find something more reasonable, I decided to find a grocery store. With no map and no clue, it was not easy. I lucked onto the road to downtown Pensacola proper. I hit the jackpot when I discovered an international open-air market being set up on Palafox Street. This was perfect. A kind local woman, Mrs. Hashida, immediately approached me. She said, “It is way too early for you to be up without some breakfast”, and without hesitation, she gave me two pastries that she called “a traditional Japanese breakfast”. Dorayaki. It was blissful. Her family encouraged me that this was a friendly place, and that I shouldn't be scared to approach anyone. I followed her advice.
After enjoying my breakfast, I stopped a passing police officer and asked him where the nearest grocery store was. “It’s pretty far”, he said, “You need to take 9th down pretty far”. Fair enough. The road was long, but manageable. I never found the store, but after the Dorayaki and some coffee, I wasn’t as ravenous. Within the next two hours, I went on to have multiple meaningful exchanges with everyone from three kind boutique shop owners having a garage sale, to some professional deep sea fishermen practicing their casting at a church playground, to Occupy Pensacola protesters with stained hands and wet grafitti. There were outdoor art exhibits of every variety imaginable.
Pensacola casts a spell over you. If New Orleans and St. Augustine had a child they tucked in tighly every night and raised with love, it must be this place.
It could be the sea. A local artist told me, “There is a solidarity among people here. I used to live in Oakland, and there is no comparison to this place. The rich and the poor, the good and the bad, no matter how expensive their mansion or how shanty their shack, they still wake up every morning and see the same gulf”.
Big Oil didn’t kill this place, but I doubt it could. Pensacola isn’t a place I wouldn’t mind getting stuck in. The conquistadors that landed here must have fallen in love with the place after being adrift for so long.
With things like the Blue Angels and a tourism boom from DeLuna Fest, Pensacola has a lot to be optimistic about. I hope my travels bring me here again. Soon.
The moral of the story: If you turn 50 and you don’t move to Pensacola, you’ve cheated yourself.
(10/20/11 1:06am)
Looking back on this beautiful weekend spent in Pensacola at DeLuna Fest 2011, I have a lot of bedazzling memories. Framed by the emerald gulf, DeLuna Fest's crown jewel was Girl Talk. Pittsburg native Greg Gillis, also known as Girl Talk, left an engineering job to pursue a career in music.
It is rare that I say that the world is better off with one less biomedical engineer, but trust me, we are.
The second stage was a monolith on the shore. During the still air of sound check, the hazy stage was bare with the exception of an enigmatic DJ booth. To call this a mashup act is unfair. To call this laptop based act anything less than a musical Cirque du Soleil is unfair. After quite a crowd had gathered, roadies distributed 52 playing cards to 52 lucky audience members (read: the hottest girls there). A barely distinguishable mantra of glitchy sounds evolved into a chant. Girl Talk. Girl Talk. Girl Talk.
There was a vaguely religious feel to it, but trust me, it was pretty vague.
People sprinted to the stage, I couldn’t see the end of the people. This was a huge venue. I'm sure there were thousands of people on the beach. You couldn’t scratch your nose without bumping three other people.
Gillis sprinted on stage. He looked like a hippie playing in the NBA finals. After box jumping on to the 48 inch DJ Booth, he let out a primal yell. The bass dropped. "Bass" is a term usually left to describe deep musical tones. This vibrated my nostrils. It was hard to breathe. I’m sure the show was close to 100db and the bass was near the limit of human hearing. The sound was never muddy.
Gillis weaved thousands of samples both from his previous records and showcased several never-before-heard mixes. I constantly thought, “this could not become more ridiculous”, and I was wrong every time. A combination of Gillis’s non-stop full-throttle music combined with the rest of the show kept my jaw open. There was a spring-powered teenage Asian girl wearing a dress (read: XXXL NBA Jersey) spraying toilet paper out of a leaf blower then later firing a giant hose onto the audience through a series of squirrel fans. There was some volume of confetti. They didn't make it rain confetti. It was more like Norse gods of winter brought a blizzard to the beach.
It was amazing. If you can only see one show in your life, you must see Girl Talk. There are no excuses not to see Girl Talk. If not for his totally explosive, totally illegal music, then go just for the spectacle. Greg Gillis’s performance is endearing. He strikes me as the kind of person that played pots and pans as a child. Plenty of people do that, but most of them don't grow up to have a job that includes them sailing an inflatable raft over their audience.
After the set, my fellow Cluster writers, Eric Brown and Liz Bibb assembled in the aftermath.
The three of us glared into space with mouths agape for no less than 10 minutes, occasionally uttering “Wow, just, wow”.
(10/20/11 12:59am)
While at DeLuna fest, I ran into a couple of editors and interns for Paste Magazine, which was also covering the festival. Being a fan of the magazine, I stopped by their booth. They were promoting Paste’s new web based magazine, the mPlayer. The company’s print version suffered layoffs last year and was ultimately axed in place of an online edition, so it is great to see them expand their publication in a revolutionary way. They’re breaking new ground with this model of online publishing.
The mPlayer is sleek, new. It looks like no other website before it, and there is good reason for that. It was developed entirely in house by Paste founder Tim Regan-Porter.
The mPlayer plays tracks from a list of songs from rising artists and new releases from more established acts displaying gorgeous articles framed by crisp portraits of the artists.
When changing to a song by another artist, the mPlayer asks if you would like to change to that artist's page.Paste is demonstrating the future of publishing--developing new media in a richer, more engaging way than their peers. The folks at Paste certainly have something to be proud of. And we all have something to be extremely excited about.
Paste does cater to the hip crowd, so the topics covered will not to appeal to everyone, but I’m practically certain that the sort of people that read my column (yes, both of you) would definitely be interested. It isn’t free. The electronic magazine, published weekly, costs $0.99 per edition or $2.99 per month.
It ends up costing about what a regular monthly publication would per anum. To me, it is up in the air whether or not the lower production overheads coupled with a similar price point will be boom or bust for the Decatur based publication. Speaking frankly, I hope that this interactive format increases their circulation. They knocked it out of the park. This is the way that a media website should work.
On the more realistic side, it probably won’t be a game changer just yet. Paste is on to something with this format, but they are hip-- mainstream media moves slowly. Established media will eventually pick up something similar. I’d be happy to see National Geographic or other large publications greenlight projects like this. Print is dying, and that’s killing me.
I don’t think that the written word will die, but I do think print will. It is only a matter of time before circulation of hardcopy media, newspapers and magazines are gone the way of the steam engine. It’s going to the cloud.
It is better this way. Maybe it isn’t that print is dying. Maybe we are outgrowing it. Maybe it isn’t going from restaurants to fast food; maybe it’s going from propellers to jet engines. Only time will tell. In time, when the next wave of people emerge and look back on what we marveled at today they will think ,”what plain things they clinged to”. Surely one day soon, this argument will be finished. Eventually, it will be dated. I look forward to the future of new-media I encourage you, dear reader, to stay engaged. It is what keeps you alive.
(10/20/11 12:49am)
We (Eric Brown, Liz Bibb and myself) met up with MUTEMATH’s founders, lead singer Paul Meany and drummer Darren King, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in Pensacola, Florida. We chatted about the rebuilding of their native New Orleans, festival lineups, Brian Eno, and their recollections of playing with Kiss at Voodoo Experience 2009. The conversation eventually shifted to the record making process.
Jonathan Popham: I know that you lost a member last year. How has the writing process changed since then?
Paul Meany: We are recording, aren’t we? Should we sit down?
Darren King: Let’s sit down.
JP: [Laughter] I have to keep my recorder ready! I never know when you could say something provocative.
PM: You’re good. You’re going to go far away in this business, boy.
DK: Well, we played a show in Indonesia and when we got back we were all tired and worn out. We got into a fight with [former guitarist] Greg [Hill], and he said, “You know what? I’m done”. He had reached the point of no return.
JP: So was there bad blood before that or did it all come from Indonesia?
DK: Greg had stressed us out for the career of the band, but I thought things had been getting better up until that point.
PM: Armistice [2009] was the peak of tensions.
DK: That was the darkest time, in Oxford, Mississipi, when we were making that record.
PM: It was kind of a miracle we finished a record that we were proud of, and held the band together. But, it there was this impending sense of, "Gosh, when is going to come apart?"
JP: Being in Oxford, Mississipi with an impending sense of doom is perfect atmosphere for Southern Gothic.
PM: [Laughter] Southern Gothic?
DK: We almost turned into a goth band.
JP: Really?
DK: Oh yeah. [Death Metal Voice] Cookie Monster!
Liz Bibb: So you guys just dropped a new record?
JP: Yeah, already at 24 on the Billboard Chart in around a week.
Paul and Darren glanced at my computer with and nodded cordially. Eric and Liz excused themselves to go speak with Constellations.
PM: What do you know?
DK: So yeah, Greg left and we turned around and had a big meeting. Paul and Roy both said, “Well you know we are expecting children”. That was the next bit of news. There was just one day where all this news happened at once. And we decided to make the new record (Odd Soul, 2011) in a much healthier way than the previous one. We decided we weren’t going to have any money pressure. Or if there was any pressure, it was going to be not enough money instead of spending money by the hour in the studio with some producer we have never worked with before who suddenly has all this power over us. So, we kind of shut the door on everyone and the three of us made a record— that we loved. It is my favorite recording we have done so far.
JP: Would you say that on Odd Soul, you are in your truest form?
DK: Well, at one point on the second record the producer broke down and said,” You guys should just be producing yourselves.”
JP: Have you ever thought about just going unsigned? Just having your own label and saying, “Let’s do it”?
DK: No. Certainly not. That’s never been the goal. The goal is to have some weird balance between being on a label but still having control over that record.
JP: It’s about freedom?
DK: Yeah. There are certain things that you can do yourself and then there are things that other people can do. The one thing that no one else can do for you is write your songs. We decided that. As far as selling it? We need help. We can’t do all that ourselves.
JP: So you guys just came down today. You are headlining the last day. What was that like whenever Linkin Park dropped out as headliner? You arrive and they tell you, ”Well congratulations, you are headlining”.
DK: [Surprised] Is that what happened?
PM: It’s kind of bitter sweet, isn’t it? We are the default headliner. It’s all right. We’ll take it.
DK: You are the one that told me this.
PM: [Laughter]
DK: This is news to me.
JP: Well, I am a journalist.
DK: Well, I just assumed that we walked in the headliner. I was like, “Yeah, of course”.
PM: [Laughter]
DK: I’m kidding, of course. That’s how all the great backup quarterbacks become great. Drew Brees was once a backup quarter back. This our chance. This is it. This is our game.
DK and PM: [Unison] This is what we trained for. [Laughter]
PM: Har-mo-ny!
JP:[Laughter]You really seem to be in a good place with this record, because your last record, Armistice, peaked at 18. That was for it’s entire run. You are already at 24 [with Odd Soul], so would you say have gone back to your base?
DK: I hope so. VH1 made us the “You Outta Know” artist for this upcoming month and I am curious to know if that had much of an affect on it.
PM: I wouldn’t even look at that. I just know how it felt when we finished both records. The only way we will be able to continue making records is if we do it how we want to. Armistice, we were just going to implode.
DK: There is a difference between being spent, like, “Phew, we completed a record” and “I need a week to just—rest”, then feeling depressed and kind of angry at music. Armistice, we were beyond tired at the end of that record.
JP: It takes a perfect storm of variables to make something so awful. Was it really just Greg?
DK: Oh no, not at all! Least him! He doesn’t deserve the credit for Armistice being terrible.
PM: To be perfectly honest, I don’t think we could have made Odd Soul unless we made Armistice because I’m not sure we trusted ourselves enough through the record making process. There was so much indecision on the band’s part with every song idea we had. We were a little drunk with ambition, and everyone had this little ideas. We figured we could just keep working until everyone was happy with everything. There was an ideal that we were chasing that became frustrating. It became, we don’t need just one producer, we need two producers just to break this tie. There was a disgusting democracy going on that was choking the life out of the process of making music. We began to resent it. Doing away with all the cooks in the kitchen for Odd Soul was very therapeutic for us. We realized that only opinion we were interested in when we started an idea was the guys we are going to be spending the next two years on the road with. If we can’t come to an agreement, then that’s a problem. I think we learned how to listen to eachother more, argue less, and play music more.
We chatted about the perfect weather and the festival for a minute before getting back to music.
JP: This really is a great place for you to be. This, being the third day, there are going to be a lot of people leaving. But, being the third day, being the headliner, if they are there, they are there for you.
DK: You notice that there is a theme going, Jonathan. You are optimistic. You just pulled up our chart and said “I know you haven’t peaked as much as Armistice, but that’s in the first week” and now you are telling me, “I know people are going to be leaving during your set, but those are the people you don’t want there anyways”
DK and PM: [Laughter]
DK: I do appreciate optimism. I’m the same way.
The conversation drifted to further elaboration of the same topics, In closing, Paul left me with a message.
PM: I feel like this record sounds most like “us”. It feels like every record you are just digging a little deeper to find out just who you are.
(09/22/11 1:05am)
I’m so tired. My parents are vegans. They told me that they aren’t eating anything that has a mama or a daddy. I think they are crazy. On the other hand, I’m listening to a Kenny Rogers/Wyclef Jean collab, remixed with a Pharoah Monch beat. I am also drinking Wild Turkey with Apple Cider. Who am I to talk ?
It seems like the Zeitgeist is going back to the oldschool. The intelligentsia are fleeing from food produced by Big Brother’s Big Ag. The hipster crowd and the old timers are taking to the farmers market. Bands like Béla Fleck and the Fleckones are rocking tones that my grandparents would. The ecclectic eccentrics are making their lives out of reading people’s faces and knowing the cards by knowing people’s eyes. Maybe that last part is the Kenny Rogers talking. Likely the cider.
Why can’t I just be a professional German? In that sort of world, everything would have a meter, everything would have a measure-- everything would make sense. Instead, we live in a changing world. It isn’t just the world that is changing. It is our understanding of the world that is changing. Hopefully it is improving. I doubt it. I suppose that we are an analog of our ancestors. We are just different enough to say we are getting better, but not so much that we could claim we understand this cosmos in which we float, like a mote of dust, as my friend Carl Sagan would say.
I like to hear the raindrops fall down and the thunderclap as it cascades through the living room, across our cat’s tail and into my ear. This is the same world my parents and grandparents and their parents and grandparents knew, but somehow, it is different.
Every new generation, each new decay, has a new look on the same old stuff, it seems. Maybe I’m being too existential for an entertainment column. Perhaps both of my regular readers will pardon the rant. The sensation I get from spewing out this rant is what I imagine it would be like if I was skipping thoughts like river stones into the void. Maybe I am. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Whatever the case may be, we go through the same patterns, the same routines, recite the same scenes and the same schemes. This world isn’t forgiving.
Are you searching for meaning in this article? Do you feel like you missed it?. Maybe this article is like life. You could spend the entirety of it questing for meaning, but come to a close without realizing you were searching for nothing at all. Maybe by engaging in our "distractions", like writing an entertainment column or listening to your favorite band, we are engaging in the true meaning of life. Maybe we are losing touch with what really matters. Maybe my words like our lives are just tears in the rain. Maybe I still have some more Apple Cider. Maybe meaning is something we can search for, but something we won’t find, until it is over.
(09/07/11 11:57pm)
Reviewing results from World Beard and Mustache Championships, I can’t help but wonder why I wasn’t gifted with such talents. Instead of combing one of those monsters I was stuck on this Earth as a columnist. What horseshit.
In more perfect (read: bearded) world, I’d make an unspeakable amount of money as a screenwriter for some show starring Danny DeVito as Danny DeVito. It would involve us riding around some beat-up car with a trunk full of things that would make Hunter S. Thompson blush. Sadly, we don't live in that dream world. The universe is indifferent. Reality is harsh. Sometimes.
Here is a dream of mine: I want to be able to listen to any song, any time, legally. Well, Listen Up Nerds-- Spotify is on patrol.
This service is new to the United States. At this point in time, the free version of Spotify is invitation only. Alternatively, you can pay $5 USD per month to listen to practically any song ever recorded. Apps are available for both smartphones and desktops. The potential is unlimited. I’m sure both of my regular readers will remember my rants about the downfall of the music industry. Without tools like music forums or a cultured peer group, it is hard to discover new music. Spotify changes that. I hope that the rest of the industry rips-off its business model.
While I am promoting a for-profit organization, I have not washed away my stripes. I am saying that if you are in the music industry a tool like this is indisposible. Mark my words, things like this will become the next medium for music. It isn't that my heart belongs to Spotify, anyone anywhere could make something like this-- they just haven't. The way that Netflix changed film distribution is tantamount to the way Spotify will change music distribution.
It is part of a bigger step away from the label. Some artists have always self-produced their albums; Tech N9ne is a great example of that. He has been in the music industry since 1996 and he has sold about a million records with no radio play. I’m not knocking that. I don’t think that Spotify should just replace record companies; however, I think that our generation does not need them. I doubt would-be giants like Virgin and Sony BMG will step aside. Indie distributors might just pass through their legs. With the right legal wrangling, free-play music services could totally take over music and video playback. We all want to hear great music and there are plenty of very talented people making it. The only question is how their wonderful sounds will arrive to our wonderful ears.
While this isn’t an ideal world, we can change it. Consumers drive the market. People like you and I, are the market. Every time you give someone money you are telling them, “I want more of this, and I am giving you this to make it”. Virgin, Capitol Records, MCA, or whomever you want to name, did not create the music industry. They are just brainy capitalists who saw an opening and built an industry in it. Spotify is in that position now. If there is no money to be made with Spotify or something like it, then it will die on its own. This democracy is run by money-- every dollar is a vote cast.
*Interact with your favorite columnist! For much of its history, The Cluster has had a pretty passive relationship with its readers. Sure, when something big happens on campus, we get tons of emails from you (and we love that, trust us), but Popham Culture wants to expand that very special reader-writer relationship into something beautiful and cuddly, but most definitely still PG-rated. So that’s why I and entertainment editor Eric Brown are asking for suggestions on what this column should cover. The first ten responses recieve invites to Spotify, so email us. Right now. Go.
(08/18/11 10:47pm)
Greetings Mercerians, new and old! Welcome to Macon! With a new year upon us, now is a time for discovery— local discovery. Whether you’ve been an undergrad for seven days or seven years, everyone can find something new in this ever-changing city.
For starters, don’t be scared of Downtown. Only a mile and a half from Mercer’s main campus, downtown Macon has much to offer. The Hummingbird Stage and Taproom is perfect for Friday night outings, as are other clubs like Element and Bottom’s Up. Check out the great weekly farmer’s market on Mulberry Street every Wednesday, featuring produce from local farms and vendors from local businesses. As far as restaurants go, you can’t go wrong with Dolce Vita for a light bite or the best deep dish pizza in town. I also must suggest the Rookery for a killer burger made with grass-fed beef. For something a little classier, try the Tic-Toc room or Luigi’s. But for my personal favorite guilty pleasure, keep an eye out on Friday nights, when the stars align to bring the always glorious food trucks, sent by Zeus himself to round out your First Friday.
As far as navigating the College Hill Corridor — the area stretching between Mercer and Downtown — the best way to travel is by bicycle. Sure, you can drive, but convenient parking is an issue. Ironically, you can spend a greater amount of time driving somewhere because of the time spent finding a parking space. The Corridor, as it is affectionately called, has strategically placed bike racks in some of the most commonly traveled areas. If you don’t have a bike, or you need to get your old bike serviced, there are three bike shops in town. There is Cherry St. Cycles which sells new and pre-owned bike next to Nu-Way on Cotton Avenue, Bike Tech, specializing in high-end racing bikes on Vineville Avenue, and the Bike Store, conveniently located next to campus. Trust me, paying for gas gets old quickly. Plus, it’s much easier to avoid the freshman 15 with a vehicle that runs on fat instead of cash.
As far as other attractions go, Macon has many unique places to visit, such as the Hay House, a seven floor Italian Renaissance home built in the 19th century and Terminal Station, designed by the same architect who planned New York’s Grand Central Terminal. If architecture isn’t your thing, be sure to check out Washington Square Park off of Magnolia Street for something a little more peaceful. There is always something new to go see in Macon, especially on campus. The Backdoor Theatre features multiple stage productions per year, and the School of Music constantly has something brewing from Opera’s to classical string recitals. There’s also a new IMAX theatre located off of Zebulon Road.
As there are so many wonderful and exciting things to find, I cannot list them all here. The most important thing I can suggest, above all else, is to explore. By searching for new things during your time here, you can become the engine that drives this city. Our home here is always changing. It has so much to offer, but it still has room for improvement. Above all, it needs people. Young people. People who wander. Those people keep the city alive. You can make it better by being part of it. We want you here. We want you to succeed here. We want you know us, and we want to know you. Come join us, and you won’t regret it.
(04/27/11 11:45pm)
It seems like without thinking about it, I’ve got a theme going with this column. It has served me well so far, but it is time to finish this arc. In my previous entries, I’ve outlined how musicians aren’t getting compensated for the music that they are making and how record labels aren’t doing anything to protect them. That's the bad news. Here is the good news: we have entered a golden age in music.
Openness is the answer. Nowadays, if you have a decent idea, good execution, and an Internet connection, you can get your music heard. There is more music being made --and heard-- right now than at any other time in history. Sure, this means that there will be more unlistenable music than ever before; however, there will also be brilliant gems. As I have said before, it is all about the money. Music has never been cheaper to make. With practically no overhead, anyone can be known worldwide. Gone is the day that an oligarchy of CEOs decide what should be distributed. Never before has there been a more direct connection between the musician and the audience.
The middleman has been cut. I for one welcome our new technophile overlords. This isn’t just an extension of the DIY movement. This isn’t about garage bands using Garage Band. This is working for the some of the most popular acts on the planet. Bands like Radiohead, OK Go, Pretty Lights and Girl Talk are achieving world renown on their own accord. Kids in Dubai are cruising the vista to Fleet Foxes. Middle-aged Maconites are getting pumped to Eurodance.
Music has a bright future as long as it remains free to share, make and hear. Movements in technology happen so fast that it makes your head spin. To quote a friend of mine, Dubstep is already old. It’s a thing of beauty. It harkens back to the days in which minstrels would roam around the countryside singing freely about whatever they wanted. The only thing that remains consistent is change. Certainly, the times are a-changing.
I bet they would have loved to have had Last.fm back in the day. Imagine if the Beatles had Twitter. “All access show on the roof!” from @PaulJohnGeorgenRingo.
Music is about birth. This is rebirth. Music is rising like a phoenix from the ashes of pre-fabricated 90's pop in a blaze as glorious and awesome as a second sunrise. It is true, brothers and sisters, the boy bands are dead.
Boy bands are dead; LogicPro killed them.
Rejoice, my friends! Rejoice!