innerspaceboy

I’d like to take a moment to discuss a subject very near and dear to my heart… ME.

Now hear me out - I hope that this will actually inspire some thoughtful conversation about our socio-cultural and individualistic natures.

A bit of context for the unfamiliar - I was raised in a closed environment outside of traditional society, and once I became an adult I found that I preferred the familiarity of that cultural isolation. I rejected staples of global culture such as religion, mass media, and the majority of pop culture, (particularly its music). I had a great distaste for contemporary mass-produced goods and clothing. As I’ve mentioned before I left television, radio, magazines, newspapers and shopping in stores all behind nearly 20 years ago. Instead I became a cultural custodian and media archaeologist - digging for great cultural treasures and building an archive of the most inspiring works I could find. And when I did make a purchase, whether it be electronic, a book, LP, hi-fi equipment, or a textile product, I always sought out exceptional antiques, or enlisted an artisan to create it for me, or I built it myself.

Wardrobe is one of my favorite outlets of creative self-expression. The way a man dresses himself speaks volumes of his character. And socially, it identifies an affiliation with a facet of a particular subculture and its respective value set.

Cultural scholar Simon Reynolds summed it up exquisitely in his book, Retromania: Pop Culture’s Addiction to Its Own Past where he writes -

“Remember the Pop Boutique store in central London with its slogan 'Don't follow fashion. Buy something that's already out of date'? Just as vintage can have an undercurrent of recalcitrance towards fashion, similarly it is possible for rock nostalgia to contain dissident potential. If Time has become annexed by capitalism's cynical cycles of product shifting, one way to resist that is to reject temporality altogether. The revivalist does this by fixating on one era and saying: 'Here I make my stand.' By fixing identity to the absolute and abiding supremacy of one sound and one style, the revivalist says, ' This is me.'”

I’ve always opted for fantastical fashion - period clothing with a touch of class and a dramatic and extravagant flare. Now at 34, I have a respectable career where, thankfully, the CEO delights in my disco-era fashion and I am free to dress as I like (within reason) at the office.

But at this age, social circles dwindle and recede to a few life-long friendships. Former cohorts and fellow mischief-makers settle down and occupy themselves with more pressing matters like those of work and family. Curiously, I find my own social sphere expanding as of late. I am forming friendships with cafe owners, baristas, fellow scholars, artisans, and members of the residential cooperatives in my area. Whereas my world previously comprised only the 3 coworkers I encountered from my walks to and from the office, these new friendships have lured me from my curmudgeonly hobbit hole and given me a glimpse of society for the first time in decades. I’m becoming a mainstay at area haunts like used book shops, antique shops, cafes, and at a local diner.

And this is where the problem is presented. Unfamiliar with contemporary fashion trends, I performed a brief survey of modern-day apparel and quickly warmed up to the comfortable, relaxed, but artistically-savvy stylings of the NYC metrosexual neo-bohemian. The style incorporates characteristics of the shabby-chic gypsy, the California boho artist, and the intellectual sensibility and literate edginess of Ginsberg-era hipster culture. This was certainly something I could get behind.

Unfortunately, like all subcultures, the laymen distilled the essence of the neo-hip to a laughable, haughty, post-postmodern rejection of all things mainstream, heavily-doused in ironic cynicism. (Though really… have I not been guilty of precisely that practice for the last 20 years?) Paradoxically, my incorporation of knit caps, thick glasses, and genital-suffocating trousers is perhaps the ultimate act of irony - an individualist’s sacrifice of his own identity at the altar of social-belonging.

I wish it were so simple to say, “to hell with the masses!” and to disregard their foregone conclusions of the nature of my character. The impediment so squarely fixed in my path is that I am not the island I fetishize in my utopian dreams. There are unequivocal consequences to the inability of others to take a man seriously. What uniform, then, might one don if he wishes to walk free from such criticism?

Perhaps the dilemma is purely etymological. For a man to champion individualism with his attire, and to visually assert freethought and intellectualism, the error is in the word, “uniform” itself. By its very definition, enrobing oneself in (effectively) the flag of another cultural subset is directly antithetical to the value of the individual.

It would appear that my engagement in fashion extremes (like the costumes of my last 20 years) works to undermine my present goal of meshing with society while retaining my unique identity. The trick would be to concoct a subtle and smart blend of nuanced characteristics from each of the microcosms of culture that I favor. Complementary accessories, colors, fabrics, and footwear which speak to the world in a rich and refined tone, rather than to shout at it from the sidelines.

It is an intriguing challenge, which I shall embrace fully in the months ahead. I am fulfilling my destiny to become… the Meta-Hipster.

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JGuy Grungeman

innerspaceboy

A quick bit of fun - My fiance had a wonderful idea last night. She'd gifted me a set of 1" pinback buttons of my favorite ambient and kosmische musik album covers for Christmas, but we'd yet to find a place to sport them.

I'd also previously make a set of 24 of my own 1 1/4" buttons for my record tote, but my tastes have become so specialized that the majority of my purchases have been imports from Germany, the UK, and the Nordic nations.

Her solution - dress up my desktop! The result is a blend of DIY punk culture (the pinback aesthetic), with a touch of academic sophistication, (mathematically-designated equidistant positioning paired with 20th century minimalist and experimental music subject matter).

Fun fact: Pressing the "Vinyl kills the MP3 industry" button turns the monitor on and off.

Hi-res for the curious

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Frownland

Are those Bitches Brew and Absolutely Free bottles beers? Because that's ****ing awesome if they are.

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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.

Chula Vista

Score. Superman is a bonus.

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“The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well,
on the surface of a gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away
and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.”

innerspaceboy

That's right, they are. I particularly enjoyed the Brew.

Superman is a $9 USB novelty USB drive I've loaded as an Ubuntu Live Drive. He's come to my rescue more than once.

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innerspaceboy

Also dig the commemorative Bitcoin round from the Anonymous Mint at the center of the shot.

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innerspaceboy

Welcome to the next installment of my whenever-I-feel-like-it series, Confessions of a Meta-Hipster. I sincerely appreciate all the positive feedback I received from Episode 1: The Hipster Menace, so I’ve decided to give it another go.

The goal of this new fashion project is to establish a unique identity by way of appropriation - individualism-through-collectivism - the epitome of my own neo-bohemian ethic. What better execution of the post-modern "meta" than to hold a consciously-"reflective" mirror up to the hipster culture and to the other affiliations I cited, as a continuous, living work of performance art?

Upon further examination of my newly-proclaimed meta-hip mantra, I quickly discovered that looking forward was not in the spirit of the hip ensembles I sought. Rather, as Reynolds described in his aforementioned work of cultural criticism, Retromania, all I need is before me.

So I began to survey my my wardrobe for previous incarnations of this newly-discovered theme. It quickly became apparent that I’d been executing this mantra all along. (I’m so meta I was doing it before I thought of it.)

One example of such a cultural appropriation is this bohemian gypsy ensemble I sported on August 6th, 2015. I dubbed this look, “The Artful Dodger.” The outfit comprises distressed flare jeans with a pair of Beatle boots, a fitted brown tee portraying a silhouette of the gravel-throated demigod Tom Waits smoking a cigarette, a threadbare brown velvet jacket worn in all the right places, and a thin dark purple scarf with reflective elements nearly reminiscent of Steven Tyler or Robert Plant. The outfit is finished off nicely with a similarly-tattered velvet top hat, weathered from the 15 years I’ve worn it proudly since it was gifted to me by my oldest friend. Accessories include a few black leather bracelets, a number of costume jewelry rings, and my Ben Franklin spectacles. All together, the ensemble celebrates the thrifty lifestyle of the neo-bohemian gypsy, the bold and independent flare of the retro rocker, and a touch of audiophile retro-symbolism and steampunk funk with the amplifier tube necklace. The outfit proclaims confidently that “I’m here to have a good time.”



But on to the more recent fashion statement already in progress…

After piecing together some versatile elements I immediately fell in love with a simple fashion formula (previously pictured), consisting of a fitted black custom-printed tee, black skinny jeans, a charcoal slouchy beanie, thick black glasses, black fingerless gloves, a black cowl neck sweater, and one of various Keffiyeh scarves I procured from Amazon.

In a pretentious effort to out-indie my hipster brethren, all of the tees I’ve interchanged with this basic formula are on-demand one-off direct-to-garment prints of my own designs via Redbubble. Their shirts are ethically-sourced and sweatshop-free, appealing to the socially and environmentally conscious millennial demographic, and the slim-fit super-soft cotton is on par with textile wholesaler American Apparel (right down to the nylon rectangular copycat tag). Better still, using my own art gives me complete control of my under-the-radar subject matter, and aligns well with the DIY element of the artisan culture.

Color Palette:

Basic black (like my soul). The color is indicative of my “hip-New-Yorker-who-knows-his-way-around-a-turntable” urban sensibility while the earthtone accents and accessories are reflective of my eco-conscious values and rustic mountain man aesthetic. (See also: beard.)

Footwear:

I considered a pair of Converse All-Stars but I really think the whole return to the graphic tee universe is a venture far enough into “I’m still in my 20s” fashion. I’d like to be taken a little more seriously than I would be in a pair of Chucks. My Chelsea boots / Winklepickers don’t quite fit with the relaxed image so I’ll likely land somewhere in the middle in a black pair of 1990s-era Doc Martens. Their classic 8-eyelet 1460 boot is the ultimate blend of durability, function, and style. Just remember - buy them in black. You don’t want to be mistaken for Eddie Vedder. (Waist-tied flannel optional.)

Accessories:

Vintage typewriter key rings add a subtle touch of industrial and steampunk influence, but wear no more than one per hand to keep the effeminity to a minimum. (You’re already a small-framed coffeesnob dressed in black… that’s more than adequate.) A custom ring fashioned from a coin sourced from the Principality of Sealand stealthily communicates my pirate pride to those savvy enough to notice. It’s a wonderfully covert way to identify my sort in the wild.

The slightly-tattered pair of black fingerless gloves speak of my gutterpunk-spirited affinity for thrift-economics, while simultaneously serving a practical function of keeping the ever-present artisanal coffee from burning my sensitive-artist hands. (Cue the King Missile track.)

The Epiphany:

I had tremendous difficulty searching Google and Pintrest for the style I was wearing. It wasn’t quite hipster. It was too polished for gutterpunk, nu-grunge, or rocker. It wasn’t goth or any number of other trends. But this evening, I happened upon a link in my search for bohemian fashion which landed me on the video for The Dandy Warhols’ “Bohemian Like You.” And a few clicks later, I had it. INDIE. How could I have forgotten the music scene of my college days? Upon entering the term into Pintrest, I was met with a flood of fashion ideas. A graphic tee can be dressed up with a nice velvet sports coat, or down with a cardigan and wool cap. Below are snapshots of my favorite fella and lady from my “indie” search on Pintrest.



In a sweet moment of nostalgia, I felt a rush of artists come back to me - records I hadn’t spun in years. Ass Ponys, Afghan Whigs, A Band of Bees, Album Leaf, American Analog Set, Andrew Bird's Bowl Of Fire, Azure Ray… (and those are just a few of the “A”s!)

It’s really been some time since I rocked out to… well… rock. Other than frippertronics I seldom make time for music featuring a guitar so I’m going to revisit my college radio days this winter. Maybe break the shrink on the sealed Elliott Smith LP I picked up at the Goodwill.

Cheers everyone!

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innerspaceboy

January has been a busy month so far! 77 new albums were introduced to the library this month and I'm going to get right into them.

After neglecting a title which repeatedly surfaced on ambient charts over the years, I finally experienced Edward Artemiev's 1972 score to Andrei Tarkovsky's Russian masterpiece, Solaris. Originally released in Japan in 1978, the album finally found an American issue in 2013 on the Superior Viaduct label. True to my usual form, I was difficult and went after the Russian 2013 issue on the Мирумир label, as it was the only edition to feature the dramatic Italian movie poster artwork on the album's cover.



Eduard Artemyev - Solaris OST (1972)

The Solaris score is haunting arctic ambient music evocative of the loneliness and isolation of deep space. I now understand why the recording so persistently surfaces on lists of great ambient music.

Also pictured above is Ethan Hayden's contribution to the 33 1/3 book series. I was lucky enough to witness Hayden's performance of his electroacoustic vocal composition, "…ce dangereux supplément…" at the University at Buffalo, which you can hear for yourself by clicking the title of the piece. As an expert on linguistics, I can think of no better artist to write on the subject of Sigur Ros' ( ) - an album whose vocals are in an entirely fictional language.

But on to my next avenue of exploration. After falling in love with the microtonal music of Harry Partch this winter, it seemed a fitting next step to begin to survey early music of the first century and beyond.

After about 30 minutes of research, I compiled quality collections of these musics.

Some quick research on classic choral music revealed several quality performances I quickly picked up:

• Monteverdi Choir - Bach's Mass in B Minor
• Moscow Choral - Russian Orthodox Music (conductor Hiermonk Amvrosiy)
• BBC Symphony Orchestra - Mozart's Requiem
• The Orthodox Singers - Basso Profondo From Old Russia

And from the legendary Tallis Scholars:

• Russian Orthodox Music
• Missa si Bona Suscepimus
• Spem in Alium
• The Best of the Renaissance (2-disc set)
• The Complete English Anthems
• The Three Masses
• Victoria Requiem
• The Palestrina 400 Collection (4-volume set)

From there I delved deep into Early Music, and identified a label well-known for their works in this field.

Harmonia Mundi has two box sets I knew I'd need:

[Harmonia Mundi] Sacred Music: From the Middle Ages to the 20th Century (30-volume set)



[Harmonia Mundi] Early Music From Ancient Times to the Renaissance (10-volume set)



I was also interested in sampling an assortment of Tuvinian Throat-Singing albums, so I picked up:

Deep in the Heart of Tuva (Mongol Strupsång)



Horekteer - Tuvan Throat Singing Virtuoso

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Huun-Huur-Tu - The Orphan's Lament



Shu-de - Voices from the Distant Steppe



Tuva- Voices From The Center Of Asia [Smithsonian Folkways]



Tuvinian Singers & Musicians - Chöömej - Throat Singing From the Center of Asia

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...as well as a related selection - David Hykes' Hearing Solar Winds - an album of harmonic choral overtone music.

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If these 64 discs weren't sufficient to begin my exploration of Early Music, I happened upon some fantastic vinyl box sets of Gregorian, madrigal, and music of the Middle Ages.

Delightfully, the first two I came across bore the Harmonia Mundi logo of the digital albums I'd found online. It will be wonderful to hear several selections from the label both in lossless FLAC and in their original vinyl formats.

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The next two set I found were collections from the Musical Heritage Society (MHS), an American mail-order record label founded in 1962 . Each set included lyrics in both Latin and in English. These sets were issued in 1974-5 on LP and on 4 cassettes.





I found one final set in today's travels - The Everest label's Treasury of Gregorian Chants - a 4LP box set from 1967.



Featuring the Trappist Monks' Choir of Cistercian Abbey, Monks of the Benedictine Abbey. and Bennedictine Monks of the Wanderille de Fontenelle Monastery, the release was the winner of the French Grand Prix du Disc - a prize later awarded to Jean-Michel Jarre ‎for his classic Oxygène LP.

And best of all - all of these collections were in clean, like-new condition with no visible wear from play or handling. And where else can you find all this beautiful music for $11 cash?

I'm looking forward to months of enlightening listening experiences.

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grindy

No exploration into throat singing is complete without Oidupaa Vladimir Oiun's Divine Music From A Jail.
It's not entirely traditional, since he accompanies himself with a bayan, a type of russian accordeon. His singing is pretty special as well, Oidupaa style is an actual recognized term. There is something very raw and heartfelt about his music. It's also pretty monotonous and samey, but in a good, hypnotic way.

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A smell of petroleum prevails throughout.