I’ve had the extraordinary luck* to get my hands on a monome, the amazing USB controller that’ll do just about anything you want it to. The monome is an 8×8 grid of sturdy backlit buttons. And that’s really about it, functionally. It interfaces with a slew of music apps that turn it into a keyboard, a sequencer, a ribbon slide, or just about any tactile way you can imagine to control sound. And the design! If it weren’t so sturdy I’d call it cute. Form and function, as one.

I spent a great evening playing with the monome last night. Everything you hear in this short clip is from slices of the intro to Also sprach Zarathustra (the 2001 theme).

[*] Luck being a friend who has loaned it to me for the month while he gets married and honeymoons, presumably because he was forbidden from taking it with him. The first sign of doomed marriage, if you ask me.

Last.fm and Pandora are great, no doubt, but for real introduction to new music either you need to work a shift at a college radio station or … befriend a bunch of people with broad taste and an expansive collection. Not being in college, I choose the latter.

In the past nine months I’ve grown my music collection (in sheer filesize) by probably 15-20%. My musical horizons, much more than that. This is almost exclusively due to meeting new people and swapping music. Social networking indeed, but it has all been offline. The Long Tail is a remarkable phenomenon but it is damn long and there’s no roadmap. For me it comes down to it trust in a live human being for recommendations — still my favorite way of experiencing new tunes. Here’s a selection of artists that I’ve taken to in (let’s round up) the last year.

Sufjan Stevens
Four Tet
Boy Least Likely To
Richard Villalobos
My Morning Jacket
Feist
Doves
Chicago Underground Trio
Badly Drawn Boy
Calexico
Imogen Heap
Mojave 3
Sigur Rós
Ladytron
The Arcade Fire
Phoenix
Charlie Hunter
Broken Social Scene
The Kleptones
James T. Cotton
Audion
The Notwist
Nomo
Detroit Experiment
Cornelius
Alex Gopher
Midwest Product
Yagya
Lusine
Lali Puna
Dosh
Claro Intelecto
Casino Versus Japan
Matthew Dear
The Avalanches
DJ Cam
Twine
Mike Relm
Rjd2
DJ Shadow
Tadd Mullinix
Porcupine Tree
Ulrich Schnauss
Tycho
UNKLE

It has been a good year.

And yet. You don’t know what you have until it is gone. A few days ago, the network card on my home fileserver crapped the bed. In an instant, I was cut off from all music and media. Being headless, the Linux machine that I store everything on was totally inaccessible: obviously I couldn’t log into it, but I couldn’t even work on the machine without lugging a monitor out of storage. Before I figured out what was going on I went through the five stages of data loss: (1) Concern, (2) Anxiety, (3) Panic, (4) Lightheaded Otherworldliness, (5) Viewing Sharpened Pencils as Implements of Suicide. But I did lug that monitor and the files are alright. I bought a NIC (for — not kidding — $5) and should have it all back soon.

It has been an interesting period of deprivation. All I can play is what I had loaded on my iPod at the time of the failure. Like being frozen in time, my music queue is now only a sliver of a catalog, a snapshot of what was last updated. It is pleasant, in a way, to have fewer choices. There was a time when you only owned so many CD’s — no vast digital archive, no P2P, satellite radio, or streaming music. You just had to listen to what you had at the time. A few hundred megabytes stuffed into a bottle floating in an ocean that you just can’t drink.

Last year I wrote about taking a waterproof iPod and headphones into a sensory deprivation chamber. I chose Biosphere’s album Autour de la Lune. It was a fascinating experiment. Borderline hallucinogenic and deeply relaxing, the total sensory focus on the ultra-minimal tones of Autour de la Lune was the closest I had ever come to being completely lost in sound. After that session I started wondering how linked my own body rhythms had become to the music during the hour of sensory focus.

Well, fast forward almost a year. A few weeks ago I went back to the tanks armed with a heartrate monitor in addition to the waterproof iPod. In I went, on came the album, and the simple EKG started logging.

Click for a full version of the heartrate/waveform comparison

The superimposed waveform on the heartrate graph is an example of info design awful enough to make Edward Tufte flatline. No, I’m not implying that the sonic peaks and valleys of the music corresponded with spikes (no valleys, thank goodness!) of my heartrate. Obviously the heartbeats per minute units have no relavance to the waveform heights. However, the time axis is in synch. So, you can see what my heartrate was at any moment in the music (song titles in bold black at top).

What to make of it? First the outliers at either end can be discarded as they are my elevated heart rate from entering and leaving the isolation tank. (It ain’t easy with all that gear and warm, hypersalty water sloshing around your nude body.) The first thirteen minutes are somewhat erratic as I’d expect from the acclimation phase. You bump the sides and basically spend a bit of time just calming down. Still, the music during this phase was somewhat erratic too. There’s not enough data to correlate my heartrate with the music, of course, but both do even out around minute fourteen. The end of the first song, Translation, is a complex, consistent drone and it is right at this point that my heartrate starts to level off. During Rotation, a “spikier” collection of tones, my heart rate became more variable again. The most interesting phase is next with the song Modifié. This is one of the subtlest tracks on the album and here my heartrate drops to its lowest point of the whole session. This is the hypnagogic state, the time when you can’t tell if you are asleep or awake, dreaming or thinking — the reason you’re in the chamber to begin with. From there, the heartrate warbles a bit (during Vibratoire, appropriately) and then begins a steady clim back up during Déviation.

Autour de la Lune (“Around the Moon”) is a concept album/tone poem heavily influenced by Jules Vernes’ novel of the same name. The novel, one of the earliest examples of science fiction, is a continuation of the story of a mission to the moon from his first lunar novel “From the Earth to the Moon“. I probably won’t get any closer to the actual surface of the moon than Verne did, but then again in the sensory deprivation tank I was strapped up with medical telemetry all astronaut-like, floating in a capsule of total isolation on my way to a place far away. My trip around the moon.

A word of warning. Both times I’ve done this I’ve had some pressure issues in my head and ringing in my ears for a few days afterward. I am not sure if it is due to the insert headphones, the low droning of the music, the saltwater, or a combination of all these factors. But it is annoying. The perils of spaceflight.

See also My Beating Blog, an interesting experiment where each post is accompanied by correspoding heartrate data.

The concept of the mashup is all the rage these days. The mixability of online apps and services to create something fundamentally new is in part what makes Web 2.0 so appealing. (Here’s a great matrix of web apps and how’s they’ve been mixed with others.) Plotting crime stats on your neighborhood map (Chicagocrime.org), finding out what music acts are upcoming based on your recently played song list (Upcomingscrobbler), viewing photos relavent to your current location (WhereAmI.At?) — all are yokings-together of discrete applications to create something brand new.

The mashup as a musical genre is similarly in vogue right now, maybe more so. If the classic remix is a song dressed up in a new clothes then the musical mashup is a conjoined twin strutting around in a single, seamless overcoat. Mashes from artists like 2 Many DJ’s, DJ Z-Trip, DJ BC, The Kleptones, and Mike Relm demonstrate that when two or more songs are woven together the result is usually more than a bunch of shared downbeats. For example, where DJ’s have traditionally relied on beat matching to pair songs, often mashups choose source material based on thematic similarity. The songs in the mash are like conversants in a dialogue, talking about the same thing. Soulwax does this superbly. Of course, the beats have to match too, but that’s a lot harder to do when you also have to match what they are about.

Both forms of mashing are of course technology-driven. Web app mashups owe their existence to open API’s and standards while musical mashes have proliferated because of the ease of use and ubiquity of digital editing software (and standard audio file formats).
Recently I was listening to an 80’s format streaming radio station and a Beatles medley came on. This isn’t the 80’s, I thought, until I realized that this was one of the early 80’s products of Stars on 45, the pop act that recreated popular music set to a unifying beat. I loved this when I was younger. Stars on 45 created medleys of the BeeGees, famous TV tunes, Motown, and other generic categories. By today’s mashup standards it seems amazingly simple, but what I didn’t know is that Stars on 45 hired sound-alike studio musicians to carefully recreate the original songs — no sample restrictions there, though in truth they were ripping off much more of the originals than today’s quick-sample artists do, but I digress.

Instead of integrating the actual recordings to create something new, Stars on 45 recreated the originals with total faithfulness, a move which gave them the flexibility that today’s technology does. In a way it reminds me of early legacy technology integration projects with all manner of cryptic conversion and middleware transmogrification of data just to get a few apps to talk to each other. The end-user might not know the path the data took to get to him, but to someone who could peer under the hood the process was needlessly byzantine.

And this is where my powers of analogy exhaust themselves.

I married a Southerner. Happily. This has meant many things, all positive, including an expansion of my perspective on the American experience that I’m grateful for. But it also means that my wife has a genetic predisposition to enjoying country music. True, this has mostly faded in the years since college and since we’ve moved to Chicago. But ocassionally she needs a fix and because our music is all part of one server and played through an app that sends all songs played to a server that I excerpt on this blog you’ll sometimes see my queue tainted with twang. And normally this twang comes from The Dixie Chicks.

Now, I have no specific aversion to country music. I just don’t care for it. I went to college in Nashville where I experienced a broad range of the genre, from near-folk to “new” country and everything in between. Never cared for any of it.* But whatever. The thing is, I really respect The Dixie Chicks. You might recall that they proclaimed embarrassment being from the same state as Bush a few years ago. At the time, America was preparing for war. This didn’t sit well with the bedrock mainstream radio audience of country music. Death threats were hurled, stations were boycotted, everything you’d expect from a demographic trying their best to affirm stereotypes of gun-toting, chest-beating, and a profound confusion of the difference between loving America and loving America’s leadership. The Dixie Chicks took it in stride, apologized, kept touring to sold-out crowds and that was that.

The Dixie Chicks have a new album. Country stations by and large still cave to the vocal few who find it unpatriotic to play their music. And yet, the Dixie Chicks are one of the most frequently downloaded acts on the Internet. Mainstream radio, running scared as it is from downloadable music, streaming music, and satellite radio, needs to do everything they can not to lose more listeners, but this is really quite pathetic. They are digging their own grave by not playing what people want to hear. Truth is, most people don’t really care what the Dixie Chicks or any other band stand for. They just like the music. If stations keep listening to an extreme minority they’ll end up playing only for them and fulfilling the feared outcome of not having a market that can support their ad-based model.

Not all heavy metal is about eating babies and Satan worshipping, so why should all country music be about ramming an American flag up a terrorist’s ass? Please people. The market will bear this out. If enough people are truly upset about the Dixie Chick’s stance then they will make no money, their label will drop them, and they will cease to be viable as a commercial music act. But for now, this isn’t happening. Accept it and relish the fact that most of the places that country music listeners most fear don’t embrace that kind of freedom of speech or free-market mechanism. It is as thoroughly American as a pickup truck.

[*] OK, I will admit that I do find bluegrass somewhat interesting. When I was a DJ on our college station the slot before mine was a long-running and award-winning bluegrass show. As I queued up my records and CD’s in the second studio I came to appreciate the genre in the brief slice I got over the monitors. But just you try to make a smooth segue from banjo to Front 242. Not possible.

Last weekend I passed 10,000 music tracks played since I started logging them via Last.fm (then Audioscrobbler) exactly one year and one month earlier. Let’s do the numbers.

The children are contaminating my playlist. Three of the top five tracks (Milhouse Relm, a remix of the Simpsons theme, De Do Do Do, and The Slow Train) are those that I play as requests for my boys — nightly. All fine songs, of course, but not really indicative of my listening habits. It’s like my wife using my Amazon profile. You know, I don’t really care what people who bought the Epilator also bought.*

Nearly every other track is an ambient tune. This isn’t fair either, really, since I often put on albums to fall asleep to, these albums invariably being downtempo. If only Audioscrobbler logged those tracks I actually heard as opposed to those I have played. EEG interface maybe?

I don’t synch my iPod with iTunes so the tracks that I consider to be truly representative of my awake listening habits don’t get logged. But then, am I really defined by what I listen to on my commute?

The Top Artists – Overall gives a much better sense of my last year of music. Interesting that Sufjan Stevens cracks the top 20 given that I only started listening to him last month.

What I’d really like to see in 2006 are richer visualizations of the Last.fm data. I’d love to see a schematic of artists over the course of a day. Also, richer data analysis. How often do I switch from artist X to artist Y? How many times did I queue up album Z before 3pm? That sort of thing. Does this exist?

[*] 13 and 16 are also kiddie tunes. What? Of course the Star Wars Imperial March is for the kids!

Bryce pits Sun Microsystem’s derivative dotcom cheesefest “The Power of Sun” against IBM’s causasian-men-slapping-each-other-on-the-back-between-verses 1931* classic “Ever Onward IBM”.

First of all, if you have to have the German division of your company modify the words of an American pop song, you know you’re in trouble. Perhaps Falco was busy? David Hasselhof in reverse. Second, Ever Onward is but one of dozens of songs from the official songbook. Enter a few more Sun contestants and we’ll talk.

I’ll admit that the hymnal aspects of the recording of Ever Onward are a little troubling, but even then IBM was ahead of the curve. They were, as today’s corporate parlance constantly reminds us, trying to read from the same page.

I can’t wait to get home and dump these suckers into Garageband. IBM-Sun mashup comin’!

[*] 1958? No way!

Digital music is mainstream, that’s for sure. But we’re only now seeing the true power of what having one’s collection digitized can do — beyond the obvious portability of it all.

In the vinyl and CD eras, one navigated a music collection by album. There was no other way to do it. You selected the record/disc and then maybe the track and that was that. Digital music libraries with filterable metadata, smart playlists, and all manner of apps for organization make navigating music a lot more flexible, if not significantly easier than the old days.

CoverBuddy gives you an iTunes-like interface that represents albums as cover art thumbnails. CoverFlow takes this concept one step further and presents 3D cover art that you can flip through as though through a booklet of CDs.

Fun for sure, but it is online music services that truly open up possibilities.

Most talked-about these days is Pandora from the Music Genome Project. Basically a streaming radio station set atop a massive database of style data for thousands of songs and artists, Pandora delivers tunes based on the internal characteristics of a single song (or more) that you like. Once you start listening you can further hone your tastes — er, genetic composition.

Pre-dating Pandora is Last.fm and their Audioscrobbler service. This too delivers customized recommendations and a personal radio station, but it is based on what like-listening users have played rather than a close (human) analysis of styles. (It also powers the playlog of Ascent Stage.)

MusicBrainz offers a different slant. Think of it as a wikipedia for musical meta-tags. CDDB on steroids. MusicBrainz offers downloadable applications to help you properly tag your music in a way that reflects the user-contributed info in their vast database.

But this presents a problem — at least to me. Certainly artist and album information can be somewhat standardized, but much of tagging is subjective. For example, I find that I almost always start listening by heading into a genre first and then to an artist and then (maybe) to an album. The genre category is my front door. But it is also the most subjective and least standardized. One person’s Ambient is another’s New Age, Heavy Metal another’s Hard Rock; Dance another’s Techno. But that’s a good thing. There’s opportunity for personalization, to make the categories your own. Here are mine.

There are more here than I would like, but this is the smallest number that adequately divides. My feeling is that keeping the number of these doors few is key. Too-fine generic subdivision makes a top-level category useless. I have a friend who sub-divides using the Grouping tag religiously. (There’s even a guy out there who hacked iTunes to let him more easily categorize classical music.) Yet, to me, that way insanity lies. You can always further describe something, but how much is enough? Is genre a function of chronology, musical style, popularity?

I’m disgressing. The point is that there is no answer to these questions and that is a good thing. Genre is personal. I’m the first to admit that my categories make no good sense and overlap horribly. I’m all for data standards, but not in this case.

Which isn’t to say that digital music depersonalizes the experience. If anything it has multiplied the possibilities of expressing oneself. Collaborative, themed mixes are all the rage these days. And just recently Jason Freeman released the iTunes Signature Maker, a stunningly cool app that scours your music collection and creates a unique sonic “signature” of your musical taste — a kind of schizophrenic flashback through what matters most to you. The output is uncanny. Here’s mine (2:12 minutes, 3.1 MB, MP3).