The team was rather large, but I got to know everyone on it well and we became good friends. We all worked to support each other, and everything was run democratically.
New folks who wanted to help were invited in, but the group had to agree on them before they could join. We learned all the time, both finding out the skills we needed to know ourselves, and teaching each other how to improve. While we knew there was a lot to be done, we focused on our one project with a single-minded determination, finishing it and solving all the problems that it raised.
Whether he knew it or not, that dream world he was describing really existed, minus the water slides, and Swartz would become one of its most important heirs. This is a family picture of sorts, Funny Fight - NOS Project - In All Directions (File snapshot of three generations of data idealists.
As Steven Levy tells it in Hackershis history of the early days of modern digital computing, the AI Lab was a sort of programming utopia that drew computer enthusiasts from all around—a Brook Farm for the digital age. It was a flat, non-hierarchical system, where you were judged on the caliber of your work, not age or status or title or educational background.
But in many ways, this was less a workplace than a political awakening. While other affiliates moved on to private industry and occasionally to great fortune, Stallman never lost his radical idealism. In this way, he is sort of the Ian MacKaye of computing. I could really see being him. At that same conference inthe keynote address was delivered by Lawrence Lessig—the Richard Stallman of the copyright movement.
Lessig, then at Stanford and now at Harvard, has written prolifically about inequities in U. Corporate interests pressure Congress to keep extending the scope and duration of copyright protections, Lessig believes, keeping material out of the public domain and stifling the kind of innovation that arises from sharing and remixing.
Lessig wanted to reform copyright laws by giving content creators more options for licensing their work—allowing them to specify, for instance, that anyone could use a photo non-commercially, or that people could adapt it without having to ask permission. Lessig hired Lisa Rein, a writer and archivist, to help create the Creative Commons licensing metadata. Until they met him. It didn't make sense to anybody until they met him. The guy was pretty hard on me. Swartz expected excellence from those around him, but he also cared deeply about connecting with his new colleagues.
She saw it as her role to ensure he met the right people. Rein introduced him to everyone she knew in the open-access world, people who would become his friends and collaborators.
For Swartz, it was an eye-opening, you-are-not-alone experience. Schoen met Swartz inwhen he was 23 and his soon-to-be friend was And he felt that that was where the action was, where his interests were. From tohe spent a lot of time in their company, attending and speaking at numerous conferences about emerging technologies and tech issues.
When he was at home, he spent a lot of time fighting with his brothers and parents about who got to use the family Segway. But he was also about to turn 18, and regardless of his suspicions about organized schooling, he was expected—by his parents and most everyone else—to go to college.
In the summer ofhe enrolled at Stanford University. For Swartz, Stanford felt less like the dream world of Creative Commons and more like a return to everything he hated about high school. College was not an intellectual dream world—it was just another place that needed fixing.
Swartz lived in Roble Hall, in a suite with three other people. To them he was the Aaron Swartz. Swartz studied sociology. In several posts, he chronicled his Stanford experience like an anthropologist taking field notes. He wrote about campus groupthink and critiqued his classes. Occasionally, his loneliness peeks through :. Kat and Vicky want to know why I eat breakfast alone reading a book, instead of talking to them.
I explain to them that however nice and interesting they are, the book is written by an intelligent expert and filled with novel facts. They explain to me that not sitting with someone you know is a major social faux pas and not having a need to talk to people is just downright abnormal.
I patiently suggest that perhaps it is they who are abnormal. After all, I can talk to people if I like but they are unable to be alone. Swartz may not be the most reliable narrator of his college experience. Still, he tried to make Stanford work.
Inhe helped launch the Roosevelt Institute Campus Initiative, a group pushing to get college students involved in politics. But he became increasingly disengaged from school, spending more time off campus with people who worked in political and data activism. He also supplemented his studies with a lot of outside reading. The summer before he entered Stanford, Swartz read two books that changed his worldview. Moral Mazeswhich he would later call his all-time favorite book, is an ethnographic study of American corporate managerial culture.
In it, Robert Jackall examines the institutional logic of the corporate world, and explains how diffused responsibility and organizational insularity create a culture that rewards managers for doing the wrong thing.
In Understanding Powerwhich treads similar ground, linguist and political activist Noam Chomsky expounds on how power structures lead good people to do horrible things.
Both books are indictments of bureaucracies—of how giant organizations harm outsiders who come into contact with them and those insiders who refuse to play the game. For someone like Swartz, predisposed to resist feeling like a cog in a machine, this was the intellectual justification he needed to kiss off the industrial education complex. Swartz took the first out he could find. Graham, who made millions selling his company Viaweb to Yahoo, believed that smart and restless talents like Swartz ought to quit school and start building things.
Swartz pitched Graham something called Infogami, a platform that would help people build structured, data-driven, content-rich websites. It was a logical conceptual progression from the Semantic Web projects Swartz had been steeped in, and it became one of eight businesses to be funded that year.
His college career was over. Swartz had no experience building something this ambitious from the ground up. He had trouble attracting investors, as he struggled to articulate the specific problem that Infogami was supposed to solve. Swartz stuck around Boston, but he started to lose patience with his startup.
One Sunday I decided I'd finally had enough of it [Infogami]. I went to talk to Paul Graham, the only person who had kept me going through these months.
The next night I had dinner with Paul and his friends. They noted my birthday was tomorrow and asked me what I wanted. I thought for a moment about what I wanted most. We all laughed. Around the same time, two other Y Combinator participants desperately needed help for their own startup, a social news site called Reddit. What can be said definitively is that Swartz was unhappy at Reddit, and the Reddit crew was unhappy with him. The original plan was for Huffman to help Swartz with Infogami while Swartz helped with Reddit, and for both projects to run off of a common back end that the two of them would build together.
Huffman was excited to work with Swartz, whom he considered a talented programmer. For months, Swartz did no work on Reddit, though he continued to live with Huffman and Ohanian. And writing code, although it can be enjoyable, is hardly something I want to spend my life doing. Some of that money went to Graham and some went to Chris Slowe, a part-time programmer who had equity in the company. Swartz, Huffman, and Ohanian split the rest three ways.
Swartz gave some of his money to Simon Carstensen, as a reward for his early work on Infogami. As part of the deal, the Reddit team moved from Boston to San Francisco; the openly unhappy Swartz was not expected to go with them.
But for some reason—be it masochism, a sense of duty, or a belief that a change of scenery might make things better—he decided to move back west. The Reddit staff worked out of the Wired office, in a corner that had been cleared especially for them. But Swartz was predictably miserable, and not at all suited to corporate life. Every meeting, every banality must have seemed like a moral maze.
He stopped showing up at the office, wrote blog posts critical of his co-workers, took impromptu trips to Europe, and did very little work. Once again, he moved to separate himself from an environment that failed to live up to his ideals. Around the same time he was fired from Reddit, Swartz wrote a long story on his blog about a man who starved himself, then committed suicide.
The day Alex killed himself, he was awoken by pains, worse than ever. He rolled back-and-forth in bed as the sun came up, the light streaming through the windows eliminating the chance for any further sleep.
At 9, he was startled by a phone call. The pains subsided, as if quieting down to better hear what the phone might say. It was his boss. He had not been to work all week.
Funny Fight - NOS Project - In All Directions (File had been fired. He hung up the phone instead. The day Alex killed himself, he wandered his apartment in a daze. Alexis Ohanian, whose then-girlfriend had attempted suicide less than a year earlier, called the police and had them check on Swartz, who was fine. I wrote a morose blog post in an attempt to cheer myself up about a guy who died. Writing cheers me up and the only thing I could write in that frame of mind was going to be morose.
At the time, though, it served as a dramatic and definitive end to an unsatisfying chapter in his life. Swartz was 20 and jobless. But now, at least, he felt like he had control of his life again. Sooner or later, every true believer gets the opportunity to sell out—to put money or comfort or expediency ahead of what he claims to value most.
Several programmers had left to form their own company, Symbolics, which built and sold Lisp machines and the software that was used to run them. This was the same computer language that, up until then, the hackers at the AI Lab had been developing for free. Stallman saw this as a tremendous betrayal and fashioned himself into the last bulwark of idealism in an environment where it once flourished. The last of the true hackers performed incredible feats of programming to match—by himself—every Symbolics software update, ensuring that the free version would be just as good as the one you had to pay for.
Once I went far outside the city to have lunch with an author I respected. He asked about what I did, wanted me to explain it in great detail. He asked how many visitors we had.
I told him and he sputtered. Puzzled, he insisted I show him the site on his own computer, but he found it was just as simple as I described. Simpler, even. Inside the bubble, nobody asks this inconvenient question. But looking at this guy, I realized I had no actual justification. It was just a list of links. Leaving Reddit led Swartz to reassess his life. Any single project might turn out to be a slog or a bore or a gigantic pain in the ass.
Increasingly, the projects that interested him were at the intersection of data and governance. Swartz had grown up in a family where activism was valued, and his early work with Creative Commons gave him a cause of his own. Ashcrofta key case in modern copyright law. Lessig argued that the court should overturn the Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act, which extended copyright protections significantly.
Though Lessig lost the case, the experience was formative for Swartz—he was an ardent copyright reformist for the rest of his life. In the intervening years, both Lessig and Swartz became more explicitly political. Inthe law professor co-founded an organization called Change Congress, which urged citizens to do just that. The project sparked an interest in electoral politics. Swartz reached out to friends in Washington, polling them about how the system worked, and how it could work better.
Aaron thought people in politics are people, and they operate in a system, just like Silicon Valley is a system. And you have to learn these systems if you want to manipulate the process. Swartz soon realized that his talent for accessing and synthesizing information could have political value—that he was a better programmer and data gatherer than most other activists, and more ardent in his activism than most software aces. Swartz helped found a group called the Progressive Change Campaign Committeewhich was devoted to electing progressive candidates to Congress.
He got a Sunlight Network grant to start a site called Watchdog. InMalamud put out a call for like-minded folk to grab as much from PACER as possible during a trial period in which documents would be downloadable for free at select libraries.
This call for action held a natural appeal to Swartz, an avowed enemy of copyright restrictions and supporter of open data. For Swartz, the decision to install that Perl script represented a subtle but dramatic shift in his ideology and methods.
He had always believed that information wants to be free. Now, he had acted as its liberator. In their eyes, Swartz was a repeat offender, a data vigilante. This was no small thing. InSwartz started to get sick of San Francisco. He had been there for about 18 months, and increasingly found the city shallow.
He spent much of his time working out of a rickety Harvard Square building called Democracy Center, which housed various liberal activists. His upstairs office had a broken balcony and a hole in the wall, which meant Swartz could hear everything going on next door. His neighbor was Ben Wikler, a political organizer and former Onion contributor who was working for a global activist organization called Avaaz. The two became friends. Swartz deepened his involvement in politics, attending meetings of online activists that Wikler convened above the Hong Kong Restaurant in Harvard Square.
He started experimenting with weird sleep arrangements, deciding he would start waking up at 5 a. And on Sept. There was one potential precedent: A couple of years prior, Swartz had collaborated with a Stanford law student named Shireen Barday on a project that involved downloading almostarticles from the Westlaw database and analyzing them to see who, exactly, was funding legal research.
The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of it.
She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.
The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.
Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper.
This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. The other side of what? Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question.
However, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit.
Her chin was pressed so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the lefthand bit. As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent.
She had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was beating her violently with its wings.
Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. Ugh, Serpent! What are you? No, no! Alice crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it.
After a while she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height.
It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual. How puzzling all these changes are! For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood— she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish —and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles.
It was opened by another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a little way out of the wood to listen. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.
Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the Fish-Footman was gone, Funny Fight - NOS Project - In All Directions (File, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky.
For instance, if you were insideyou might knock, and I could let you out, you know. But at any rate he might answer questions. It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his remark, with variations. The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup.
There was certainly too much of it in the air. The only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear. She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, Album) not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:—.
Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the Duchess and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not.
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words:—.
The cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, which was to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself, she carried it out into the open air.
The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face to see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice did not like the look of the thing at all.
No, there were no tears. Mind now! This time there could be no mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further. So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it trot away quietly into the wood.
The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect. Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. You grant that? Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again.
Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the March Hare was said to live. She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur.
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head.
No room! Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. He had been looking at Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. The Hatter was the first to break the silence.
Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. Alice sighed wearily. Half-past one, time for dinner! The Hatter shook his head mournfully. Off with his head!
I vote the young lady tells us a story. The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. I dare say there may be one. However, he consented to go on. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate.
Where did they draw the treacle from? This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for some time without interrupting it. This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.
Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading right into it. I think I may as well go in at once. Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little glass table. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom she had kept a piece of it in her pocket till she was about a foot high: then she walked down the little passage: and then —she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.
A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red.
Always lay the blame on others! Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. The Queen! There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen. First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented with hearts.
Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her. The three soldiers wandered about for a minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others. She was walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. Alice gave a little scream of laughter.
Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed.
Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. The Cat seemed to think that there was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. I wish you would have this cat removed! The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew whether it was her turn or not.
So she went in search of her hedgehog. The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree.
When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they said.
Topics: noise, ambient, experimental. After more than 20 years of service as the drummer of Greek neo-psychedelic pioneers Purple Overdose and No Man's Land still on active duty with the latterChris Silver Triantafillopoulos decided to temporarily abandon his drum kit in order to embark on a private journey in the sea of sounds that laps the shores of his mind. The results of this esoteric trip can be heard in the soundscapes of NOS Project: ambient memories of places one visits in dreams.
To watch the video Near The Sea Pu by However, these are mere prejudices typical of our country, still underdeveloped from an arts point of view, as every noise-musician is Topics: rumore, arte nel rumore, arte dei rumori, noise music. III English Art in noisE Way too often in Italy "noise" music has been linked to rock or dark genres, and, much worse, to the right-wing political fringe. However, these are mere prejudices typical of our country, still underdeveloped from an arts point of view, as every noise-musician is well Topics: arte nel rumore, noise, arte dei rumori, futurismo.
There are three kinds of Time which appear in the becoming of the manifest world The Traditional time which is a cycle. The historical time which is a line. The Modern time which is a loop. The human being is able to perceive the time in its three ways:The cyclical one belongs to the nature of revealed things, it is circular but it can never repeat itself, it is also called the Traditional time. Every being, exept the modern human being, takes part in this time, which is the only real The Lost Civilizations experimental music project - Live at Audiofest In the drifting, wordless space between wakefulness and sleep: music of lost civilizations.
Echoes lingering long past their creation; reverberations seemingly without end. Unusual polyrhythms juxtaposed with polyphonies neither western nor eastern; music of civilizations long lost and forgotten -- and until now unheard. Propitiations to an ancient muse?
Celebrations of forgotten feasts? No one knows: no physical traces Topics: experimental, noise, improvisation. Dopo varie esperienze musicali ha circoscritto il suo interesse all'ambito prettamente elettronico approdando finalmente alla realizzazione di questo lavoro nella torrida estate veneziana del Caosphera is a project I published last year a cd for turbinicarpus with Malameccanica's band,and also a 7"on CBR;we took part on an important italian compilation,too"Disagi-con questi occhi",with some important people of the italian underground scene.
Today I'm always playing in various musical projects of different sort The aim of this Ormai da quasi 15 anni nella scena Italiana Musicale, Afghan uno di quei personaggi eclettici e giramondo Album), pur rimanendo spesso nell' ombra come produttore, infiammano le piste dell'Italica Penisola ogni qualvolta girano i dischi in consolle. Topics: noise, hip hop. Immerse yourself in the deafening sound of the heavy traffic, walking transported from the continuous flow of millions of people, dry throat and difficulty breathing in the air without oxygen: the human being at the end of the world.
Yet the perception of an ancient culture full of a deep spirituality that surrounds everything. All the sounds of this work were recorded in Cairo. Special thanks to Dina el Wedidi and Sheyck Ali. This work was recorded during the live performance at the Festival Topics: experimental, ambient, noise, art of noise, arte del rumore, elettrorumorismo, arte nel rumore.
The Lost Civilizations experimental music project with Angela Morrish -- Live at Arlington's CD Cellar In the drifting, wordless space between wakefulness and sleep: music of lost civilizations. Topics: noise, experimental, live.
Moreno's words put me into a hypnotic trance, while at the same time, Cosimo's pictures opened up to me one world after another.
One world afther another. And then another. I admit I felt Topics: elettrorumorismo, poesia sonora, disegno digitale, experimental. To this composition was used the voice of Dr. II English Art in noisE Way too often in Italy "noise" music has been linked to rock or dark genres, and, much worse, to the right-wing political fringe.
However, these are mere prejudices typical of our country, still underdeveloped from an arts point of view, as every noise-musician Topics: arte nel rumore, noise. This second batch of soundscapes by NOS Project is a continuation of his previous installment, in a similar but diverse vein: dreamy, alternatively menacing and soothing, with more pronounced rhythmic elements and altered-state beats.
Presumably he derived this assumption from seeing that the nutriment of everything is moist, and that heat itself is generated from moisture and depends upon it for its existence and that from which a thing is generated is always its first principle.
He derived his assumption, then, from this; and also from the fact that the seeds of Alienhits vuole anche rendere omaggio ad alcuni dei molti amici che hanno voluto Topics: noise, arte nel rumore, industrial. Zook basscello at Baltimore's Hexagon performance space. Since then, the project has had a series of sessions and performances which have often featured their friends. The music Topics: improvisation, arte nel rumore, noise.
Plankton EP composed and performed by Pablo Ribot - Buenos Aires - Argentina Tracks 1 Plankton 2 Tide 3 Circuit 4 Caustic 5 Myst 6 Hydra Description Plankton is the new EP by Pablo Ribot, 6 pieces where the textures and the evolution of abstract progressions create a landscape of intimacy, introspection and corroded nature of dark environments. The compositions combine granular synthesis method and rhythmic cells randomly through free improvisation based sounds by layers.
Topics: experimental, pablo ribot, plankton. Antonio Sant'Elia Futurist Tribute. Manifesto of Futurist Architecture No architecture has existed since A moronic mixture of the most various stylistic elements used to mask the skeletons of modern houses is called modern architecture.
The new beauty of cement and iron are profaned by the superimposition of motley decorative incrustations that cannot be justified either by constructive necessity or by our modern taste, and whose origins are in Egyptian, Indian or Byzantine antiquity Topics: noise, art of noise, arte dei rumori, luigi russolo, elettrorumorismo, futurismo, futurism.
Topics: ambient, ambient noise, art of noise. Chantom limb is a four movements soundtrack based on the book Breviario di Novembre by Alessandra Conte Raffaelli Editore, Recorded during a concert in Rome on 24 - 07 - Special thanks to association ex lavanderia for hosting the event.
Further information: Arte nel rumore Ass.
Aug 04, · 【选手片段】李佩玲《Fight Song》《中国新歌声》第11期 SING!CHINA EP [浙江卫视官方超清P] - Duration: 浙江卫视音乐频道 ZJSTV Music Channel - 欢迎订阅 - Recommended for you. Feb 07, · “When he was little he became interested in magic squares—squares in 3-by-3, where in all directions the numbers in the squares add up to the same number,” recalls Robert Swartz. “And so I. Sitemap. El Guapo, Cryptic Void (2) - Psychomanteum (Vinyl), NOS Project - In All Directions (File, Album), Entertainment - Magda - From The Fallen Page (CD, Album), The Impossible Dream - Various - As Time Goes By (CD, Album), DSchlieremer Chind - Singed Und Verzelled SMärli Vom Hans Im Glück (Vinyl), Changes - Hangover (8) - Is Time To Change (CD, Album. Ondrasik's debut album, Message for Albert, was released in under the Five For Fighting moniker on Capitol Records. His sophomore and more politically-themed long-player, America Town, came out in on Columbia. After Ondrasik performed "Superman (It's Not Easy)" at the Concert for N.Y.C. following the events of 9/11, his album went. The Fight Project. likes. "In life it's inevitable to go through hard times, but unbearable to go through them alone". Sep 30, · For my fellow airmen all around the world. Thanks for the dedication and support. SUPPORT OUR TROOPS. Addeddate Format MovingImage Ia_orig__title FIGHT SONG FIGHT SONG Identifier FIGHTSONG. DOWNLOAD OPTIONS download 1 file. KB MPEG4 download. download 1 file. ITEM TILE download. download 1. A Single Spark From Nowhere - A Single Spark to Change The World (ALL proceeds to help Haiti) A Single Speck: Book Blog - A Single Sperm Contains MB Of pegaternatheza.pingbeetvantgistvisanrerolabdiopase.co didnt know that,did you? A Single Spoon Project - A Single Spy; A Single Square Picture - A Single Square Picture by Katy Robinson; A Single Standing Tipi - A Single Star. Feb 22, · How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! as it was a queer-shaped little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, “just like a star-fish,” thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and. Fight Theme px Replace video Album F.E.A.R. 3 Original Soundtrack Artist Jason Graves Vocals -- Length Last song -- Next song Menu Theme Fight Theme is a song from F.E.A.R. 3. The song is track 1 on the unofficial soundtrack and was composed by Jason Graves. This tune plays when the Point Man and Paxton Fettel fight with the Armacham guards inside the . Fight Song MAP, a Studio on Scratch. Put all the Fight Song MAP parts in this Studio! I don't want to lose track of them.
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