"Welcome To The Orange Answerphone...You Have...No New Messages"
I have considered Squarepusher's theory about the influence of machines on men with some flickering thought. He states that any musical instrument, or machine that requires the input of man's quivering finger to generate sound, has equal influence upon the performer as the performer has upon the machine or device, if not more. Aptly, our Jenkin's title is "Squarepusher".
In some ways, this reflects the whole Newtonian theory about equal and opposite forces.
An example would be if a song-writer accidentally picks up an acoustic guitar instead of an electric guitar to write a song. The finished song would be completely different had he picked up the electric guitar.
Lean against a fence, it leans back. Lean against an electric fence, you leap away. Your mood is diverted and subverted into one which demands the attention of your inner survival alarm.
So what the fuck happened in the eighties?!!!
Anyway, I shall generate a point. Sounds not only affect our moods, but our creativity. 99% of the time I have a song-list of about 50 different tracks playing randomly on my media-player as I write my journal. They are electronica, death-metal, a little eighties music, industrial and grunge. The proportion of those styles changes as I add songs to the playlist.
And to my discovery, mu journals have the same particular tone to them, no matter what sort of day I've had.
And then I change my playlist, every once in a while.
But, as I add to an existing playlist, my tone becomes more intense with a mood that reflects the sway of the style proportions.
What I'm trying to say is music affects how I write my journal, and past journals I've read affect what songs I add to my playlist.
Did I mention that without me most mobile phones in this country would not work without me? That's the truth. And I'm on a measley £15,000 a year for my efforts. If that's not exploitation of a keyboard cleric, I don't know what is. Call it a contribution to the working class, or blind, blind naievety.
Which brings me to my final point.
I designed part of the way in which mobile phone comms machines make your phone ring, and I demand nothing more than a pay packet of a size that reflects my life-style. I was "commended" without a complimentary pay-rise. I haven't had anything more than a 10-minute phone call to my mobile, ever.
Push the buttons, make the call, and wait for the answer you never heard before.
For I am the unheard, and your freedom of speech.
In some ways, this reflects the whole Newtonian theory about equal and opposite forces.
An example would be if a song-writer accidentally picks up an acoustic guitar instead of an electric guitar to write a song. The finished song would be completely different had he picked up the electric guitar.
Lean against a fence, it leans back. Lean against an electric fence, you leap away. Your mood is diverted and subverted into one which demands the attention of your inner survival alarm.
So what the fuck happened in the eighties?!!!
Anyway, I shall generate a point. Sounds not only affect our moods, but our creativity. 99% of the time I have a song-list of about 50 different tracks playing randomly on my media-player as I write my journal. They are electronica, death-metal, a little eighties music, industrial and grunge. The proportion of those styles changes as I add songs to the playlist.
And to my discovery, mu journals have the same particular tone to them, no matter what sort of day I've had.
And then I change my playlist, every once in a while.
But, as I add to an existing playlist, my tone becomes more intense with a mood that reflects the sway of the style proportions.
What I'm trying to say is music affects how I write my journal, and past journals I've read affect what songs I add to my playlist.
Did I mention that without me most mobile phones in this country would not work without me? That's the truth. And I'm on a measley £15,000 a year for my efforts. If that's not exploitation of a keyboard cleric, I don't know what is. Call it a contribution to the working class, or blind, blind naievety.
Which brings me to my final point.
I designed part of the way in which mobile phone comms machines make your phone ring, and I demand nothing more than a pay packet of a size that reflects my life-style. I was "commended" without a complimentary pay-rise. I haven't had anything more than a 10-minute phone call to my mobile, ever.
Push the buttons, make the call, and wait for the answer you never heard before.
For I am the unheard, and your freedom of speech.