We’ve re-fired up our mixtape series!
And who better to start that fire than Lorelei Vashti:
Daniel Kim, the mash-up magician, yesterday released his Pop Danthology 2013 megamix. Here it is, with the corresponding video clips:
Debate is raging as to how it shapes up against last year’s attempt, but really the debate is null and void because last year’s is a true piece of art (whichever criteria you use to define art, those criteria exist in this following mash-up):
Never mind whether you love modern pop music or hate modern pop music, the Pop Danthology 2012 is a work of historical, anthropological, sociological, political, linguistical, musicological and funological art. It’s something that has been created by a skilled technician who has also just got really lucky with the music that was available to him for that year, and yet the final result is far greater than the sum of those two elements. Perhaps this is where art lives, in that gap.
For our Music Issue (which you can still buy for just $11!) we interviewed Daniel Kim briefly about his work making mash-ups. Here is some of what he had to say:
“I first encountered megamixes in high school through listening to Australians: specifically DJ Nick Skitz and DJ Alex K. I collected every one of their hi-NRG Wild FM megamixes. Since high school, so much of my favourite music has come from Australia. I even enjoy music by Sneaky Sound System these days. I believe I have always enjoyed music from Australia because I just love dance music. I have to admit, at first, I thought all Aussies spent all their time dancing.
I’m unable to say exactly how many hours I worked on Pop Danthology 2012 as I was not keeping track of time. I was unemployed when I made it; I worked on it for three months straight like it was my full-time job. So my guess is around 500 hours. Making something like this takes so much patience, especially the part when all I’m doing is collecting my sounds and nothing is being put together. The payoff at the end is definitely much better.
I could not keep up to date with all the online viral activity of Pop Danthology 2012 because at the time it was posted I was working for Tiffany & Co. as a seasonal sales person and was not allowed to check my phone. From what I did see between work shifts, I noticed that Scooter Braun (talent manager of Justin Bieber, Carly Rae Jepsen, PSY, the Wanted) tweeted my video to Justin Bieber, Carly Rae Jepsen, PSY, and the Wanted and then PSY retweeted that tweet.”
- Sam Twyford-Moore interviewing sound artist Tom Grant
- Rebecca Harkins-Cross on film-maker Ivan Sen
- an excerpt from Luke Carman’s debut book
- Rhianna Boyle’s history of introduced species in Australia
- a comic from Michael Litven
- an essay about women’s underwear by Madeleine Watts
Get the issue, and all others before and after it, from iTunes, you dummy!
HERE IS THE RESPONSE YOU GET FROM JONATHAN AMES WHEN YOU ASK HIM POLITELY AND DETAILEDLY FOR A MIXTAPE:
nice to hear from you.
i can’t make a mixed tape because i’m technologically very impaired.
i don’t know any of the terms you mentioned.
i’ve never downloaded a song.
i live like a deaf person.
sometimes i listed to songs on ‘youtube’ … and when i rent cars in california (as a new yorker i don’t have a car), i enjoy getting to hear music on the radio …
that’s about all i can manage in life, technologically music-wise.
and a friend once filled an ipod for me but now it’s broken.
i used to buy cds but that’s gone out of vogue.
if you like, in lieu of a mixed tape, you could publish this pathetic email.
also, i once wrote an essay called ‘mixed tape’ about a heartbreaking mixed tape that an ex gave me.
i think it’s in my book ‘i love you more than you know’ … if you could find that essay, feel free to reprint it …
hope you’re well.
thanks for being so nice to me when i came to melbourne.
my travel piece for Yahoo was fluff and bad but there was one good transcendent moment in the thing, which, naturally, they cut.
And here he is, being the best himself:
(illustration by Chris Somerville)
In the middle of 2010, a Twitter account named @PetarCarey appeared. Its bio read “My Life As A Fake”. People followed the account’s updates with reckless abandon. Peter Carey is a famous Australian writer who now lives in New York. Twitter is a great place for artistic experimentation. The law is the law. For a while the publishing company Penguin got into a bit of a tizzy about all of the tweets. People laughed; parody and satire are defences against boringness. Hunter College, a boutique university located in bustling Manhattan, began following @PetarCarey’s tweets. Not long after the original account was shut down by Twitter. Shortly afterwards @ZombieCarey emerged. Writing is writing.
31 Jul 10 Petar Carey @petarcarey Melbourne will get wiped out by a tidal wave from Antarctica. Prediction. Australians will stop reading.
31 Jul 10 Petar Carey @petarcarey Tsiolkas is about as controversial as store bought tzatziki
2 Aug 10 Petar Carey @petarcarey spent Saturday night scraping fish scales off the soles of my $440 shoes near Pyrmont. So Sydney!
2 Aug 10 Petar Carey @petarcarey the kidsTM are telling me to read Brett Easton Ellis but I nearly died in ’88 when reading another brat packer. Guess who and how!
2 Aug 10 Petar Carey @petarcarey Chapter One of my untitled misery memoir is titled “Melbourne Misery”. GracieTM told me she didn’t read but liked the sound of it.
5 Aug 10 Petar Carey @petarcarey Had a “NY Style” bagel in Balmain. Tasted like a Vietnamese baguette. Whatta town!
20 Dec Petar Carey @petarcarey I spent the last year in New York, putting in development proposals for “Little Sydney” - all knocked back, some with spit on them.
27 Mar Petar Carey @petarcarey Calling my publicist. I can’t remember if I included a scene set in Australia in the latest book, as per the contract.
(illustration by Angelo Giunta)
There’s a mountain village called Tjentiste an hour from the Montenegro airport. Its population is growing quickly because of the new tourist demand for the Spomenik, a huge war monument more beautiful than war, two kinked slabs of cement like the heavy wings of a cosmic bird. Grave.
My friend Nico, he’s an engineer who used to work in Gravity, crazy and rich, and lives just with his dog. Nico dearly loves the Spomenik and bought up heaps of the land nearby and built this Ferris Wheel petrol station. He named it Annabelle, after his lost wife. The drivers go to Annabelle for gas, parking their cars in magnetic clasps that carry them up and around in a big revolution, up into the sky, while being pumped with petrol. Most drivers opt to stay in their cars, if they don’t have vertigo, but even though it’s even more expensive at the airport, everyone complains about the prices at Annabelle. Nico watches them complaining as they witness this paradise in the valley where the sun sets the tumbling mountains ripe peach and purple-green, and mist rings their peaks. From the top of Annabelle you can see the Spomenik; the hardened locals take relic for granted.
Our unbelievably wonderful Digital Director, a person we call ‘Elmo Keep’, has written a piece that is obligatory reading for any writer working in today’s marketplace. (Actually, maybe it’s obligatory for everyone, because anyone who reads words needs to be aware of all this shit too?)
Elmo’s piece is full of important information, and includes some of the best advice/guidelines/suggestions for How To Do Best What You Do. Here’s a preview:
I’m in no small way discomfited by the cottage industry that now exists in writing about how there is no money in writing. We just love to have this conversation, over and over while getting nowhere. Yet again, okay, here we go!
First. Volunteer and not for profit concerns are very clearly marked as such. For example, community radio isn’t a profit-making enterprise for anyone involved. The salaries paid to the few staff members are generally low, and volunteers are unpaid, well, because they are volunteers. There is very little money in community radio because paid advertising violates the charter under which it operates. The station fulfils an important role tied directly to servicing its community. Volunteer positions are great for gaining experience, meeting wonderful people and hopefully finding mentors, and just for doing something that is all ‘round tops, civically speaking. You believe in the mission of an organisation that you volunteer your labour to for free or cheaply. Plus everyone feels good about going to work there. This is the model that literary magazines like this one work within.
Conversely, commercial websites and publications anywhere that sell advertising are for-profit enterprises existing only to make money. They employ a large roster of paid staff, a CEO, an accounting and ad sales department, and a strong advertising model. These certainly may publish a great deal of interesting things (or they never do), but it’s not a community service portal, it is a business. Therefore, in this model, there are people getting well paid and profit is earned from the work produced for and published on the site—without writers, without writing, the site would be an empty vessel of pointless design that no company would buy ads on. Therefore, writers should charge commensurate rates for the time they put into producing pieces for these publications because ultimately, a whole lot of people financially benefit from the writers’ work.
Not long ago, it used to be that new practitioners in a field would occasion to undertake unpaid work as this was a stepping stone towards paid work, which you earned your way into by acquiring the trade through practise. However, today, in the age of the perma-intern, the unpaid ‘opportunity’ has become the end in itself. There are few places left to step to. For writers today being published is not the problem—anyone can be published—earning a living from the published work is the problem.
Click through to the Meanjin Quarterly site and read read read the rest
'Unbelonging: On camping upon the roof of a luxury shopping centre in the heart of London’s financial district' by Matthew De Abaitua
We step into the glass elevator with our camping gear. Cath pushes the button for the roof. The paved forecourt of the shopping centre silently falls away. I avert my eyes from the vertiginous drop and look across at St Paul’s cathedral. It is late afternoon and the golden cross atop the dome blazes in the sinking London sun.
The lift smoothly and briskly decelerates. We step onto the terrace. Thirty or so identical blue pop-up tents are pitched on patches of astroturf, their corners weighed down against the wind. Each tent contains a fat inflatable mattress, a pair of pillows, two sleeping bags, and a goody bag gathering together various donations from the stores in the shopping centre. For one evening, this roof terrace in central London will be our campsite.
Our compere for the evening is Melissa, immaculate in her little black dress, haircut and tan. The urban camp is raising money for charity, and the other guests have paid hundreds of pounds for the privilege, mostly inexperienced campers attracted by the novelty of camping but unready to risk the English countryside. I haven’t paid – I will be giving a talk. As Melissa explains the running order, PR people congratulate one another on the evening’s organisation: the tents are amazing (“They just pop-up!” “Really? Amazing.”), the food is going to be fantastic, and it’s such a thrill to gaze over the city from this vantage point, south over the Thames and the Tate Modern to the distant hills. What an exciting novelty it will be to sleep here!