Mr. Rubato

It's 3:23 am and I am telling the world that I am done with my ethno prosem paper. Maybe it's a month late and a page short of what everyone else's was, but I'm okay with that. Maybe I used words like 'theatricalized' and 'Japaneseness,' which might not even BE words except in the brains of dumb grad students wanting to impress their hyper-smart professor (hint, read his book, the language melts over you with knowledge and you don't even notice it - like any great prose, which is all the more awesome since he's an ethnomusicologist - a name that by its very nature signifies belabored academic pretention) but I'm okay with that too. It's an okay paper.

Today was a banner day for schizophrenic freelance madness. I interviewed a man who makes lightning bolts for nighclubs in Las Vegas, a German stompbox guru who runs the only accordion store in NYC, and one of my classmates, filed two stories and had a chat with someone whom might have crossed the line between friend and publicist by calling me at 7pm on a Friday to pitch me a story. I write this knowing full well that he or she may read this and I say this right now - friendship is the most important thing to me, and I live in a world where business (writing, publications, press people) intermingles daily and nightly, sometimes seamlessly, sometimes so obviously insincerely. Please, please don't make me suspect that you only call me friend so that I answer the phone when you call, only to pitch me. Yikes! I mean, we're all geeks and we all know what the deal is, so just be cool about it, right?

No new listening today – jammed to Merle Haggard, Annie's "Chewing Gum," and varioius selections of my top 2004 countdown (for CDR burn trades tomorrow) on sort of maddening constant repeat. Something about the production on those Annie tracks makes the lower frequencies sound like utter poop on my computer speakers, no matter how much I fool around with iTunes. Just more assurance that the only music worth listening to on the hi-fi is crass pap (and groovy electronic music, of course.)

IN OTHER NEWS:

Yes, yes. I will be in Seattle again for the illustrious ever wonderful and exciting EMP Pop Music Conference. I'm writing about disco-polo this time, so expect to be bugged about it all spring because I need to figure out WTF is going on with that music. Repeated pleas: anyone who knows anything about the history of continental (esp. Slavic) mainstream dance music culture from about 85-95 please please contact me.