Wow. For a second there I forgot I even have a Livejournal. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, I suppose, but sadly my nom de plume on Facebook does most of that. But Facebook is weird now, and I'm not sure I'm going to stick with it, even under a false name. You see, several of my posts have either gone completely unseen by anyone but me, or else they've disappeared entirely. One was a social commentary post about the riots in England in which I basically said there were a lot of reasons for what's happening, and the situation could have been prevented if the UK government wasn't made up of out-of-touch elitist, racits twats. Not nice, but not exactly harmful either. The others were links to live video streams from the occupation protests sweeping the nation; again, not really that harmful. But I have outside confirmation that those posts couldn't be seen by anyone, and then they started disappearing entirely. The Net is abuzz about other Facebook users having photos and posts removed in a similarly unexplained fashion. Thanks, Facebook, for finally showing your true colours.
Other things have been happening as well. I'm continuing to DJ now and then, jazz for the retirees and electronica for places like the public plaza tonight. It turns out all those years of teaching myself music production have left me with a skill set which translate to vinyl DJing pretty well. Main problem is that I only have one turntable, which is nice but not a DJ turntable (as in, it lacks pitch/speed control). So I have to borrow my longtime cohort Jordan's single working DJ turntable, pair it with my almost-a-DJ turntable, and work within severe limitations. Though you'd never know it from how things went tonight. Cute teenage track girls and grimy park rats danced together in front of my tiny sound system while a dreadlocked kid drew artwork based on sacred geometry in his sketchbook; just beyond, skaters flipped their skateboards and sailed accident-free in and out of the crowds. Parents warily formed circles of crossed arms and frowns out on the periphery, and one nerdy looking white kid sat reading a fantasy novel next to my speakers. Old people looked nervous and disapproving, giving the crowds of young people gathered around me a wide berth as they slipped nervously past into the art gallery behind me, where shiny boring pottery awaited their banal adulations. Ironically, the gallery staff later caught me as I was leaving to tell me how much they liked the music!
For all the years I raged against DJs, I must admit that much of my frustration was somewhat misguided. DJing is a performance art which can potentially require a very unique set of skills found absolutely nowhere else. I say 'potentially' because many DJs just play a record, or even worse, an iPod or MP3 software, while being incredibly pretentious about it. I have deliberately set the bar much, much higher for myself, choosing the no-mistakes discipline of spinning vinyl combined with the insane, fractured structure of drum-n-bass, which can be very hard to work with due to its high tempos. I often record my practice sessions straight onto an old cassette tape recorder, so there's no way to hide my mistakes from myself; I then study my mistakes, listening over and over again, dissecting the problems in my technique. In terms of signal processing, it's just EQ, compressor, and limiter, for clarity and width over my tiny speakers.
Taking a cue from the old dub sound systems, I have begun constructing a larger sound system out of old speakers with busted cases. The plan being to take their intact hardware, combine them all, and mount them into a new pair of cabinets. So next time, I won't just light up the square with my sound, I'll fry the fucking world with it! >:-]