My little travel story on my Luang Prabang trip a few weeks back just got published online here on the AziaCity site. Ch-ch-check it out.


The funny thing that happened that didn't get mentioned in that story though is that this dude Piya, who I met on the side of the road, ended up being a complete nutter. He was a boat driver and on the day I met him, it was Nam Boon Bong Fai, or the Laos Festival of Light. During this fest, which is a lot like the Thai Loy Kratong, they have long tail boat races during the day and fireworks and stuff at night. He offered to take me to hang out with some friends and watch the races. He seemed cool, so I went.

We approached the muddy banks of the Mekong and I could see people going crazy at a distance, cheering as the boats raced each other not far from the edge of land. People were singing and dancing and banging anything they had, from metal garbage cans to plastic tubs to the long tail boats themselves.

Once you got away from the river and got into the jungle, it was seriously like a hill tribe rave. There were HUGE soundsystems everywhere jamming some music that sounded like Thai luk thung, but my new friend Piya assured me it was not--this was the music of the Laos hilltribe called the Kaa Muu (i'm probably spelling that wrong). Anyway, it was loud, sounded vauguely like reggae with accordions and wind pipes and stuff, and they had 2 MCs shouting out and singing.

After dancing for a while and eating fried chicken feet (ugggh...) we went to Piya's brother-in-law's house. We sat at a table and the people there could speak Thai so we were chatting a bit. They got some food for us and this woman was passing around shots of lao lao, or khao lao--in other words, Laos moonshine. One shot of this stuff could put you out, but this lady just kept passing it around and around and around...man these people were hammered. I stopped and just politely refused after a while, but it was crazy.

Eventually Piya brought me back to Luang Prabang and I stumbled off to my hotel. It was a good time and I feel lucky having had the dumb luck to be in town for such a cool festival.

Ahhh, the weird and wonderful world of Tokyo. Here's some more pics that tell stories all their own...


The photo in the lower right hand corner I took in a toilet...it's instructions on "How to Wash Your Buttocks." The sign John is posing in front of is a club called Holy Bitch... umm, OK. The reindeer hat was in a department store with tons of other AWESOME Christmas costumes...like everything you could imagine and more, from slutty Santa dresses to elf costumes, to a Christmas tree dress with a star hat (indescribable), and--my personal favorite--a bizarre mutant mix between a reindeer and a Power Ranger. Ha, ha, ha... I couldn't resist. Pics to be posted soon.

I just got back from a trip to Tokyo. It’s a pretty amazing place. I find it difficult to even describe as I don’t really know where to begin. The place is so big and so radically different than any other city I’ve been to. Having been there such a short period of time, I feel like I didn’t even scratch the surface in terms of finding out what really goes on there… so many subcultures and weird little idiosyncrasies… fascinating and completely engrossing. Here’s a couple snap shots that will hopefully do a better job describing what I’m talking about.

I have no idea what this says but I love the guy in red's expression (and his track suit).

Intention and Detachment

Something came into shockingly clear focus for me last night. I think my man Deepak Chopra here best said it:

“The only true security comes from your willingness to embrace the unknown. By relinquishing your attachment to the known, you allow wisdom and uncertainty to factor into all your choices…Practicing detachment and embracing uncertainly, you relinquish the need to hold on to the past, which is the only thing that is known. By being open to what is happening rather than trying to control how things unfold, you experience the excitement, adventure and mystery of life.”

In other words, it is only through focused determination to go in the direction in which you want, balanced with an acceptance of the uncertainty and chaos of life—in other words not being too obsessed with a certain set of results coming from your efforts—that fulfillment can be achieved.

This mix of intention and detachment seems to me to be the key to happiness and making your “dreams come true” so to speak.

Of course, it’s easier said than done…

(photo by the one and only Meg Pukel)

It breaks my heart to say that while I was in pain
I wanted you to feel the same.
But nothing gets you really?
That’s a shame
I can’t believe you didn’t feel a thing.


(image from: http://twofeetin.typepad.com/elisa/amazing_sky/index.html)

“If you accept that your personal body is not separate from the body of the universe, then by consciously changing energy and informational content in your body, you can influence the energy and information of your environment, your world. The influence is activated by two qualities inherent in consciousness: attention and intention.

“If you want something to grow stronger in your life, direct more attention to it. If you want something dimish in your life, withdraw your attention from it. Intention, on the other hand, catalyzes the transformation of energy and information into new forms and expressions."

“The Law of Detachment revelas a great paradox of life. On order to acquire something in this world, you have to relinquish your attachement to it. This doesn’t mean you give up the intention to fulfill your desire—you simply give up your attachment to the outcome.

"Attachment is based on fear and insecurtity. When you forget the only genuine source of secutiry is your true self, you begin believing that your need something outside yourselrf in order to be happy."

-Deepak Chopra

Here's my review of the film, The Prestige.

Are You Watching Closely?

The Prestige
4 out of 5

A movie like The Prestige reminds us that going out to see a magician perform was once as common as going to the movies. Technology has “pulled back the curtain” so to speak on such magic, and it’s a lot harder to fool people in the same way, but such magic does still exist. The only difference is that the practitioners no longer wear black hats--instead they sit in Hollywood studios and wave their hands this way and that and poof! Audiences walk out of theaters happily surprised—at least they do when the Nolan brothers are at the helm.

Based on a Christopher Priest novel of the same name, The Prestige tells the tale of Angier (Hugh Jackman) and Borden (Christian Bale), two men working as audience “volunteers” and friendly apprentices for an older illusionist. Their friendship turns sour, however, when a mistake in the act leads to the death of Angier’s wife, and from there on in, it’s a cold and dark display of two men bent on discrediting the other while at the same time sharing an identical obsession—the fame, fortune and prestige of being the best illusionist in 19^th century London.

The story is masterfully laid out by Christopher and Jonathan Nolan, known best for the fragmented storytelling style exhibited in Memento and Batman Begins. The film’s only flaw comes from unevenness stemming from the actual nature of the characters. Jackman’s Angier is a natural showman with little smarts in creating tricks, while Bale’s Borden is the true genius but a creepy introvert both on stage and off. The story mostly follows the more likable Angier, including a trip to Colorado to meet with real life inventor Nikola Tesla (a terrifically bizarre turn by David Bowie) to create a special machine he hopes will enable him to perform an illusion called the Transported Man. While the filmmakers slight of hand is endlessly engrossing, the characters themselves are difficult to sympathize with as they throw aside all that matters to them (including love interest Scarlett Johansson, who looks completely lost) until it seems even they can not recall what exactly began their tumultuous feud. Nevertheless the audience will be hard pressed to look away as it seems at every turn you feel you are getting a peak behind the magicians cloak, only to see another hallway of smoke and mirrors.

The inclusion of Nikola Tesla as well as Thomas Edison in the film—themselves bitter rivals in the game of invention and vying for grant money—hint at the film’s underlying theme. Set in a time when electricity was first being discovered, The Prestige shows us that the true magic in the world lies not with illusionists, which we know deep down are simply tricking us, but rather with the progression of science and technology, which even today are the things that truly inspire awe.

THE EARLY YEARS

The Early Years / Beggars Banquet

4 out of 5

Putting your finger on exactly why this band totally rules is difficult at first. There’s a certain psychedelic jamminess to them that makes them sort of resembles The Secret Machines, with heavily effected guitars swooping in and out of the sky like the ring wraiths on the backs of black dragons. At other times the trio sounds like Stereolab, frenetically searching around the room, exploring its dimensions with echo radar like demented space dolphins. The Early Years are a composite of many subtle elements that really just makes you wanna get up on your chair at work and rock that air guitar like no one in the office is watching. “Song for Elizabeth” is the perfect Western drug ballad, channeling the spirits of Jesus and Mary Chain and Mazzy Star in some kind of unholy ritual. Their extended instrumentals are totally trippy without being corny at all and will rattle your spine like strychnine if you are wearing headphones. Take me away!

M. WARD

Post-War / 4AD

3 out of 5

Steely strings and raggedy vocals most notably characterize M. Ward’s body of work. The singular voiced singer/songwriter personifies the American Southwest to a tee. Just listening to this album you can almost see the desert plateaus painted in crimson and lavender hues, the sleepy towns, the abandoned shacks and surreal rock formations aside a long burning strip of highway cutting the vacuous landscape in two. Nestled neatly between indie rock, folk and American country music, Post-War sounds like a collaboration between Johnny Cash, Nick Drake and Arcade Fire. It’s a collection of campfire melodies, old time rags, myths, legends, creaky wives tales and dirty-mouthed poems. Its chugging, locomotive rhythms are at times borderline hokey, but for the most part are entrancing. It’s a unique listen for those in a quirky, mellow mood.

DEPECHE MODE

The Best of Depeche Mode / Mute

1 out of 5

Mute as a record label has definitely had their heyday in terms of releasing some really cool music over the years, but something is obviously wrong with them at this point. Seriously—what are you thinking releasing another Depeche Mode “greatest hits” album? How many of them are there at this point—15, 20 maybe? All right, so they are perhaps the coolest synth rock band in history, but still. In 1998, Mute themselves released a definitive collection of DM’s hits on two CDs—one covering their best and brightest released 1981-85, and the other covering their hits 1986-98. OK, so the group came out with a few more releases since 1998, but nothing that even approaches the quality of their earlier work. And the songs on this collection are not their greatest hits. Kudos for including “Never Let Me Down Again,” an oft-ignored gem of the DM catalog, but there are some glaring absences on this album. For example, where is “Dreaming of Me”? “Get the Balance Right”? “Blasphemous Rumours”? “Shake the Disease”? Hello??? Is anybody home? Come on, boys, you should know better.

Here's a couple of my recent CD reviews. Whoopee.

ROBBIE WILLIAMS

Rudebox

2 out of 5

What do you do when your boy band breaks up? The most obvious course of action is to become a solo artist. Mr. Williams did exactly that years ago and up until now has enjoyed a fair amount of success, probably due to his tongue-in-cheek, cheesy vibe that’s kind of likeable and he is ballsy enough to drop his trousers on stage. But one can only really carry off that shtick for so long before people remember that the whole reason you were famous to begin with was not because of some innate musical ability you had, but rather because you agreed to be a record label muppet and dance around on stage while someone else was pulling the strings. Rudebox may very well be the point at which people start thinking, “sorry, remind me again why you are famous?” (if they haven’t already thought this). The album is an amalgamation of styles, but mainly centers in on electro funk pop, with some of the songs trying desperately hard to sound like Gorillaz. He got some production help here and there from the Pet Shop Boys, and those songs are decent if unspectacular. The rest is just OK. I think the main problem he suffers from is that he’s a much better singer than he is a rapper, and yet he insists on rapping terrible lyrics throughout most of the album. Williams is very eager to entertain, and that may be cool for a live show, but as for listening to his album, I wouldn’t make it a priority.

RAY CHARLES AND THE COUNT BASIE ORCHESTRA

Ray Sings, Basie Swings

3 out of 5

As David Ritz so succinctly writes in this album’s liner notes, “This pairing never happened, but it should have.” The idea was born when record exec John Burk was going through some old tapes and found one labeled “Ray Charles and Count Basie.” However instead of being what he had hoped for, a collaboration between the two giants, the tapes were actually the two artists playing alternating sets at a mid-70s concert in Europe. The idea stuck with Burk, though, and with a little creative recording, they matched Ray’s solo voice tracks with a new recording of the still existing Count Basie Orchestra (Basie himself died in 1984).

Is it ethical to do such things to the works of an artist who is already deceased? There’s little doubt that the artists both respected each other a great deal, and upon listening to it, it’s clear enough that the result certainly harnesses some magic. The sound is bluesy, big band jazz and perfectly reflective of Charles’ repetoire at the time. No longer did he play songs he himself penned, but instead settled into what many call his much stronger role as an artist—that of master interpreter. This album features both songs he became well known for (“Georgia on My Mind”) as well as some interesting personalized renditions of not so well known material (Lennon/McCarney’s “The Long and Winding Road”). Great for the casual listener, but serious fans may find the renditions a bit less exciting as neither of these geniuses actually was there to approve the recording.

I was supposed to go to Tokyo this weekend--didn't work because my travel agent messed it up. Then the alternative plan was to go to Hua Hin, but... woke up too late on Saturday morning. So, poo poo poo, I'm in Bangkok again for another weekend. S'ok tho.

Saw Nick Zinner from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs here on Friday--he played a DJ set at Astra. Pretty cool. the place was half empty when I got there around 11. He came on at 12:30 and the place went nuts. Highlight was def when he dropped the Daft Punk track. It was fun. Lots of crazy dancing and such...good times.

Here are a couple pics from my recent trip to Luang Prabang, Laos. It was radical! Totally laid back place where you can forget all your worries. Luang Prabang is positioned in the middle of the Mekhong and Nam Rivers, and when you sit on the banks, you KNOW you are miles from civilization. Not that Luang Prabang isn't "civilized," but it's definitely not anywhere near as hectic or built up compared to a city like Bangkok. Take a few steps out of town and you are in the jungle, brother. Fun place to dissapear for a while...

 
 
 
  

 
 
 
  

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see, but not for me
I sit and watch as tears go by

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I ever hear is the sound of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch as tears go by

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do, they think they are new
I sit and watch as tears go by
Mm mm mm...

I simply can't get enough of Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. It's just amazing. This guy won the first fiction prize ever for a comic book and if you read one of his graphic novels, it's easy to see why. The world he has created for these characters is so absorbing, you can't help but be transported by it.

For those unfamiliar,the Sandman series was a comic book that DC ran from 1987-1998 i think. I was into comics a little bit when i was a kid, but pretty much grew out of it once I got into high school. However I had a girlfriend after college that introduced me to the world of "adult" comics--basically stories that don't necessarily focus on superheroes and that kind of stuff, but rather tell dramatic, and at times fantastical, stories, illustrated (in this case beautifully) in comic form.



The story itself revolves around Dream, or the Sandman, who rules the realm of unconscious dreaming we all visit when we go to sleep. But he never tells the story like, "ok so one day Dream woke up and went to the store and bla bla bla..." Instead he takes all these crazy little anecdotes and historical characters and situations, and plays them out with some small interaction in the Dreamworld that then changes irrevocably the plot line of the story. And it's brilliant. He often visits ancient Greece, or plays with figures from th French Revolution or American history. He's quite creative with in and it's well done.

Gaiman is kind of moving in the direction of Hollywood now, I think, and more power to him. After penning a bunch of novels, one of which, "American Gods" won the Hugo award and the Bram Stoker award and stuff, he wrote a kids film produced by the Jim Henson Company called "Mirror Mask." I didn't really dig it, but the bottom line is this guy is a wunderkind of literary talent. His classic comics are still awe-inpiring, though, and it is this Sandman series that he will be remembered for, no doubt.

Interestingly, here's a drawing of him where he looks like he's wai-ing.

Last night I went to the ballet for the first time in recent memory. I have to say, though I had my initial reservations, it was really good! The production was Spartacus performed by the Belarusian National Theater, who is in Bangkok for a couple weeks during the International Festival of Dance and Music.

I have to admit, it was hard not to laugh initially—the majority of the play is made up of guys running around on stage in gladiator tops and nothing downtown other than a pair of skin colored briefs. Some of their dance moves, too, were pretty ridiculous, but I guess that’s just the nature of the show. Other than a couple fits of laughter, for the majority of the show I sat in silent reverence and looked like this:

Opera, dance, ballet, the symphony…Oddly enough, I think I’m seeing more fine arts here than I was in New York. And in no small part because it’s complimentary.

I thought I'd add a couple pics from recent outings...



Tim, Yuka and I at Astra last week.

These are from the birthday party of Karn, Goy, Joi and the two or three other girls celebrating at The Olde Bell a few weeks back. Happy Birthday!

Thanks to Jess and Tim for the pics.

MY boss went on vacation yesterday for threee weeks, starting yesterday. Man, I thought I was working hard before… there’s tons of shit I never even knew about going on that I’m now dealing with. Well, whatever, I think I can still deal.

Last night I went to a Chivas party at 100 Rachadamri. Like usual, it was wave upon wave of beautiful people getting wasted for free. It was fun though. Everyone’s ex-girlfriends were there so that was kind of funny. All my friends were asking about this one girl who was there at the party last night, and I have to admit, she was beautiful. The catch is, she ain’t a she. It’s a ladyboy who actually works in my office. When she first came in for an interview my jaw dropped. “Whoa, who is that?” I asked my boss. “Oh her? That’s our new intern.” Sweet. Only when I actually talked to her and heard her voice did her gender (or previous gender? Not sure of her op status) give itself away. Anyway had a laugh at that.

Also checked out Metal Zone last night, possibly the weirdest bar in Bangkok. I’ve passed the imposing, metal encrusted façade on Lang Suan and seen the leather clad S&M freaks many times but never went in. Well, it was Yuka’s birthday, and she wanted to go, so go we did. She looked great, too—total groupie look with a cut off jean skirt, a green Benneton tank top and tall cowboy boats. Smoking… Inside, there is no bar, no lights, practically no décor whatsoever. It’s a relatively small room, ½ of which is taken up by a stainless steel stage with a sick looking drum kit. There’s some weird ass dragon coming down from the ceiling and beside the stage are metal skulls that look strait out of Terminator 2. B150 to get in but there was no band playing, just Judas Priest and Metallica videos on a DVD player. The only light in the entire place was coming from the two TV monitors. The dudes were running down to the 7-Eleven CONSTANTLY to buy the 11 or so of us there more beers. We did some air guitar on stage and the dick running the place was like, “no dancing on the stage.” We’re like, “hey, we’re the ONLY ones here in your little crap dive bar, paying you 150 baht per beer you are buying at the corner for 40. Let us at least rock out a little!” But he was being a jerk so we left and went to Tapas. It was a good night.

Conscience is a sickness that has made humans into something we are not. Generations upon generations of culture and religion have suppressed the human instinct, the animal instinct, and made us into something quite strange indeed. Our value system is completely inverted, so that suffering, pity, weakness and asceticism are seen as “good” while strength, affluence, success, and self-interest are seen as “bad.”

Is this not diametrically opposed to what we see in any other species besides the humans? When you see a weak or aging fish that is consumed by a stronger and healthier shark, do we not nod at Darwin and say, “well, survival of the fittest"? Do we expect the hyena to look at a sick antelope with pity and say, “let us spare him, he’s obviously ill”?

Of course not.

And yet this is precisely what we expect humans to do. In fact we see this pity, this lack of self interest, as a virtue, the distinguishing factor that makes us so much better, more evolved, refined, god-like, even, than all the other species on the planet.

Ridiculous.

Homo sapiens and their man-ape ancestors have been on this planet for millions of years. It is only in last several thousand that we acquired this thing called conscience, and yet it has changed us so radically, we seemed to have completely forgotten what we once were. Our animal instincts, which predate conscience by thousands of years and are still very much alive in us, are for some reason suppressed by this new ruler of mind and body. This thing called conscience in its present form tells us everything our instincts want is wrong. The natural drives our bodies urge us towards—food, pleasure, the will to power—all these are categorically termed wrong by this inverted system of morality that pervades our society. Conscience, this thing we are all so proud of, could very well mean our extinction if we end up being too smart for our own good.

"All America lies at the end of the wilderness road, and our past is not a dead past, but still lives in us. Our forefathers had civilization inside themselves, the wild outside. We live in the civilization they created, but within us the wilderness still lingers. What they dreamed, we live, and what they lived, we dream."

T.K. Whipple, Study Out the Land

Last weekend I went to Isaan for the first time with my friend Des. We went to his hometown in Nang Rong in the Buriram province, which is about midway between Bangkok and the Cambodian border. It was pretty cool. Isaan is the Northeastern part of Thailand, the heartland of the country. It’s kind of like the Texas—everything there is big. The plants are huge, the insects are scary, and the fish will bite your leg off. Fisherman there don’t have to cast and reel hooks vigilantly to try to catch something significant. They stick a series of poles attached to fishing line in the mud on the side of the river, and by the time they walk back to the first one, the Loch Ness monster is practically throwing itself onshore from the end of the line. The people talk in their own unique dialect. Time goes really slowly compared to Bangkok. The days last for weeks. It’s not as pretty as the rest of the country, and most tourists don’t go there (unless they’re visiting their girlfriend’s parents), but what it lacks economically it more than makes up for in the people’s heart, drive, and innovation.
One of the more interesting aspects of my trip to Isaan was the food I encountered. It’s weird. Northeastern cuisine is distinctly hotter, spicier, more sour, salty, and risqué than the sweet and comparitaively mild Bangkokian food. Many of the dishes utilized fruits and vegetables that I’d never seen before; in fact, upon asking, my friend didn’t even know the names of some of them (probably due to the fact that the vegetation is so ridiculously abundant, people gave up naming it all). Some of the dishes were pretty bizarre to the western palate, though. For example this one dish I had was called goy, which is your basic spicy, minced meat larb, except the meat is raw. That’s right, raw. Uncooked beef and liver with lots of chili. In some variations, they serve this dish with cold, uncooked blood. I’ve had congealed blood before, as it’s served in many Thai soups, but in goy, uncooked, uncongealed blood is served with raw beef and liver… I mean, that’s kind of like chopping up some chili, throwing it at a cow and taking a bite. I tried goy (without the blood) and I have to say, it wasn’t bad, though I quickly washed it down with sticky rice, desperately trying not to imagine what I was eating was the same thing you see behind a butcher’s counter... You only live once, I suppose.

Another dish is called goong ten, which literally means “dancing shrimp.” In this dish, they take all these spices and vegetables and put them in a container, scoop a ladleful of tiny, live shrimp into it, cover it, shake it up, and it’s ready to go. The dish is served with the shrimp still living, “dancing” right off your spoon. I passed on that one.

I just came back from Hanoi last week. Vietnam continues to amaze me. It’s a facinating country with a tragic history and a rich cultural background. The people are beautiful and amazing in their capacity to be civil and courteous to foreigners in spite of the hurt done to them in the past. It's one of the few Communist countries left in the world, and for a westerner, it’s a wonderfully surreal experience. No McDonalds, no KFC, no 7-11, no Pepsi billboards yelling at you at every turn. Sure, there are touts on every corner trying to sell you something or trying to give you a ride somewhere, but I think that’s a small price to pay for being able to visit a place so clear of the visual POLLUTION that plagues the democratic world: advertisements, etc.

I went to the Revolution Museum in the Old Quarter one day, which is quite an enlightening place to learn about the Vietnamese people. This museum recounts the people’s history of resistance to the innumerable forces that tried to take over and colonize the people from ancient times up to the present. It tells of how the Chinese, French, English and Americans at various times took the role of aggressors in an attempt to suppress the voice of the people for what they saw as just causes, for what they thought was “best”, or blatantly for their own profit. It details the rise of the Communist Party in the country. Honestly, looking at Vietnam’s history of oppression, it’s not hard to see how this place became a strong hold of a political system that values the voice of the workers and farmers—the common people.

On the second floor of the museum, one whole room is taken up by a huge guillotine that was formerly used by the French colonialists to execute Vietnamese that were viewed as revolutionary or who were accused of fuelling the Communist cause. The guillotine was a method of execution that was used by some American forces in (what they term) the American War, as well. While I was standing there marveling at this machine of death, its very size gazing down at me with an unspeakable blood thirst, a troop of young Vietnamese soldiers who were taking a tour of the museum happened to pass through. Most of them apathetically walked through the room, not taking much notice of the guillotine. One soldier though, a kid just a bit younger than me, stopped on the other side of the machine and marveled at it for a moment, just the same way I was. As we stood there looking at it, our eyes suddenly locked, and I couldn’t help but think the same thought was going through both our minds: about 30 years ago, my ancestors used to kill your ancestors with this thing. I was suddenly overcome with a nameless shame. I averted my eyes and quickly made my way out of the room.

As I walked outside and the sun melted into Hoan Kiem lake like a great, dying ball of fire, the thought of the blood debt flipped over in my mind again, like a silvery fish gasping for breath on the deck of a fishing boat, the shadows of hungry men ominously cast on it. Do the sins of the father pass onto the son? Does unrepented evil live on for future generations to suffer? Do the sown actions of our ancestors grow like breath choking weeds in our present lives?
I couldn’t help but thinking yes.

The sins of past generations are living on and coming back as curses and unmentionable evils in our day-to-day lives. They are our frantic, stillborn dreams, our aborted livelihoods, our night terrors. They come alive and we try to suppress them with indulgence. But we can’t stop them. We can’t stop the paranoia, the anxiety attacks, the receding hairlines and pre-mature baldness, the kidney stones, the lung cancer, the drug addiction and heart attacks and eating disorders and teenage suicide. We can’t stop the greed that kills, the jealously that breeds amongst our closest friends, the lust that drives us from our wedding beds, the hate that turns us against our kin. The evil has not died. It lives here with us, beside us, inside us. It is a intimate part of our make up.

I wake up in the middle of the night and the backyard is filled with vampires, coming to suck the blood from my veins, to feast on my flesh. I can’t make them go to sleep. I can’t convince them they’re already dead.

I love Thai movie posters from the 60s and 70s. The hand drawn ones are really groovy. It's a lost art that is still alive at a few theaters in Bangkok, most notably at the Scala theater in Siam Square. You can get old posters at some secret stalls at Chatuchak Market. My collection is growing, but not as fast as I want it to! Here's a couple of my faves I came across recently.

Karl Bartos, former member of the legendary electronic group, Kraftwerk, just came to Bangkok. I interviewed him. Check it out! -->

The fate of classically trained percussionist and keyboard player, Karl Bartos changed radically in 1975 when he was hired to fill in the line up for the first American tour of electro godfathers, Kraftwerk supporting the release of their Autobahn album. After the tour completed, he was taken on by the group as an official member, and took part in producing some of their most seminal releases, including Trans-Europe Express, The Man-Machine, and Computer World. He left the group in 1991 to embark on a solo career, and has since been involved in a number of projects, including collaboration with Bernard Sumner and Johnny Marr on Electronic’s 1996 album, Raise the Pressure and OMD’s Universal album. Since 1999, he has been DJing internationally in addition to teaching courses on sound and acoustic arts at the Berlin University of Arts.


Relaxing before a distinctly Kraftwerkian DJ set at Bed Supperclub in Bangkok, Karl sips on a Perrier and talks to the long line of journalists who eagerly ask him questions about his numerous past and present projects. He has a down-to-earth, unpretentious air about him that one wouldn’t expect to encounter from an artist as accomplished as he. He oozes calm composure, and talking to him is almost like having a conversation with an old friend of the family.

The club is almost unrecognizable from the night before when it heaved to the sounds of Felix da Housecat; however a small, dedicated crew of followers in dark clothing and plastic framed glasses line the starched white beds in uneasy positions.

Starting the interview, Karl innocently asks, “so, what do you want to know?”

You are a Professor of Sound at the Berlin University of Arts. What kind of curriculum do you teach at these classes?
We have found that sound plays a crucial role in our lives. The course is called Sound Studies, and focuses on the ecology of sound; sound in artificial places, how sound reacts in a room, in installations, etc. My part of the course focuses on audio media design. I’m observing pop music as well as classical music, but we’re also building an electronic studio. I work with my students in doing soundtracks; we recording sound in the streets, we’re making “sound walks”. So it’s all about sound, and music is just one little tiny bit of it. It’s about soundscapes—how sound is perceived by human beings. What does it mean to have a sound biography? How does sound position picture? If you listen to different music accompanied by the same picture, how does the meaning or understanding of the images change? That’s what it’s all about.

What other projects are you working on now besides teaching?
I’ve got a record label. We produce music and video at the same time. Doing that in addition to teaching and playing live keeps me busy.

Looking at how music technology has developed, do you lament the digital cross over? For example, people used to use analog equipment—analogue synthesizers, drum machines, records—and now they use digital equipment—CDs, laptops, etc. Is there a difference, in your mind?
It doesn’t matter. I’ll give you an example. I’m not sure how old you are, but I’m sure you grew up with an old style telephone—a telephone on the wall. If you consider the messages you send over that old phone on the wall versus the messages you are now sending over your mobile phone, did the messages change? You see? It really doesn’t matter at all. But somehow, eventually, the content of the information will be influenced by the medium you send it over. But it’s not that quick. You know Gutenberg?

No.
Gutenberg is the guy who invented the printing press for printing books. The printing press is movable type. Before Gutenberg, you could only write a book by handwriting. When he came up with the printing press, movable type, it suddenly influenced the way people were thinking, because it opened up a new view of the world for everybody—not just the people in the churches or the elite, but for everybody. The Bible could be printed in millions of copies and could be sent all over the world. This changed the way our society was thinking and acting. Cut. Then we had… oh, it’s a big cut, too much to explain… Then we had, suddenly, a television set in the middle of our living rooms. This was part of the very late electrical revolution. And the television set, the contents of the media, image and sound, changed another time the way our culture, in a holistic view, thinks. Does this answer your question?

Yeah, I think so. In other words, you embrace the digital revolution.
It doesn’t mean so much because the messages haven’t changed. You haven’t changed, the message hasn’t changed, but probably in many generations, the technology will begin to change the way we are thinking.

In terms specifically of performing music on stage, a lot of bands that have electronic elements will use laptops instead of analogue equipment of some sort. While using pre-sequenced beats and such may make for a cleaner, tighter sound, it doesn’t necessarily make for a more entertaining show. Do you think there is a happy medium—a way to entertain an audience while having a really tight, clean sound?
Well, that’s the funny thing with music. If you compare the making of music to the making of a piece of art, nobody expects from an artist, like a painter, to come on stage, starts his painting from scratch, and finish it there. You expect a painting to be started and finished in a studio, and then displayed in a museum or wherever. Whereas a musician always has to be part of a performance. The so-called laptop artists have changed it a bit, but from my point of view, it’s kind of boring to have a laptop up there and to just press play. I’m here to play a DJ set, which is maybe something in the middle. I’m spinning records, some of which I’ve produced, some I have not. But bringing over my whole live set is impossible—it’s too expensive. So it’s a compromise.

Do you find it difficult to escape the shadow of Kraftwerk now?
No.

The music you are creating now, do you think people look at it differently or the same as the Kraftwerk material?
You are always connected to the past. It’s part of our lives until we die. What can we do? We have to adjust to reality as best we can. It is what it is, and that’s the way it is. If I don’t adjust, I will have a hard time, so I get along with it.

In those early days with Kraftwerk, did you realize that the music you were making was going to change the way that electronic music evolved?
It had already changed before us. The things that we did were based on the work of people like Pierre Shaeffer, Pierre Henry, a lot of classical composers who made tape music. John Cage, who came up with the idea that he didn’t need interpreters for his music and just composed onto tape. Then he came up with pieces like “4:33”—which is just silence! So he opened up the doors for many thoughts, and once you found those doors open, you went through. We didn’t change music that much, we just took some ingredients and brought them into the field of pop music. We brought some things together which were apart before. But apparently we somehow knew that the industrialization of music was taking place. We were waiting on the day when the black guys discovered the groove of a rhythm machine—that the machinery had a groove of its own which has a human feeling, but is really funky. The rhythm machine is interesting because time is only moving forward and as you are listening, you are perceiving the time floating by… this will change your perception, you know what I mean?

Yeah, I think so. So when you guys were on tour, did Kraftwerk have crazy parties with like, groupies and stuff?
Can you keep a secret?

Well… I’m a journalist.
I can. I can keep a secret.

OK… so, are there any new artists you think are bringing electronic music into the future, or artists you would like to work with?
You know the funny thing about the future is that it happens to you while you are busy doing other things. So you never know when the future actually starts. It doesn’t come from a distance; it’s already here. I think the future of music is intertwined with the future of media. Like what has happens with the fragmentation of television programs—250 channels, but there’s nothing to watch. It’s much nicer to sit in the sun and have a cappuccino with your girlfriend.