Epistemic Ingemination

Fill up an SUV’s fuel tank with ethanol and you have used enough maize to feed a person for a year.

In 2007, of 41,415 species assessed for the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Red List of Threatened Species, 16,306 (39 percent) were categorized as threatened with extinction: one in three amphibians, one quarter of the world’s pines and other coniferous trees, one in eight birds and one in four mammals. Another study identified 595 “centers of imminent extinction” in tropical forests, on islands and in mountainous areas. Disturbingly, only one-third of the sites surveyed were legally protected, and most were surrounded by areas densely populated by humans. We may not be able to determine the cause of past extinction events, but this time we have, indisputably: We are our own asteroids.

Let’s just say that the industrial revolution is, oh, 150 years old. That’s about one thirty millionth of the age of the earth — a fraction of a blink of an eye in geological time. And yet we’ve managed to make extinct, oh, about a sixth of the life forms on this earth.

We are in the midst of the Sixth Great Extinction. It may seem like it’s taking a long time. It’s not.

I guess that we might as well enjoy the moment; it could take a couple of hundred thousand generations to get back what our great-grandparents had.

Sometimes it’s nice to recapitulate, to analyze where one has been. I’ve recently let go a piece of my life that defined a part (but by no means all) of my identity for the bulk of my life. I couldn’t have guessed where it all would lead, but the path turned out to be a rich, varied way to spend some of my threescore and ten.

Interestingly, it can be traced back to one single moment. In 1970, my older brother was demonstrating his new stereo system to me, and he played “Lucky Man” by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. The synthesizer solo at the end captivated me like nothing else, and I knew that I wanted to do that. Within four years, I was a bona fide synth expert. Within another few years, I was a recording engineer. Thanks, Rick.

I’ve always been comfortable at the interface between technology and the artist, and I’ve been comfortable with facilitating the resulting process of creating Art. Indeed, in both professional synthesis and professional audio engineering, once I mastered the techniques, I ultimately found art at the center, an utterly fascinating process of creation. It’s never grown old, because it is always new.

Especially sound reinforcement—live sound. It may seem odd to say that one can create art with a collection of knobs and faders and amplifiers and speaker cords, but it’s not, really. No more odd than saying that one can create art with a bunch of tuned wires strapped to a piece of lumber with a bunch of inductive pickups on it. A mixing console can be as much a vehicle for creativity as an electric guitar.

I can’t completely describe the joy of it when it’s working, any more than a guitar player can describe what they’re feeling in the middle of a soulful solo. It is a process of being in the instant; surfing on the cutting edge of reality of this moment, of creating something in and of the Now.

And perhaps the most beautiful aspect of the art of sound reinforcement, to me, is the ephemeral nature of it all. When a song is done, that instance of the art is gone forever. With the next song comes the possibility of creating a new work of art, but it’s never guaranteed. One must learn to be in the moment, and that is the Zen aspect of the whole thing that makes it so uniquely wonderful to me. It is always, in the end, a solitary personal journey.

All of the downside-oddities of the music business: the long hours, the interminable traveling, the shady characters, the hustlers, high-rollers, overzealous band managers, hangers-on, groupies—it is all worth it to get that moment of The Pure Joy Of Existence every once in awhile. I’ve experienced it elsewhere, and will again, but perhaps never with others, simultaneously, again.

I’ll miss the musicians’ joy and astonishment when it’s all done right for them. No one else around that process ever mattered. It was always about no more or less than the people on the stage and the unspoken communication between us. That moment when several artists, working together, could become a single process of Art.

I come away with many life-long friends who’ll always be a part of my songline. That said, along with some fine people and respected colleagues, this is the whole of what I’ll miss. No complaints; most people never get to experience it at all; I held the Grail, many times, if only for a moment at a time. I’m blessed.

This comes via Gary the sound guy. Something to do with your old album covers.

Perfect.

George McGovern speaks, finally. And it’s strong medicine.

Well, it’s 2008 and I get to fire up my lizard-brain based political subsystem to eleven now. I’ve spent most of ‘07 idly watching the Kabuki dance of the candidates and marveling at the manifest silliness of seeing people actively campaigning 18 months before the election. But the Iowa caucuses are done now and the race is suddenly interesting by just about any standard. Tuesday in NH will make it more so.

On the Republican side, it’s especially satisfying; the new frontrunner is an evangelical nutcase who’s thrown the entire party into a panic. Mr. 9/11 Giuliani is in complete freefall as the regular Joes of the party discover just how corrupt and shallow he is; Mr. Hollywood Thompson can’t even convince his own campaign that he deserves the nomination, and Mitt Romney’s paste-on million dollar smile is beginning to look more and more like a cheap piece of cosmetic surgery as the questions of character and substance continue to Not Go Away. Meanwhile, Libertarian Paul has dumptrucks full of money to steer the dialog and throw wrenches into the machinery. The entrenched party apparatus is going to have to default to McCain, who is so all over the map in the last fifteen years that he can claim to support or oppose just about any issue you care to name. It takes a special talent to be on the national political scene for a quarter century and still come out looking like a third rate Bronxville wardheeler. Anyway, look for a McCain/Lieberman ticket this fall, maybe after a brokered convention. To represent “bipartisanship and change.” There could be no finer image of the ossification of the Grand Ol’ Party. (Well, okay… a Delay/Gingrich ticket would be pretty interesting…)

But the real earthquakes happened on the Democratic side, and it’s genuinely interesting to watch. I especially like it because I think that there is a really strong slate of candidates; I can support just about any democrat running this year in the general campaign.

I probably lean more towards John Edwards this year than anyone else; mostly because he is almost as rabidly anti-big-corporate as I am. I think that he is the best chance since our two Roosevelt presidents to reign in corporate influence on policy; maybe even to finally repeal corporate personhood.

Hillary? Sure, I could vote for her. A full-on policy wonk is probably a good idea after the train wreck of the last eight years. I’d love to see this country’s first woman president in my lifetime. And she is unquestionably prepared and qualified for the job; she knows how to work the machine very well. She gets high marks for doing the work and coming to terms with her political adversaries. But she also triangulates a bit much for my taste; you never really know how the policy is going to come out of the sausage grinder with her, and she has punched in some truly bad votes since she has been a candidate for president. And, in the end, I have problems with dynasties. I don’t like the idea of 28 consecutive years in our country’s history being owned by two families. That’s not what was intended at the outset.

Which brings us to this week’s big winner, and the panic of the DLC: Obama. I’ve had to really study the man to come to any opinion, but now I am completely comfortable with him. The pluses are many; good ideas on reform; the ability to articulate an idea clearly; an ability to turn ideas into policy; a lot less beholden to anyone than the other major candidates; and finally, his race. I would love to see the Old Conservative White Men who think that they own this country squirm as they try to criticize an Obama presidency without sounding like some mummified Jim Crow throwback. There is no more powerful image of change right now than this man, and change is what it’s all about in the 2008 election.

That’s Hillary’s problem, and there’s not a lot she can do about it. She has every big time endorsement in the book, and Obama is deftly turning them into a liability. Pure political poetry. New Hampshire is looking to be a Big Surprise; I don’t think we’ll be hearing any “comeback kid” speeches in NH this time around. This is going to be a fine, true primary battle that could go on for many moons. As it should be.

Who gets the prize in the end? Who knows? I’d call it at about 45-35-20 Hillary-Obama-Edwards this afternoon, but it’s anybody’s guess. I can support any of them. And even if Hillary misses this time, she has the perfect skill set of policy acumen and diplomatic chops to be one of the finest Secretaries of State that we’ve ever seen. This is far from her last rodeo.

This is going to be a fun one.

Thirty years ago and change, I started working as an audio engineer. Kind of happened by accident; I was a synthesizer aficionado who wasn’t afraid of knobs.

One thing led to another. Turned out that I had a talent for it. I ended up touring with big folks, doing a bunch of broadcast stuff, being the chief engineer at a profitable recording studio. Won an award or two along the way; saw my work at the Grammys & the Golden Globes. Created some really irritating music that won an Addy or two. Made some enduring friends. But it all started in earnest at the Armadillo World Headquarters, the precursor to Threadgill’s.

On Tuesday night, I parted ways with Threadgill’s. Time to retire from being a club engineer; time to retool; time to be a dad. I can’t ask Ryan to raise himself alone in the evenings for three or four days a week; he’s now a teenager, and we’ll need to be together to argue and play and live in our little ill-balanced testosterone-steeped home for the next few years.

It’s a perfect bookend; I leave essentially where I started. As I wrote to a valued friend earlier today, “I leave Threadgill’s with an enduring love for the organization, and the artists, and the Art, and a deep satisfaction that I walked out the door with the same enthusiasm and professionalism with which I walked in thirty years ago.”

I’ll still do audio, occasionally. I have my favored bands, of course. But my days as a studio engineer or house sound man ended this week. That career is now over. I couldn’t have ended it in a better place. The management and staff at Threadgill’s are the best possible; Dave Whitney, Danny Jones, Pauline, Marcus, Chris, Steven, Jason; everyone. The joy of being as old and seasoned as I am is that I’m privileged to have worked with the absolute best.

So, exit stage right and fade the lights.

And to Eddie: Thanks for the launch pad and the landing strip. It was a frickin’ great run.