startled

The theme for today’s video roundup: musicians who use samplers in live performances. From highest YouTube views to lowest:

 

David Letterman described Imogen Heap as “the closest we’ve ever come to having a one man band on the show”. She performs live ensconced behind a bevy of synthesizers and laptops. This song, “Just for Now”, is almost a cappella, except for the sampling.

 

I first heard these guys when they were linked off of 3hive a few years ago. They’re named after the fine-lookin’ jetliner, and provided the soundtrack for the excellent Helvetica documentary. The band consists of one drummer, one guitar/bassist, and about 200 loop and effect pedals. This is “My Only Swerving”.

 

“Tenuousness” features pizzicato violin, bowed violin, guitar, cryptic vocals, and extreme-precision whistling, but only one person on stage.

Pat Angerer is leading the current bracket against Furious Bradley, Whitney Mercilus, and Wave Ryder (all real names, complete ballot here). The tournament begins every March, but there’s still plenty of time to vote for who will become 2010’s Barvkevious Mingo.

Why are the Security Questions used?

The first time you login and enroll in Protection Plus, you will be asked to enter five Security Questions and corresponding answers. […]

The answers to your Security Questions are case sensitive and cannot contain special characters like an apostrophe, or the words “insert,” “delete,” “drop,” “update,” “null,” or “select.”

Why can’t I use certain words like “drop” as part of my Security Question answers? There are certain words used by hackers to try to gain access to systems and manipulate data; therefore, the following words are restricted: “select,” “delete,” “update,” “insert,” “drop” and “null”.

So we have these yoga classes at work. A group of us were interested, but also afraid of what it might do for our hearty, masculine images. To address this, the calendar invite was labeled “Yoga for Manly Men,” further proof that good marketing can solve any problem. Here are some observations after a couple months of classes:

1. I was sure yoga would be really easy. It is a thing done, after all, by middle aged women and hippies who know what Reiki and sweat lodges are. I was sweating profusely onto the bright blue mat within minutes, and sore for a couple days afterward. Oh, the hubris!
2. I guess communal yoga mats are kind of gross? I try not to think about that sort of thing. It’s probably been a nice boost to my countering-communicable-diseases chakra.
3. Different teachers have different styles, and some invoke much more hippy-dippy claptrap than others. At minimum, expect to be asked to listen to your body, to send energy to various muscle groups, and to breathe into extremities where no lungs are found. Some teachers go much further: you may be asked to experience the movements as an ocean wave, or to visualize yourself as assorted tree parts (common: roots, trunks, branches; uncommon: seedpods, radicles, phloem), or to sort your chakras alphabetically. Try not to let it get to you, and concentrate instead on your burning muscles.
4. The poses have funny names that all sound the same. The teacher will call out something that sounds like some ethnic cuisine and everyone else will start moving. Don’t concern yourself with what milanesa might mean: just play it cool, and copy what the hyper-flexible people around you are doing.
5. Since your limbs can’t actually bend in those directions, it might be necessary to fake it. Cheating comes in a variety of forms, such as bending the knees a bit in ahi-puttanesca, supporting extra weight on your fingertips in the beer-madrasah poses, rushing through your chattanoogas, or hiding outside in the weight room until class is over.
6. When your body can’t take it anymore, it is acceptable to collapse into a blubbering pile at the back of your mat. This is called “child’s pose,” because children are very lazy. Don’t spend more than 60–70% of your time here or the teacher will become suspicious.
7. I seem to be good at forward bends for no good reason, perhaps I’m extra good at cheating on it. This has given me ample opportunities to stare at and then become self-conscious about my ankles. Are my ankles fat and misshapen? Why haven’t you told me?
8. Your instructor will calmly walk around the room and remind you to breathe at times when your own lungs and diaphragm are crushed by the simultaneous twisting, compression, and stretching of your torso. You will be so exhausted that you are not annoyed at this, but grateful for the reminder.
9. The reward at the end of yoga class is a sanctioned naptime called chèvre-sauna. It only lasts a few minutes, but I’ve been able to fall asleep every time.
10. Class ends with everyone saying namaste, just like Fake Steve Jobs.