Galen Buckwalter, a 69-year-old research psychologist and quadriplegic, participated in a brain implant study to contribute to science that aids those with paralysis. The six chips in his brain decode movement intention, allowing him to operate a computer and feel sensations in his fingers again.
R&B in the 21st century has been in a constant state of flux, tugged between safe traditionalism and blurry attempts at progression. For the last decade-plus that "progression" has seen R&B music become more indebted to trap records and the moody atmospherics of alternative bands like Radiohead, Coldplay, or My Bloody Valentine.
In §46, Kant defines genius as "the inborn predisposition of the mind through which nature gives the rule to art" (5:307). Because beautiful art cannot be created according to fixed rules, the artistic genius is a kind of channel for the way beauty appears spontaneously in nature. (My slideshow includes Angelus Silesius's "Die Rose" on this point: "The rose is without why.") For Kant, genius has a talent that cannot be learned or taught, and it cannot give an account of itself.
Natanya tears genres open and rebuilds them in her own image. Her drums swing loose and jazzy over heavy 808s; synths drift dreamily before snapping into gritty guitar riffs. Writing, producing and arranging all her own work, she weaves together neosoul silk, R&B groove, indie edge, and flashes of grunge, all carried by a buttery falsetto that nods to Aaliyah, Amy Winehouse, Janet Jackson and early Destiny's Child.
I connected a lot with his music and I had no idea that years later we would be collaborating! It was a total surprise that we started chatting on the internet about collaborating! We bounced ideas back and forth, all starting with a series of guitar solo stuff that Bill sent me.
The gift of skaiwater's best music is its unique shape, blown-out underground rap styles carefully folded into delicate origami. Forget every preconceived notion you might have about 'rage rap' and put on 'rain'-it's so pretty, a butterfly fluttering around a bomb site. On that album, skai harnessed beat drops like wrecking balls crashing into the walls of their heart.
"Many found the music offensive, the dancing objectionable, and the popularity of both with young people verging on a mental health crisis." So writes music historian Susan C. Cook about ragtime, the heavily syncopated ancestor of jazz that arose in the late 1800s. Like all things, ragtime's subversiveness faded over time, and, a century later, the works of Scott Joplin and other practitioners had been relegated to carnivals and fairs, their jaunty piano melodies now evoking quaint notions of old-timey fun.
Intense listening capabilities from these exquisite players which required, more than anything else, a great deal of trust. They posited about thematic structures, which somehow got agreed upon, live in the moment through a collective groupthink. Right there on stage. No words spoken, just an exchange of bizarrely intense looks. Ranging from 'we're almost there' to 'don't you dare.' That's trust, people.
On any given day our writers, editors, and contributors go through an imposing number of new releases, giving recommendations to each other and discovering new favorites along the way. Each Monday, with our Pitchfork Selects playlist, we're sharing what our writers are playing obsessively and highlighting some of the Pitchfork staff's favorite new music.
I've just given a keynote presentation at Lines of Flight: Improvisation, Hope and Refuge, a conference hosted by the International Institute for Critical Studies in Improvisation. I'd been invited to talk about my performance research with Dálava, a cross-genre project that is influenced by animist, Slavic cosmology and a land-based folk song tradition that has been in my family for generations.
Angel Marcloid is never one to let a mood pass her by. From the demented genre-slush of Fire-Toolz to the full-throated jazz fusion pastiche of Nonlocal Forecast, the Chicago-based artist's prolific, slippery oeuvre is the extension of a life lived in service of the id and the endless pursuit of new intuitions. "I have no idea what it's like to not know what music to make," she once explained.
The rapper, known on his tax form as Charles Wingate and known by his old Harlem associates as Charley Rambo, made his name in the rap game during an all-too-brief run in the 2000s, as one of the most colorful members of Jim Jones' Byrdgang, his solo offshoot from the Diplomats (although due to his growing up with rappers Cam and Mase, Max is like honorary Dipset).
January is the month where music is moving underneath the surface, feeling out the venues, plotting and planning for those great days under the sun, at a festival. If you are a globe-trotting DJ or band, January is the month you're finishing up those FaceTime calls with managers and bookers, and plotting out which month you'll be on the road playing the Empty Bottle in Chicago, the Iron Horse in Northampton, MA, or the Continental Club in Austin, TX.
