Main image
9th November
2012
written by tom

It is how it used to be.

The music industry’s falling to technological death prempts a more important inquest. What else died along with the turn of the century technological leap toward audio compression and file sharing? This question needs to be asked.

While the decapitation of the industry clearly points to a verdict of suicide, the same cannot be said of music itself. Here, it is no simple matter of record executives being overtaken by the challenges and opportunities of “the internet”. It is primarily the demise of musical substance itself, ushered by the illusory clarion call of its adjudged audience, and made possible by technology’s universe, self-destroying ascent to scale and nihilistic marketing toward ever younger, and ever more select demographic slices. This is Digitalisation – music’s compression to bytes, music coming to be seen and lived as sound waves, instrument pieces plucked and isolated detached from its context.

It is this otherwise fitting, inevitable end to music, and its vicious entwinement with technology, that Ken Stingfellow refuses to countenance. What emerges is KS’s musicality – which is the totality of his personality, intelligence, acerbic wit, talent, family, politics, fetishes, reading habits; it has substance. It roots us.

Begining with the overwhelming volume of Ken-ness that arrives, it is difficult to depart from the premise that here is something that aims to be some-thing.

The vinyl, the 7″, compact disc, t-shirt (!), … Taken together these amount to a tangible work, one that parallels the music that flows from them.

And what of the music? Shall we pontificate on the key and tempo changes, unorthodox arrangements, fullness of intrumentation, melodies that swirl, lyrics that point beyond itself? Nothing of the sort. Danzig in the Moonlight is too beautiful to be written of.

Leave a comment

Please leave these two fields as-is:

Protected by Invisible Defender. Showed 403 to 511 bad guys.