RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Tuesday, June 5

SONG OF THE DAY: Sihirbaz



Music shows up on my ipod from various digital black market locations (aka no market, and I am still a partial dinosaur in that I DOWNLOAD I REFUSE TO STREAM, STREAMS ARE FOR THE WOODS NOT HUMANS), and things I like shall play again, and things I don’t like shall disappear, so things like this Gokcen Kaynatan grow in play count stature, and I literally know nothing about the guy, or the song. So this morning I looked up this Gokcen Kaynatan, and he is still alive, and made music five decades ago that sounds like the electronic things people loved from the past decade, except obviously the technology of now did not exist in 1957, so this Gokcen Kaynatan created these futuristic orchestras through painstaking creation of devices and implements and combinations of machines to manufacture insane music only his mind could hear. The one article I read spoke of a theremin-like looking laser creation that needed a fog machine for him to be able to see how to play it correctly. This is the type of mind I wish was revered. Sadly, I hate to pull pop poison culture into this otherwise pure paragraph of musical props, but that dude Kanye released a barely planned EP for which he shot the album cover literally on the way to the opening listening party, which is about as half-assed as you can get. And because of how he has marketed himself, as a genius, I still saw people claim this effort was genius. This Pavlovian usage of “genius” because you have been beat over the head with it long enough that it must be true is very bothersome to me a lot of times, because lolol look at sweet old Gokcen, sitting in relative obscurity over in Istanbul, being “discovered” by some British dudes who released a new album by the old guy last winter, perhaps finally earning some wider notoriety, but also perhaps not giving a single fuck about having notoriety, because popularity throughout man’s time of recording man’s time, has rarely correlated directly with level of genius.

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