Totally wrote:ayo brooks u need 2 live with Control and Rhythm Nation: 1814 for like a month straight, listen to nothing else. I'll mail you my SY-85 and all the floppies u will divine secrets.
They weigh 60 pounds. Go for the TG-500 rack unit Joy's talking about. And fuck him for calling it garbage, it's one of the best MIDI workstations ever made. So many unique features.
i don't want to hijack this thread but since you guys are here and seem to know your shit what's a good affordable entry-level synth that is more in line with this and doesn't sound like a bunch of garageband presets?
You mean a recently produced synth? Honestly I don't know. I stopped paying attention to hardware synths once the quality and versatility of VSTs and AUs far exceeded any one on the market. They're nice to look at sometimes, but I can't see a reason to not buy a controller.
The midi controller is largely a matter of preference. Lots of people like small ones without much range, particularly for music you're probably going to end up sequencing anyway. If you want to get like a solid piano performance or something, you'll want 70+ keys and an expression pedal.
Software's the same - some people love logic, some love cubase (just kidding nobody loves this), ableton, etc.
nice to see you on the GvB February mix. i also can't help but notice that your track flows directly into spix's remix of Young Galaxy (which is another sick track). back-to-back HPN, baby!
nah, the name of the band comes from the whitehouse song ruthless babysitting
SO THIS IS WHAT YOU'VE SPENT YOUR TIME DOING WAITING FOR SALLY'S DAUGHTERS TO GROW UP I KNOW YOU'RE FOND OF QUESTIONS SO HERE'S SOME FUCKING ANSWERS WE'LL GENTLY REWRITE SOME HISTORY AND MAKE BELIEVE IT'S ALL ABOUT EMPATHY AND COMPASSION.
BUT FIRST TELL ME AGAIN IN BAD FUCKING ENGLISH ABOUT YOUR THREE MONTHS AS A PROSTITUTE THE ART PROJECT GONE BAD: THE TRIP HOME AT CHRISTMAS TO GET THE MONEY FOR AN ABORTION 400 EUROS IN YOUR HAND THAT YOU SWORE YOU COULDN'T FIND ANOTHER WAY I'D HAVE PAID GLADLY.
I CAUGHT YOU GOING THROUGH THE RUBBISH AGAIN EMPTY BLISTER PACKS OF SILDENAFIL CITRATE WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO WORSHIP THAT SICKLY GREY MESS? WHERE'S THE ECSTATIC TRUTH IN THAT? THE FRENCH HARLOT CHILD PROMISING SOON OR NEVER THE PAEDOPHILE IN LOVE GAZING AT 70S SNAPSHOTS AND FEELING VERY FUCKING SAFE.
SAFE AS BRIGHT-EYED ANNE SCRIBBLING BY CANDLELIGHT YOU CHERISH THE IMAGE OF HER AWKWARDLY POSED IN THE STREET THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S SHADOW SET TO SWALLOW HER WHOLE DARK AS THE WAR ITSELF: A CHEAP AGFA VERMEER FOR CONNOISSEURS PERVERTS AND ENTHUSIASTS AND NOT FORGETTING PRETENTIOUS CUNTS LIKE YOU.
OR THOSE LUCKY BUNDLES OF WARM GOOD NATURE ON SUMMER DAYS IN RURAL FRANCE WHEN THEY PEER INTO THE LENS MOMENTARILY DISTRACTED FROM THE KITTENS OR DRESSING UP GAME WHAT DO THEY KNOW ABOUT SEX BEASTS AND CANCER SCARES? PARTIAL BIRTH ABORTION AND VAGINAL INFECTION? DAVID BOWIE IN MODERN PAINTERS.
I'LL GIVE YOU FUCKING HONEST YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE: THE WAR ZONE FAVORITE ALBUM COVERS - VIRGIN KILLER, HOUSES OF THE HOLY, U2 BOY FAVORITE PHOTOGRAPHER - DODGSON FAVORITE ARTISTS - BALTHUS, REMARKO, ANYTHING WITH A KID IN IT FAVORITE GOOGLE SEARCH - RUSSIAN ORPHANAGE, RUTHLESS BABYSITTING, ELITE GYMNASTICS
AND YOU GOT THE CLAP ON YOUR 14TH BIRTHDAY FROM THAT SHY FRIEND OF YOUR FATHER WHO FINGERFUCKED YOU IN THE SAME CAR HE LATER SUCKED DOWN THE GAS IN THOSE EXQUISITE BOOKS YOU PESTERED HIM FOR OCTAVO EDITIONS OF THE POETS THAT SIT STILL UNREAD ON THE SHELF BY YOUR BED FOR DREAMING OF WHO-THE-FUCK-KNOWS-WHAT.
DIRTY JESSIE'S ALL GROWN UP NOW TODAY IS HER COCAINE DAY EVEN THROUGH THE HAZE OF COCKS AND HIP-HOP RAPIST PAWS SHE CAN SEE WE'RE ALL STILL WALLOWING IN THE MUD HOWEVER ARTFULLY FRAMED ON WHITE GALLERY WALLS I CAN LOOK YOU IN THE EYES AND SEE WHAT YOU SPEND YOUR TIME DOING WHEN IT GETS DARK AND MESSY THE BAND BROKE UP: I LOST A LOT OF FUCKING WEIGHT.
YOUR FAVORITE BOOK: THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP NOT THE CELEBRATED RAPESNUFF OF LITTLE NELL SO MUCH MORE ADORABLE ALIVE THOUGH PREFERABLY SLEEPING UNWATCHED AND UNCARED FOR IN THE MIDST OF DECAY THE CHILD BOTANICAL, THE ANGEL IMPERIAL NOT LAID OUT LIKE JESSIE OR AN EMPTY DIRTY DRESS YOU CAN CALL ME A CUNT IF YOU LIKE BECAUSE YOU'LL STILL PUT THE BATTERIES IN THE BABY LIKE A SIMPERING NAMBLA FREAK