Spotify says I listened to 58,000 minutes of music this year, not including all those 8-hour loops of fragments from the Blade Runner soundtrack mixed with rain. Here are the 10 artists who released my favourite albums of 2020. Starting with the best…
Read MoreMost tangentially linked post ever coming up: the London-based electronic artist Blue Loop has released her debut EP today. Titled Grand Illusion, it’s a 22-minute-long exploration of ambient techno, IDM, progressive electronic and found sound. Genau meins, as the Germans would say. The best (or perhaps pertinent to this website) part is this: the first track is titled By the Feet of Men, which Blue Loop composed after reading the sort-of-but-not-really-internationally-acclaimed, definitely-not-a-smash-hit dystopian novel By the Feet of Men, which I happened to write.
Quite the honour, I would say.
As for the title, Grand Illusion:
Grand Illusion takes its name from a garish billboard in the 1982 film Koyaanisqatsi, a terrifying depiction of humanity and our merciless colonisation of the natural world.
Poetry, man. Pure poetry.
mechanical trees.
This year is tearing ragged holes in my routine. I write, I stop for a day, I write again for a few days, I stop again. When I sit at the computer the words emerge as they always have done; when I’m away from the keyboard my mind is blank, devoid of any real-world impulses or energy or cues that I can latch on to and gain motivation from and build in to whatever world it is I’m trying to give a veneer of authenticity. I’m reading more than ever, but it doesn’t have the same effect as overhearing a conversation in a bar, pressing my face up against new situations and cultures or listening to other people spin their own stories.
It’s a lean period for inspiration, in other words. And that barren-looking stretch through till spring doesn’t look too promising.
Book of the month: DISPATCHES by Michael Herr. "Going out at night the medics gave you pills, Dexedrine breath like dead snakes kept too long in a jar." How do you top a sentence like that? It tells a mini story, sets the scene and overall tone and plays with grammar conventions, all within the space of 20 words. Essential post-Ballard, pre-Gibson proto- neo-noir New Journalism.
Cosmic music beamed from Space Radio Luxembourg:
the magic bus.
You know when you want something so much it means you’ll never get it? I’ve spent the better part of the year wanting specific things to happen with my writing career (to no avail). Then, out of the blue, I receive an email this morning informing me a short story published in the Ocotillo Review has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Most short story writers know about the prize, but for those who don’t:
The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses series, published every year since 1976, is the most honored literary project in America.
Since 1976, hundreds of presses and thousands of writers of short stories, poetry and essays have been represented in our annual collections. Each year most of the writers and many of the presses are new to the series. Every volume contains an index of past selections, plus lists of outstanding presses with addresses.
Now, a lot of writers get nominated for the Pushcart each year, so it’s not the biggest deal in the world. But it did at least get selected from 200 pieces published by Ocotillo in 2020. In other words: a welcome boost just before the end of the year. The magazine in which Combers was printed is sold out, but the editors have made it available to read online here (scroll down).
ice-cream man prize would also have been a good name, I feel.
