Neurona de guardia #29

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and then misapplying the wrong remedies.

La Política es el arte de buscar un problema, encontrarlo, diagnosticarlo mal y entonces aplicar mal los remedios equivocados.

Groucho Marx

Cookie Monster

Cookie monster death metal singerEl Sábado pasado llegaron de los yunaites los Ortiz León, lo cual es emocionante porque ver a Davidcito con Juan es un show. Juegan bien, el par, y son de lo más escandaloso que hay. La novedad de David es que ahora le gusta el Cookie Monster, y a Juan siemrpe le ha gustado. Supongo que eso ha de impactar en sus psiques de alguna manera que ya descubriremos cuando crezcan. Hoy me dió risa una nota aleatoria que habla de que el estilo de “canto” de los grupos de Death Metal se conoce como “Cookie Monster Lyrics”. Casi puedo ver a este par de primos en un garage haciendo música extremadamente ruidosa y cantando “C is for Cookie” en tono de MEEEEEEROOOOOOOLLLLL

jejeje

La nota en [url=http://www.opinionjournal.com/la/?id=110007902 new=true]este link[/url]

 

— ACTUALIZACION 2012 —

En algun momento de 2010 este artículo dejó de estar en el URL dado. Por obra y gracia del wayback machine, helo aqui para los que tengan curiosidad.

That’s Good Enough for Me
Cookie Monsters of death-metal music.

BY JIM FUSILLI
Wednesday, February 1, 2006 12:01 a.m. EST

While the extreme branch of heavy-metal music known as death metal is defined in part by often-vile lyrics about violence, catastrophic destruction, nihilism, anarchy and paranoia, its singing style is associated with a beloved goggle-eyed, fuzzy blue puppet.

Death-metal vocalizing is also known as Cookie Monster singing, if not in tribute to, at least in acknowledgment of, the “Sesame Street” puppet that blurts in a guttural growl, his words discharged so rapidly that they tend to collide with each other.

All this was news to people at Sesame Workshop, the nonprofit organization behind “Sesame Street.” “We have nothing to do with it,” said Ellen Lewis, vice president of corporate communications. “What is it?”

“It’s a whole new thing to me,” said Frank Oz, who originated the voice of the Cookie Monster. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Most death-metal vocalists don’t seem to mind the term. “We think it’s funny,” said Angela Gussow, lead singer for the Swedish band Arch Enemy and one of the few female death-metal vocalists. “We take ourselves too seriously.”

The term is considered derogatory by some metal fans, but it’s an apt description. Issued like machine-gun fire, death-metal vocals are low, guttural and aggressive, with no subtlety, no melody and very little modulation. But unlike the garbled sound emanating from the lovable and occasionally frenetic Cookie Monster, death-metal vocals seem to come from a dark spot in a troubled soul, as if they were the narrator’s voice on a tour of Dante’s seventh circle of hell. Cute and funny they ain’t.

 

Cookie Monster Death Metal Singer

 

It’s not easy to determine where and how Cookie Monster singing actually began. Early death-metal bands such as Death and Morbid Angel that emerged from Florida in the mid-’80s helped create the musical template that characterized the blasting sound as well as that of its Satan- and occult-obsessed sibling, black metal: fast, relentless drumming often featuring two bass drums; grinding, rapid-fire chording on guitars; squealing guitar solos; muted electric bass; unexpected sudden tempo changes; and a sense of theatricality that’s inevitably threatening–“a horror film put to music” is how Monte Conner, a vice president at Roadrunner Records, sees it.

But while the vocals in early death metal are low, raspy and aggressive, not unlike the vocals by, say, Lemmy Kilmister of Motörhead, that extreme degree of Cookieness is missing.

To be a true Cookie Monster vocal, said Mr. Conner, who signed some of the subgenre’s biggest bands, including Sepultura and Fear Factory, “it’s got to be really, really guttural. It should sound like they’re gargling glass.”

Nic Bullen of Napalm Death can sound remarkably like the Cookie Monster; his performance on the band’s 1987 debut “Scum” (Earache)–which contains 28 songs, 11 of which are under one minute in length, including “You Suffer,” which clocks in at less than two seconds–is a virtual Cookie Monster tribute. Frank Mullen of Suffocation, whose 1991 album “Effigy of the Forgotten” (Roadrunner) is considered a model of death-metal music, sounds like an especially malevolent Cookie Monster.

The term also signifies a level of incomprehensibility of the lyrics, which in most cases is absolute. Given the subject matter, that’s probably for the best. Carcass, a band featuring vocalist Jeff Walker, sings in graphic detail of disembowelment and the mechanics of the autopsy. Bloody annihilation is another popular theme among the groups. For most death-metal bands, the gorier the better, and few gruesome details are spared.

“If you want to make music that’s terrifying, you have to sing about ripping people’s heads off,” Mr. Conner of Roadrunner Records told me. “Singing about puppies and kittens isn’t too cool.”

Death-metal singing takes a toll on vocalists, according to Ms. Gussow, who joined Arch Enemy in 2001. She says that despite the characteristic rock-salt-and-razors growl, the sound doesn’t originate in the throat. It gets pushed up from the abdomen.

“If you use the right abdomen muscles, you get a lot of power,” she says. “It’s a primal form of vocalizing, but it’s also a very controlled style of singing. You can get weak if you don’t have muscle power.”

She does vocal exercises to keep fit, some of which she learned from Melissa Cross, a New York-based voice teacher whose instructional DVD “The Zen of Screaming” is a favorite of extreme vocalists.

“We’re on tour, sometimes, for 2 1/2 months,” the German-born Ms. Gussow said. “I can’t miss even a day.”

Mr. Oz agrees that making Cookie Monster sounds is an arduous occupation. “I never trained for it and I blew my pipes out,” he told me. “It’s completely unnatural, an explosion of force that comes from the belly through the throat. I would do a day of it and my normal voice would be a half an octave lower.” (During our conversation, Mr. Oz demonstrated the Cookie Monster voice. The sudden force was startling and the volume so loud, I had to pull the phone from my ear.)

 

Cookie monster death metal singer

 

Alas, the Cookie Monster school of death metal is dying, says Mr. Conner. In the late ’80s, popular death-metal bands like Sepultura, Obituary and Deicide sold about 100,000 CDs, not a bad total for bands on the musical fringe. Today’s bands that play only old-school death metal are lucky to sell 15% to 20% of that figure. “I stopped signing death-metal bands in ’93 or ’94,” Mr. Conner told me. “The glory days have long ago passed.”

Part of the reason is a reaction to a natural instinct among pop musicians: a desire to expand the audience. Death-metal pioneers Entombed now leapfrog between the sound of their classic ’89 album “Left Hand Path” (Earache) and more traditional heavy metal. Fear Factory’s singer Burton C. Bell modified his Cookie Monster vocals that were prominent on the band’s early work in time for its ’99 release “Obsolete” (Roadrunner), which incorporates melodic or “clean” vocals, rap and metal singing without the Cookie Monster edge. The lyrics, clearly decipherable, tell the story of the war between man and machines. “Obsolete” sold more than 500,000 copies, significantly more than any of the band’s previous albums.

Led by 20-year-old vocalist Matthew K. Heafy, who counts Metallica and Pantera as major influences, Trivium also blends almost-Cookie Monster guttural singing with melodic vocals. The music of the Orlando, Fla.-based group echoes classic death metal, but has elements of other heavy-metal schools. Mr. Heafy says: “I can’t even do Cookie Monster vocals. It’s kind of a limited style. You can convey much more emotion with other types of singing.”

Mr. Fusilli, a novelist and critic, covers rock and pop music for the Journal.

Neurona de guardia #28

1) everything that’s already in the world when you’re born is just normal;

2) anything that gets invented between then and before you turn thirty is incredibly exciting and creative and with any luck you can make a career out of it;

3) anything that gets invented after you’re thirty is against the natural order of things and the beginning of the end of civilization as we know it until it’s been around for about ten years when it gradually turns out to be alright really.

Apply this list to movies, rock music, word processors and mobile phones to work out how old you are.

1) Todo lo que ya existía cuando uno nace es simplemente normal.

2)Todo lo que se inventa desde que uno nace hasta que cumple treinta años es increiblemente excitante y creativo y con algo de suerte hasta uno puede hacer carrera con ello.

3) Todo lo que se inventa después de que uno cumple treinta años es contrario al orden natural de las cosas y es el comienzo del fin de la civilización como la conocemos, hasta que han pasado unos 10 años desde su aparición y ha demostrado gradualmente que es algo bueno en realidad.

Aplicar esta lista a las películas, la música rock, los procesadores de palabras y los teléfonos móviles para descubrir que tan viejo eres en realidad

Douglas Adams en How to Stop Worrying and Learn to Love the Internet

Neurona de guardia # 27

Aquellos dispuestos a sacrificar su libertar a cambio de su seguridad, no merecen ninguna de las dos.

No sacrificar la libertad por la comodidad
Estudiantes de leyes protestan durante un discurso en el que el procurador general de los Estados Unidos defendía el “derecho” del gobierno a espiar a sus ciudadanos.

Tomado de este sitio

Como hacerse millonario (en dólares)

Hoy he visto una página cuyo concepto es casi increible
Logo de la página del millón

La premisa es la siguiente. Si creo una página web con 1,000,000 de pixeles, y vendo cada pixel por un dólar, voy a ganar 1,000,000 de dólares.

Es una variación de aquella regla económica que dice que para ganar un millón puedes vender un millón de cosas a precio de uno o una cosa a precio de un millón.

Pues Alex Tew, que es el nombre del que se le ocurrió la idea, está a 1000 pixeles de conseguirlo, es decir, ha vendido 999,000 dólares de publicidad.

El sitio, adecuadamente llamado The million dollar homepage es, como dicen los articulistas del Washington Post:

It looks like a bulletin board on designer steroids, an advertising train wreck you can’t not look at. Think “Where’s Waldo?,” only more cluttered and without a Waldo. It’s like getting every pop-up ad you ever got in your life, at once. It’s the Internet equivalent of suddenly feeling like you want to take a shower.

“Se ve como un tablero de anuncios que tomó esteroides de diseñador, un descarrilamiento de publicidad que repele tus miradas. Es un ‘¿donde está Waldo?’ solo que mucho más confuso y sin Waldo. Es como si miraras de un solo vistazo a todos los anuncios de pop-up y banners que has visto en tu vida. Es el equivalente en internet de sentir la repentina necesidad de irte a bañar.”
(liga al artículo del WP)

Los que compraron pixeles para sus anuncios tienen garantizado que su mensaje no se borrará en 5 años

Y bobeando, me encontré con cosas tan chistosas como que un amigo de este cuate apostó a que no podría vender 12,000 pixeles en los primeros 20 días… ¡y perdió la apuesta en menos de una semana!

Alex Tew tiene un blog aquí que reseña como va la cosa (por cierto, hoy es el día en que completa su millón. Que envidia.)

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