do not read this /disinformation/mission /manifesto / entropic reversion / the gruesome truth / revisionist history

DO NOT READ THIS

Representin' for the eastside out of the bohemian hoodlet of Silverlake CA, on the fringe of that vast sinkhole of media mayhem known as
Hollywood USA there exists a charismatic demigod named steve hopkins
and his madcap lounge known as Studio HH.
Vicariously thrill to the excitement as I forage for food in my natural habitat:
I have long prided myself on my strong autonomous, libertarian, individualistic, and anti-disestablishmentarianistic ethic.
However, after repeated requests from the United States Department of the Treasury to participate in a new currency program honoring Americans of outstanding accomplishment and achievment, I graciously consented to have my likeness embossed on the front of the soon-to-be-unveiled solid gold $500 coin.
Best viewed with vintage 3-d glasses (optional).
Some of the rejected versions were apparently a tad Wagnerian for the Feds, and were deemed inappropriate content by the US Mint.
Dig me here in my previous wildly successful career as a multi platinum international funk & roll megastar - before I became conservative and got a haircut.
If future demand becomes overwhelming I may feel compelled to add more compelling visual distractions for your viewing delight.

Or not.

DISINFORMATION

Music. Beats. Whatever.

We create moments of joy and exuberance, we vent fury and hostility, we compose melodies of simple beauty and baddassed beats of raw primal atavism.

We use a Digidesign Protools Mixplus system to record & mix on Macintosh computers - no, not the cool new ones - the bland older ones without DVD and cappuccino makers.

We also use P.C's, and beatboxes, along with whatever analog tape machine we manage to find that halfway works.

We have an irrational enthusiasm for playing actual musical instruments and are unafraid to stroke, tap, strum, bow, blow, rub, & finger aged wood, brass, ivory, and DuPont Mylar.

We create fresh, we compose anew, we bring the mountain to Mohammed, the stone tablets to Moses, and the nose ring to Buddha.

Basically we make music that does not suck.

Music. Beats. Whatever.

MISSION

hiphopkins.com has been around for eons and eons, our roots reaching back well into the last millennium
serving many masters but subjugated by none
morphing chameleonically
continuously
always anticipating the zeitgeist
ahead of the curve
living in this world but not of it
filtering and manipulating the ebb and flow of information in our modern mechanized society
mutating our collective recombinant DNA
flipping the paradox
converting the sample rate
bringing order to chaos and chaos to order
shredding speaker cones, pinning the needle to the red, putting the stylus to the vinyl, turning the amps up to 11
devising insidiously insinuating musical excursions
and hooking up the dopest phatt-assed beats imaginable.
Our website will educate you in how to better get with our transcendent visionary dialectic.

MANIFESTO

Exploring the newest grooves of the Information Age

A quarter-century after the microprocessor's invention, the world music scene is in the throes of an epochal transformation from the Analog Age to the Digital Age.

Unfortunately, your average knucklehead is still going about making & distributing music as if the lute and pennywhistle were the latest technological innovation and the Gregorian mode was still in ascendance.

Vinyl was dead until a new generation of youths came along and pointed out that CD audio quality does, in fact, suck. There are millions of new media audio studios out there and the tragic reality is that the vast majority of them suck too.

hiphopkins productions stand out from the vast, stinking morass of aural mediocrity by basically producing music that does not suck.

Hiphop, triphop, tekno, ambient, pop, future vintage - whatever. If the truth be told, we make it all look ridiculously easy.

We triangulate between the dark, the light, and the low end-boom.

Without music, life itself is a mistake.

ENTROPIC REVERSION

A mutant strain of chaos theory posits that any spontaneous interactive co-mingling involving an un-equal ratio of wild-eyed-lunatics,
street corner messiahs, warped minds, sick puppies, deranged pariahs, weirdoes, freaks, oddballs, outcasts, misfits, crackpots,
madmen, misguided youth, geniuses, virtuosi, singers, rappers, dj's, doe-eyed-innocents, skeptics, ingenues, machiavellians, waifs,
agents provocateurs, psychedelic delusions, irrational desires, musical instruments, microprocessors, analog circuitry, and
digital electronics will inevitably devolve into a suppurating, festering heap of shredded wires, smoking tubes, groaning micro machinery,
oscillating circuits, melted plastics, sputtering transistors, grinding metal, shuddering floorboards, random sparking, uncontrolled outbursts, sizzling synapses, fetid brain matter, raw vocal cords, high-fives all around, and half-empty take-out Chinese food container's.

This is a good thing.

This devolution is the curl of the wave down which hiphopkins is riding.

One foot in the gutter, one foot in the microprocessor.

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THE GRUESOME TRUTH

Check this out

This is the world wide web - meaning that I am really not required to hose anybody with a long tedious list of people I have met, observed, fantasized about, seen on television, worked with, worked for, or slept with.

I won't annoy you with tales of which U.S. Senator recommended me as possessing "the finest morals and character" (Teddy Kennedy)

I won't bore you with a sleep inducing recitation of my advanced degrees from Ivy League Colleges (Southern Illinois State - drop out).

I won't catalog the extensive listings of interns with which I was generously provided by ex president Clinton, (Thanks a million, Bill :>)

I won't infuriate you with a lengthy list of my off-duty accomplishments (climbing Mount Everest barefoot, running a 3 minute-mile, curing the common cold, discovering the antidote to stupidity, starting my own religion.) Does anybody really care about, or want to substantiate, the outrageous, blatantly bogus, & completely unverifiable fairy tales that people routinely put up on these sorts of web pages? You listen to my music - if you like it - cool. If you think it sucks, well, sorry Ð you may want to check out the fine original recording of Tiny Tim performing "Tiptoe Through the Tulips."

Steve Hopkins has worked as a producer/drummer/keyboardist/dj on various recordings by such notable famous & infamous people who you have surely heard of.

Steve has toured as a musician and/or musical director with various such notable famous & infamous performers of the stage and screen - surely you are aware of these people?

Steve has also composed/produced the music to various radio/television commercials for high-profile consumer products, many of which you must surely possess or at least have access to in your daily routine.

Steve has been duly noted by the paparazzi and the tabloid press as having dated and/or been caught in flagrante-delicto with various notable famous & infamous supermodels, actresses and starlets of the stage, printed page, and screen.

Steve has been observed shopping at the Pavilions market, Beverly Hills CA., adjacent.

Steve endorses Prada, Armani, Rolex, and Lamborghini

Steve winters in South Beach and summers in North Beach.

Steve says, "This is what we call a resume."

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REVISIONIST HISTORY

Name: Steve Hopkins
Email: : s@hiphopkins.com
Innocent?: Guilty as charged
Pre-destination: Guru, svengali, philosopher king
Real world: Composer, producer, studio owner
Sign: Indeterminate
Age: Timeless
Place of Origin: East Coast, North American continent
Education: US public schools & universities
Philosophy: Sartre kicks Bukowski's ass in English, followed by a round of absinthes at the Smog Cutter on Virgil ave. in LA
Dilemma: I think, therefore I am confused
Lifestyle: Theatre of the absurd
Watchword: Is this absolutely necessary?
Political affiliation: Libertarian
Likes: Insane people
Dislikes: Technology that is smarter than me.
More Dislikes: Unrepentant boneheadedness
Motivation: To justify my continued existence on the planet earth

Slight return: Once had a career playing the drums. Got tired of people assuming that he was a drooling, cretinous, ham-fisted, knuckleheaded half-wit who lived only to bash on things. Learned how to engineer recordings. Learned how to make music with computers. Discovered that he had a knack for composing and arranging music. Wrote some music for big corporations.

Got paid. Bought a bunch of gear and built studio.

Now sits around gear filled studio wondering why he doesn't still play the drums.