GET REAL
Who really cares if you use an analog 6 pole resonant band pass filter with a sweeping "q", a low-frequency-oscillator modulating a sample-&-hold waveform synchronised to midi clock pulse divided by a hemi-demi-semi-quaver, routed through a lag processor, patched though a transformer, side-chained through a modulation matrix, triggered by an amplitude envelope generator, then phased, flanged, chorused, harmonized, humanized, echoed, reverbed, delayed, doubled, distorted, ring modulated, gated, auto-tuned & merged with quantized white noise, amplified through a "military grade" Class_A solid-state pre amplifier, vintage vacuum tube limiter, automated morphing 12-band parametric EQ, while the algorithmic composer triggers the polyphonic arpeggiator to randomly loop 128th note quintuplets backwards chromatically in real time on the mixolydian scale while synchronized to the atomic clock at NASA? Who cares if you record 32 bit at a 192K-sample rate through Apogee IntelliDAC 192/16 analog-to-digital converters and with hermetically sealed Canari hand-rolled gold plated wiring? Or if you have a Telefunken large-capsule-condenser vacuum tube microphone from 1939 that requires a separate air conditioner, custom electronics, and a white-gloved lab technician to function properly? Who cares if you are listening on speakers with titanium tweeters, platinum woofers, enriched uranium mid-range, and a variable Kryptonite active crossover with a published frequency response extending well beyond what even a youthful dog can hear? Who cares if you record on a classic Neve and mix on a 256 input SSL J-series in a luxurious Frank Gehry designed studio complex with a supermodel at the reception desk, a fleet of Lamborghini's in the secured valet parking lot, helicopter landing pad, Venetian marble floors, mosaic tile jacuzzis, private badminton court, regulation polo field, Olympic sized swimming pool, Eames lounge chairs, Waterford crystal chandeliers, on-site Swedish masseuses, tea boys from Armani, cigarette girls from the Playboy mansion, and both black and white Beluga caviar in the professionally staffed kitchen with liveried wait-staff in top hat and tails?
Do you really care? I sure don't.
Well, evidently there are some people
who do really care about this stuff. To them I can only say this:
"Follow
your bliss."
Please don't misunderstand me EI enjoy a nice professional massage after a vigorous afternoon on the polo ponies - as long as somebody else is paying for it.
In the meantime,
we think
that there is a better way. Easier, more fun, less pretentious, faster and cheaper.
We get lunch at Eatwell in Silverlake. Less than 10 bucks will get ya stuffed
while you listen to the finest punk rock tunes on the jukebox.
Loud.