“Fiery the Angels rose, and as they rose deep thunder roll’dAround their shores”–William Blake, “America: A Prophecy” I spent the summer of 1982, the entire summer, stuck in a small town in central Texas, forced there by my betters. I was meant to discover, as my predecessors had, that “I didn’t want to work for a…
Only In Detroit, v.2 New music has always been misunderstood and maligned, none more so than what is commonly known as ‘techno.’ I have a friend, whose opinion I generally respect, who pretends to find it so childish that he always says the word in the voice of a preteen dork. ‘Ooo, teck-noh,’ he says, an…
This is meant to be an informal set of notes, the felt impressions of an experience, not an assessment of the technical formalities artists follow or employ. It’s the impressions of a moment, the ‘moment’ we’re in when we experience art of any sort, be it a painting, or a symphony, etc. Only In Detroit, v.1.…