Tuesday
Oct252011
Live and Learn
507projex
Ill.Gates' latest album, The Ill.Methodology, is a testament to the collaborative intensity inherent to the artistic nature of The Phat Conductor. The 18-track experience, available now in the Ill.Gates store, includes co-productions with some of today's top producers, including Samples, OPIUO and Ana Sia, and as such knows no boundaries when it comes to genre and stylistic flavor. Rather than write up the standard "album review" familiar music critics and fans, 507 is going to try something a little different.
Some time ago, we wrote on our Facebook page:
Well, someone needed to reinvent the "album review" concept. After all, do people really need someone to tell them if music is good or not? Press play, feel what you feel. I don't care how many ways you can describe a bass line, enough is enough. Such words are circulatory, vacant and superficial. Give me something to work with, something artful, something inspired...!
Today, 507projex reinvents the album review. As I insinutated on Facebook, this convention is outdated, rather boring and is quite often a mouthpiece for artist management/PR trying to get "good press" for their latest release. Rather than waste my words (and your time) with a canned album review, here is a poem inspired by Live and Learn, one of the tracks off of Ill.Gates' latest effort. There are a few ways to experience this concept. One is to play the song (embedded below) and read the poem while it plays. Another is to listen first and read second. The best experience, I suppose, would be a live reading of the poem to a live performance of the song. Going forward, I envision more and more of our reviews emerging this way. Art spawns artistry and creativity fuels creation.
Live and Learn - Out Now on The ill.Methodology by ill.Gates
~ ~ ~
Live and Learn
A man wearing a fine hat, aged one day older than he looks,
boulders a cliff, eyes affixed to the crest above—
his stare magnetic, a corneal reversal of gravity.
Arms churning, windmill sails moving west, he scales.
Shortly ahead, on a far more exigent ascent,
huffs a boy wearing a fine hat, aged one day older than he looks.
Arms frail, adolescent muscles incomplete, he scales.
The man smiles as he passes the boy,
sweat collects on the boy’s brow, trickles
a burning moment into an eye.
The man’s hands clasp the ridge-top.
Before him, the sea sprawls a vast definition of horizon.
An aurorae of light from a carnival crowns the beachhead.
Sunset tricks dusk into thinking its begun,
the man wearing a fine hat enters the carnival,
floats passersby a polite nod.
At last, the fun house, a childhood favorite.
He passes through its gilded, spiral-encrusted tunnel,
hauntings of Greek thought,
to the hall of mirrors. He maneuvers the maze
like zero plus one.
The looking-glass labyrinth leads to a rotunda
armored with a phalanx of ornate doors,
which cast open
as the floor gives way.
He falls like Alice,
through a cloud,
achieves terminal velocity
and descends to the sea.
Below in a parachute,
is the boy wearing a fine hat,
aged precisely one day older than he looks.
The man smiles as he passes by,
thumbs up, splashes.
The boy releases the safety latch
secures his fine hat, and plunges, too.
- Glitchard Nesbot (@rtn)
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