DJ Muzak: The catharsis of music we try to tune out
Summer of course, is the time of the outdoor music festival and any number of overblown and overpriced touring shows.
Last week, a blog post by a 22-year-old NPR intern kicked yet off another round in the debate on the ethics of paying for versus pirating music.
I had become mired in ambivalence about illegally downloading music and attending festivals, both of which I’ve done with trepidation in the past.
I wasn’t sure how to feel. I needed something to deliver me from my musical morass. And it was coming. I was soon to discover two acts that would shatter everything I thought I knew about music.
It all started a few weeks ago with the return of warm temperatures.
That’s when I discovered Ice Cream Truck, an avant garde DJ who parks his canary yellow rig right under my open window. Committed to his outsider art ethos, he played a private show just for me. That night I was treated to over a full hour of the same five seconds of “The Entertainer” diabolically looped until it bore a crater in my brain and filled it with the pale orange not quite sherbet substance in those pushup bars he pimps along with his relentless beats.
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