Patrick Nicholas
Heather Chaplin
Feature Draft 1
December 13th,2010
Rest in peace—Totes signature auto open crook handle stick umbrella, you were so good to me. Your tomb on the corner of 18th and park will always have a special place in my heart. At thirty-five dollars my Totes signature auto open crook handle stick umbrella was by far the most expensive umbrella I have ever purchased. Its year and a half lifespan was the longest time I have ever owned a single umbrella. After its passing two weeks ago I have gone through a total of three street vender umbrellas, making me wonder what has happened to the good umbrella?
The absence of the good umbrella seems to be a problem that has been plaguing New York City for several years now.
Teresa Ghilarducci, an Economics professor at The New School and chair in economic policy analysis at The Schwartz Center for Economic Policy connected the emerging umbrella phenomenon with recent manufacturing trends within major United State companies.
She Focused on China and its roll as an emerging economic powerhouse. Because of cheap product labor and relatively low shipping costs, goods coming from over seas are significantly less expensive then those made in the United States.
As the heavens opened up on me yesterday afternoon I conveniently left behind my umbrella at my apartment. A novice mistake, but one I have made a tradition of doing as of late. I found refuge at the Paj Punjab deli on the corner of 3rd street and 2nd avenue. After situating myself with a medium coffee I began browsing the umbrella section. This was finally my opportunity to see where exactly the repugnant umbrellas I have made a habit of getting come from. Low and behold each and every umbrella was made outside of the United States, most were manufactured in either China or Taiwan, confirming that these repugnant umbrellas were often always made over seas. As I exited the store with my newly purchased coffee and umbrella I attempted to open my umbrella, only to realize its button was broken.
“About a month ago I almost physically assaulted a street umbrella salesmen,” said Dan Zolot, an East Village resident, “ after paying $10 for what I thought was a decent umbrella AND it broke almost instantly. I attempted to get a refund but ended up having to purchase another umbrella.” Dan’s frustration only grew as he told me the story, comparing the umbrella he purchased to Swiss cheese.
The weather patterns of New York City seem to only enhance the repugnant umbrella epidemic. The Geography of the city characterizes it as a harbor town as the Hudson River and Long Island Sound flow together creating a tidal estuary. This means that coastal storms are more likely to affect the city because of its proximity to major bodies of water. According to the national weather service the city receives roughly 50 inches of rain every year.
Patricia Moore has been a life long New Yorker. Surviving even the worst of weather conditions in the city from the 1999s hurricane Floyd to 2004s hurricane Francis that brought 7 inches of rain and 6 million dollars worth of damage to the city and long island.
“ It’s not that the weather has gotten worse over the past decades. That has all stayed the same. As a New Yorker you learn pretty quickly that there are some essentials you need to be able to survive the every day elements of the city, an umbrella and a pair of boots are at the top of that list.”
New York City’s weather conditions seem to create the perfect habitat for such an epidemic. As the repugnant umbrella plague begins to grasp every aspect of its culture its members begin to react.
A New York spirituality blog titled “ A Seeking Heart” recently posted about their problems with umbrellas.
“The bane of my existence in NYC is umbrellas. Cheap umbrellas. The kind you buy for $5 on the side of the street because you don't want to spend any of your disposable income (what little I have) on a nice one. No fail, about 4 blocks into buying the umbrella one of three things happen: (1) a gust of wind flips the umbrella inside out; (2) one of the spokes of the umbrella rips through the cheap plastic and creates a dagger-like knife which sticks out, and leads you to become obsessed with monitoring it for fear it will puncture a young child on its mother's breast as you walk by; or (3) your umbrella hits another umbrella and you blame the collision on the other person and decide that you hate people.”
From spirituality seekers to comedians, it is no wonder why so many New Yorkers hate rainy days.
Jon Friedman host of Comedy Centrals “The Rejection Show” and editor and producer of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, recently tweeted, “ With all the money I've spent on shitty umbrellas, I could've bought the golden miracle umbrella by now. “
A major contributing factor to the current umbrella epidemic could be that New Yorkers just don’t want to spend money on an umbrella.
“A cheap umbrella available on every street corner is not a good, it is a service.” Said Teresa Ghilarducci, “When buying a cheap umbrella you aren't purchasing an umbrella you are purchasing shelter from the rain just when you need it. “
I have gone through nearly as many umbrellas as there are rainy days in this city. My Totes signature auto open crook handle stick umbrella was the first time I ever spent more then $10 on such a thing, the fact that I didn’t loose it in a week or so really amazes me but perhaps there is some type of correlation between its price and its life span.
“ An umbrella has never seen the inside of my apartment,” said Dan Zolot. “If I’m not carrying 10 bucks on a rainy day then there is no way I am staying dry. To me an umbrella is as temporary as training wheels, I’m not spending money on something I know I’m either going to loose or break.”
So what is next? I am in no position to sit here and preach to you about the possible benefits one may have if one were to purchase an umbrella such as the Totes signature auto open crook handle stick umbrella. It does seem though that by spending upwards of $30 on such an item could significantly reduce headaches and stress commonly associated with the standard repugnant street umbrella. That though is a decision I cannot make for you.
Yesterday was the two-week anniversary on my Totes signature auto open crook handle stick umbrellas passing. As I made my way to 18th and Park wearing all black with flowers in hand I began to shed tears. It had rained the day before and streets were lined with deceased umbrellas—it was horrifying. Once I reached my umbrellas tomb I held a moment of silence and as the buglers finished playing taps I quietly turned and walked away.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Reading Journal - Features
Larissa MacFarquhar does a good job of characterizing Melissa Stephens, one of her sources that volunteered her kidney but was disappointed by the lack of gratitude she received. MacFarquhar first shows Stephens’s personality by quoting her MySpace page, which portrays her as simple, good-natured, and kind to a fault. Although her MySpace quotations have little to do with kidney transplants, this technique is much more effective than simply describing Stephens for the reader.
In David Dobb’s “The Orchid Children,” he successfully uses the first person by describing first his own apprehension to find out his own genetic makeup. This self-referential technique is done well because it addresses the own insecurities and apprehension that his readers must feel when reading article; it’s hard to read an article telling you the effect that genetics can have on your moods, performance, and outlook on life without actually thinking of your own. Thus, the reader empathizes when following David’s own submission of his genes for assaying. In Evan Ratliff’s “Vanish,” his use of the first person is not only well executed, but I think it’s one of the main factors that first sucks the reader in. While I think most people would be interested to read about someone’s experience on “the lam,” this story is really captivating through the first person -- as if we see exectly what Ratliff sees and know exactly what he knows about how to hide his trail. I think these are two fantastic examples of when the first person works: when it allows the writer to make a connection with the reader and what must be going through his or her own thoughts or when it allows the reader to see the story through the eyes of the writer making the scenario more lively and in realtime as it does in “Vanish.”
“This Is Your Brain on Football” follows forensic coroner, Omalu, to address the central theme of late Mike Webster’s chronic head injuries. It uses high levels of characterization of Omalu as an enthusiastic and rookie neurosurgery specialist and even personifies the brain as an organ that is intricate and incredibly needy. In contrast, “Failing Our Athletes” has a much more straightforward writing style and not so much anecdotal techniques to entice the reader.
Dobbs also really helps to make genetics more understandable for the reader by using more colloquial language opposed to the scientific terms. When he does use scientific terms, however, he gives a concise and intuitive definition so that the reader can quickly understand and retain the meaning of the term throughout the article. An example of this is how he refers to the new genetic theory that his article is about as the “orchid hypothesis” -- a term that he admits he completely makes up but that also holds thematic and intuitively understandable elements for readers.
“Vanish” is an incredibly enjoyable read because Ratliff lets the reader get as into it as he is. As mentioned before, his use of the first person is really captivating, and all of his detailed, extensive efforts to keep his identity hidden really kept me rooting for him. I also felt his paranoia when the helicopter seemed to follow him when he was jogging on Venice Beach. Thus, Ratliff is really able to connect to the reader and allow them to see life on the lam through his eyes.
The structure of “The Kindest Cut” begings with the anecdote of organ donor, Paul Wagner, in order to address its central theme. Following this anecdote, MacFarquhar then pulls out, directly asks the reader for their opinions on Wagner’s actions and anonymous organ donorship, and gives us some background information on kidney donors in general. She then introduces us to the history of matchingdonors.com and then subsequently gives the reader more data and facts about donorship but in an easily readable way. Thus, she alternates her anecdotal sections with highly informative parts of the article that reinforce the reader’s understanding of each.
Miles McDonald Food Grades
Its looks like the food industry of New York City is going back to elementary school- and its time for report cards.
“We are all biting our nails”, said Greer, “anything can lead to points being deducted. We have had to be extra careful around here. Anything other than an ‘A’ can really hurt business.”
Within the inspection, establishments can be deducted for things such as leaky faucets busted light bulbs, and towels missing from bathrooms.
“No packaged food can be left on the floor”, said Michael Slater, server at the Half King, “it has to be left in government approved crate. The managers have been getting pretty crazy around here.”
Health department associate commissioner Elliott Marcus claims the department hopes to change the criteria for inspection. Pertaining to wet faucets, he says they “make it so that when you close up at night, mice know exactly where to go for a drink.”
The inspections are rated as followed: 0-13 deductions will yield an A, 14-27 a B, and over 28 a C. Restaurants that score below an ‘A’ are permitted to display an ‘Grade Pending’ on their window until second inspection following 30 days.
Or in the case of Ming’s Chinese Take out on 9th Avenue, you can simply self-evaluate. Although scoring low enough marks to receive a ‘C’ grade in 2009 (this was before the grading system was enacted), the restaurant had an “A” vibrantly displayed behind the counter. City commissioners have heard several complaints of forged letter grades, and claim making an effort to prevent these frauds. For starters, they began printing the reports on thick card stock instead of paper, and used a raised seal on the corners, and are complete with serial numbers specific to the establishment and the person who conducted the inspection. However, restaurants found guilty of posting fake grades can receive fines up to $1000.
A little skeptical of a restaurants displayed grade? Information pertaining to all inspected establishments is available online at the New York Department of Health and Mental Hygiene’s website. You can search for a specific business, or simply type in your area code to find grades for your local neighborhood.
“Personally, I have never seen a ‘C’”, said Alicia Samson, Lower East Side resident. “But I certainly wouldn’t eat at one. Its not safe.”
For eateries that missed the mark, the Department of health offers affordable classes on food safety and sanitation practices, available in several languages, on-site or online.
However, The New York Restaurant Association is not pleased with the recent measures. Already struggling with a bad economy, members believe that the grades are will further damage business.
“Once you’re safe enough to be open, we don’t get what they’re trying to say between an A, B, and a C,” said Rob Bookman, the association’s lawyer.
Restaurants that score a ‘B’ or ‘C’ score do not pose an immediate health risk. The Department of Health closes establishments with hazardous health risks immediately. These new inspections operate on a new level of sanitation, one that is more focused on prevention and the highest level of cleanliness. They are far more thorough than inspections preformed in previous years.
An estimated 11,000 people in New York are hospitalized from food-borne illness every year while dining out. With these inspections, the department hopes to lower these numbers significantly. In Los Angeles, there has been a huge increase in restaurants receiving an ‘A’ grade- 40 percent to 80 percent since the system began in the late 90’s. The introduction of the ABC grading system in Los Angeles County significantly improved the sanitary conditions within local eateries. Also, LA health officials say that incidents of food-borne illness have declined significantly since the system was enacted.
The new regime has managed to seep behind the bar as well. Aside from dirty glasses, few people would find sanitary violations behind the mahogany. However, Jamie Reynolds, a bartender in the Lower East Side says that her establishment has gone through extreme measures to withhold the sanitary standards.
“The bartenders now have to garnish the drinks with individual tongs”, she said. “Sometimes, we used to use expired orange juice for mixed drinks, but now we need to go through every single thing in the bar every two days to make sure it’s fresh. Any minor slip up is a possible citation, we need to be really careful.”
Although those in the service industry are woeful, the public appears to be embracing the system. According to a survey released by ZAGAT, 83 percent of participants stated that they were in favor of the grades.
“This is really important”, said Danielle Zaslovsky, Midtown resident. “As a healthy person and a healthy eater, I need to know how clean my food is.”
Currently, about 30 percent of the city's restaurants would qualify for A grades, 40 percent would get a B and 26 percent would earn a C. Consumers can expect that a greater number of restaurants will receive A’s and B’s once the grading program goes into effect.
Things are changing within the coined “Restaurant Capital of the World”, and they don’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon. However, many consumers feel confused rather than helped, and believe the new inspection grading is unnecessary and overcritical.
“I’m not going to eating at my favorite joint because it got a ‘C’”, said Angelina Bagger, East Village resident. “If it doesn’t make me sick, then it’s probably fine. Everyone is so paranoid these days.”
Feature Draft 2
The crowd of people are pushing me in every direction as if I were in the ocean and caught in a heavy tide where I have lost all control, only to remind myself that I’m ok when my two feet occasionally fall flat on the floor. Sweat is flying from every direction but our fatigued bodies are a small price to pay for the exhilaration achieved by moving to a beat that is so loud, each and every person becomes a vessel of the sound from the speakers. Movement is hectic yet fluid as there are thousands of people and only one beat. It is like the strangers around me and I have molded into an army, and we’re all facing the same direction as if celebrating a God.
At this concert there is one God: the man behind the DJ Booth The controller of our movement and the only person in the entire venue who is separate from our collective whirlpool.
Henry Steinway starts his day of work well after the rest of the working world has fallen sleep. He uses his day to hang out with his posse or watch basketball when he’s not in class. At night, he leaves his social life behind to do his job, a job that he says is the loneliest of them all.
Steinway is a Lakers fanatic, an NYU full time student, and one of the most successful young DJs in the game. Three years ago at 16-years-old, Henry attended an introductory Disk Jockey course with his friends, the day he claims is the day he was “born.” Since his “birth,” Henry has been mixing music continuously until he made a name for himself in the internet’s music industry world under the stage name, “Clockwork.” His success doesn’t stop at himself, as his friends created a management company solely for the purpose to represent their talented friend. Henry’s skills on the turntables are beneficial to every one around him, especially his listeners.
Only three years ago when he made his first mix, he felt like he was doing something independent from what his peers were into. Today, he is frustrated with the youth’s misconception that anyone can be a D.J.
I share this frustration with him. Pretty much every person I met in the past year is trying to be the man behind the booth. Everybody wants to be a DJ.
In 2010 alone I had some surreal experiences regarding people telling me they are in the process of “becoming” DJs:
My confusion began when my old friend sent me a link to the mixes he made, a guy that I never knew was interested in music. My friends 15 year old brother became the DJ of choice for all his friends events, and what shook me up most was when my mother’s assistant handed me a flyer that invited me to his upcoming gig, informing me that his alter ego was in fact, “TallySwagBeatz.”
The number of bands, stand up acts, and other traditional hobbies seem to be disappearing as the technological age proves that it can influence every part of our world. Including music.
The song that got Henry recognition as the DJ “Clockwork,” was a mash-up of two popular songs. Mash-ups are remixes of at least two or more songs to create a whole different feel. His style is reflective of one of the most popular remix DJs of our youth today, “GirlTalk,” who creates elaborate and eclectic remixes of current pop sounds and anthems, creating a new musical discourse which reflects, winks, ironizes and mocks, while still standing firmly on its own.
According to the Guiness Book of World Records, the youngest DJ known today is 8 years old. “DJ Jack Hill” did not pick up a guitar at age 4, he learned how to turn knobs and morph an ear for heavy musical drops and theatrical head-bobs. Hill spun at a local gig where a fellow DJ discovered him, and he now holds his own radio show on Star Radio. In an Interview with Radio2020, Hill responded to George Williams question as to what his favorite thin about being a DJ was by saying, “It’s fun! I like to practice mixing and when I play gigs, I get money.”
You can either make a lot of money making music, or you can do it as a hobby. Perhaps an appeal to all these independent DJs.
Chris Giuliano has been making music in his dorm room in his free time. He has no ambition to become a heavyweight DJ, but he says he enjoys the reactions his friends have when they hear his beats. “There’s nothing better than watching your friends dance to something that you’ve personally made,” he told me.
Giuliano does not play any instruments. He expresses himself through the use of other people’s original creations, but making them his own. Chris tells me that he and almost all of his friends create beats and play them for each other. They post them online and try to play gigs for easy money, and it doesn’t hurt that DJs get recognition from their listeners, “DJs get girls,” Chris tells me with a laugh.
Henry and Chris are spinning in college, and Jack is in elementary school. Our youth is constantly surrounded around technology and their exposure is starting to branch toward the DJ field. Why would kids take the time to learn how to play guitar when they can use every pre-recorded instrument in the world to create a more dynamic tune?
Equipment for remixing has become more and more accessible throughout the years. Before the introduction of mixing through computer programs, people had to physically use the vinyl records to mix the tunes, as well as buy and carry heavy equipment. Most DJs still use those materials today, but there is now the option to have decent materials for free. Accessibility has made it so that anyone can claim to be a professional.
Henry and his managers place his songs on popular music upload sites that specialize in independent artists who want to share their original tracks such as SoundCloud and Hypem. Through these sites, bloggers repost them, music sites list them as popular, and the rest is history. SoundCloud is one of the top free sites open to virtually any human being with connection to the Internet who wants to place their song online. It is connected to social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter so you can advertise your mixes to your friends. There is currently an estimate of 16,964,000 page views on SoundCloud per day.
DJ Clockwork tells me that people’s belief that DJing will make them popular is a double-sided draw.
“Yes, people will recognize you, they will know your name and they will scream it. But when you’re working at a gig you’re inside a box literally watching hundreds if not thousands of people have fun amongst each other. And you’re alone. And the love they have for you is present, but so unreachable.”
“Today, remix (the activity of taking samples from pre-existing materials to combine them into new forms according to personal taste) has been extended to other areas of culture, including the visual arts; it plays a vital role in mass communication, especially on the Internet,” said Eduardo Navas, the founder of RemixTheory.net
Even small DJs like Chris Giuliano play a part in this mass communication trend because their songs are placed on cyberspace therefore accessible globally. More popular disk jockeys such as Armin van Buuren play a more noticeable role in remix culture. In 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010 he was voted number one in DJ Magazine’s annual top 100 list of the most popular DJs. In November of 2010, his popularity as a DJ was cemented when a video game for Nintendo was released, entitled “In the Mix featuring Armin van Buuren.” Before van Buuren’s interest in music became a career, he was studying for a law degree in college. Van Buuren is 36, so he is not a part of the digital generation. If van Buuren were born fifteen years earlier, he would likely have taken the path of Henry and studied mixing music in college.
Henry is sitting on his couch, using the time he has to chew his last bite of pizza to think over my question for him, “is DJing a talent or can any one on the planet become a DJ?”
This question has taken Henry aback. I can see that his alter-ego, “Clockwork,” wants to tell me that it is an innate genius, that what he does cannot be mass-produced through any other medium than himself.
He looks up and tells me, “I guess it is true any one can learn the technique of sound and the use of tables. But it takes dedication, patience, and creativity to really become comfortable enough to create your own sound and understand what people want to hear.”
“What people want to hear,” is a key aspect of the DJ craft. The mass appeal to this recreation must have something to do with the fact that the art of remixing allows the DJ to use multiple sounds, tempos, and even songs that can re-introduce history to listeners within one song. During what could be called an attention deficit age, a 3-minute song with the same singer and same story has gone from being the standard to merely a genre of music. We want 5 songs within one, and the DJ feels as though the songs that they choose describe themselves, thus wanting to receive attention.
Jacques Attali wrote in his book Noise: The Political Economy of Music that, “we are all condemned to silence—unless we create our own relation with the world and try to tie other people into the meaning we thus create.” People want to share their creations to gain connectivity, to feel something from others. Although the outcome could in some aspects be a disappointment, self-satisfaction and praise amongst peers is enough to want to make me want to open up my laptop and mix my favorite songs from the past ten years together into one perfect remix.
At this concert there is one God: the man behind the DJ Booth The controller of our movement and the only person in the entire venue who is separate from our collective whirlpool.
Henry Steinway starts his day of work well after the rest of the working world has fallen sleep. He uses his day to hang out with his posse or watch basketball when he’s not in class. At night, he leaves his social life behind to do his job, a job that he says is the loneliest of them all.
Steinway is a Lakers fanatic, an NYU full time student, and one of the most successful young DJs in the game. Three years ago at 16-years-old, Henry attended an introductory Disk Jockey course with his friends, the day he claims is the day he was “born.” Since his “birth,” Henry has been mixing music continuously until he made a name for himself in the internet’s music industry world under the stage name, “Clockwork.” His success doesn’t stop at himself, as his friends created a management company solely for the purpose to represent their talented friend. Henry’s skills on the turntables are beneficial to every one around him, especially his listeners.
Only three years ago when he made his first mix, he felt like he was doing something independent from what his peers were into. Today, he is frustrated with the youth’s misconception that anyone can be a D.J.
I share this frustration with him. Pretty much every person I met in the past year is trying to be the man behind the booth. Everybody wants to be a DJ.
In 2010 alone I had some surreal experiences regarding people telling me they are in the process of “becoming” DJs:
My confusion began when my old friend sent me a link to the mixes he made, a guy that I never knew was interested in music. My friends 15 year old brother became the DJ of choice for all his friends events, and what shook me up most was when my mother’s assistant handed me a flyer that invited me to his upcoming gig, informing me that his alter ego was in fact, “TallySwagBeatz.”
The number of bands, stand up acts, and other traditional hobbies seem to be disappearing as the technological age proves that it can influence every part of our world. Including music.
The song that got Henry recognition as the DJ “Clockwork,” was a mash-up of two popular songs. Mash-ups are remixes of at least two or more songs to create a whole different feel. His style is reflective of one of the most popular remix DJs of our youth today, “GirlTalk,” who creates elaborate and eclectic remixes of current pop sounds and anthems, creating a new musical discourse which reflects, winks, ironizes and mocks, while still standing firmly on its own.
According to the Guiness Book of World Records, the youngest DJ known today is 8 years old. “DJ Jack Hill” did not pick up a guitar at age 4, he learned how to turn knobs and morph an ear for heavy musical drops and theatrical head-bobs. Hill spun at a local gig where a fellow DJ discovered him, and he now holds his own radio show on Star Radio. In an Interview with Radio2020, Hill responded to George Williams question as to what his favorite thin about being a DJ was by saying, “It’s fun! I like to practice mixing and when I play gigs, I get money.”
You can either make a lot of money making music, or you can do it as a hobby. Perhaps an appeal to all these independent DJs.
Chris Giuliano has been making music in his dorm room in his free time. He has no ambition to become a heavyweight DJ, but he says he enjoys the reactions his friends have when they hear his beats. “There’s nothing better than watching your friends dance to something that you’ve personally made,” he told me.
Giuliano does not play any instruments. He expresses himself through the use of other people’s original creations, but making them his own. Chris tells me that he and almost all of his friends create beats and play them for each other. They post them online and try to play gigs for easy money, and it doesn’t hurt that DJs get recognition from their listeners, “DJs get girls,” Chris tells me with a laugh.
Henry and Chris are spinning in college, and Jack is in elementary school. Our youth is constantly surrounded around technology and their exposure is starting to branch toward the DJ field. Why would kids take the time to learn how to play guitar when they can use every pre-recorded instrument in the world to create a more dynamic tune?
Equipment for remixing has become more and more accessible throughout the years. Before the introduction of mixing through computer programs, people had to physically use the vinyl records to mix the tunes, as well as buy and carry heavy equipment. Most DJs still use those materials today, but there is now the option to have decent materials for free. Accessibility has made it so that anyone can claim to be a professional.
Henry and his managers place his songs on popular music upload sites that specialize in independent artists who want to share their original tracks such as SoundCloud and Hypem. Through these sites, bloggers repost them, music sites list them as popular, and the rest is history. SoundCloud is one of the top free sites open to virtually any human being with connection to the Internet who wants to place their song online. It is connected to social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter so you can advertise your mixes to your friends. There is currently an estimate of 16,964,000 page views on SoundCloud per day.
DJ Clockwork tells me that people’s belief that DJing will make them popular is a double-sided draw.
“Yes, people will recognize you, they will know your name and they will scream it. But when you’re working at a gig you’re inside a box literally watching hundreds if not thousands of people have fun amongst each other. And you’re alone. And the love they have for you is present, but so unreachable.”
“Today, remix (the activity of taking samples from pre-existing materials to combine them into new forms according to personal taste) has been extended to other areas of culture, including the visual arts; it plays a vital role in mass communication, especially on the Internet,” said Eduardo Navas, the founder of RemixTheory.net
Even small DJs like Chris Giuliano play a part in this mass communication trend because their songs are placed on cyberspace therefore accessible globally. More popular disk jockeys such as Armin van Buuren play a more noticeable role in remix culture. In 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010 he was voted number one in DJ Magazine’s annual top 100 list of the most popular DJs. In November of 2010, his popularity as a DJ was cemented when a video game for Nintendo was released, entitled “In the Mix featuring Armin van Buuren.” Before van Buuren’s interest in music became a career, he was studying for a law degree in college. Van Buuren is 36, so he is not a part of the digital generation. If van Buuren were born fifteen years earlier, he would likely have taken the path of Henry and studied mixing music in college.
Henry is sitting on his couch, using the time he has to chew his last bite of pizza to think over my question for him, “is DJing a talent or can any one on the planet become a DJ?”
This question has taken Henry aback. I can see that his alter-ego, “Clockwork,” wants to tell me that it is an innate genius, that what he does cannot be mass-produced through any other medium than himself.
He looks up and tells me, “I guess it is true any one can learn the technique of sound and the use of tables. But it takes dedication, patience, and creativity to really become comfortable enough to create your own sound and understand what people want to hear.”
“What people want to hear,” is a key aspect of the DJ craft. The mass appeal to this recreation must have something to do with the fact that the art of remixing allows the DJ to use multiple sounds, tempos, and even songs that can re-introduce history to listeners within one song. During what could be called an attention deficit age, a 3-minute song with the same singer and same story has gone from being the standard to merely a genre of music. We want 5 songs within one, and the DJ feels as though the songs that they choose describe themselves, thus wanting to receive attention.
Jacques Attali wrote in his book Noise: The Political Economy of Music that, “we are all condemned to silence—unless we create our own relation with the world and try to tie other people into the meaning we thus create.” People want to share their creations to gain connectivity, to feel something from others. Although the outcome could in some aspects be a disappointment, self-satisfaction and praise amongst peers is enough to want to make me want to open up my laptop and mix my favorite songs from the past ten years together into one perfect remix.
Monday, December 13, 2010
feature
The F Train
On December 20 the F train will turn 70. Service on the F train officially began in 1940, running from 129th Street, Jamaica, Queens to Coney Island in Brooklyn. The F train is an express train that runs on the IND Sixth Avenue Line through Manhattan. Ranking 16th place of the 21 subway lines (rated by the Straphangers Campaign) the F train helps get thousands of people to their destinations each day.
The subway is a strange place. Although in New York City one is never alone, the train is the one place that people can enjoy and somewhat have time to their self. I ride the F train almost every day. Although I live in Manhattan, my sister, friends, and work are all stops off the F. Taking me from my front door to theirs I spend more time on the F than any other train. Personally, I find the train to be therapeutic. It is the 20-30 minutes each day where I can read, listen to music, or just observe other people without being disturbed.
Due to my F train diligence I began to observe the people that I saw on a daily basis. On my way to Brooklyn I always ride on the last car, when I return home I’m always on the first. Day after day I began to see the same people. At first we would exchange glances of recognition, then it transitioned into a slight smile, and now we smile as if we have known each other for years. I have seen all kinds of things while riding the subway. From people wearing stilts and body paint dressed as avatars, to break dancers, mariachi bands, face painted babies, face painted adults without babies, and elderly couples dressed in nice clothing arguing about where the doctor’s office is. I have seen just about every book there is from Helter Skelter to Ana Karenina to Dr. Seuss. People from all over New York packed inside a tiny subway car traveling through tunnels as fast as it can go.
On Tuesday afternoon I waited on the West 4th street platform. It was around 4:40pm, a time I have found that is considerably less crowded than 5:00pm. As I waited for the train a little boy, I guessed around 10 or so walked down the stairs with his scooter, backpack, math book, and iPod, out of breath from running. With light brown hair in the same style as Justin Beiber and glasses like Harry Potter, he collapsed on the bench next to me. Soon after he caught his breath the train came roaring through and the breaks screeched to a halt. I looked up from my book and began to approach the doors when I realized the little boy was having trouble gathering all of his things. So I quickly grabbed his scooter and helped him. He looked shocked, scared, and a little uncomfortable.
When we got into the car there were 4 open seats to the right of the door so I sat down and he followed. “Thank you,” he muttered very quietly. “You’re welcome”, I said back with a smile. He got out what I assumed to be some sort of Apple product and started to play a game involving guns and grenades, and quietly asked me what my name was. I didn’t hear him because I was reading and listening to music so he tapped me on the leg. I took out one of my headphones, and he asked again.
“What’s your name?”
“Anna, what’s yours?”
“Randall,” he said while an explosion went off on his game.
“It’s nice to meet you Randall.”
It was not long until it was my stop; Bergen Street. I said bye to him and got off. I walked to work and got back on the train around 10:10pm. This time the train was much more crowded. I was pushed into the corner by the door and squished behind two men wearing leather vests with braids down their backs and bandanas on. They smelled like a mixture of Axe and whiskey so I decided not to ask them to move so I could get out my book. They got off at 2 Avenue and I was able to breathe again.
Wednesday afternoon I got on the train at a different stop than normal; 14th street. It was around 5:15pm and there was one open seat, I took it. When it got to West 4th I saw Randall with all of his things. This time his math book, I assume, was in his backpack. I thought that he would not remember me or that I would seem very creepy if I said hi to him so I kept on with my conversation.
“Hi Anna,” he said as he moved his backpack with his feet in front of where I was sitting.
“Hi Randall how are you?” I asked.
“I’m good, almost beat my high score,” he said barely looking up from his video game.
His game ran out of battery so he decided it would be the perfect time to talk to me. He told me about himself. How he lives in Park Slope but he goes to school in the West Village because his mom works in the area. I asked him why she didn’t take the train with him and he explained that it was because she got off work at 5:00pm and then had to get his little sister, Violet, from day care and he didn’t like to wait that long before going home. He told me that his favorite part about the train ride is between East Broadway and York Street because his ears pop when we go through the tunnel to Brooklyn. He asked me how old I was and told me that he just turned 12 on Thanksgiving. His favorite sport is baseball and his favorite team is the San Francisco Giants, even though he should be rooting for the Yankees.
At this point the train was held up due to another train at the next station. We were stopped for longer than normal, probably around 4 or 5 minutes.
Randall and I talked about Tim Lincecum, the pitcher for the Giants. We talked about his hair, his hats, and of course his stats. I obviously knew more about his clothing choices and personal life than his statistics but I played along and let Randall explain why he likes Lincecum way more than the Yankees A.J. Burnett. I agreed.
The train got to my stop and we said goodbye.
After work I got back on the train around 9:30pm. Once again it was very crowded. I stood by the door and read my book periodically glancing up to see who was getting on and off and if there were any seats available. There weren’t. Most of the people on the train were reading or listening to music. At Delancy Street a guy got wearing a huge dark brown puffy jacket, really baggy pants and a bright yellow beanie. My music was soft enough that I could hear him as he started to rap.
“Boom boom hit the bitch, give it to her nice and good she won’t be a snitch.”
I tried to think of what rapper sang that song. I had no idea.
“Tie her up on the kitchen floor, tell her about yo’ gat and that she a dumb bitch and a whore.”
I was still unaware of who sang this song and at this point I was disturbed. I had to pass him before I got off at my stop and as I was exiting he said, “Ey babygurl, like what you heard? Buy a CD.” I couldn’t help it and started to laugh as did a few of the other people who got off at the same time as me.
On Thursday I luckily didn’t have to work so it was also my day off from the F train.
On Friday I got on the train around 8:45am but only took it to 2 Avenue. The morning crowd is much different from the afternoon and night crowds. Everyone is drinking coffee, reading newspapers, and some even eat their breakfast (this I find repulsive.) On Fridays, since I work from9am-2pm, I walk home instead of taking the train. I went to my sisters so I got back on the F train around 4:45pm.
The train only had one seat open so I let a woman who might have been pregnant take it and I once again went to my usual corner of the train by the door. The car was more crowded than normal. I noticed some of the same people that I see almost every day. There is a tall man with dark hair and perfect bone structure who looks just like Jon Hamm. A woman with long dark hair and her daughter, who looks to be about 2, and has a bright pink coat covered in flowers. A couple, the girl with short reddish hair who holds onto the belt loops of the guys pants; he has blondish hair and wears a beanie. The countless men with briefcases and papers, the students studying or doing homework, the nannies going to and from work, and the stay at home dads with strollers and Baby Bjorn’s. And of course there is also the occasional pan handler.
The train is going extra slow today. Taking me over 40 minutes to get to Bergen Street I forgot my book and my iPod died. Finally the train approached my stop and I got off.
On December 20 the F train will turn 70. Service on the F train officially began in 1940, running from 129th Street, Jamaica, Queens to Coney Island in Brooklyn. The F train is an express train that runs on the IND Sixth Avenue Line through Manhattan. Ranking 16th place of the 21 subway lines (rated by the Straphangers Campaign) the F train helps get thousands of people to their destinations each day.
The subway is a strange place. Although in New York City one is never alone, the train is the one place that people can enjoy and somewhat have time to their self. I ride the F train almost every day. Although I live in Manhattan, my sister, friends, and work are all stops off the F. Taking me from my front door to theirs I spend more time on the F than any other train. Personally, I find the train to be therapeutic. It is the 20-30 minutes each day where I can read, listen to music, or just observe other people without being disturbed.
Due to my F train diligence I began to observe the people that I saw on a daily basis. On my way to Brooklyn I always ride on the last car, when I return home I’m always on the first. Day after day I began to see the same people. At first we would exchange glances of recognition, then it transitioned into a slight smile, and now we smile as if we have known each other for years. I have seen all kinds of things while riding the subway. From people wearing stilts and body paint dressed as avatars, to break dancers, mariachi bands, face painted babies, face painted adults without babies, and elderly couples dressed in nice clothing arguing about where the doctor’s office is. I have seen just about every book there is from Helter Skelter to Ana Karenina to Dr. Seuss. People from all over New York packed inside a tiny subway car traveling through tunnels as fast as it can go.
On Tuesday afternoon I waited on the West 4th street platform. It was around 4:40pm, a time I have found that is considerably less crowded than 5:00pm. As I waited for the train a little boy, I guessed around 10 or so walked down the stairs with his scooter, backpack, math book, and iPod, out of breath from running. With light brown hair in the same style as Justin Beiber and glasses like Harry Potter, he collapsed on the bench next to me. Soon after he caught his breath the train came roaring through and the breaks screeched to a halt. I looked up from my book and began to approach the doors when I realized the little boy was having trouble gathering all of his things. So I quickly grabbed his scooter and helped him. He looked shocked, scared, and a little uncomfortable.
When we got into the car there were 4 open seats to the right of the door so I sat down and he followed. “Thank you,” he muttered very quietly. “You’re welcome”, I said back with a smile. He got out what I assumed to be some sort of Apple product and started to play a game involving guns and grenades, and quietly asked me what my name was. I didn’t hear him because I was reading and listening to music so he tapped me on the leg. I took out one of my headphones, and he asked again.
“What’s your name?”
“Anna, what’s yours?”
“Randall,” he said while an explosion went off on his game.
“It’s nice to meet you Randall.”
It was not long until it was my stop; Bergen Street. I said bye to him and got off. I walked to work and got back on the train around 10:10pm. This time the train was much more crowded. I was pushed into the corner by the door and squished behind two men wearing leather vests with braids down their backs and bandanas on. They smelled like a mixture of Axe and whiskey so I decided not to ask them to move so I could get out my book. They got off at 2 Avenue and I was able to breathe again.
Wednesday afternoon I got on the train at a different stop than normal; 14th street. It was around 5:15pm and there was one open seat, I took it. When it got to West 4th I saw Randall with all of his things. This time his math book, I assume, was in his backpack. I thought that he would not remember me or that I would seem very creepy if I said hi to him so I kept on with my conversation.
“Hi Anna,” he said as he moved his backpack with his feet in front of where I was sitting.
“Hi Randall how are you?” I asked.
“I’m good, almost beat my high score,” he said barely looking up from his video game.
His game ran out of battery so he decided it would be the perfect time to talk to me. He told me about himself. How he lives in Park Slope but he goes to school in the West Village because his mom works in the area. I asked him why she didn’t take the train with him and he explained that it was because she got off work at 5:00pm and then had to get his little sister, Violet, from day care and he didn’t like to wait that long before going home. He told me that his favorite part about the train ride is between East Broadway and York Street because his ears pop when we go through the tunnel to Brooklyn. He asked me how old I was and told me that he just turned 12 on Thanksgiving. His favorite sport is baseball and his favorite team is the San Francisco Giants, even though he should be rooting for the Yankees.
At this point the train was held up due to another train at the next station. We were stopped for longer than normal, probably around 4 or 5 minutes.
Randall and I talked about Tim Lincecum, the pitcher for the Giants. We talked about his hair, his hats, and of course his stats. I obviously knew more about his clothing choices and personal life than his statistics but I played along and let Randall explain why he likes Lincecum way more than the Yankees A.J. Burnett. I agreed.
The train got to my stop and we said goodbye.
After work I got back on the train around 9:30pm. Once again it was very crowded. I stood by the door and read my book periodically glancing up to see who was getting on and off and if there were any seats available. There weren’t. Most of the people on the train were reading or listening to music. At Delancy Street a guy got wearing a huge dark brown puffy jacket, really baggy pants and a bright yellow beanie. My music was soft enough that I could hear him as he started to rap.
“Boom boom hit the bitch, give it to her nice and good she won’t be a snitch.”
I tried to think of what rapper sang that song. I had no idea.
“Tie her up on the kitchen floor, tell her about yo’ gat and that she a dumb bitch and a whore.”
I was still unaware of who sang this song and at this point I was disturbed. I had to pass him before I got off at my stop and as I was exiting he said, “Ey babygurl, like what you heard? Buy a CD.” I couldn’t help it and started to laugh as did a few of the other people who got off at the same time as me.
On Thursday I luckily didn’t have to work so it was also my day off from the F train.
On Friday I got on the train around 8:45am but only took it to 2 Avenue. The morning crowd is much different from the afternoon and night crowds. Everyone is drinking coffee, reading newspapers, and some even eat their breakfast (this I find repulsive.) On Fridays, since I work from9am-2pm, I walk home instead of taking the train. I went to my sisters so I got back on the F train around 4:45pm.
The train only had one seat open so I let a woman who might have been pregnant take it and I once again went to my usual corner of the train by the door. The car was more crowded than normal. I noticed some of the same people that I see almost every day. There is a tall man with dark hair and perfect bone structure who looks just like Jon Hamm. A woman with long dark hair and her daughter, who looks to be about 2, and has a bright pink coat covered in flowers. A couple, the girl with short reddish hair who holds onto the belt loops of the guys pants; he has blondish hair and wears a beanie. The countless men with briefcases and papers, the students studying or doing homework, the nannies going to and from work, and the stay at home dads with strollers and Baby Bjorn’s. And of course there is also the occasional pan handler.
The train is going extra slow today. Taking me over 40 minutes to get to Bergen Street I forgot my book and my iPod died. Finally the train approached my stop and I got off.
Everybody Wants to be a DJ
Henry Steinway starts his day of work well after the rest of the working world has fallen sleep. He uses his day to hang out with his posse or watch basketball when he’s not going to class at New York University. At night, he leaves his social life behind to do his job, a job that he says is the loneliest of them all.
Henry Steinway is a Lakers fanatic, an NYU full time student, and one of the most successful young DJs in the game. Three years ago at 16-years-old, Henry attended an introductory Disk Jockey course with his friends, the day he claims is the day he was “born.” Since his “birth,” Henry has been mixing music continuously until he made a name for himself in the internet’s music industry world under the stage name, “Clockwork.” His success doesn’t stop at himself, as his friends created a management company solely for the purpose to represent their talented friend. Henry’s skills on the turntable are beneficial to every one around him, especially his listeners.
Only three years ago when he made his first mix, he felt like he was doing something independent from what his peers were into. Today, he is frustrated with the youth’s misconception that anyone can be a D.J.
I share this frustration with him. Pretty much every person I met in the past year is trying to be a DJ.
In 2010 alone I had some surreal experiences regarding people telling me they are in the process of “becoming” DJs:
My confusion began when my old friend sent me a link to the mixes he made, a guy that I never knew was interested in music. My friends 15 year old brother became the DJ of choice for all his friends events, and what shook me up most was when my mother’s assistant handed me a flyer that invited me to his upcoming gig, informing me that his alter ego was in fact, “TallySwagBeatz.”
The number of bands, stand up acts, and other traditional hobbies seem to be disappearing as the technological age proves that it can, and will, take over every aspect of our world. Including music.
The song that got Henry recognition as the DJ “Clockwork,” was a mash-up of two popular songs. Mash-ups are remixes of at least two or more songs to create a whole different feel. His style is reflective of one of the most popular remix DJs of our youth today, “GirlTalk,” who creates elaborate and eclectic remixes of current pop sounds and anthems, creating a new musical discourse which reflects, winks, ironizes and mocks, while still standing firmly on its own.
The youngest DJ known today is 8 years old. “DJ Jack Hill” did not pick up a guitar at age 4, he learned how to turn knobs and morphed an ear for heavy musical drops and theatrical head-bobs. Hill spun at a local gig where he was discovered by a fellow DJ, and he now holds his own radio show on star radio. When asked what his favorite thing about being a DJ was, the mini disk jockey said, “It’s fun! I like to practice mixing and when I play gigs, I get money.”
You can either make a lot of money making music, or you can do it as a hobby. Spinning has become one of the youths largest hobbies, especially in large urban cities such as Miami, New York, and most noticeably, Los Angeles.
Chris Giuliano has been making music in his dorm room in his free time. He has no ambition to become a heavyweight DJ, but he says he enjoys the reactions his friends have when they hear his beats. “There’s nothing better than watching your friends dance to something that you’ve personally made,” he told me.
Giuliano does not play any instruments. He expresses himself through the use of other peoples creations, but making them his own. Chris tells me that him and almost all of his friends create beats and play them for each other. They post them online and try to play gigs for easy money, and it doesn’t hurt that DJs get recognition from their listeners, “DJs get girls,” Chris tells me with a laugh.
Henry and Chris are spinning in college, and Jack is in kindergarten. Our youth is constantly surrounded around technology and their exposure is starting to branch toward the DJ field. Why would kids take the time to learn how to play guitar when they can use every instrument in the world to create a more dynamic tune?
Equipment for remixing has become more and more accessible throughout the years. Before the introduction of mixing through computer programs, people had to physically use the vinyl records to mix the tunes, as well as buy and carry heavy equipment. Most DJs still use those materials today, but there is now the option to have decent materials for free. Accessibility has made it so that anyone can claim to be a professional.
DJ Clockwork tells me that kids ideas that DJing will make them popular is a double sided draw.
“Yes, people will recognize you, they will know your name and they will scream it. But when you’re working at a gig you’re inside a box literally watching hundreds if not thousands of people have fun amongst each other. And you’re alone. And the love they have for you is present, but so unreachable.”
Henry and his managers place his songs on popular music upload sites that specialize in independent artists who want to share their original tracks such as SoundCloud and Hypem. Through these sites, bloggers repost them, music sites list them as popular, and the rest is history.
“Today, remix (the activity of taking samples from pre-existing materials to combine them into new forms according to personal taste) has been extended to other areas of culture, including the visual arts; it plays a vital role in mass communication, especially on the internet,” said Eduardo Navas, the founder of RemixTheory.net
We know that if anyone were to try hard enough, they can be successful at whatever they want to do. Take Armin van Buuren for example. In 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010 he was voted number one in DJ Magazine’s annual top 100 list of the most popular DJs. Before his interest in music became a career, van Buuren was studying law in college. Van Buuren is 36, so he is not a part of the digital generation. If van Buuren were born fifteen years earlier, he would likely have taken the path of Henry and studied mixing music in college.
Henry is sitting on his couch, using the time he has to chew his last bite of pizza to think over my question for him, “is DJing a talent or can any one on the planet become a DJ?”
This question has taken Henry aback. I can see that his alter-ego, “Clockwork,” wants to tell me that it is an innate genius, that what he does cannot be mass-produced through any other medium than himself.
He looks up and tells me, “I guess it is true any one can learn the technique of sound and the use of tables. But it takes dedication, patience, and creativity to really become comfortable enough to create your own sound and understand what people want to hear.”
“What people want to hear,” is a key point to the DJ craft. The mass appeal must have something to do with the fact that the art of remixing allows the DJ to use multiple sounds, tempos, and even songs that bring history to the listener within one song. In our age of attention-deficacy, a 3-minute song with the same singer and same story has become obselete. We want 5 songs within one, and the DJ feels as though the songs that they choose describe themselves, thus wanting to receive attention.
Jacques Attali wrote in his book Noise: The Political Economy of Music that, “we are all condemned to silence—unless we create our own relation with the world and try to tie other people into the meaning we thus create.” This generation is afraid of silence, and DJing is the perfect form of expression for our technologically savvy adolescents.
Henry Steinway is a Lakers fanatic, an NYU full time student, and one of the most successful young DJs in the game. Three years ago at 16-years-old, Henry attended an introductory Disk Jockey course with his friends, the day he claims is the day he was “born.” Since his “birth,” Henry has been mixing music continuously until he made a name for himself in the internet’s music industry world under the stage name, “Clockwork.” His success doesn’t stop at himself, as his friends created a management company solely for the purpose to represent their talented friend. Henry’s skills on the turntable are beneficial to every one around him, especially his listeners.
Only three years ago when he made his first mix, he felt like he was doing something independent from what his peers were into. Today, he is frustrated with the youth’s misconception that anyone can be a D.J.
I share this frustration with him. Pretty much every person I met in the past year is trying to be a DJ.
In 2010 alone I had some surreal experiences regarding people telling me they are in the process of “becoming” DJs:
My confusion began when my old friend sent me a link to the mixes he made, a guy that I never knew was interested in music. My friends 15 year old brother became the DJ of choice for all his friends events, and what shook me up most was when my mother’s assistant handed me a flyer that invited me to his upcoming gig, informing me that his alter ego was in fact, “TallySwagBeatz.”
The number of bands, stand up acts, and other traditional hobbies seem to be disappearing as the technological age proves that it can, and will, take over every aspect of our world. Including music.
The song that got Henry recognition as the DJ “Clockwork,” was a mash-up of two popular songs. Mash-ups are remixes of at least two or more songs to create a whole different feel. His style is reflective of one of the most popular remix DJs of our youth today, “GirlTalk,” who creates elaborate and eclectic remixes of current pop sounds and anthems, creating a new musical discourse which reflects, winks, ironizes and mocks, while still standing firmly on its own.
The youngest DJ known today is 8 years old. “DJ Jack Hill” did not pick up a guitar at age 4, he learned how to turn knobs and morphed an ear for heavy musical drops and theatrical head-bobs. Hill spun at a local gig where he was discovered by a fellow DJ, and he now holds his own radio show on star radio. When asked what his favorite thing about being a DJ was, the mini disk jockey said, “It’s fun! I like to practice mixing and when I play gigs, I get money.”
You can either make a lot of money making music, or you can do it as a hobby. Spinning has become one of the youths largest hobbies, especially in large urban cities such as Miami, New York, and most noticeably, Los Angeles.
Chris Giuliano has been making music in his dorm room in his free time. He has no ambition to become a heavyweight DJ, but he says he enjoys the reactions his friends have when they hear his beats. “There’s nothing better than watching your friends dance to something that you’ve personally made,” he told me.
Giuliano does not play any instruments. He expresses himself through the use of other peoples creations, but making them his own. Chris tells me that him and almost all of his friends create beats and play them for each other. They post them online and try to play gigs for easy money, and it doesn’t hurt that DJs get recognition from their listeners, “DJs get girls,” Chris tells me with a laugh.
Henry and Chris are spinning in college, and Jack is in kindergarten. Our youth is constantly surrounded around technology and their exposure is starting to branch toward the DJ field. Why would kids take the time to learn how to play guitar when they can use every instrument in the world to create a more dynamic tune?
Equipment for remixing has become more and more accessible throughout the years. Before the introduction of mixing through computer programs, people had to physically use the vinyl records to mix the tunes, as well as buy and carry heavy equipment. Most DJs still use those materials today, but there is now the option to have decent materials for free. Accessibility has made it so that anyone can claim to be a professional.
DJ Clockwork tells me that kids ideas that DJing will make them popular is a double sided draw.
“Yes, people will recognize you, they will know your name and they will scream it. But when you’re working at a gig you’re inside a box literally watching hundreds if not thousands of people have fun amongst each other. And you’re alone. And the love they have for you is present, but so unreachable.”
Henry and his managers place his songs on popular music upload sites that specialize in independent artists who want to share their original tracks such as SoundCloud and Hypem. Through these sites, bloggers repost them, music sites list them as popular, and the rest is history.
“Today, remix (the activity of taking samples from pre-existing materials to combine them into new forms according to personal taste) has been extended to other areas of culture, including the visual arts; it plays a vital role in mass communication, especially on the internet,” said Eduardo Navas, the founder of RemixTheory.net
We know that if anyone were to try hard enough, they can be successful at whatever they want to do. Take Armin van Buuren for example. In 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010 he was voted number one in DJ Magazine’s annual top 100 list of the most popular DJs. Before his interest in music became a career, van Buuren was studying law in college. Van Buuren is 36, so he is not a part of the digital generation. If van Buuren were born fifteen years earlier, he would likely have taken the path of Henry and studied mixing music in college.
Henry is sitting on his couch, using the time he has to chew his last bite of pizza to think over my question for him, “is DJing a talent or can any one on the planet become a DJ?”
This question has taken Henry aback. I can see that his alter-ego, “Clockwork,” wants to tell me that it is an innate genius, that what he does cannot be mass-produced through any other medium than himself.
He looks up and tells me, “I guess it is true any one can learn the technique of sound and the use of tables. But it takes dedication, patience, and creativity to really become comfortable enough to create your own sound and understand what people want to hear.”
“What people want to hear,” is a key point to the DJ craft. The mass appeal must have something to do with the fact that the art of remixing allows the DJ to use multiple sounds, tempos, and even songs that bring history to the listener within one song. In our age of attention-deficacy, a 3-minute song with the same singer and same story has become obselete. We want 5 songs within one, and the DJ feels as though the songs that they choose describe themselves, thus wanting to receive attention.
Jacques Attali wrote in his book Noise: The Political Economy of Music that, “we are all condemned to silence—unless we create our own relation with the world and try to tie other people into the meaning we thus create.” This generation is afraid of silence, and DJing is the perfect form of expression for our technologically savvy adolescents.
Feature Story: The Bushwick Food Stands
The curtains were drawn as I left my Bushwick apartment but there was no mistaking the grey sky filtering through the thin floral-pattern material. Outside proved to be no better, and I clung to my umbrella as the wind attempted to turn it inside out. The rain did not dissipate, and for several blocks I witnessed several others struggle onward against the elements, the wind leaving their jackets permanently imprinted to their body.
“No one wants to come when it rains,” Guillermo Borzola says through his thick black mustache. Borzola, an Ecuadorian immigrant, sells empanadas on the corner of Knickerbocker Ave and Stanhope St.
Despite the rain, it is a quiet Sunday morning on Knickerbocker Ave in Bushwick, a neighborhood in the northern eastern part of Brooklyn. It's here I come across a sea of oversized umbrellas, one could easily find fixed to a patio table, instead it is attached to a food stand. Sheets of plastic have also been temporarily attached to keep the rain out. Rain or shine you can always find the local food vendors here. They are mostly a one-manned operation—though the majority on the block is women—often keeping their product in a giant orange igloo brand cooler to keep the heat from escaping.
The food being sold differs from stand to stand. Some have handwritten signs advertising what they’re selling, others verbally tell pedestrians as they pass by. It can range from horchata—a Mexican rice drink accentuated with cinnamon and sometimes vanilla—to empanadas, corn, or tamales.
“I sell only cheese, meat or chicken,” says Borzola as he expertly rolls the dough to make another empanada, “the meat is the best.”
Borzola typically works two or three days a week selling empanadas. He has his own portable stand complete with a miniature grill. It’s been five years since he began selling in Bushwick. Originally from Ecuador, he now lives in Brooklyn with his wife and three sons.
“They are so good, and so cheap,” says Dexy, a frequent customer.
Known simply as “Dexy”, she wears thick eyeliner that encircles both eyes. When she glances around and fixates on something intently she looks like a cat ready to pounce. She too is from Ecuador, and has lived in the United States for 30 years. She has come to Borzola for three of them, and eats in the neighborhood daily.
“You have to do what you have to do. You have to work,” she says as she begins to speak of the other vendor’s plight in the economy.
“I love my country, I miss it. But I’m used to here. When I go back, I think about how I am used to [the U.S.] and I start missing it after a few days. [But] there was not so much work there so we came here,” she says with a wave of her hand.
According to Dexy most of the vendors on this block have emigrated from Central and Southern Latin Americans countries. Dexy points to one of the stands across the street selling ceviche—a raw seafood dish marinated in citric juice—and systematically, moving counterclockwise—names each nationality ending with the woman selling chicken next to Borzola’s stand.
“Ecuadorian, Mexican, Ecuadorian, Chilean,” she matter-of-factly ends her list as she snaps open her ringing cell phone and begins speaking Spanish rapidly.
Food stands have long served as a supplementary or even primary source of income for vendors. The authentic Latin-American food available in this tucked away neighborhood of Bushwick is a far cry from the upscale food trucks of Manhattan that have become increasingly more popular—however, they may have more in common than they may think.
According to a fiscal brief filed with the New York City’s Independent Budget Office in November of 2010, “Street Vendors have been a part of the city’s landscape since the first pushcarts plied the sidewalks of the Lower East Side in the 1860s [but] It did not take long before their presence on city streets stirred controversy, which has continued to this day.”
The controversy referred to is the mismanagement—or rather lack of management—of food vendors. Police, the primary enforcer of food vendor regulations, are subjected to different rules block by block. In neighboring Manhattan, rules fluctuate on at least 160 blocks.
Technically, “there are no caps on the number of food vendor licenses that can be issued,” however in 2009 there was at least 5,684 interested applicants. The Department of Consumer Affairs—which handles licensing—stopped taking additional names according to the same report.
Permit or no permit, it hasn’t stopped food vendors from continuing their business. Evelia Arrata has sold corn on Stockholm St and Knickerbocker Ave for two years. “I only come out for a little bit,” she says in Spanish, eyeing me suspiciously as she begins talking to a new customer, “but I am here daily.”
Many vendors think its Brooklyn’s accessibility that is a contributing and significant reason why they can continue to sell food and make a profit. Though many people own cars in Brooklyn, plenty of locals still walk or use public transportation. Therefore they are always surrounded by potential customers.
“My friend, when she moved to Colorado she discovered she needed a car to get around anywhere,” Arrata continues her train of thought after another customer has left with a steaming cup full of corn soup. She imagines it would be hard to do what she does daily in a city where you can only get around by car.
Food peddling in any of the five boroughs doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. In 1995, the Street Vendor Review Panel was first established to regulate, ban, or limit peddling on certain blocks. The panel, consisting of four members, included the Commissioner of the Department of Small Business Services, the Director of the Department of City Planning, the Commissioner of the Department of Transportation, and a nominated representative of the City Council. It has been almost ten years since they have last met.
Despite the Street Vendor Review Panel’s almost entire lack of existence—aside from the established name—incidentally it is the “convoluted” system of management that is often referred to as the root cause of the non-existent management of food vendors. There are too many departments, panels, and enforcing agencies assigned with the responsibility of regulating street vendors, to the point that no one knows whose responsibility for what is.
Dexy begins chatting with a Chilean woman selling chicken skewers a few feet away from Borzola. They chat about their children and the abysmal weather, Borzola peeks over from behind his stand to tell them a joke about the weather.
Claudia Gatica emigrated from Chile almost 22 years ago. Since then she has worked in various places, but by far enjoys the community of the block she happened upon two years ago, when her brother-in-law began peddling food a few blocks away. “Everyone knows each other more or less,” she says of the neighborhood.
No matter how many vendors populate the strip between Dekalb St and Harman St it is clear, the local vendors form a tight knit community within themselves—a form of compensation that cannot be fulfilled monetarily. “The people are always helpful here,” adds Gatica, “It’s because we see each other almost every day we are here.”
As if the temporary suspension of rain was a signal for a new wave of clientele to emerge, a noticeable rise of pedestrians begins to fill Knickerbocker Ave. The stands become immersed in chatter once again while small crowds consisting of families and others taking lunch breaks from a business’s nearby drop in for a quick inexpensive meal and conversation. Borzola and Gatica are no exception as their hands temporarily don’t cease from moving.
“I told you the meat was the best,” says Borzola to me, as he hands a family three meat empanadas.
“No one wants to come when it rains,” Guillermo Borzola says through his thick black mustache. Borzola, an Ecuadorian immigrant, sells empanadas on the corner of Knickerbocker Ave and Stanhope St.
Despite the rain, it is a quiet Sunday morning on Knickerbocker Ave in Bushwick, a neighborhood in the northern eastern part of Brooklyn. It's here I come across a sea of oversized umbrellas, one could easily find fixed to a patio table, instead it is attached to a food stand. Sheets of plastic have also been temporarily attached to keep the rain out. Rain or shine you can always find the local food vendors here. They are mostly a one-manned operation—though the majority on the block is women—often keeping their product in a giant orange igloo brand cooler to keep the heat from escaping.
The food being sold differs from stand to stand. Some have handwritten signs advertising what they’re selling, others verbally tell pedestrians as they pass by. It can range from horchata—a Mexican rice drink accentuated with cinnamon and sometimes vanilla—to empanadas, corn, or tamales.
“I sell only cheese, meat or chicken,” says Borzola as he expertly rolls the dough to make another empanada, “the meat is the best.”
Borzola typically works two or three days a week selling empanadas. He has his own portable stand complete with a miniature grill. It’s been five years since he began selling in Bushwick. Originally from Ecuador, he now lives in Brooklyn with his wife and three sons.
“They are so good, and so cheap,” says Dexy, a frequent customer.
Known simply as “Dexy”, she wears thick eyeliner that encircles both eyes. When she glances around and fixates on something intently she looks like a cat ready to pounce. She too is from Ecuador, and has lived in the United States for 30 years. She has come to Borzola for three of them, and eats in the neighborhood daily.
“You have to do what you have to do. You have to work,” she says as she begins to speak of the other vendor’s plight in the economy.
“I love my country, I miss it. But I’m used to here. When I go back, I think about how I am used to [the U.S.] and I start missing it after a few days. [But] there was not so much work there so we came here,” she says with a wave of her hand.
According to Dexy most of the vendors on this block have emigrated from Central and Southern Latin Americans countries. Dexy points to one of the stands across the street selling ceviche—a raw seafood dish marinated in citric juice—and systematically, moving counterclockwise—names each nationality ending with the woman selling chicken next to Borzola’s stand.
“Ecuadorian, Mexican, Ecuadorian, Chilean,” she matter-of-factly ends her list as she snaps open her ringing cell phone and begins speaking Spanish rapidly.
Food stands have long served as a supplementary or even primary source of income for vendors. The authentic Latin-American food available in this tucked away neighborhood of Bushwick is a far cry from the upscale food trucks of Manhattan that have become increasingly more popular—however, they may have more in common than they may think.
According to a fiscal brief filed with the New York City’s Independent Budget Office in November of 2010, “Street Vendors have been a part of the city’s landscape since the first pushcarts plied the sidewalks of the Lower East Side in the 1860s [but] It did not take long before their presence on city streets stirred controversy, which has continued to this day.”
The controversy referred to is the mismanagement—or rather lack of management—of food vendors. Police, the primary enforcer of food vendor regulations, are subjected to different rules block by block. In neighboring Manhattan, rules fluctuate on at least 160 blocks.
Technically, “there are no caps on the number of food vendor licenses that can be issued,” however in 2009 there was at least 5,684 interested applicants. The Department of Consumer Affairs—which handles licensing—stopped taking additional names according to the same report.
Permit or no permit, it hasn’t stopped food vendors from continuing their business. Evelia Arrata has sold corn on Stockholm St and Knickerbocker Ave for two years. “I only come out for a little bit,” she says in Spanish, eyeing me suspiciously as she begins talking to a new customer, “but I am here daily.”
Many vendors think its Brooklyn’s accessibility that is a contributing and significant reason why they can continue to sell food and make a profit. Though many people own cars in Brooklyn, plenty of locals still walk or use public transportation. Therefore they are always surrounded by potential customers.
“My friend, when she moved to Colorado she discovered she needed a car to get around anywhere,” Arrata continues her train of thought after another customer has left with a steaming cup full of corn soup. She imagines it would be hard to do what she does daily in a city where you can only get around by car.
Food peddling in any of the five boroughs doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. In 1995, the Street Vendor Review Panel was first established to regulate, ban, or limit peddling on certain blocks. The panel, consisting of four members, included the Commissioner of the Department of Small Business Services, the Director of the Department of City Planning, the Commissioner of the Department of Transportation, and a nominated representative of the City Council. It has been almost ten years since they have last met.
Despite the Street Vendor Review Panel’s almost entire lack of existence—aside from the established name—incidentally it is the “convoluted” system of management that is often referred to as the root cause of the non-existent management of food vendors. There are too many departments, panels, and enforcing agencies assigned with the responsibility of regulating street vendors, to the point that no one knows whose responsibility for what is.
Dexy begins chatting with a Chilean woman selling chicken skewers a few feet away from Borzola. They chat about their children and the abysmal weather, Borzola peeks over from behind his stand to tell them a joke about the weather.
Claudia Gatica emigrated from Chile almost 22 years ago. Since then she has worked in various places, but by far enjoys the community of the block she happened upon two years ago, when her brother-in-law began peddling food a few blocks away. “Everyone knows each other more or less,” she says of the neighborhood.
No matter how many vendors populate the strip between Dekalb St and Harman St it is clear, the local vendors form a tight knit community within themselves—a form of compensation that cannot be fulfilled monetarily. “The people are always helpful here,” adds Gatica, “It’s because we see each other almost every day we are here.”
As if the temporary suspension of rain was a signal for a new wave of clientele to emerge, a noticeable rise of pedestrians begins to fill Knickerbocker Ave. The stands become immersed in chatter once again while small crowds consisting of families and others taking lunch breaks from a business’s nearby drop in for a quick inexpensive meal and conversation. Borzola and Gatica are no exception as their hands temporarily don’t cease from moving.
“I told you the meat was the best,” says Borzola to me, as he hands a family three meat empanadas.
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