Welcome Oblivion: the new not-Nine Inch Nails album


Trent Reznor was one of my favorite musicians as a teenager.
His dark and piercing music expressed a rage and frustration
I felt I could connect with at that point in my life, and
I’m sure most of his early fans would agree. Raw passion
fueled his early work, and throughout his career he honed
his talent and poured his heart and soul into his studio
albums. The quality of his craft- I use the word “craft” on
purpose, describing a work of art made with dedication and
skill- shined brightest in The Downward Spiral and The
Fragile, albums ripe with intricacy and masterful
composition. As Reznor matured and grew up that teenage
angst seeped out of him, and consequentially that same
quality that made his work so enjoyable leaked out as well.

To be fair, Welcome Oblivion is not a Nine Inch Nails album.
Reznor is a band member of How to Destroy Angels, a single
element of the equation rather than the entity entire. That
being said I doubt anyone would care about it if Reznor had
nothing to do with it. From the album’s cover art to the
texture of the music, Reznor’s fingerprints are all over
this album. It exudes aspects of HIS character instead of
being something fresh and unique. To be fair again, the
members of How to Destroy Angels did not set out to make a
quality studio album from the get go. They hung out and
played with instruments to see what would happen and were
pleased enough with how it came out to publish the results,
and there was no big fanfare for its release. (It’s a
similar situation to Radiohead’s King of Limbs: a collection
of so-so songs that didn’t fit anywhere else in their
career, but they released it casually just for kicks.) But I
suspect Welcome Oblivion will still be perceived by most to
be “the new Nine Inch Nails album”, even if subconsciously.

That misconception is reinforced by the album’s soundscapes.
To anyone familiar with Reznor’s music, his signature
sounds and noises will stand out like salt and pepper on an
otherwise bland plate of scrambled eggs. Those mechanical
background pips from the Downward Spiral litter the album,
the mystic and elongated notes from Still and the sadder
songs off of the Fragile are used liberally, and that
crunchy way of adding digital beats from Year Zero is in
full force. Only Welcome Oblivion doesn’t posses anywhere
near the energy and creativity any of these albums do. It
merely scrapes off the top of previous works, grinds the
stuff up, and sprinkles it over its music.

The album doesn’t make up for this lack of audible
originality with its lyrics. Perhaps Reznor is too happily
married to write gripping lyrics anymore, but the songs here
primarily revolve around one line that’s repeated over and
over for a few minutes. It comes off as lazy, especially
because none of the lyrics say anything particularly
interesting or meaningful. I don’t know whether or not
Reznor wrote the lyrics or if he was singing what his wife
wrote along with her from time to time, but his vocal
contributions are very slight and do little to improve the
listening experience. His voice sounds tired and subdued
behind his wife’s breathy vocals.

Despite all this I found myself enjoying Welcome Oblivion.
My hopes and expectations about Reznor’s music is the only
thing that dampens the album for me, but it’s just a
different beast than his earlier work, and it isn’t just
his. That’s important to keep in mind when you listen to
this one. It’s good background music, and with Reznor having
two major film soundtracks recently under his belt this was
the perfect collaborative project for him to jump into at
this stage in his career. The guy wants to make music and he
got with other people who also want to make music. The
result was… music. Listen to it or not. You won’t gain or
miss anything significant either way with this one.


Deadly Premonition, the Director’s Cut: First Impressions

There’s something weird in the coffee.




PS3 owners can now play the infamous Deadly Premonition, a strange love-it-or-hate-it survival horror game that was once an XBOX 360 exclusive. “Strange” and “survival horror” don’t do it justice as adjectives, though. It’s more than strange and it’s more than survival horror. It’s a game that must be experienced to be believed, yet alone described.

You play as Francis York Morgan (but please call him York, that’s what everyone else does), an FBI agent sent to a town in the boonies to investigate a series of murders involving red seeds. He’s not all the way there. You’ll know right off the bat that something within him is unhinged when he starts talking to you in the first cut scene. Yes, you, the player, who as far as I can tell plays the role of York’s MPD other self. He’s always talking to some Zach person, seemingly as a way to bounce his own ideas off himself for lack of anyone else to talk to. The mechanics of the game make it clear the player is, in fact, this Zach character. There’s a part early on when you’re given the chance to explore in lieu of heading towards your objective, and if you do York comments something along the lines of, “Well, Zach, if you have a hunch, I don’t mind following it”. In all my experience playing twisted horror games, I’ve never felt this sort of odd connection to a game’s protagonist. It’s a wonderful feeling I’m sure the game will develop and ultimately (hopefully) prey upon for dramatic effect.

Speaking of exploration, the game features some expansive environments to get lost in. Much work has been poured into interior design, and it shows. I had more fun exploring the vast, eerily empty hotel than I did shooting backwards walking ghosts in the woods on my way there. I can’t speak for the original, but the Director’s Cut features comfortably fluid motion controls that makes walking around looking at stuff a real pleasure. It can be sensitive at first, but once you get used to the camera’s over the shoulder, swingy way of looking around you’ll feel like you’re taking part in a waking dream. I’m sure that’s an intended design effect.

Combat has also been improved from the original in the sense that it’s more convenient. The Director’s Cut employs a Resident Evil 4 style shooting mode, where York cannot move or strafe while pointing a gun. Aiming is clunky, even with a laser sight, but tapping R2 will lock on to the nearest target, and from there it’s just a short thumb flick away from a head shot. You’re given a pistol with infinite ammo to start off with, which I found dampened my feeling of vulnerability and suspense, but if the shotgun ammo I’ve been picking up is any indicator the infinigun won’t cut it for enemy types to come.

The cut scenes are the real reason to play this game. There are lots of them. York can mentally profile his surroundings after he acquires specific key items during a quest, which treats you to a rapid film reel type thing featuring lots of images thrown at you at once. Chapters are bookended with surreal dream sequences and an unidentified old man telling the story (of presumably the game) to a young girl. During the game York never has a normal conversation with NPCs. All of his interactions involve entertainingly out-of-place music playing over strained, awkward, and ultimately funny dialogue. I have no idea what it all means yet but it’s a treat just to know a game that’s as psychotic as it’s protagonist exists.

That’s the point of Deadly Premonition- to be insane. There’s this philosophy in literary criticism that “form follows function”, that the way a story is written should somehow compliment the deeper content of the story. A suspenseful scene should be written with many short sentences, for example, or a long dreamlike sequence could be a page long paragraph that’s tough to follow (you know, like a weird dream). Deadly Premonition is like that, only in a whole different medium. It’s telling the story of a man who is insane, and it’s taking advantage of its medium to get that point across.

This game is insane. I can’t wait to find out how deep the rabbit hole goes with this one.

After you WWW:WAKE, you WWW:WATCH

WWW:WATCH by Robert J Sawyer

WWW:WAKE was like starting a stew. Robert J Sawyer threw some interesting ideas in the mix and let it simmer for the whole book. Once in a while he’d introduce a new idea, a new ingredient, his narration the metaphorical spoon mixing everything together. With WWW:WATCH he tries to up the heat. Does Sawyer achieve a savory flavor, or do WATCH’s new additions end up bogging the whole stew down?

“Stew” might be the wrong food metaphor. Stews are too thick, too heavy. They have substasnce. By the end of this second volume the WWW trilogy tastes more like a canned soup.

Though WATCH introduces a government spy agency whose trying to track down and destroy Webmind, it retains its conversational storytelling. Most of the action being narrated are chats the characters have about what’s going on with Webmind, which deicdes to be a good influence on humanity. There are plenty of interesting interactions between Webmind and an individual whom he’s trying to prevent commit suicide, for examle. But the book doesn’t flesh out the possibilities. Reading the parts when Webmind is talking to people feels like reading an AIM chat, mostly because that’s what he does to communicate. The whole book is riddled with webisms that feel inappropriate in novel form, and while what the book is about should make their inclusion natural it ends up degrading a reader’s reception to what they’re reading. It’s hard to take seriously.

Speaking of undeveloped possibilities, WATCH is filled with token nuggets of intellectualisms. One of Caitlin’s school friends is a Muslim girl named Bashira, and they spend a chapter debating the existence of god. Shoshanna, the monkey psychologist, argues about gay marriage with Dillon, her research assistant. I can see how Sawyer would want the reader to think about god and creation in relation to an emergent internet mind who is quickly becoming near-omnescent, but the gay marriage thing- complete with references to Proposition 8- felt like Saywer was using his novel to preach, and when he does preach, he settles for mainstream pop platitudes instead of finding his own words to express his own opinions. These attempts at getting his characters to debate issues that aren’t relevant to WATCH’s plot (or its characters, or their conflicts) are lazily chopped chunks of vegetables thrown into the soup that don’t add positively to its flavor. They’re soggy lumps that don’t taste right.

There are many other ingredients tossed in too: meme theory; description and elaboration of old movies from the original Star Trek, Planet of the Apes, and War Games; Japanese post-WWII history; many, many book references. If you like being exposed to new ideas, WATCH is your book. If you enjoy a well written story, however, it isn’t.

Being well written is something this series is not. Sawyer tries far too hard to convey a believable modern atmosphere, inserting miscellaneous conversational fluff phrases as one line paragraphs wherever he can (“I guess”, “blah blah blah, right?”, “Same here”). He also likes to point out Caitlin uses Firefox, edits Wikipedia, chats on AIM. The novel is pockmarked with these kind of concrete words that draw our attention to the everyday worlds in which we live, away from the fiction Sawyer is trying to create. Stephen King does this all the time, I know, but King’s way of weaving his stories with details of every day life doesn’t feel as empty as when Sawyer does it throughout is WWW trilogy. Maybe it’s because WATCH’s protagonist is a teenage girl whose always using the internet. Maybe it’s because we’re just now entering a period where things like facebook and wikipedia and social media are entering fiction, and I’m just not used to that being a part of literature yet.

In the end, though, I’m curious to see how the third book will wrap things up. What will Webmind ultimately do with his knowledge and power? Will Caitlin’s love interest become more central, or just another card in the author’s hand for him to play whenever he wants? Exactly how much will this trilogy expand my vocabulary and reading list? How many more ingredients will Sawyer throw into his soup? We’ll find out with WWW:WONDER.

WWW:WAKE will wake you up to science fiction

www:wake by Robert J Sawyer

Some years ago I saw Robert J. Sawyer at a ReaderCon panel about whether or not evolution was “too good” for science fiction. The panelist’s answer – no – was swiftly arrived at. After a laugh the panelists started talking about books they’d written and Sawyer mentioned one of his, “Calculating God”, about sentient aliens who visit Earth and are surprised to find many humans don’t believe the universe was created by a supreme deity. Intrigued by the concept, and being an ex Catholic myself whose always up for a religious debate, I gave his book a read. It was a lightly written, interestingly conversational piece of science fiction that drove more on exploring fascinating ideas than following a plot.

And that was fine. More than fine, even, but refreshing. My mind was grateful for an enjoyable piece of science fiction that was complex without being academic, entertaining without being hack-kneed. I was hungry for more by Sawyer, and thus the pretty colors of his recent paperback series caught my eye: WWW:WAKE, a novel about a blind girl who, with the aid of an experimental retina implant, makes contact with an emergent consciousness born within the internet.

An interesting premise! I was excited to dive into the book and let Sawyer’s casual writing style breathe new and complex thoughts into my brain. By the end of the first book, however, I felt more that I had been lectured at. WWW:WAKE made me feel like a student, not like a member of a literary audience.

Sawyer is smart and it shows in his work. He’s well read, knows much, and is proud of it. Perhaps he’s too eager to show off what he knows and understands. While it’s common for science fiction works to play with scholarly musings and technical knowledge, they need to achieve a balance between prose and pedagogy. The real science sci-fi authors incorporate into their work should feel naturally sewn into the narrative, or shown through action within the story. In WAKE you get frequent bursts of short expository passages which lay the mental groundwork for what’s going on in the story, often times in the form of characters in the novel simply talking to one another about things.

A good example is how Sawyer explains the emergent consciousness itself, dubbed Webmind by Caitlin Decter, the series’ protagonist. As a means of making it believable to the reader such a thing could even happen, Sawyer spends some chapters explaining theories of consciousness from anthropological, mathematical, and evolutionary perspectives. Bicameralism, Shannon entropy functions, and confabulation across saccades are all given generous page time, respectively. If you’re wondering what those things even are, read the book. Sawyer explains them succinctly and plainly enough that you don’t need to be a college student to follow it, but it can become challenging to put all the concepts together in your mind.

Compounding that is the fact Catilin was born blind. She doesn’t gain her sight until late in this first volume of the series, so the narration from her point of view is often overly abstracted. This does not improve when she is finally able to see. Because vision is new to her, later chapters from her point of view tend to opine on the obvious (this becomes far more tedious from a reader’s perspective in the second volume, WATCH). It’s all right that a blind girl is fawning over her new found sense, but I felt too many words were spent on getting that across.

Furthering the whole paradoxical abstraction in a work filled to the brim with detail, Webmind’s emergent consciousness is strewn throughout the book like breadcrumbs along a path. Most chapters begin or incorporate a short passage expressing the virgin mind’s discovery of concepts of self, of others, and of language. It’s interesting to read what Sawyer imagines that could be like, but it got old. Fast. I found myself skimming through those chunks as fast as I could because I fully expected what the content of them would be. It never says anything of import throughout this first volume. It simply is. These glimpses into Webmind’s thoughts feel like espousing on the obvious as well, mostly because I know what it is to think and don’t find very technically worded descriptions of those processes very interesting.

What IS interesting about WAKE is the Chinese government coverup subplot. A strain of airborne virus infects a rural area of China, so the government decides to wipe the whole village out. To cover it up they disconnect China’s internet from the rest of the world wide web. There were a few side characters who told this story from their points of view in the beginning of the book, including a hacker who was chased by Chinese police for hacking the firewall. The boy fell wounded and got caught, and then… Was never mentioned again throughout WAKE. Hopefully he’ll pop up in the other two volumes.

Furthering my disappointment at having my favorite side story fall off the edge of the novel, the side story that replaces it is about a chimpanzee named Hobo who learns how to paint people from memory. It was clear how Hobo’s story fit in with the theme of Webmind’s discovery of thought, but I was sad to see a side story filled with excitement and conspiracy replaced with one more oriented around research. That’s what the second half of the book was like: reading scientific abstracts. Once China does its thing with the flu containment and locks out their internet from the rest of the world, WAKE is all about Caitlin having conversations with people. Cerebral, academic, hanging out at a computer conversations.

I’ve made this book out to be boring, but that’s the thing. It isn’t. I’m still drawn to Sawyer’s weirdly casual yet mentally acrobatic writing style. I still want to know what Caitlin decides to do once she realizes she’s connected to a mind that lives in the internet. WAKE might rely way too much on literary and cultural references (it’s the kind of thing that, once you’re done reading it, you’ll have a dozen or so titles added to your reading list), but the appeal is in its intrigue. You’re not here for explosions and prime time drama. You’re here to be tantalized with the thought the things going on in this book are real possibilities because the concepts, the math, the web infrastructure, everything syncs together so well.

As a whole, WWW:WAKE introduces a trilogy with the potential to seriously blow your mind. It certainly kindles a fire, but whether or not the other two parts will turn that fire into a full on conflagration remains to be seen.

I am not offended by Dead Island: Riptide’s Collector’s Edition Corpse Torso Statue


Techland’s latest release includes a full on statue of a mutilated, dismembered, beheaded, busty female corpse wearing a Union Jack bikini top.

I am not offended. Many are, though.

I don’t know why people are upset about this. Dead Island is a game about killing zombies. Animated corpses run at you in droves and you kill them in various spectacular ways, many of which involve dismemberment or bodily explosion. We see this kind of violence all the time in video games but people generally don’t freak out about it. Even more, beautiful women reduced to beaten maimed corpses is seen all the time on prime time television, what with all those crime dramas the adults are watching these days. It’s appalling: a good number of detective shows have their protagonists visiting strip clubs on a regular basis, only to immediately transition to a murder scene or an autopsy table. Talk about boner kill.

While Techland has profusely apologized for hurting people’s feelings, I hope they have the brass in their pants to follow through with releasing this. Video games get too much flak for indulging in violent displays that movies and television aren’t splattered with, so this feels like the perfect in-your-face to people who don’t see the hypocrisy in that.

Skyrim: A Retrospective

Is the V’th Elder Scrolls game really more than just a Nordic walking simulator?

I’ve had about a year between playthroughs. My first foray into its frozen horizons was an absorbing journey. Everything was something new to discover, the combat was fresh and exciting, and the constellation skill system felt intricate without being a spreadsheet management project. As an Elder Scrolls veteran I found the story fascinating, the in game books enthralling, and the massive changes to Tamriel and the large scale danger it faced a personal matter indeed. I had personally saved the Empire many times before and I wasn’t about to let some arrogant effete Thalmor punks tear the Empire apart province by province.

So I played through the main story as a Wood Elf… well, rouge, I should say, in leiu of any class labels. With bow in hand and a maxed out archery constellation, I slayed dragon after dragon, helped the Imperials squash the Storm Cloak rebellion, and trekked through the heavens themselves to slay the son (or perhaps the negative aspect of?) a creator dragon deity. On the side I helped rebuild the Thieves Guild and earned the favor of the Deadric prince Nocturnal.

And it only took me 80 hours!

What struck me the most about those 80 hours was how fluid they were. Never once was I truly bored. There was always a goal, a place to go, something to do. With the map marker floating on top of the screen there was a perpetual pull towards some place or other to do some thing or other, and along the way were ruins and altars and journals to stumble upon. It was a FAST game, in terms how quickly one piece of story or adventure came and went and another took its place.

Contrasting that experience with the beloved fan favorite Morrowind, the improvements Skyrim’s mechanics really stand out. Morrowind is a slow game. Even for something published over a decade ago it was sluggish in terms of pacing and its actual mechanics. Movement speed was infuriatingly slow if you weren’t a Khajiit or born under the Steed, if your weapon skill was too low you would miss your target most of the time (making it harder to improve the skill because only successful hits count as skill uses), and magica did not regenerate and had to be replenished by sleeping or item consumption. The lack of magica regen is especially poignant here. It meant playing as a mage was not only challenging, but a pain in the ass. When you’re playing Dungeons and Dragons and your focus is on collaborative story telling and creative role playing, putting such a limit on a character makes sense (unless you’re playing 4th edition). In a video game it does not, and it took decades worth of RPGs to achieve the realization that a mage’s weapons are his spells and should be allowed to use them as such, in like manner that a warrior uses his sword.

With Morrowind being a slow game, that meant long stretches of time between chunks of content. Exploring it’s world was an inspiring endeavor, as I have still yet to see an RPG world as lush and unique as Morrowind’s, but you had to walk through it. Physically. Getting to that Dwarven ruin at the top of a mountain took you some serious time. Before you headed out, though, you had to walk around a town, step by excruciating step. Every new dialogue, each new discovered treasure, every house entered and dungeon explored- the time between interesting discoveries and story content was exponentially longer than that in Skyrim. I spent hundreds of hours playing Morrowind back in the day, but I can safely say I did, discovered, fought, read, and thought about twice as much stuff in a third of the time playing Skryim.

A huge reason for this is how Skyrim is designed. In Morrowind you’re chucked into a strange colossal world and are expected to figure things out for yourself, and its environments and dungeon design reflect this. You can very easily get lost exploring as there is no map marker telling you where to go, and the world is so minutely detailed that NPCs give you directions, with landmarks and everything, that you actually have to remember and follow to get to places. Not so in Skyrim, where an NPC will offhandedly mention a problem he’s having and a map marker will magically pop up, pulling you in the direction of the quest’s location.


Dungeons themselves in Skyrim pull you along as well. They’re designed in such a way that you discover them without exploring them. Most dungeons seem like subterranean mazes or extensive complexes, but by using clever floor layouts the sense of exploration is mere trickery. Paths will branch, but up those stairs is a cave in. You’ll enter an oddly shaped vast interior space that’s fun to wander around looking at, but there’s one door in and one door out. Skyrim’s dungeons are like conveyor belts. They’re chutes you jump into, enjoy the ride, and land on your feet at the exit. Is this a bad thing, though? I spent 80 hours during my first playthrough unaware of the top-down design aspects of Skryim. While the dungeons are basically strings winding off in loops and curves but ultimately still a single line, most of them are accompanied by scripted events. They tell stories as you move through them, and for the most part the stories themselves are a joy to discover. Even after I became aware of how straight shot the dungeons were I still spent two new playthroughs, with two new characters, wandering around Skyrim and blasting through dungeons I’d never seen before. So yes, Skyrim’s dungeons are linear as all hell, but Bethesda did good by them.


Ahlamahla, Lucretia, and Vaeriel: my stealth, combat, and magic playthrough characters.

There’s been a trend in gaming this past generation to make video games as convenient as possible. Skyrim encapsulates this. I’m not one of those gamers who thinks that dumbs down video games, especially not in Skyrim’s case. Somehow Skyrim managed to strip away all the complexities of previous interfaces while still retaining an intimidating level of character customization and impressive gameplay dynamics. I played through the damn thing three times, and each time felt fresh and new with different characters, different play styles, different places to go on the map, and very different plot directions and outcomes. By simplifying the game itself, Bethesda was able to devote more time to crafting the world and the stories within it.

Stories are the whole point of an Elder Scrolls game anyway.

Biophilia, The New Thing Bjork Did Kind Of Recently


as the lukewarm hands of the gods
came down and gently picked my nose pearls
they placed them in their mouths
and rinsed all of the boogers out
nourished them with their saliva

Once upon a time Bjork had a crazy idea: “Why don’t I make an album composed of nothing but the human voice?” The result was Medulla, an eccentric but not unentertaining album. It offered something different, something unexpected, something that wasn’t spot on all the time but was mostly good. It was harmonious. It was haunting to listen to at night while you were in bed. It was, save one or two songs where she mostly lost her mind, a joy.

Once upon a time a few years after that, Bjork had another crazy idea: “Why don’t I fart around in a recording studio until something flops out like a discarded antique placenta?” What was birthed from the womb of that incubating thought was Biophilia.

When Crystalline, the album’s debut track, was showcased on the internet, my ears perked up and my heart skipped a beat. It was like something out of Vespertine (her best album, in my opinion) but with so much more energy infused into it. Crystalline had a beat, it was sharp and metallic, it was fast and furious. Bjork’s voice sang happily and proudly throughout, her characteristic vocal swings and explosions accompanied by air-pressure-like sounds, deep background rumblings, strange beats, and some chimes for good measure. For a song about rocks, it rocked in its own weird way. You can imagine my excitement at the prospect of an album’s worth of songs like it.

After I got my ears on Biophilia, I wanted to visit the nearest antique shop and burn it to the ground. It has to be an antique shop because the album sounds like Bjork went to one and spent a lot of time banging rusty spoons on stuff.

That energy and swooshing syncopation Crystalline had was absent throughout the rest of the album almost in its entirety. It was bait and switch in its purest form: the debut song, the first ad of the album, the damn hook to get you to listen to it, was like something Aphex Twin might have made if he had had any real talent, but once you paid for the album and got to listen to the rest of it, you got something that was more like an old cat lady’s rainy day project.

Biopilia is just Bjork wailing at random to odd, sparse instrumental effects. The first track is a wince inducing high pitched pluck fest of some string instrument. The second track contains a significant stretch of time that sounds like a computer farting. In the middle, after you’re treated to Crystalline, there’s a piece that consists of a low vibrational hum with a dual track of Bjork’s voice going “ooooOOOOOOoooh ooooh OOOOoooh, what is presumably random Icelandic, OOOOhhh hoooo ohoOOOOO”. Then thirty seconds of NO MUSIC AT ALL, just a disturbing, deep, barely discernible noise that might be coming from a broken organ. Hollow is the biggest joke on the album, nearly being comedic. It sounds like a retarded child pounding on a mini organ on every up beat, like something from a nightmarish otherworldly vaudeville performance directed by David Lynch. Mutual Core is the album’s half other good song, however. I say “half good song” because it takes two minutes of low, toneless notes to get going, but it’s nice enough to offer you two thirty second glimpses into what the album could have been. It’s a side dish of what you came to the album for: computerized beats pounding behind Bjork’s signature mix of intricate sounds complimenting her wonderful voice. But it’s just two very short glimpses of it, and not enough to justify the rest of the album’s existence.

I’ve been a Bjork fan since Junior High, when her appearance on Space Ghost Coast to Coast made me want to buy her first album. She’s entertained me since, but with this new one I can’t help but feel like I’ve been pranked. Biophilia is not entertaining. It’s hard to listen to, the sounds don’t syncopate, and it’s boring when it’s not being annoying. With Medulla, Bjork served up an album with a couple of soggy spots but was mostly delicious as long as you cut off that crust. Biophilia is like Medulla’s negative reel, being mostly a wet sandwich with one or two dry spots you might be able to salvage if cutting them out of the rest of the sandwich was worth the effort to you.

Dammit Bjork, you can do better. Stop being so lazy with your music and have some respect for your listeners.