On 9th March 2008, historians have found what they believe is the first recording of a human voice. Predating Thomas Edison’s first phonograph recording of 1877. The “phonautograph”, created by etching soot-covered paper by Parisian inventor Edouard-Leon Scott de Martinville, was played by US scientists using a “virtual stylus” to read the lines. The recording was initially believed to be the voice of a woman or adolescent, but further research in 2009 suggested the playback speed had been too high and that it was actually the voice of Scott himself. This is the original recording.
god fucking dammit
why was i not expecting that?
Be safe tomorrow, folks. Me? I’ve got a Lovecraft-themed Apocalypse and 30th Birthday party to enjoy.
Quick-ish and dirty-ish. Credit to my friend Becca for the idea, and to Mitt for just being his beautiful self.
Are you listening to Childish Gambino yet? You should seriously consider listening to Childish Gambino.
I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been since I bothered to do anything with this account, other than the mindless scrolling once or twice a day of course. But the whole idea was to share the best of whatever earworms might be plaguing me at any given moment, I do remember that much.
So here’s a track from Robyn that is more often than not the only reason I’ll have just put on Body Talk. You’re welcome or whatever.
Bat for Lashes - Trophy
I rarely (read: never) get into something its first go-round. So it was Two Suns that hooked me inextricably into Bat for Lashes, and only then did I take an interest in the previous/debut album Fur and Gold. I realized someone had linked me to the thoroughly awesome video for “What’s A Girl To Do?” years ago, but “Trophy” will always be the standout for me from this album. It’s simple, it tells a story nebulously enough to stay interesting and broadly appealing, and it’s addicting in a way I’m not usually addicted to songs.
Joan Osborne - The Man in the Long Black Coat
My mother, God bless her, had a way of enthusiastically buying me any kind of “rock” music that could possibly reinforce my Christianity as a kid, which is how Joan Osborne’s 1995 album Relish ended up in my Easter basket one year. But when That One Single turned out to be an outlier, I was left with an album of superbly raw folk and blues music I’d have not otherwise sought out.
This is the second song on the album and is still my favorite. When you’re singing Bob Dylan’s words (and they’re in particularly good form here), it’s best to keep things sparse enough that the attention stays focused where it needs to be. Her voice certainly does not hurt things.