GIANT HEADPHONE SPLITTER

(Welcome to this thing)

For many years I’ve said that one of my dream birthday party ideas is to get a bunch of my most cherished people together in a room and make them listen, in silence, i.e. uninterrupted, to a playlist of my making. I suppose this event is a birthday party in my head because I harbor the belief that when it is your birthday, you are bestowed with the license to demand at least one activity from your core group of people; or alternatively, because I can only imagine such an offering of time and attention as a gift. 

It differs from simply DJing my own party because it is less about the performance aspect of curating a social function, and more about taking the music that moves me more than anything in the world, and showing it to the people I love with hopes that it might generate similar feelings in them too. In the fantasy, I can limitlessly control the quality of the sound, the space, and of course the order of material, etc. But, every time I entertain this idea, I end up spiraling over its limitations. Above all being that control is never complete: how would I even begin to ensure that the attendees would indeed hear what I hear, and feel what I feel, when they listen? 

Even if all conditions remain equal across listeners, there is something in the nature of perception itself that makes listening different from person to person (but… what is it? And what makes some listening “close” listening?). If attempted for real, the grand birthday listening-party of my dreams would be destined for imperfection, precisely because ~the listening experience~ is ever unpredictable, personalized, circumstantial, variable; as much a matter of spontaneous chance, moment-to-moment affective orientation, and the organic willingness–desire?–to absorb the music, as it is a matter of environment and physiological processing. 

Sure, this infinite differentiation comprises the beauty of subjective interpretation–how fabulous the range of feeling music can evoke in such a variety of people! But this reality is antithetical to the wish at the core of the hypothetical party’s vision: to orchestrate a collective experience that mirrors my own feelings about the music that I love. Instead, what I would inevitably create is a situation of proliferation, where the “collective experience” would be only one, loosely defined layer among many perspectives. And, to make matters worse, the prevailing sentiment stringing everyone in the room together would primarily be… well, the idea that it’s a birthday, and people should want to please me, or at least do what’s socially expected. 

So, in a somewhat circular and horrific outcome (I told you I spiral!), the party would be ruined, not so much by the fact that I would fail to properly curate the songs and the lights and the number of subwoofers, but because it’s a birthday party in the first place, an event with prescriptive expectations. The premise would overdetermine the plot, stripping it of… the emergent vibes that give listening dynamic meaning in the first place. 

Maybe this is an overly anxious and cynical resignation to the fact that nothing can ever be as perfect as fantasy. You can’t always get what you want. Besides, parties can never be perfect, the mess of what they become is what makes them interesting, right? Perhaps there is a more realistic version of reality where a close-listening party–nix the birthday part–ends up going fairly well. People enjoy the music, maybe even a few people really connect to some new songs, or to familiar songs in novel ways, and it endears those people to me and to one another. Now we are getting somewhere… 

But the kernel of revelation here for me is actually encased in what isn’t possible to ever truly, or at least purposefully and completely, achieve. I am compelled by the profound yet simple reality that it is impossible to replicate what you feel in another being. 

But is it self-centered (derogatory) to want for other people to experience the world exactly as you do, to believe there is something especially unique or invaluable about the way you are touched by phenomena? Or is it one of those desires that points back to an essential quality of being human: the wish to connect with other humans by way of a shared world, even if only for a fleeting moment? 

You know when, nose to nose with a lover, you swear you are thinking and feeling everything in togetherness–you have never before been closer!–and then, you are confronted with that pest of a gap between your subjectivities… that little one, oops, that only grows more chasmic the closer you get? Wish then (wish!) to have been twins for a spell with all the people you love, to have known each other prior to knowing that first separation. 

Then again. Where’s the fun in that? Our difference is what allows for the joy of touch to emerge, etc. If not in relation to the other, what makes the shape of being at all? 

As I wrote that, two little (maybe three year old) identical twins walked down the sidewalk past me, holding hands with an older woman I can only assume was their grandmother, each of the twins in their distinct pair of mini sunglasses worn on the same blonde heads bobbing like rockstars, and then, both of them simultaneously shocked by a dog of about their height who, in their carefree ambling, they had not seen approaching. In that moment of shock they both looked up at Grandma and tightened their grip on her arms, as she chuckled down at them–oh thank goodness for such a providing anchor. 

It remains unresolved just how close we can all come to shared experience, but I guess what I appreciate about music (and what propelled this party idea in the first place), is its ability to eat away at individuation, even if it's never totally successful. There is some quality to sound in particular that makes it an especially good transitive substance… need to keep mulling that one over. I also suppose that this tension I’m (somewhat dramatically, I realize) discussing between self and others is, after all, what lies behind the making of all music, art, and expression more broadly. At the heart of it is a desire to close the gap.

Maybe what I want is the ability to reproduce on demand the beauty of that moment when a transition between songs is about to happen on the dance floor, and you and a friend lock eyes, knowing from just the first few notes what’s about to come, and you become so upended by your disbelief and excitement (oh shit, it’s this track??) that you almost lose awareness of your body (dancing, right, not keeling over in astonishment, dancing!).

Maybe what I am seeking is: A GIANT HEADPHONE SPLITTER with infinite outputs. I know, this is functionally the same as having people all listen to the radio on the same channel, or listening to music in the same room on the same speaker (back to the beginning), but… there is something specific about the technology of the headphone splitter that invokes a school bus romance: when you extend the literal cord of your mp3 player to your best friend and become temporarily absorbed by the same chords and words. Or, short of a headphone splitter, the other earbud passes between hands, and you listen while sitting shoulder to shoulder, incredibly still so as not to yank on the shared umbilical, even though you want to dance a little and the bus is bouncing you up and down. And here one must also be willing to sacrifice the quality of the mastering (this is how I discovered the art of panning, when I realized that the Right headphone barely had any of the bass track which I so loved, but was nearly all drums). It is all worth it though, for the glance you get to exchange at your favorite parts, for the intimacy of both singing along to a track only you two can hear.

at the entrance to an event at LSD; a prototype for the GHS (giant headphone splitter)

Even though I have let go (for now) of the Perfect Close-Listening Party Fantasy, I am interested in the popularization of playlist romance. No disrespect to the two-way headphone splitter and its necessary privations, but I want the world shoulder-to-shoulder on the school bus seat. 

Ergo this blog/meditation/musing. But I have to say, the risk of sharing anything so widely embarrasses me a little, and questions of scale will always be insistent. I am never certain what I want out of social media, for example, because though I long for connection (who doesn’t?), I am deterred by the superficiality, the surveillance, the fear of perception (but also, who isn’t?). The “over-sharers” among us inspire me to be more unapologetically myself out loud, which is to say, not be afraid to reveal the obvious–which is that I don’t know everything and am certainly not the best at anything; that I am not vague and therefore easy to love, but instead specific and therefore a little ugly sometimes. 

This is an attempt to loosen up my defenses around my private thoughts and feelings (perhaps emulating the past/younger version of myself who would haphazardly upload sloppy recordings of original songs online for all to hear), and to motivate myself to write with more regularity and structure (and at the same time with lower stakes). Right now, my vision is for it to center mostly around music, but then also, naturally, the other miscellany I am consuming and considering along the way. 

As a first toe-dip, I will leave you with some songs (below) for the July full moon, which is, I found out from a recent Google, apparently known to some as the “buck moon” because late July is historically when the young bucks in this region begin to grow their antlers. Like an adolescent Bambi, then, I will shyly step into the light, bringing with me the following offering–may your buck moon reveal to you, too, what is maturing, bursting forth from under the surface, and coming into its own. 

Groove Theory - “Baby Luv”

Speaking of romance, what does it better than 90’s R&B? This track, from Groove Theory’s 1995 self-titled and only full-length album released, shows up as the 12th song on the Ezri Dax mix, which was described by the friend who put me on recently as “easy-Sunday deep listening” (I agree and recommend the whole mix). The twangy guitar loop is intoxicatingly catchy, and accompanied by punchy snare the whole song is a bouncy and light-hearted slice of the record, reminiscent of those moments of marveling at the effortless beauty of ur baby luv.  

Nia Archives - “Cards On The Table” 

This song was a bit of an obsession for me when it first came out. Sometimes I am bothered by overly literal lyrics (maybe because it reminds me too much of my own writing style)–but this tune off Nia Archive’s newest full-length, Silence Is Loud, has an irresistible quality to it that I attribute to its sheer size and unabashed honesty. I mean, that’s what the song is about–admitting the way you feel about someone doesn’t necessarily change anything materially, but for some reason sometimes you’ve got to say it all out loud. The thing that makes this track charming for me is the guitar layers, and in particular the pedal steel (perhaps also featured or at least emulated in Baby Luv?), which feels peculiar but at the same time so right layered over the jungle beats.

Darian - “U-HAUL” 

Heard this first during an iconic b2b set between sola system and Mengze (shoutout, hey!), and for obvious reasons when the hook came in I could not stop freaking out. First of all, Tracy Chapman deserves to be immortalized in every form and genre–but somewhat counterintuitively, the better an original song is the harder it becomes to make a good remix, one that does the original justice while also doing enough of its own generative work to make it memorable. I think a lot about Hanif Abdurraqib’s comment that “everything’s a cover.” (I forget where I first encountered him say this, if it was in his writing or during a reading or in the podcast linked above, but worth checking out anyway). The point being that everything we do is a remix of what’s been done, and with the right awareness and reverent touch, the cover/remix as form can become a vital tribute, continuation, contribution. Anyway, this bouncy jersey revision of an already-perfect track in my opinion also exemplifies the Platonic use of the whistle sound-effect. 

Yaz - “Don’t Go”

Changing directions and landing on the planet of synth-pop here, because we need something for the psychedelic heat wave of end-of-July. The music video for this 1982 hit has everything–a laboratory, fur coat, eerie shadows, a player piano, and lots of fog. Love is a monster!

MoMA Ready - Decadence

I was going to write about “In Absence of Perfection,” a title off of the remastered re-release of Soft, Hard, Body that just came out from HAUS of ALTAR, because what a perfect title for the theme of this letter. Plus, the whole album is one of evolution (into one’s power?). But instead I’m going to point you towards Decadence because the pushing tempo, swirling synths, and hedonistic refrains feel a lot more in step with where we’re at, about to enter Leo season, and preparing our minds/bodies/souls for a renewed confidence in our fight against systems of oppression and death-mechanics. To me, good house frequencies are unparalleled in their ability to reach from the personal to the political. They evoke vivid visions–as in premonitions, as in prophecies–of everything from interpersonal seduction to global intifada. Since moving to New York I’ve had the pleasure of seeing MoMA at least three times that I can recount, most recently on a hot Sunday afternoon at Nowadays, and it always feels like something of an auspicious conjuring. 

This seems like an okay place to stop. Thanks for riding along with me if you’ve made it this far (promise it won’t always be this long-winded), and I hope you enjoy this dancey mid-summer progression <3 

Long live the resistance xx

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