Sound Mixer Quotes

The sudden noise through the headphones is disconcerting—a massive, evil-sounding slab of guitar, seemingly played with the sole intention of terrifying anyone who hasn’t yet lived through a roughly equivalent sonic experience, such as riding their tricycle under a malfunctioning cement mixer full of dying children.

If one more person tells me that “all gender is performance,” I think I am going to strangle them. Perhaps most annoying about that sound-bite is the somewhat snooty “I-took-a-gender-studies-class-and-youdidn’t” sort of way in which it is most often recited, a magnificent irony given the way that phrase dumbs down gender. It is a crass oversimplification, as ridiculous as saying all gender is genitals, all gender is chromosomes, or all gender is socialization. In reality, gender is all of these things and more. In fact, if there’s one thing that all of us should be able to agree on, it’s that gender is a confusing and complicated mess. It’s like a junior high school mixer, where our bodies and our internal desires awkwardly dance with one another, and with all the external expectations that other people place on us. Sure, I can perform gender: I can curtsy, or throw like a girl, or bat my eyelashes. But performance doesn’t explain why certain behaviors and ways of being come to me more naturally than others. It offers no insight into the countless restless nights I spent as a pre-teen wrestling with the inexplicable feeling that I should be female. It doesn’t capture the very real physical and emotional changes that I experienced when I hormonally transitioned from testosterone to estrogen. Performance doesn’t even begin to address the fact that, during my transition, I acted the same, wore the same T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers that I always had, yet once other people started reading me as female, they began treating me very differently. When we talk about my gender as though it were a performance, we let the audience—with all their expectations, prejudices, and presumptions—completely off the hook.

Star Wars introduced a new way for using the five screen speakers [in theaters]. By pushing left and right sound channels to the farthest out speakers the pair just inside those was made available. Lucas' mixers then placed low frequency effects in those speakers, and named it the 'baby boom' channel. Human ears can hear frequencies up to around 20,000 hertz, and down to around 20 Hertz for very low sounds. Below that you don't *hear* the sound, but if the 'volume' is 'loud' enough, you can *feel* the sound. Super-low frequencies affect us emotionally, usually inducing something like fear. We feel them during earthquakes. Lucasfilm put sound effects in the baby boom channel for audiences to feel--for instance, in the opening shot of Star Wars where the little diplomatic ship is running from the Imperial Cruiser. It's no wonder this is one of the most memorable and ominous shots in cinematic history. It was not only cool looking, but cool *sounding*

From the Waverley Kitchen Journal Fig and Pepper Bread Mary’s Note: Sometimes the two most improbable things make the best combination. Ingredients: 2 cups whole grain spelt flour 2 ½ cups unbleached all purpose flour 1 ½ cups coarsely chopped figs 2 tsp coarse black pepper 2 tsp sea salt 2 tbsp olive oil 1 dry yeast packet 1 ½ cups of warm water Whisk flour, salt, pepper, and yeast until blended, by hand or with whisk attachment of mixer. Add olive oil and warm water. Knead for 10 minutes, or use dough hook attachment of mixer for 5 minutes, until dough is smooth and springy. Oil a large bowl, place dough inside, and cover bowl with a damp hand towel. Let sit in a warm place for approximately 1 hour, or until dough has doubled in size. Softly knead in the chopped figs and evenly distribute throughout the dough (lightly flouring your hands can make handling the dough easier), shape into an oval, then place on a baking sheet. Snip three shallow lines into top of the dough with scissors, then lightly dust the dough with flour. Let rise, uncovered, until dough swells a little more—10–15 mins, or longer if the kitchen isn’t warm. Place tray in 350° oven for 40–45 mins until crust is slightly brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the underside. Cool on a wire rack.

against the velvet rope force fields that kept everyone without an invitation at bay. As I walked toward the entrance, the crowd bombarded me with a mix of insults, autograph requests, death threats, and tearful declarations of undying love. I had my body shield activated, but surprisingly, no one took a shot at me. I flashed the cyborg doorman my invitation, then mounted the long crystal staircase leading up into the club. Entering the Distracted Globe was more than a little disorienting. The inside of the giant sphere was completely hollow, and its curved interior surface served as the club’s bar and lounge area. The moment you passed through the entrance, the laws of gravity changed. No matter where you walked, your avatar’s feet always adhered to the interior of the sphere, so you could walk in a straight line, up to the “top” of the club, then back down the other side, ending up right back where you started. The huge open space in the center of the sphere served as the club’s zero-gravity “dance floor.” You reached it simply by jumping off the ground, like Superman taking flight, and then swimming through the air, into the spherical zero-g “groove zone.” As I stepped through the entrance, I glanced up—or in the direction that was currently “up” to me at the moment—and took a long look around. The place was packed. Hundreds of avatars milled around like ants crawling around the inside of a giant balloon. Others were already out on the dance floor—spinning, flying, twisting, and tumbling in time with the music, which thumped out of floating spherical speakers that drifted throughout the club. In the middle of all the dancers, a large clear bubble was suspended in space, at the absolute center of the club. This was the “booth” where the DJ stood, surrounded by turntables, mixers, decks, and dials. At the center of all that gear was the opening DJ, R2-D2, hard at work, using his various robotic arms to work the turntables. I recognized the tune he was playing: the ’88 remix of New Order’s “Blue Monday,” with a lot of Star Wars droid sound samples mixed in. As I made my way to the nearest bar, the avatars I passed all stopped to stare and point in

In the “revelation” scene (Who forged the signatures? and do we really see a self-incrimination here?) the clock’s ticking, of course, convinces the naive that what we see has transpired in real time. It probably actually results from Welles’ conspiracy with the sound mixer. You can create a similar “revelation” scene by taking ten or twelve close-ups from half a year of filming, putting in a sound track with a tick-tock clock, and then just using your imagination to make the opening and closing dialogue seem to refer to each other. All the close-ups in between will then appear as reactions to the two lines of dialogue which can come from a scene, or two scenes, having no real link to the spoken words.

Scarborough, ME, and Hobe Sound, FL. Thank you, Paula! Ingredients: 1-1/2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal (not quick cooking type), divided use 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tsp. baking powder 1 tsp. baking soda 1 tsp. salt 2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened 1 cup granulated sugar 1 cup firmly packed light-brown sugar 1 tbsp. vanilla extract 3/4 cup chunky peanut butter 2 large eggs 2 cups semisweet chocolate chips 8 oz. semisweet chocolate, grated (may substitute 8 oz. semisweet chocolate chips and process until finely ground in food processor) Directions: Place 1 cup oatmeal in bowl of food processor; pulse until finely ground. Transfer to a large bowl and add remaining 1/2 cup whole oatmeal, flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Reserve. In another large bowl, combine butter and both sugars and beat on medium speed of electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla and peanut butter. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually beat in reserved oat/flour mixture. Add chocolate chips and grated chocolate, beating just until combined. Chill cookie dough, covered, at least 2 hours and up to 1 week. Form rounded tablespoons of dough into balls and arrange about 2 inches apart on parchment-lined sheet pans. Flatten balls slightly and bake in a preheated 325°F oven in batches in middle of oven 15-17 minutes or until just slightly firm—do not overbake! Cool cookies 5 minutes and transfer to racks to cool completely. Yield: 4-1/2 dozen cookies.

But, Mr. Harrison, did you never consider a career in music or, perhaps, as a visual artist?" the interviewer persisted. "I have a high school diploma. Guys like me, we don't consider careers. We get a job," Corny said. You're asking him the wrong questions. Ask about the sound of granulated sugar being poured into a stainless-steel bowl, the whirring motor of an electric mixer, or his fist punching down bread dough. A flat, B minor, or C sharp? Or did he prefer music made by others when he worked? If yes, then ask what songs and colors moved this man to make the lightest cakes, the chewiest cookies, breads with tender crusts?

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