Mary Rose Cook

For me, every idea and dream and activity has a tableau associated with it. Like, when I think of making music with my band, I think the records I’ve already made. Or, when I think of having children, I think of lying in bed with my baby and my baby.

When I think of the central idea of the perceptron, I think of a giant web of connections between artists and the tendrils of recommendation spidering out from Des Ark to other bands I love.

However, these are idealisations and simplifications. More accurate versions would be simultaneously rushing my daughter to school and wiping her runny nose, sitting on a chair in my bedroom fiddling around on my guitar, a mess of pre-calculation and map-reading and planned routes.

Which is to say, things are beautiful and theoretical in the mind and then get ugly and practical.

So, in order to calculate recommendations in reasonable time, the perceptron does a few things. Every link between artists has a grade. Fine. But it has to be precalculated. In most cases, spidering does not go past direct links from the starting point. That tenuous, five-leap link between two bands that turns out to be brilliant: bullshit.

However, sometimes, that practicality can bring beauty. The moment of hitting upon a beautiful new melody. Your daughter saying, “I love you, Mummy”, as she gets out of the car. Exploring indirect links that go via artists that the user has said they like and getting recommended Converge from Des Ark.

Trencher were kind of good, but they only really have two songs: the doom one and the grind one. Here are the band:

The Present were half avant garde plinky plonky noise and half echoed-out rock music. The drummer drummed on his knees. The band had a wonderfully large amount of equipment on stage with them:

Zach Hill, the drummer from Hella, was the closest I’ve come to religious music. Over the last few years. his drumming has become a boring party trick. He’s like someone who still thinks the war is on, but instead of the war, it’s Spencer Seim.

However, he was born for his solo project. There were echoes of it in his Nervous Cop record with Greg Saunier of Deerhoof. However, what achieved with that record relied on cut-ups and post-processing. Now, he achieves it on his own, live.

Don’t listen to the record. There is some kind of switch in the brain that just like offers an unsubstantiated explanation for a purely audio experience of Hill’s drumming that is something other than the truth which is: he drums really fast. So, see him live, or get halfway there by watching a video:

Plosiv helps you live with the pizazz, the panache, you always wanted.

Now, you can follow a depression of the mind with a depression of a button that precipitates a depression of the air. A sense of drama will pervade your actions. A feeling of significance, or tension.

Some have an impact that others lack: movie stars set hearts thumping, video game characters have combustible accessories and musicians are supported by the drop.

Imagine if you could walk into a room and have everyone’s gaze drawn to you. Imagine seeing a pretty young lady’s eyes widen as you deliver a telling insight. Imagine your father clapping you on the back with the approval and trust you always wanted.

With Plosiv, all this is possible.

It’s so simple. Keep it in your pocket. Finger its hand-crafted, noir-sheen plastic. And, when you need that extra emphasis, press the button.

Plosiv. Individual emphasis.