The growing Aadam Jacobs Collection is an internet treasure trove for music lovers, especially for fans of indie and punk rock during the 1980s through the early 2000s.
Streaming hasn't killed physical media. It's made us crave it more. CDs are back in rotation, showing up in record stores, apartments, and design studios with a renewed sense of purpose.
The allure of the project is that the magnetic tape doesn't reproduce audio cleanly because the oxide coating introduces a slight instability in playback speed. But these are the 'flaws' that Iulius Curt is after, allowing the resulting sound to have that lo-fi warmth that's ideal for ambient listening.
The TTT-W magnetic modular wall rack is flushed against the wall, featuring four circular magnetic pads that create a vertical design piece, unifying the audio devices.
The vocoder was never supposed to be a revolution in music. Its development began a century ago, when an engineer at Bell Labs was looking for a simpler way to send phone calls across copper telephone lines.
Usually, my handbag is a medley of digital devices and life essentials my phone, iPad, chargers, keys, tampons. But lately, you're likely to also find a half-done newspaper crossword, a ton of stationery, the book I've restarted three times, and whatever scraps and trinkets I've picked up throughout the day to put in my scrapbook. Analog is back, and it feels like we need it more than ever.
Tim Zha is looking for the soul in the machine. While some might hear Auto-Tune as masking a singer's humanity, the London-based artist filters his vocals to highlight technology's inseparability with our notions of self. This is ground well-trodden by Afrofuturist techno pioneers, Atlanta trappers, and PC Music hyperpoppers; for Zha, Auto-Tune represents what he calls the "coincidence of human subjectivity and the networked machine system."
I had always associated scrapbooking with grandmas and bored children, so, imagine my surprise when as a twentysomething with a Big Girl Job I found myself enamoured of printing, cutting, and sticking random bits and bobs into a book. If, like me, you've racked up a disconcerting amount of screen time, you may have stumbled across a multitude of craft-inspired social media posts made primarily by young women. Described as junk journalling, the hobby is distinguishable by an affinity with collecting and storing physical mementoes, such as tickets, receipts, packaging and Polaroids.
Casio showed up to NAMM (CES for music gear nerds) this year with a prototype sampler called the SX-C1 that looks every bit the lovechild of a Game Boy and an SP-404. The top has a directional pad and four buttons just like you'd find on a game controller, flanking a 1.3-inch OLED screen. But at the bottom, there are 16 rubberized pads for triggering samples with crunchy pixelated number labels on them.
It's similar to a vinyl record, but the tracks are in a USB drive. It has no moving parts inside, so it's totally digital in how it stores sound. But it has a physical shape users can hold, flip over, look at, and collect, so in a way, the designer is asking: what if digital music had a physical body?
Chances are this does exactly what you need. It will play your old CDs, your new CDs, your homemade mixtapes, the whole nine yards. You can even listen wirelessly thanks to onboard Bluetooth. It's got a decent battery life that can last you up to six hours, and it uses a USB-C to recharge. We usually have one of those on hand.
Junho Park's graduation concept borrows all the right cues from TE's playbook, that modular control layout, the single bold color, the mix of knobs and buttons that practically beg to be touched, but redirects them toward a gap in the market. Where Teenage Engineering designs for people who already understand synthesis and sampling, the T.M-4 targets people who have ideas but no vocabulary to express them.