Comrades,
Though one shouldn’t explain jokes, sometime I should probably elaborate the gently tongue in cheek “comrades” that I use as a salutation, and that evidently raises (needless) concerns about my commie leanings. But not today. This is a true-blue distribution, 100%.
On the 4th of July, the dogs and I drove down from the high country. An even 100 degrees, coming across the plains. As the sun lowered behind me, the light struck the Smoky Hills aslant, and the world through the windshield was suddenly vivid, sharper. In those parts, fences are traditionally and still strung on stone posts, due to the lack of wood, hence post rock country. The stone posts glowed sandy amber, as if lit from within, the grasses almost wet green and undulating, miles between the crests of the gentle swell, and the windmills startling white against the drama of shifting clouds pierced by clear sky. Night began to draw in, and fireworks began to bloom above small towns and big families, close by and across the vast expanses. Dark now, almost home, and poor old woebegone Topeka, was this moment at least truly beautiful. Fireworks everywhere, oil slick reflected in the bright cheap lighting of strip mall advertising. Hearing and hating the explosions, Michael the big dog tried to climb into my lap at 80 mph. I felt better about many things.
Both of this month’s podcasts are drawn from books largely about the American project, and so fitting for Independence Day, maybe. Episode 8 Welcome to New Country Part I is the first part of a book, which you can read if you like: Welcome to New Country: Music for Today's America. The book looks at this country through the lens of commercial country music, and attempts to sketch an American mythos. Folk sociology through song lyrics. I also suggest that America may be reinventing herself, to become more like other nations, founded on experience, as opposed to an experiment. And the book is a modest effort to ameliorate some of the divides that run through this nation.
Episode 9 Smith Lake Part II is the second part of my experimental work Smith Lake, a reverie loosely structured around a road trip to a childhood home. (Smith Lake Part I is “Episode 1: Points of Departure”). The book concerns many problems, not least the relationship between faulty memory and therefore shaky identity. One solution might be a public, as in res publica, vis-a-vis which an individual may seek definition. But that is difficult in these United States. And what may be, should be, said? What does art have to do with it, especially if meaning is scarce? Or suffocating? Smith Lake is a difficult piece, but I hope it works for you.
Both podcasts feature original music written, performed and produced by Vince Parlato. I’m especially fond of what Vince did with Episode 9.
Finally, something somewhat academic. (More academic stuff soon, I know you cannot wait!). Mark Maguire and I have posted the draft of “The Discipline of Security, and the Realities of Counterterrorism,” a chapter for a forthcoming edited volume on AI, policing, and the like. We (well, this one is mostly Mark) discuss how counterterrorism is professionally conceptualized, and what that means for the industries – including digital industries – that design for, and sell into, the profession. Again, the big book is Getting Through Security: Counterterrorism, Bureaucracy, and a Sense of the Modern. I’ve just gotten the audio rights back from the publisher, and hope to do an audiobook this fall.
As part of my turn to sound, I’m hoping to convert several of books to audio, and maybe reach new audiences that way. My plan is to give away about a third of both Welcome to New Country and Smith Lake, as free podcasts, and in due course, make the complete works available for a nominal sum.
The world of newsletters and podcasts is all about niche marketing and monetization. I’m resisting both. But please do send Intermittent Signal, either this newsletter or the podcasts, to anyone you think might enjoy it, and ask them to subscribe, tell your networks, “like” and comment and generally spread the word.
Until next time, I hope your summer unfolds like a blanket (or the blanket is cuddly, for those in the southern hemisphere).
Be well,
David A. Westbrook