The Wall

So I seem to have been neglecting my blog after my move to the swick so here goes. There is a lot of paint, graffiti and or street art int he swick, goes with the territory i suppose. There is one wall in particular though that is a for all painters, kind of like a wall of fame. The wall on is painted on al 4 side and houses a factory of some sort in side. The wall can be found at bogard, white, boerum and ingram streets (http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&client=safari&rls=en&q=40.706913,+-73.935091&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=mlR0TJ2-EcP_lgeFmoHJCA&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&ved=0CAkQ_AU). So rather than continue to slack off I though id post some photos I took a few weeks ago to post what is currently on the wall (note it is a living breathing art piece and is ever evolving as people lay down bomber over other peoples work).

Kelly Daen, SMOG & Dubstep

So i've been listening to a lot of dubstep.fm and they really love to play Kelly Dean. No doubt he is a kick ass DJ with super wobbly tracks, but man does that guy never shut the fuck up. I dont hate on people in particular on my blog, not like anyoine reads it anyway. holy shit, this guy loves to hear the sound of his own voice; perhaps only surpassed by rush limbaugh or glen beck. For the love of god man, shut the fuck up and let us hear the tracks, we dont need you to tell us that they rock, we would be able to determine that for our selves if you weren't talking all the time.

Anyway, here is my favorite track of the moment, but not on SMOG and not by dean, not hating now but provided for your listening pleasure. sorry YouTube compression killed most of the wobble.

Sub woofers and the battle for reggaeton supremacy

My decent into Bushwick has been filled with many new sense sensations; sight, sound & taste a full submersion into all things Bushwick.

Today's focus is sound; in particular, that of the musical style known and loved by the natives: Reggaeton (for those of you who are unfamiliar, a video can be found here).

The ritual of listening to reggaeton involves sub woofers, in particular, custom sub woofers and high powered amps that are installed in cars. It matters not what kind of vehicle you drive, be it a 1978 datsun b210 or a 2010 lexus with spinners. The rules of engagement seem to be the same. All players must pack at least 500 watts in the trunk. Any good sound engineer worth his or her salt will tell that the bass doesn't fully develop for at least 35 feet form the source even with properly ported for the point of origin of dispersion, a fact that all participants must be unaware of. The next stage of the ritual involves participants not hearing the base in the vehicles while setting off as many car alarms of as possible.

Another possible home court rule is, rather than driving, one can opt to pull over and open all the windows, turn the radio up to 11 and then stand on either side of the car and have a conversation while shouting at the top of your voice to make sure the other players can hear you and properly engage in the conversation; albeit with a lot of whats, huhs and ques.

Ironically enough, many of the older residents do not seem to take issue with this this game, grandmothers nor school children complain. As I write this a new match has just began, granted it is only quarter after 12 on a Saturday night, leaves at least 5:45 left in this, the 3rd period.

A turn of events happened last night when the live/work art space in the building next door to me deiced to host a robot themed party with a dub step sound track complete with 18" sub woofers.

As the night drew on, the players from both the art complex and the people from the neighborhood mounted attacks one by one not to be outdone by the former. After an intense battle lasting till 6:00 am Team Reggaeton could no longer hold on after an injury resulting in a blown left woofer, I am still not sure if it was the result of a wattage to impedance miscalculation or a sharp object office sides offense by one of the men in the trunk trying to tool up the amp to push the extra oms. None the less, the natives were forced to abandon Fridays episode of battle for reggaeton.

There is no doubt in my mind that this battle will be repeated like that of civil war reenactments for years to come but the real question is, what kind of ammunition will they pack in the future?

Welcome to the Bushwick beatch!

^{The raid was called on after narcotics officers observed a drug deal in front of the Ridgewood apartment Monday afternoon. The search led cops to the white mountain, scales, and clues leading to a house in Bushwick, where officers found an AK-47 rifle, two Uzi submachine guns, five handguns, and ammo.}

So recently I moved to Bushwick in good old Brooklyn. I must admit it was quite a change from the life I was living in Manhattan. While there are still rows of tenement housing lining the streets of the swick, the swick of today is much different of the swick of the past. Granted there is no shortage of abject poverty, crime, fatherless children and drug addiction, the swick I know is something that politicians who long ago gave up on this neighborhood and perhaps even the residents would have never expected; a beacon of hope.

Today's has seen a return of diversity to the neighborhood, partly fueled by the housing boom leaving neighboring Williamsberg unaffordable for the artist who started to flock there by the prospect of cheap commercial warehouse converted into live work spaces. With this influx of new blood and the reintegration of a diverse mix people businesses and the local economy are starting to thrive.

Although the old residents are enjoying the new life and influx of spending into the neighborhood, it is hard to forget the swicks not so pleasent past. Perhaps nobody could tell the story of the fall and rise of bushwick than that of Ron Carritue as he recalls in his interview titled: Bushwick the firestorm years.

For more on the history of Bushwick, see the wikipedia entry