from Notes I Won’t Reread

It’s three in the morning, and I have absolutely nothing to do. I wasn’t even planning on writing tonight, but after spending the last hour walking around the house for no reason, and opening the fridge as if food was going to magically start dancing to cheer me up, staring out the window, and checking my phone every five minutes even though I already know there’s nothing interesting on it, I ended up here. I don’t have a story to tell, and I didn’t get a deep realization moment, and nothing happened today that’s worth writing about. I’ve already said what happened, absolutely nothing. Im just bored. That’s the entire reason this exists now. At this point, I’d almost ruin someone’s life just to make the next ten minutes interesting. Almost. That sounds like too much paperwork, and besides, my housemate keeps making sure I can’t even be bored in peace. I don’t know how one person manages to make everything about himself. He’ll hear me complain about something completely unrelated, and somehow he’ll decide im attacking him personally. Some people spend years trying to be the center of attention, and he manages it just by existing in the same room. I don’t mind being alone. I actually enjoy it. I know people love pretending that’s a sad sentence, “Oh, what a tragedy.” It’s really not that complicated or sad. I just don’t enjoy people that much, and actually, I don’t enjoy people at all. There’s a difference. Being alone has never bothered me, if anything, it’s peaceful. nobody talking just to fill the room with noise, and nobody is asking questions that don’t matter. Nobody’s expecting me to react to stories I’ve already forgotten halfway through hearing them. I like being alone and disappearing because I want to, not because im lonely. People confuse those two things all the time. Humans, on the other hand, seem physically incapable of existing without dragging each other around like a disease. They always need someone to text, to call, to sit with, to complain to, to drag out for coffee so they can spend seven hours vomiting meaningless noise at each other and calling it conversation. Then they wonder why they're fucking exhausted all the time. Maybe stop collecting people like they're some kind of pathetic little hobby. You don't need an audience every hour of the day, but oh, I guess, most of them would rather choke on their own boredom than sit still for five minutes. I don't know why silence scares people so much. It's probably because it leaves them alone with the fact that they're unbearable.

The only company I actually don’t get tired of is the woman in the navy dress, which is probably the closest thing I have to proof that human company is unbearable, except for hers. She exists in my dreams, but she does exist in real life too (though she won’t talk to me in any way, and that’s as far as im going to talk about it.). She still manages to be better company than most people I’ve met while existing for a few hours at a time. She doesn’t ask pointless questions. She doesn’t turn everything into an argument. She doesn’t find reasons to be offended over things that have absolutely nothing to do with her. She just exists, and somehow that’s enough. If I had to choose between spending an entire day around humans or one more of her dreams, I’d sleep for years without thinking twice. Actually, without thinking at all. I don’t know how I ended up talking about any of this. This note started because I was bored. Then it became a complaint about my housemate, etc. I never have a destination when I write, I just keep following whatever thoughts decide to speak the loudest until I run out of things to complain about, which hasn’t happened yet. But anyway, Im still bored, and writing this somehow managed to waste a few minutes. That’s probably the most productive thing I’ve done all night.

Sincerely, Ahmed

 
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from Roscoe's Story

In Summary: * Have been enjoying an exciting Game this afternoon. A's caught fire in the top of the 9th inning and know lead the Giants 9 to 6.

Spent an hour with my lawnmower out front this morning and improved the look of this place quite a bit. More remains to be done, of course. Thing about yard work, it's never completely done.

MLB Game has just ended. A's held their lead and won 9 to 6.

Time for me to catch up the Thursday prayers now, and plan for an early bedtime.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night.

Health Metrics: * bw= 237.99 lbs. * bp= 136/80 (78)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups, BP breathing exercises, pilates

Diet: * 05:55 – 1 banana, 1 pb&j sandwich * 08:10 – 2 big steak-filled breakfast tacos * 12:00 – beef patties, mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 03:30 – listen to local news talk radio * 04:10 – bank accounts activity monitored. * 04:30 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap * 09:30 to 10:30 – yard work, 1 hour pushing the lawn mower over the front yard * 13:30 – now listening to The Glenn Beck Program on 650 KSTE, Broadcast Home for the Athletics in Sacramento, ahead of this afternoon's MLB Game between the Athletics and the San Francisco Giants.

Chess: * 16:00 – moved in all pending CC games

 
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from Roscoe's Quick Notes

Giants vs A's

San Francisco Giants vs Oakland Athletics.

My MLB Game of Choice this afternoon has the Oakland Athletics playing the San Francisco Giants. The game's start time is scheduled for 2:45 PM CDT. I'm listening now to the Athletic's Pregame Show on 650 KSTE, Broadcast Home for the Athletics in Sacremento, and I'll stay here for the radio-call of the game.

As I usually do, I'll follow the score and live stats as the game develops in real time via MLB's Gameday Service.

And the adventure continues.

 
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from 🌐 Justin's Blog

The biggest “black eye” in WordPress will be its downfall if things don't change.

Let's get the obvious out of the way: I'm not a developer. So, if you're looking for technical solutions in this post, then my apologies in advance.

Okay, cool, we're on the same page.

I've been out of the WordPress product space for coming up on five years. There are parts of it that I miss, but one thing that I don't miss is the security issues caused by plugins. No plugin is immune to them, either. When I ran LearnDash, we had some security scares. It sucks for everyone.

The good news, for years, is that plugin providers have always handled these issues with reasonable speed and minimal negative outcomes. Not all, but most. The community was really proactive about staying on top of such things.

I'm not sure if this is as feasible in the AI era of today.

WordPress 7.0 Highlights New Dangers

Roger Montti from Search Engine Journal wrote a thought-provoking article (and inspiration for this post) related to WordPress 7.0's AI API keys and the rush it will cause for attacks on vulnerable sites. I agree with the threats outlined. It's a very real possibility.

At this point it looks like the WordPress space is just treating it as “business as usual”. It's this approach that will ultimately lead to WordPress losing even more market share.

AI is fundamentally changing the speed, scale, and sophistication of attacks against WordPress sites. Instead of automated scripts, AI can adapt, optimize, and move forward with attacks in ways that we haven't seen before. By way of example, Patchstack (cited from the SEJ article) suggested that exploitation from high-impact WordPress vulnerabilities is just five hours now.

WordPress already suffers from the “insecure site” reputation. If things continue as they are, it'll only get worse. A lot worse.

What Should We Do?

Remember how I said I'm not a developer? Okay, this is where that matters. I'm not good at providing technical paths forward, but I'm pretty good at recognizing business threats and opportunities.

This threat has always existed in WordPress, sure, but not like this. It's going to get worse if nothing is done to improve it. What I want to know is what is being done currently? Because from my perspective, it looks like the issue still gets punted to hosts and plugin devs.

I'd love to see real leadership in this area. Not just information sharing or “best practices”, but actual think tanks resulting in coded solutions that drastically help mitigate this increasingly embarrassing issue. We could start by assessing the criteria for being listed on the repo. Could we implement AI security hardening to monitor and verify the code of any plugin submitted and hosted there?

Yeah, I get it, that's likely not feasible given how expensive it would be, but these are the types of conversations that I'd like to see happening. Maybe they are already, and if so, great! WordPress can't drag its feet here.

Learning from Others

Say what you want about Emdash, but at least they are attempting to tackle the issue because they know how real it is. Their way forward isn't really the “WordPress way”, I get that. Though I think we do WordPress a disservice by just flippantly dismissing their technical approach and moving on with our heads in the sand.

Something I found interesting was reading the comments on their social media when they came after WordPress. The sentiments were largely the same, and leading the way was the growing downside of the plugin ecosystem. What is often cited as WordPress' greatest strength is being seen as its most glaring weakness.

The Inflection Point

The WordPress project is at an inflection point. Over the next year, it is critical that it move deep into AI adoption and enablement, and that includes bolstering things from a security standpoint.

For me, I won't host another WordPress site in the traditional sense. Why? Because I'm not trying to be a security pro with my simple websites. No time for that nonsense. I like the static options like SimplyStatic Studio (I transitioned a website to it and love it). Aside from that though, I actually see more benefit in just using something like Loveable and hosting everything there for the added AI features.

Progress is Being Made

The good news is that WordPress is making strides with AI. It's not yet widely known or advertised, but things like Jamie mentioned below are precisely what the project needs.

Let's hope that things keep going in this direction, and that more emphasis on security starts to emerge. To date, it's not very user friendly, at least not compared to tools like Loveable. I anticipate that this will change over time.

Cautiously Optimistic

Overall, I'm optimistic about WordPress evolving in the ways that matter. The community voices are loud and clear. It's up to Matt to set the priorities. Hopefully, he's not too distracted with his WPEngine lawsuit to do what is right (and needed) for WordPress as a whole.

I'll revisit this in a year to see where things have landed. By that time, I think there will be some clear market signals one way or another.

#WordPress

 
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from Notes I Won’t Reread

I woke up a few mins ago. I got home from work and laid down for a minute, and then disappeared for several hours. I wasn’t planning on sleeping for that long, but I guess my body had different plans, and for once, I didn’t argue with it. I had the usual dream. I don’t think it’ll ever change at this point, anyway. Now I’m awake with the rest of the night ahead of me. I’ll probably work for a while, deal with my housemate being sensitive about something, and then continue pretending I have a proper plan for the evening. I’m tired today, so this won’t be one of those long notes where I accidentally spend three pages talking about absolutely nothing. which is unfortunate news for anyone who enjoys watching me ramble in circles for no reason, and excellent news for everyone else, who can now go back to their deeply important lives. But anyway, nothing interesting has happened. It was a peaceful day, which makes me suspicious.

Not that im complaining (which is what I usually do). A boring day is still better than an eventful one most of the time. And you know, eventful days usually end up becoming notes, and notes usually end up becoming longer than they need to be. So perhaps it’s for the best that I have absolutely nothing worth writing about tonight.

Sincerely, Ahmed

 
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from Ira Cogan

A while back I read an interview with Cory Doctorow in The New Yorker and the whole thing is a great read, and towards the end of it Doctorow was asked about how he manages his workload and he mentioned the book Getting Things Done by David Allen. He didn't just mention it, he described the book as “life-changing”. Doctorow cranks out a lot of quality writing all the time in between everything else he does so I figured whatever he has to say about that, I ought to pay attention to. And, not only that, whether you like Doctorow or not, he does all this stuff his way. These days, he's most known for coining the term enshittification and standing up to it. The man is a literal bullshit detector, so if he's describing a book in a genre that's 99% bullshit as “life-changing” I should probably read the thing.

So anyways, I read the book shortly after, and I'd describe it as life-changing too, to the point that here I am writing about it four years later because I still revisit parts of it every now and then. The audiobook too. I can't get too into the specifics because that would be a lot to get into. I get different things out of that book at different times depending on what I'm dealing with but if I had to pick one, it's that I'm better able to get the stuff that's on my mind someplace else where I can refer to it or deal with it. Obviously, the best way to get something off my mind is to deal with it, but what about the things I can't deal with, or at least can't deal with right now? The book was helpful with that, and with prioritizing those things, and deciding what goes where systematically, so I don't have that stuff on my mind. I'm freed up to think about other things with the confidence that everything that needs dealing with, or just to be filed somewhere is someplace safe.

I recall Cal Newport, another author in the productivity genre criticizing the systems in there as having too many steps, but Allen even says in the book to tailor this stuff so that it works for you. It isn't that anything in the book is too detailed or too much, it's that Allen's intention, at least to me, was to not leave anything out that might apply to anyone's given situation. There's room for criticism of anything, but that's a ridiculous criticism. Like, you're gonna criticize a productivity book for being too detailed about how to organize all your shit? Come on.

My only criticism is the corny turns of phrase here and there throughout the book that give a wink to the professional managerial class, but, I get it. That stuff is there because it's supposed to be, and as corny as that is to me, I'm not the only one reading this thing.

When I was reading it after that Doctorow interview, I mentioned it to someone at work and he was like “Oh I heard of that, (Howard) Stern's into that book.” There's another one, whether you like Stern or not, there's another perfect example of someone with a lot on their plate at all times that they have to keep organized otherwise they'd go nuts.

If you already have it all figured out, terrific. If not, I found the book helpful and maybe you might too.

 
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from Littoral

“Pleasure is not binary. It exists alongside fear, sadness, and politics. That is the history of Queer pleasure. We tend to tell one side of our history—of riots and martyrs—but ignore how much sex is a root of that liberation. The folks who judge and police another consenting adult's pleasure are just policing their own. For the past decade, we have experienced a massive paradigm shift through tools unimaginable to our ancestors: PrEP, HIV undetectability, DoxyPEP, vaccines, GPS apps. Our history is full of Queers who lament eras they missed out on. Stop arresting your own development and abolish the cop in your head, beloved. We are in a sexual revolution—act accordingly.

— Leo Herrera, (analog) CRUISING, pp. 134-135

 
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from Dan De Lion

GOSPEL OF THE WEED — PROPHET IN THE WASTE

Hear me. For there is no one else left to hear.

Observe, says the wind. Light breaks because it must. Truth stands because it cannot kneel.

The hidden burns. The ordinary is stripped to its ribs. The fallow hums with buried fire.

Neglect speaks in the tongue of stones. Testimony rises from what the world forgot.

Thus it is written: Perception rules the mind. Absence rules the soul.

The seen commands thought. The unseen shapes being. This is the law beneath all other laws.

Light orders. Darkness reveals. Both are teachers. Neither is kind.

Absence is a flame without smoke. Fallow is a promise without mercy.

And on that ground — the ground no one claims — the weed rises.

Not chosen. Not wanted. Not killed.

I am that weed. I speak because silence is a tyrant. I endure because the waste has no use for the fragile.

Boredom empties the vessel. Silence lifts the veil. Testimony climbs the spine like heat.

I’m ok. You’re ok. These are not comforts. These are survival rites.

Roots hold. Soul opens. Truth enters like a blade of light.

And in the end — when the wind has taken everything but the voice — Communion reveals truth.

Thus speaks the weed. Thus stands the prophet. Thus endures the waste.

 
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from 夏の思い出

聽過太多「妳太瘦了多吃一點」這種話,特別是長輩們,一直在那邊,太瘦多吃一點,不然就是年輕人多吃一點.... 從以前到現在我只要換一個環境,到新的公司,出席聚會,只要是一個新環境,就一定會有人說:妳好瘦、妳太瘦了多吃一點;或者尾牙結束後,大家就要我把食物打包,因為你太瘦了!

雖然我知道沒惡意,但你沒看到我已經吃撐了嗎?吃多了是我腸胃不舒服也不是你,真的別再說這種話了,不管是胖瘦吃多吃少,關你什麼事啊?💢

但我也只是心底抱怨,不敢這麼回。其實我只是想說,不管胖瘦,自己開心就好,健康才最重要的,這樣不就好了嗎?

- 想到還有一種『妳太瘦了』:

試衣服的時候店員說妳太瘦了所以撐不起來,好吧、、、

我知道妳的意思了:『妳太平了所以撐不起來。』

貧相な身体だからね...

#自訴

 
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from bios


Not So Famous Last Words | Rev. David Herbert Allen | 1920ish – 1992


There is a memory of a photograph of my grandfather in short pants, on a sand dune, shirtless, laughing, but I cannot tell you where my grandfather served in the war, my mother used to be able to, but now she talks mostly about the farm.

I first saw this photograph when grandad noticed me reading Spike Milligan's “Rommel: Gunner Who?” and took it out of some box, presenting it with the words, “This is me in North Africa”

He and my grandmother, Marge ran Marge's Home Industries out of the cottage, converted from a servants quarters, when they lived with us in the 80s, after they had had to leave the farm. He replaced his train sets with a room to make eyes out of spoons, They were for her toilet roll covers, her fluffy eared keen dog, little red tongue toilet seat covers. Making these and making food was their primary function in our home. His secondary function was fart jokes.

Once when I had a runny stomach, was doubled over with cramps, he said to me, “Is the bottom falling out of your world, or the world falling out of your bottom?” He then placed me in a deep warm bath and invited me to shit myself at my leisure.

He was a Wesleyan minister who in his youth rode on horse back between churches and somewhere there met my grandmother. He came out from Scotland, when I can't say, why I can't say.

The rest of the farm sloped down away a gentle hill from the farmhouse. There was a shed, a reservoir and a dam, a small dam on the side of the dust road as you drove in, we, the cousins, my sister, would run through the brush and jump into the king weed that grew on the side of the dam, it's terse coils dipping us into the water and springing us out. There were giant rats in the sugar cane fields, and we lived in terror of them. They occasionally took chickens. The hen houses were under a large tree, with a chopping block on an old stump, axe embedded. Grandpa Dave named the chickens after the cousins, my sister, me: Andrew, Terry, Trevor, Michael, Mandy, Roger. The farmhouse itself was a dining room, a TV and settee nestled in the corner. The sitting room was for his trains. In retirement Grandpa Dave built a world of trains. A circular track that he would duck underneath, stand in the centre, hours applying grass detail to a miniature hill, staring intent of realism, through his just not quite bottle top glasses.

The long drive down to Ifafa every second weekend. Arriving on Saturday afternoon, we would wake Sundays to a long breakfast on the veranda, Grandpa Dave rehearsing us through the recounting of our weeks, each family member. He was excruciating in his need for detail. Every sixth visit one of us would have to kill a chicken bearing our name. And carve the roasted bird. After breakfast Grandpa would rise up and say, “Today we're eating Roger,” and lead whoever's turn it was off the chopping block and with his ineffable good nature tease us until we took our head off, and then we would laugh as he counted how long the headless chicken ran. The farm was an idyll.

People came and went into the fields, the farm manager an amorphous figure, part of the church, discussed but never seen. When they moved into the servants quarters there was no bitterness, an offhand remark from my father about “them” having to “give back the farm”, a comment from my grandmother about God working in mysterious ways.

She survived him by ten or more years and never stopped saying, “I wonder what grandpa would think?”. She knew what he would say in any given moment and completed his sentences with a loving irritation. “Oh Dave, of course you would say that.”

My mother told me he was in hospital and I raced back from Cape Town, hadn't been home for a while, and by the time I got there, he had passed. In the hospital corridor my cousin told me his last words were “Shitabrick!” My aunt who was there later told me he had sat up in his bed, after three days of not responding to anything, looked at her and said, “Shit! A Brick!” and then laid down and died. My mom always said my aunt was prone to exaggeration.

He possessed an impressive range of similar short sleeve shirts, in memory a shade of yellow green always, and black rimmed glasses and eyebrows that sprouted one black hair. He would hush us in church with a naughty smile on his face, and he always had money for the ice cream van.

NSFLW

 
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from Image Not Found

TL;DR: Paint the Cameras Dead (read more) asks people to notice the surveillance infrastructure disappearing into the background of our cities. Look up. Find the cameras. Ask who placed them there and what they see. Map them, but do not stop there. Respond with something of your own. A drawing. A sticker. A message. An intervention we have not imagined yet.

The postcards are now available.

The postcards are now available.

Looking is only the beginning

A camera watches.

You can watch it back.

But two objects staring at each other will not change much.

The point of noticing a camera is not to stand beneath it forever, looking suspiciously upwards.

The point is to break the spell that makes it invisible.

Once you see it, you can ask questions.

Who installed it?

What is it recording?

Where does the recording go?

Why does this wall have eyes?

You can map the camera. Correct an existing entry. Help someone else notice it.

And then you can do something more creative.

Make a drawing.

Write a message.

Design a sticker.

Create a new postcard.

Turn the camera into a character, a question, a joke or a public conversation.

The tool is not important.

The interruption is.

The postcards are ready

The postcards show people where to look and how to recognize the cameras hiding above doors, on poles and inside dark plastic bubbles.

You can read more about the campaign, download the print-ready files, or contact us to get some printed cards.

But we prefer that you print your own.

Not because we do not want to send them.

Because the campaign becomes more interesting when it stops belonging to us.

Print five.

Print fifty.

Translate them.

Change the images.

Rewrite the instructions.

Make a version for your own street, neighborhood or city.

Leave them in cafés, libraries, universities, community spaces and unexpected places where people might pause for a moment.

Do more than watch

Surveillance likes passive people.

People who walk underneath it.

People who never notice.

People who notice but decide there is nothing to be done.

The postcards are not the final action.

They are an invitation.

Look up.

Map what you find.

Then answer it with something the camera cannot produce by itself:

An idea.

Some imagination.

A small act of creative disobedience.

Some people will say nothing will change.

Make something anyway.


Subscribe to get notified for more action ideas. No spam!

 
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from An Open Letter

J Is both more photogenic Than me, but also worse at taking photos. It sucks because I look at these really nice photos of her I take and then I look at the photos of me and I kind of hate them, and I feel fat and gross and I feel insecure. And it’s weird because on one hand I’m like I don’t care if I gain weight because anyway that’s kind of attractive in its own way and I get to be strong, but when I see like my chin I feel bad.

 
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from Hiroaki Satou's Music Blog

I still remember the moment a track came through the speakers of BBC Radio 3's Late Junction. It was a jazz piano trio, yet it had the texture of electronica. The beat was played on a live drum kit, yet it had a mechanical precision. The bass occasionally growled like a guitar. I had never heard jazz that sounded like this. The next day, I went out and bought the CD. That was my introduction to the Esbjörn Svensson Trio — e.s.t.

Three Musicians, Three Musical Worlds

E.s.t. was a Swedish jazz piano trio formed in Stockholm in 1993. The members were Esbjörn Svensson (piano), Dan Berglund (double bass), and Magnus Öström (drums).

Svensson and Öström were childhood friends. They grew up together in the small Swedish town of Västerås and had been playing in bands together since their teens. Svensson's musical origins spanned both classical music and jazz: his mother was a classical pianist, his father a jazz enthusiast. He grew up listening to rock on the radio, loved Thelonious Monk, and drew from an unusually wide range of influences. One of the tracks the band worked on during rehearsals went by the working title “Radiohead-Melody” — a detail that speaks for itself. Svensson said of it plainly: “All three of us love Radiohead.”

Öström's path to the drums began with his older brother's record collection: Jimi Hendrix, Deep Purple, the Allman Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd. A boy who trained his ears on rock, he was thirteen when he attended a concert by Billy Cobham and John McLaughlin and discovered jazz-rock. That experience became the foundation of everything he would do as a drummer.

Berglund was a committed hard rock fan to his core. As he described it himself: “I started to experiment with the bow and distortion on the bass, to sound like Jimi Hendrix or Ritchie Blackmore.” His bass was an unconventional instrument in any jazz context. After forming Tonbruket following e.s.t.'s end, he put it directly: “Since we have a guitarist in this band, I no longer have to be both bassist and guitarist, as I was at times with e.s.t.” The bass in e.s.t., in other words, had been doing the work of a guitar as well.

The Sound That Human Bodies Made

What made e.s.t.'s sound unlike anything else was the result of these three different musical backgrounds colliding and fusing.

Öström used the tips of brushes on his snare to imitate the feel of pop rhythm samples, and incorporated electronic triggers to expand his sonic palette. That quality — a live drum kit with the precision of programmed beats and the organic fluctuation of a human performer — came from a percussionist who had trained his ears on rock, awakened to jazz-rock, and then set out to reproduce the grid-like feel of electronica with his own body.

Berglund ran his double bass through distortion, fuzz and delay pedals, and sometimes bowed it to make it sing like a guitar. This approach — unorthodox by any jazz standard — gave e.s.t.'s music its rock-derived texture and forward momentum.

And then there was Svensson's piano. Playing with the structural logic of classical music, the spontaneity of jazz improvisation, and the melodic sensibility of pop, he landed unmistakably as a jazz pianist on top of whatever “non-jazz” thing Öström and Berglund were building beneath him.

How Live Performance Set the World on Fire

E.s.t. had been celebrated in Sweden from early on, but their international breakthrough came in 1999 at the ACT World Jazz Night at the Montreux Jazz Festival. From that point, ACT began releasing their albums outside Scandinavia, and the band expanded their reach across Europe.

Their strategy was relentless live performance. They spent nearly a hundred days a year on tour, playing not only jazz clubs but rock-oriented venues. Their use of elaborate lighting and fog machines on stage was a conscious effort to reach younger audiences beyond the traditional jazz crowd.

In London, they started at the small Pizza Express Jazz Club on Dean Street and steadily built their audience until they were filling concert halls. Late Junction and other adventurous radio programmes provided an important route to listeners outside the jazz world during this period.

Their 2002 album Strange Place for Snow won numerous prizes — among them the German Jazz Award and the Victoire du Jazz (France's equivalent of the Grammy) for best international act — bringing e.s.t.'s name to audiences across Europe. In 2006, they became the first European band ever to appear on the cover of the American jazz bible Downbeat.

The Live Recording That Captures the Miracle: Live in Hamburg

The proof that e.s.t. had reached their absolute peak is preserved in Live in Hamburg, recorded in November 2006 at the Laeiszhalle in Hamburg. It was made roughly eighteen months before Svensson's death, at the moment when the three musicians were playing with the greatest freedom and daring of their careers. The improvisational breadth that no studio album could quite contain, and the miracle of three musicians generating a groove as one — it is all here.

The Completed Vision: Seven Days of Falling

The 2003 album Seven Days of Falling is where e.s.t.'s sound reached its fullest realisation. Electronica, jazz and rock fused completely, crystallising into something that belonged to no genre.

On this album, Öström's drumming pursued the “programmed” quality more boldly than ever, while Berglund's bass moved even more freely across the boundary between bass and guitar. Svensson's piano sustained its melodic beauty while concealing increasingly complex rhythmic structures beneath it.

It was around this time that critics began describing e.s.t. as “the gateway through which people who had never liked jazz discovered they could.” The trio was selling three times the usual volume for a jazz release, and audiences who had never set foot in a jazz venue were filling their concert halls.

A Comparison: Nils Petter Molvær and the Difference That Matters

A Norwegian trumpet player who is sometimes discussed alongside e.s.t. is Nils Petter Molvær. ECM Records had long been known as a label synonymous with quiet, contemplative chamber jazz — and Molvær overturned that reputation with Khmer in 1997 and Solid Ether in 2000. The latter album brought programmed beats even more to the foreground: its opening track, “Dead Indeed,” was almost entirely played and programmed by Molvær himself. Both records received critical acclaim well beyond jazz circles and opened ECM to new audiences.

But there is a fundamental difference. Molvær operates a computer and sampler himself, layering his trumpet over electronically generated beats. It is a distinctive and accomplished approach — but its starting point is different from e.s.t.'s.

What e.s.t. created was the result of human bodies attempting to imitate the grid of electronica and then surpass it. Without a machine in sight, three musicians on acoustic instruments fused jazz, rock and electronica together through sheer physical performance. That was the miracle they made with their bodies.

The Sudden End

On 14 June 2008, at the height of their powers, Svensson went missing during a scuba diving session off the island of Ingarö near Stockholm. He was 44. His diving companions — including his fourteen-year-old son — found him unconscious on the seabed.

Berglund and Öström decided that continuing the band with a different pianist was not something they could do. E.s.t. ended there.

Both have continued making music in other projects. Berglund formed Tonbruket; Öström pursued a solo career before launching Rymden. But e.s.t. as a band no longer exists.

A Miracle No One Has Surpassed

Musicians who came after e.s.t. took something from their sound and tried to carry it into their own music. But no one has managed to rebuild the house completely.

The sound of electronica, rock and jazz fused through nothing but live drums, live bass and live piano was a chemical reaction produced by three musicians with singular backgrounds and years of shared ensemble experience. It cannot be reproduced.

Listening to albums made more than twenty years ago, e.s.t.'s sound has not aged. That is not because their music was riding the wave of a particular genre or era. It is because they touched something at the limit of what human bodies and acoustic instruments can do.

That miracle has not been surpassed.

 
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from Hiroaki Satou's Music Blog

BBCのラジオ番組、Late Junctionから流れてきたその曲を、私は今でも覚えている。ジャズのピアノトリオなのに、どこかエレクトロニカのような質感があった。ビートが生ドラムなのに機械のような正確さを持ち、ベースがときにギターのように唸る。こんなジャズは聴いたことがなかった。翌日にはCDを買っていた。それがEsbjörn Svensson Trio、通称e.s.t.との出会いだった。

三人の出自と、それぞれが持ち込んだ音楽的背景

e.s.t.は1993年にストックホルムで結成されたスウェーデンのジャズピアノトリオだ。メンバーはエスビョルン・スヴェンソン(ピアノ)、ダン・ベルグルンド(ダブルベース)、マグヌス・エーストレム(ドラム)の三人。

スヴェンソンとエーストレムは幼なじみだった。スウェーデンの小さな町ヴェステロースで育った二人は、10代の頃からバンドを組んでいた。スヴェンソンの音楽的出自はクラシックとジャズの両方にあった。母親がクラシックピアニストで、父親はジャズ愛好家。少年時代にラジオでロックを聴きながら育ち、モンクを愛しつつも、その影響源はジャンルを超えていた。バンド名として仮に呼ばれていた曲のひとつが「Radiohead-Melody」だったことは、彼らの姿勢を象徴している。スヴェンソン自身も「三人ともRadioheadが大好きだ」と語っている。

エーストレムのドラムへの道は、兄のレコードコレクションから始まった。ジミ・ヘンドリックス、ディープ・パープル、オールマン・ブラザーズ、レーナード・スキナード。ロックで耳を育てた少年が13歳のときにビリー・コブハムとジョン・マクラフリンのコンサートを観て、ジャズロックに目覚めた。その体験がドラマーとしての彼の核にある。

ベーシストのベルグルンドもまた、根っからのハードロックファンだった。「ジミ・ヘンドリックスやリッチー・ブラックモアのように聞こえるように、ベースにボウとディストーションをかける実験を始めた」と本人が語っているように、彼のベースはジャズの文脈では異端の楽器だった。後にTonbruket結成後のインタビューでこう述べている。「新しいバンドにはギタリストがいるので、もはやe.s.t.のときのようにベーシストとギタリストを兼ねる必要がなくなった」──つまりe.s.t.では、ベースがギターの役割をも担っていたのだ。

生身の体が生み出した、打ち込みのような音

e.s.t.のサウンドを唯一無二のものにしたのは、この三つの異なる音楽的背景が衝突し、溶け合った結果だった。

エーストレムはブラシの毛先でスネアを叩いてポップスのリズムサンプルを模倣したり、エレクトロニック・トリガーを使ってサウンドのテクスチャを拡張したりした。生ドラムなのにプログラムされたビートのような正確さと有機的な揺らぎが共存するあの質感は、ロックで耳を鍛え、ジャズロックで目覚めた打楽器奏者が、エレクトロニカのグリッド感覚を生身の体で再現しようとした結果だった。

ベルグルンドはダブルベースにディストーション、ファズ、ディレイをかけ、ときに弓で弾いてギターのように鳴らした。ジャズの文脈では邪道とも言えるこのアプローチが、e.s.t.のサウンドにロック的な質感と推進力をもたらした。

そしてスヴェンソンのピアノ。クラシックの構築性とジャズの即興性、そしてポップスのメロディーセンスを併せ持つそのプレイは、エーストレムのリズムとベルグルンドのベースが作り出す「ジャズではない何か」の上に、確かにジャズとして着地した。

ライブで火がついた国際的なブレイク

e.s.t.はスウェーデン国内では早くから評価されていたが、国際的なブレイクは1999年のモントルー・ジャズフェスティバルでのACTワールドジャズナイトの出演がきっかけだった。それを機にACTレーベルからスカンジナビア以外の地域にもアルバムがリリースされ、ヨーロッパ全土へと活動の場を広げた。

彼らの戦略は徹底的なライブだった。年間ほぼ100日をツアーに費やし、ジャズクラブだけでなくロック志向の会場でも演奏した。照明効果やスモークマシンを使ったステージ演出は、ジャズの観客だけでなく、若い層に届くことを意識したものだった。

ロンドンでは、ディーン・ストリートの小さなPizza Express Jazz Clubからスタートし、徐々に観客を増やしてコンサートホールを満員にするまでに成長した。Late Junctionのような実験音楽系ラジオ番組を通じてジャズ層以外にも届いていったことも、この時期の重要な経路だった。

2002年のアルバム『Strange Place for Snow』はドイツ・ジャズ賞、フランスのヴィクトワール・デュ・ジャズ(フランス版グラミー賞)最優秀国際アクト賞など多くの賞を受賞し、e.s.t.の名前をヨーロッパ中に知らしめた。2006年にはアメリカのジャズ専門誌Downbeatの表紙を飾った、初のヨーロッパ出身バンドとなった。

到達点としての『Seven Days of Falling』

2003年の『Seven Days of Falling』は、e.s.t.のサウンドが完成した作品だ。エレクトロニカとジャズとロックが完全に溶け合い、どのジャンルにも収まらない独自の音楽として結晶した。

エーストレムのドラムはこのアルバムでより大胆に「打ち込みのような」質感を追求し、ベルグルンドのベースはさらに自由にギターとベースの境界を越える。スヴェンソンのピアノは美しいメロディーを保ちながら、その下に複雑なリズム構造を隠している。

多くの批評家がe.s.t.を「ジャズを知らない人が初めてジャズを好きになる入口」と評したのはこの時期からだ。通常のジャズアルバムの三倍の売上を記録し、普段はジャズを聴かない若い聴衆がライブ会場を埋めた。

比較という誘惑 ── Nils Petter Molværとの違い

同時代のミュージシャンとして、e.s.t.と並べて語られることがあるのがノルウェーのトランペット奏者、ニルス・ペッター・モルヴェルだ。ECMというレーベルは、静謐なチェンバー・ジャズの牙城として知られていたが、モルヴェルは1997年の『Khmer』と2000年の『Solid Ether』でその常識を覆した。特に『Solid Ether』は打ち込みビートがより前面に出た作品で、冒頭曲「Dead Indeed」はほぼすべてモルヴェル自身によって演奏・プログラムされている。ジャズの枠をはるかに超えた批評的な評価を受け、ECMの新たな聴衆層を開拓した。

しかし根本的な違いがある。モルヴェルはコンピュータとサンプラーを自ら操作し、電子的に生成されたビートの上にトランペットを重ねる。それは優れた方法論だが、e.s.t.のアプローチとは出発点が異なる。

e.s.t.が生み出したものは、生身の人間の体がエレクトロニカのグリッドを模倣し、それを超えようとした結果だった。機械を使わずに、ロックとジャズとエレクトロニカを生楽器だけで融合させる──その奇跡を、三人の人間が体で実現した。

突然の終わり

絶頂期にあった2008年6月14日、スヴェンソンはストックホルム郊外のイングアロー島近海でスキューバダイビング中に事故死した。44歳だった。同行していたのは彼の14歳の息子を含むダイビング仲間たちで、海底で意識を失った彼を発見した。

残されたベルグルンドとエーストレムは、スヴェンソンの代わりに別のピアニストを加えてバンドを続けることは不可能だと判断した。e.s.t.はそこで終わった。

その後、二人はそれぞれ別のプロジェクトで活動を続けている。ベルグルンドはTonbruketを結成し、エーストレムはソロ活動を経てRymdenを立ち上げた。しかしe.s.t.というバンドは、もう存在しない。

誰も乗り越えていない奇跡

後続のミュージシャンたちはe.s.t.のサウンドから何かを受け取り、自分たちの音楽に活かそうとした。しかしその家を完全に建て直すことはできていない。

生ドラムと生ベースと生ピアノだけで、エレクトロニカとロックとジャズを融合させるあのサウンドは、三人の特異な音楽的背景と長年のアンサンブルが作り出した、再現不可能な化学反応だった。

今から二十年以上前のアルバムを聴いても、e.s.t.のサウンドは古びない。それはこの音楽が特定のジャンルや時代の流行に乗っていたからではなく、人間の体と楽器が作り出せる何かの限界に触れていたからだと思う。

その奇跡は、まだ誰も乗り越えていない。

 
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