@lindsay.at

I'm planning on going to the Music Hack Day in London in two weeks. I'll be waving the flag for The Echo Nest and their fabulous APIs. There's a lot being said elsewhere about it, but I wanted to send out a special welcome to French and Belgian hackers.

The hack day is being held at the Guardian's offices neat Kings Cross, London. That puts it just a couple hundred metres away from the Eurostar terminal in London. So, for precisely the price of a round-trip fare to London, you can hop on an 8am train, get fed throughout the event, housed on Saturday night, and return Sunday evening. Nothing else to worry about. Well worth considering if you're close to Lille, Paris, or Brussels. Oh boy, what I would have given for a weekend like this when I was living in Brussels...

So register right away: the spaces are now filling up fast!

And we can get up to antics like this:

(Which is just the Dissociated algorithm applied to video in synch with the audio, in the latest versions of the Echo Nest Remix API. In my opinion, it moves the image of the subject from being quirky to having serious battles with mental health.)

I haven't been writing on this blog. Never mind why not. I have, however, been writing on this site, trying to fill in the CMS's content a little more.

I wrote a couple pieces on work I have done with The Echo Nest Remix API. It wasn't planned, but it ended up being a good way out of a writing logjam I had found myself in. It was prompted, of all things, by a tweet by a colleague. Was there a place that explains it all? Actually, no, there wasn't.

It's not the finest literature, but I hope that my overview at least communicates my enthusiasm for the project. I've been talking about the principles behind Remix for years and years, but never found quite the right framework for giving those ideas shape. Why, yes, of course multimedia descriptions can be used to drive changes to the underlying media.

My favorite way of thinking of Remix is that it makes each song its own API: each song offers queries into its own features, and can return any number of transformed versions of itself, all of which are sensitive to the original song’s musical features

That sentence wasn't written off the cuff: it distills the essence of my current personal research.

I had meant to write about some further examples, but instead got sidetracked and spent some time looking at automatic documentation methods. It turns out that epydoc is pretty useful software. I had never used the reStructuredText markup language before, either. Although I found it to be a bit heavy on the "ant turd tokens," it was surprisingly usable, especially for code documentation.

So the second release I made last week was of the API documentation. I'm not completely comfortable with where it's hosted, but I did design the URL to be stable and long-lived, if it needs to be. In editing and polishing the documentation, it definitely helped me understand things better, and appreciate that this is turning out to be one formidable bit of software.

The third release was the one I had been planning from the beginning. I had hoped to let the world at all in one go, but the enthusiasm behind them (my own and from the people to whom I showed early versions) was too great for things to wait for my explanation of the Dissociated Mixes.

I knew I wanted to tell people about these mixes after the surprising results I got from writing a code example that illustrated what a sorting operator could do. A bit of thought, and the card metaphor came about. I wanted to make it as accessible as possible to a general audience, but also give enough detail to people who were technically minded—whether about technology or about music. Although the other documentation has gotten some attention from developers, I'm really enthusiastic about this piece for a general audience. It also approaches a silly topic with a fairly straight face. Sounds familiar…

David Foster Wallace is an author who means a lot to me. I just woke up and learned (via Twitter) that he died by his own hand yesterday. "Infinite Jest" is my desert island book: I've read it at least three times, and will continue to return to it for the rest of my life. So much of his more recent work lays bare his constant struggles to write in the face of the internal critic, so that theme is particularly bracing right now as I work through my PhD thesis.

In other, far more trivial news, the blog (and domain) is back. It disappeared for too long because of some nic.at mixup, probably as unforeseen fallout from my transfer between domain registrars.

I started thinking seriously about single malt whisky during Christmas, 2006. Rosemary and I went for a brief break up on Loch Lomond in Scotland for a couple nights. The first night I had a stinker of a cold, to the point of having no sense of smell (or taste, in the practical sense) at all. It was doubly frustrating, as the first night, I had a gourmet meal that was just a bunch of mush in my mouth.

The second night clearly brought a recovery, because I at least remember the digestif I ordered. "I'd like to try a whisky, but I don't know what I like. How about something smoky?" The Laphroaig the bartender sent was spot on: the perfect introduction to single malts. Since then, I had tried other whiskies on an ad hoc basis, and I had a real aversion to some of them, enough that I didn't want to lay some money on a wrong bottle.

So, when I spotted a flyer for a whisky tasting at the local Sun Hotel & Bar, I got excited to try it. Six whiskies, six regions, £20. To my surprise, a majority of my officemates eagerly latched onto the idea and came along. (This was a big deal: we had never really done much social as a group, and this is real money on a night out for North Lancashire.) So, as a result we had a contingent of five computer geeks analysing whiskies as relative neophytes.

(Personal aside: it was nice to be reminded that I can still nose out an interesting evening from out of the blue. It's something I did a lot while living in Belgium. It also reminded me of being in Brussels in the parallels with the local drink there: beer in all its varieties. I got to be quite a beer nerd in my time there. That likely accounts for some of the appeal here.)

The Whisky Lounge set up the evening. The room was quite crowded, but that made for a nice, participatory atmosphere. We got started with a brief PowerPoint presentation, and were fairly closely led through a semi-blind tasting. The whiskies and regions were revealed as we went along, allowing us to keep score and guess the final regions if we wanted to 'cheat' that way, but also enabling us to keep closer notes, and create better associative memories with the tastes and smells fresh in mind.

(I should note that the consensus scores were far from impartial or scientifically collected, but what can you really accomplish with over 20 people in the back room of a pub?)

Rosebank 12 Year, 43% ABV (Lowland)

Floral , citrus, leathery, licorice was mentioned at the table, some sweetness. It was gentle going down, with a darker finish. I didn't find it very nice for its medicinal notes.
personal: 6/10; consensus: 6.8/10

Balblair 1997, 43% (Highland)

Light scent – a bit caramel-y – and smooth; salty, with a spreading, spicy taste; dry aftertaste, with a longer, chocolatey finish. I noted, "quite nice – could do again."
personal: 7/10; conensus: 6.5/10

Arran 100 proof, 57% (Isle of Arran)

Vanilla & sherry on the nose. spicy, leathery, spreading: a deep flavor that I keep describing as 'mediciney' but might be called 'iodine' by others, making it ultimately not for me. If I recall correctly, it had a very vocal proponent who was pro-Irish Whiskey and anti-peat.
personal: 6/10; consensus: 7.8/10

Bruichladdich Infinity 2nd Edition, 52.5% (Islay)

As soon as I learned the name, I commented that it sounded like a Microsoft product, not a whisky. It started mellow (surprising for the strength), picking up notes of vanilla, apple, and then letting the smoky peatiness in later on. I noted on its complexity in every sip, a bit overwhelmed by all that it could offer, but loved it. It was my favorite of the night, and I ordered a bottle to be delivered.
personal: 8/10; consensus: 8/10

BenRiach 10 Year Curiositas, 40% (Speyside)

Fruity, with notes of orange, and notes of smoke on the nose. Generally mellow, becoming intensely peaty. Coffee finish, but not nearly as complex as the Bruichladdich. This was the "surprise" whisky: peaty like an Islay malt, but actually from Speyside.
personal: 8/10; consensus: 8/10

Longrow 10 Year, 46% (Campbeltown)

Fruity nose, with sweetness and a little peat in the flavor. Subtle with some real signs of complexity, and a 'dark' finish. I was clearly pretty tapped out with regards to my note taking at this point in the evening.
personal: 7/10; consensus: 7.3/10

I have a long way to go with regards to the sophistication of my palate and in my language to describe the flavors, but I'm clearly starting to learn what I like. I've found some whisky blogs out there, and have a couple in my RSS reader, but they're mostly in a different world. I was wondering if anyone else out there wanted to share their experiences.

Incidentally, I also have used twitter for some (very brief) tasting notes, having collected some five tasters last Fathers' Day:

• Bruichladdich: Islay single malt, 10 years. Mellow quite drinkable—I'd have it again …and naturally, more than a little in common with my current gold standard of Laphroaig, also from Islay.
• Tomintoul: 10 year-old Speyside Glenlivet. A round-sweet undertone, mellow as it claims, and so in the neighbourhood of the Islays as well.
• I'm tasting Macallan now. Balanced, and finally some distance from the others. I'd drink it again.
• Auchentoshan 10 year, Lowland: back-of-throat spiciness, oakiness vanilla mellows into smooth, sweet, sherry-like finish. straightforward.
• Glen Scotia 12 year, Campbeltown: spicy, caramel/chocolate tones. Complex but smooth.

I wish Brian and Tristan and the whole echonest crew the best of success. Beyond dropping the Analysis API on the public last autumn, they've finally come out to the public with a real corporate website and a hint of what they do.

The real treat is their this is my jam web application. It's audio mosaicing made popular and fun. Best of all, it's let me realise something I've dreamt of doing for years upon years:

Bill Withers' Ain't No Sunshine has been my personal earworm for about 30 years, back to when I first heard it on AM radio. I rediscovered it late in college, early grad school, and then around 2001, I discovered just how many covers were out there, via a long-forgotten file-sharing protocol. It's immensely satisfying to have a terse mix of fifteen versions of the song with a couple minutes' effort.

It would be nice to be able to return to the mix and tweak it a little, without creating another one, but then there's a rough perfection to it already. It's also worth noting that the RSS created on each page is also an iTunes-enabled podcast, if you want a way to get the MP3s onto your computer. My feed has already been duly added to my everywhere feed.

Hey, has anyone else noticed that there has finally been a boost to the iTunes Plus library on Apple's iTunes store? I noticed while browsing the iTunes Wi-Fi music store, but confirmed it using the normal store.

There are some notable things about it:

• The independents have arrived: it's not a cluster of further EMI songs, but rather they appear to be from small labels.
• The per-track price of the iTunes Plus (DRM-free, 256kbps AAC) tracks are $.99, not the increased $1.29 price. See, for example, the new Iron & Wine album's listing. The album costs $9.99, but the individual tracks are still only $0.99.
• As of this writing, the FAQ has not yet been updated: it still says that "iTunes Plus songs are available at $1.29 per song."

Which came first, the agreement with the indies on the new price, or Amazon's MP3 store? From where I sit, this looks like a reaction to Amazon, which seems like a first for Apple with the iTunes store.

Oh, in case anyone is curious, but hasn't been following my Twitter feed, I got an iPod Touch last week. It's magnificent, and a delight to use. It's even more of a joy to demo it to my colleagues and friends around here. They're very impressed with the price (£199), as well.

I was impressed with the Digital Music weblog's further digging on Tower Records' demise... Majors pushed Tower over the edge, now the minors feel the pain:

The final nail in the coffin that sent Tower Records spiraling into its second bankruptcy came when three of the big four labels stopped shipping product and demanded payment to resume. Tower, unable to order new major label music had no choice but to file bankruptcy, and the rest is history.

What you may not have realized though, and what interests me most is, the major labels had very little to risk when they sent Tower into its final death throes. When Tower filled for bankruptcy the first time, the major labels asked the bankruptcy court to become secured creditors. When Tower toppled, its weight fell squarely on the competition of the majors; scores of independent labels for who Tower Records meant big business. The major labels will be paid just behind the banks who financed Tower's attempt at recovery, but well before the minor labels who compete with the majors for shelf space.

(Via The Digital Music Weblog.)

The ever-excellent Guardian gives a nice overview (and eulogy) of where Tower Records stands today:

Tower Records, once a sign of the vitality of the US music retail market, a multinational purveyor of musical knowledge and influence, has gone under. Two years ago the company filed for bankruptcy. It recovered and at the start of this year a new chief executive, a bankruptcy and crisis management specialist, was brought in. But on August 20 the company again filed for bankruptcy and three leading record labels stopped supplying the chain, saying that it had not paid its bills.

It's a bit of a shock to be reminded of yet another fondness of my past in America being destroyed. My whole time at MIT, I lived within a decent walking distance from large Tower Records outlets: across the river as an undergrad at Baker House, and in Harvard Square while living in north Cambridge as a Masters student. They made for a great (if not necessarily cheap) evening out, with Tower's late hours. I think a very sizable proportion of my CD collection came from Tower (probably second to Newbury Comics' wicked deep discounts), and a lot of my most treasured finds were from there.

With the force of their retail presence in the Boston area, I always thought of Tower as representing the solid establishment, with enough sway to have a definitive catalogue alongside the popular stuff. It turns out this was just a product of the times, and since I left America ten years ago, the landscape has changed dramatically. I don't think I can work up the energy for an anti-globalisation/homogenation rant at the moment. It's more of a melancholy recognition that America really has changed, and each time I return, I know it less and less.

[Update: I had no idea this was such a popular topic.]