Those crazy cats at Reality Sandwich have published a chapter of my book!
Hi Reverend Nemu, thank you for agreeing to answer some of our questions. Science Revealed, part 1 of the Nemu’s End series, has just been published. The whole project is concerned with the apocalypse, but not necessarily the ‘end of the world’ variety filled with fire and brimstone. Could you tell us about what you mean by the apocalypse, and how it is relevant for people today?
The word apocalypse means unveiling (apo- ‘un-’ + kaluptein ‘to cover’). Other cognates are ‘discovery’ (dis-cover), ‘disclosure’ (dis-close) and ‘revelation’ (re-expressing reversal + velum ‘veil’ in Latin). I’m interested in the lifting of veils, and also the nature of veils themselves – what constructs and maintains the boundaries around us and between us. I’m also fascinated by the antics of apocalyptic thinkers, whether they are of the doomy, the loony, or the shroomy variety.
Tesla’s electric motor. Mozart’s symphonies. Pesce’s protocols of virtual reality.
Many of the most transformative inventions and ideas in the history of art and science arrived suddenly fully-formed in the minds of the innovators.
Is this a logo I see before me?
Those actor-vists and anarcho-thespians from the Reclaim Shakespeare Company have been at it again, this time at the Tate Britain. I had a supporting role (literally)
It was crafty, classy and slick – one of the security guards asked if the action had been organised with the Tate!
Your favourite tenorchists have been at it again, singing Christmas Carols with a difference in front of the South Bank.
Rudolph the Branded Reindeer
A Santo Daime ritual, which may last over twelve hours, consists almost entirely of songs, the themes of which range from the personal to the cosmological. This expanding musical corpus contains all the teachings of the tradition, and is central to the daimista ayahuasca experience. But where does this poetry come from?
I’m reposting this (’tis the season)
“Can we have a word with you mate?”
“Yes of course, officer,” I replied.
“We just saw you shooting across the park, all in black, wearing a hooded top. Can you tell us where you have been?” Where had you been, eh?
Any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole State, and ought to be prohibited; when modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the State always change with them
– Plato, the Republic
Our choir began the day as nine at South Ken tube, warming up. Without our banner, we appeared for all the world as carol singers with no more agenda than to make merry in the cold December morning. Passers-by looked on approvingly, and then quizzically; we were not singing of Christmases white but green. (more…)
It is hard to know just how to express the degree of Shell’s nastiness, but one might start with a three-part harmony at the South Bank’s Royal Festival Hall.
The other option, for me anyway, is to weep alone in my bedroom over a cheap bottle of rum. Anyway, the critics loved it:
‘This evening’s concert began with a protest, and very musical and well organised it was too. About five minutes before the start of the show, the audience sitting in the right wing of the choir stalls all stood up and began singing. Eventually a banner was unfurled, making clear that the protest was against Shell, who were sponsoring the event. The protesters sang well, they even included a verse in Portuguese (it might have been Spanish) for the benefit of our guests, and in the last verse they all filed out of the hall, creating a live fadeout effect as one by one they left.’ (more…)