Hang the DJs, # 1

We have to start somewhere, so we might as well start here: In 1927, Theodor Adorno writes: “Only when gramophonic reproduction breaks down are its objects transformed. Or else one removes the records and lets the spring run out in the dark.” Or rather, a young Thomas Y. Levin writes that, translating Adorno’s essay Nadelkurven in the shadow of the fall of the Berlin Wall. We have to start somewhere, so we might as well start here, where I suspect that Tom, who would later become my dissertation advisor, would start in defending club culture, and the “music” it supports. The essay is Adorno, even if via Levin, and therefore as sophisticated in its argumentation as it is vicious in its denunciations. The précis of Tom’s reading of Adorno, to spare you both: The record player is only capable of being a musical instrument, as opposed to a piece of bourgeois furniture, when it reveals its own material conditions; the most beautiful music the phonograph can make is in the moments of its failure, when the conditions of reproduction become audible.


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

Not all of the faculties were present at the last meeting.

—TLD, PhD


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

The devil I know has turned out to be a much bigger asshole than all subsequent devils I’ve met.

—TLD, PhD


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

Recently I’ve been living beyond my meanness.

—TLD, PhD


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

In the mornings, when I’m ironing my shirt on the floor, I think about how important it is to dress like an adult.

—TLD, PhD


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

I often think that, but for the brutal sexual violence, prison would be a great place to get some thinking done.

—TLD, PhD


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

We should celebrate the easily repressible spirit of civilization’s malcontents.

—TLD, PhD


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

To the student in the front row asleep, who dared to dream.

TLD, PhD


A Word about Professor Tweed L. Dumb

Thaddeus E. Thud is proud to welcome Professor Tweed L. Dumb to this corner of the Internet. Thad E. Thud emerged from the primordial ooze of self-censorship imposed by the modern University. Tweed L. Dumb is stuck in that ooze, and wants to sling it. Thad E. Thud is pseudonym that leads back to a regular old nym in a straight line, because Peter L. Kuras is no longer working at a University.

In other words, Thad E. Thud is not me. But also kind of is me. Tweed L. Dumb is really not me.


Another guest entry from Professor Tweed L. Dum

Boundless love ends up loose leaf in a waste basket.

—TLD, PhD