This Boy is Game
[b]Bud Melvin's 8-Bit Band[/b]
The Beastie Boys recorded their latest album on a PC using the sophisticated Pro Tools software. Ashles Simpson, when crippled by acid reflux, performs with the aid of computer-controlled backing vocals. Chicago musician Bud Melvin (know to his family as John Poston), however, dulls tecnology's cutting edge by employing the unlikely services of the early Paleolithic Nintendo Game Boy. Melvin, whose sweet voice seems at odds with his tattoos and Rick Rubin-esque thicket of a beard, doesn't employ the 8-bit artifact only for novelty's sake. "For me," says Melvin, "it's just another instrument I play." On any given Melvin arrangement, the Game Boy's arcade-friendly chirps and pings prance alongside banjos, guitars, ukuleles and steel pedal guitar. Somehow, all the elements saddle up next to each other for the ride and never seem at odds. "They're really just regular songs," Melvin says of his Americana-meets-[i]Metroid[/i] creations, "thought they're certainly more bizarre than regular music."
Melvin isn't the first or even the most well known Game Boy button pusher. Sex Pistols Svengali Malcolm McLaren will be releasing his own CD of "chip music", as he calls it. Then there's "folktronica", a term more exciting than the actual music and a term less exciting than the buzz that follows it. "(Game Boy music) has been written up as this movement now," says Melvin, "but people have been doing this kind of music for years and no one really paid attention." Melvin chooses to steer clear of any particular camp but understands the players. "There's an online community that debates all this stuff and I just try to stay out of it. I'm not too interested - and I would rather focus on doing music."
And music is what Bud Melvin does, creating music in which the Game Boy is a member of his band. Sometimes the Game Boy sits out a set and Melvin will soldier on alone or with an accompanist or other backing. He performs with two other bands, The Grave of Nobody's Darling and Slow Planet, so he doesn't need to lean on a toy to hold an audience. Inevitably, though, Melvin and the Game Boy's cooing beeps always reconcile. "I used to worry about not wanting it to be a stupid gimmick and wanting it to be a musical," Melvin admits before lamenting, "but it's going to be a gimmick no matter how musical it is." But then Melvin recalls how the quirks and chirps of his little battery-operated buddy immediately connect with the audeience. "And I'm like those people in the audience. I'm excited to hear those tones, too."
[i]from Ten by Ten magazine, vol. 3, no. 2[/i]
<a href="http://www.worldwildlife.org/cetaceans/index.cfm">Own. Rule. All.</a>
The Beastie Boys recorded their latest album on a PC using the sophisticated Pro Tools software. Ashles Simpson, when crippled by acid reflux, performs with the aid of computer-controlled backing vocals. Chicago musician Bud Melvin (know to his family as John Poston), however, dulls tecnology's cutting edge by employing the unlikely services of the early Paleolithic Nintendo Game Boy. Melvin, whose sweet voice seems at odds with his tattoos and Rick Rubin-esque thicket of a beard, doesn't employ the 8-bit artifact only for novelty's sake. "For me," says Melvin, "it's just another instrument I play." On any given Melvin arrangement, the Game Boy's arcade-friendly chirps and pings prance alongside banjos, guitars, ukuleles and steel pedal guitar. Somehow, all the elements saddle up next to each other for the ride and never seem at odds. "They're really just regular songs," Melvin says of his Americana-meets-[i]Metroid[/i] creations, "thought they're certainly more bizarre than regular music."
Melvin isn't the first or even the most well known Game Boy button pusher. Sex Pistols Svengali Malcolm McLaren will be releasing his own CD of "chip music", as he calls it. Then there's "folktronica", a term more exciting than the actual music and a term less exciting than the buzz that follows it. "(Game Boy music) has been written up as this movement now," says Melvin, "but people have been doing this kind of music for years and no one really paid attention." Melvin chooses to steer clear of any particular camp but understands the players. "There's an online community that debates all this stuff and I just try to stay out of it. I'm not too interested - and I would rather focus on doing music."
And music is what Bud Melvin does, creating music in which the Game Boy is a member of his band. Sometimes the Game Boy sits out a set and Melvin will soldier on alone or with an accompanist or other backing. He performs with two other bands, The Grave of Nobody's Darling and Slow Planet, so he doesn't need to lean on a toy to hold an audience. Inevitably, though, Melvin and the Game Boy's cooing beeps always reconcile. "I used to worry about not wanting it to be a stupid gimmick and wanting it to be a musical," Melvin admits before lamenting, "but it's going to be a gimmick no matter how musical it is." But then Melvin recalls how the quirks and chirps of his little battery-operated buddy immediately connect with the audeience. "And I'm like those people in the audience. I'm excited to hear those tones, too."
[i]from Ten by Ten magazine, vol. 3, no. 2[/i]
<a href="http://www.worldwildlife.org/cetaceans/index.cfm">Own. Rule. All.</a>