Just a dash of nostalgia on a Friday afternoon. This was one of the very first Pravda23 banners created, probably around 2006. It’s a bit gritty when scaled down – click the thing for full size.

Look at this beast. Look at it. I love this beast. I bought this beast just before coming to South Korea. It’s a fully electric beast, so I have to run it through my sound system in order to hear it. I’ve been using a acoustic 120-year-old Hopf and an oyster mike up till now. So it’s time for a change of sound. With this beast.

Until I start the Version 6 recordings (still writing), here are 3 downloadables from the archive.

I’ve arrived in South Korea for a year. I’ll continue working alongside my trustworthy imaginary companion Pravda23 while I’m here. There’s music in the humid air of this industrious yet magical place, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with you. If you miss me, just grab one of the Versions you haven’t heard yet! See you soon!

I gave my special friend Black Katsuhiro (Geoff) a free Pravda23 T-shirt to film this video. It’s a bit tight. Download grooooovy Afrobeat backtrack Kinetic Mystery [v5.0].

Remember to also grab a few of the other versions of my dynamic, self-updating album, The Kuleshov Effect under music.

Holy crap, now I remember why I became a musician! Amy Daneel is smoking. Hahah, geddit? But more importantly, she likes to quote movies, which is what I recorded her doing for Buried, the latest open-source track from Pravda23. You send me audio and I make music…out of you! Help yourself to a free download. And, Amy: thanks for being you, hun.

You’ll need:

* a pair of scissors, but DO NOT run with them haha
* a cool design. but remember: nobody’s judging you.
* one sheet of iron-on print paper (there’s a brand called Tribe – no jokes)
* a tub of light fabric paint: light as in shade, not weight
* your mom’s iron

Step one

Paint your ‘backdrop design’ onto the fabric. You have to use light coloured paint, because the iron-on print used in step 3 is only subtractive, ie, it cannot be seen on dark fabrics. Yes? Good. Lay down masking tape before you start painting if you want to create straight lines. Leave it overnight to dry and paint a second coat the next day.

Step two

Good morning. Now that your second coat of fabric paint is dry, iron the fabric hard for 5 minutes. This will bond it to the fabric and make it machine washable. Try to avoid burn your face with the scalding-hot, flesh-melting iron.

Step three

Cut out and print your design onto the iron-on print paper, but HORIZONTALLY FLIPPED. In this image, the parting in Pravda23′s hair is on the right, even though it’s always on the left. If you have trouble understanding this step, call someone intelligent.

Step four

Again, reach for the flesh-melting iron. Iron your design, face-down, into the fabric for five minutes. The design should be face-down, not you. You should be vertical, and in complete control of the flesh-melter.

Step five

Slowly and carefully peel back the backing sheet, making sure the design has been properly ironed on. Voila! Your own designer jeans. Brag to your friends that you did it, and tell everyone how amazing Pravda23 Dot Com is, and how you can actually submit a recording of your own voice to be part of the next banging release.

If you go to the Cape Quarter in Greenpoint, you’ll find a restaurant on the corner called Manhattan. A waiter called “Hahahah!” (dunno his real name) agreed to record his voice. Using the cutlery, coffee cups and some basic gear, I created and recorded loops, basslines, guitar parts and musical elements, looping my old friend Hahahah!’s voice as part of the creative input! Go Hahahah! This is how I’m creating a collection of songs called Live From Wherever You Are, which uses the YourVoice project to collect and record ordinary folks like you. The artistic statement is that commonplace is the new sensational. Hahaha! HA!

Excuse the ego trip, but every so often I just gotta remind myself why I’m doing it all. Here we go

One day, when I finally grow up, I’d like to be a magnificent artist. I will invite the world to my music performances and surprise friends with my hard-earned talent. They’ll fall over backwards, clamber for attention, and boast, “I’ve been friends with him since we were young!” Some will lick their lips, pin me in corridors and politely demand to know how I managed to succeed. I’ll tell them what I know then, what I am learning now.

Some will hate me, because I will embody their misplaced dreams. They’ll acrimoniously curse me in their thoughts, claim that I never deserved it, that I’ve taken shortcuts, that I’ve sold out. For the record of these irascible folks, I’m doing my work now. My best, in fact.

In this dream, the violin is my favoured instrument, but I am also comfortably adept on piano, guitar, drums and the strange instruments I’ve collected in my travels. I’ve spent a long time diligently practicing for the day that these skills are needed. As a rule, I spend at least one hour a day on violin, piano, guitar and percussion, studying the theory and enthusiastically conjuring up new interpretations of it as I become more musically erudite. As a result of the daily joy of rehearsal, this time often spills over into my free time, but I welcome it.

I have a private, spacious rehearsal room equipped with the instruments I need on wall-mounted racks. A selection of effects pedals, amplifiers, cables and devices surrounds a central computer station in a half-moon. The computer is a dual-screen Mac, reliable and sturdy in the task of producing music. All the software is licensed, and I seldom have processing problems because the majority of the music I make is elementary, essential, simple and beautiful in this simplicity.

Adjacent to this room is an acoustically treated vocal recording booth, separated from the control room by a glass window. There is a piano somewhere inside. The next room is a relaxation space, complete with a beverage fridge, espresso coffee machine, comfortable, colourful beanbags, mattresses and Thai axe cushions. There is also a messy art space somewhere in the complex, with a design computer and printer, loads of resources like marker pens, oil and fabric paint, canvasses and stationery. Paintings of mine hang from the walls of the whole complex, but not for long. When people like them, I give them away and make more. The whole studio has an aura of privacy, security, fun and creative freedom.

I have friends from many circles. They respect my ability to push on, even in times when public acclaim is absent. They recognize that I live for the art, and it is the spirit of free creation itself that inspires me to be magnificent. They understand that my comfortable surroundings are not the cause of my success, but the result. They acknowledge that I would be equally persistent regardless of the circumstances of my life, because they have seen me persevere around every obstacle that I have encountered. They are inspired, and when they compassionately remind me so, I thank them and I myself remember that I have them to thank for their enthusiastic encouragement.

I travel every so often, mostly on self-financed music tours. Sometimes I break even, sometimes I profit. I maintain a consistently sharper business acumen by providing only the highest quality performances to fans, preferring to lose profit than to deliver a performance that is not excellent. Even after all these years, profit still doesn’t mean everything to me, because I know in my heart that I have lived through many lifetimes learning to deal only in the enduring currencies of time, attention and love.

I have a strong desire to be anonymous. Fame is idolatry. But it comes with the territory of delivering the emotional impact of music in live performance. I make every effort to separate the gap between the performer and the audience. People will take photographs of us who are playing, sometimes recognize us in public, but it is manageable. I use my opportunities to remind others that the critical difference between the self-actualized person and the hopeful dreamer is the amount of raw, persistent effort put in over time.

The scale of these dreams is not important. Whether my dream of touring the world becomes a dream of touring the West Coast of South Africa are as unimportant as the differences between using brown and white sugar in my coffee. The tangible, commonplace experiences of being a musician are what I crave. The packing of gear, the solution of wiring problems, the creative decision making that is presented with every new venue, and the pat I give myself on the back after every car ride back home, usually alone. I sometimes require applause, but receiving it serves to remind me that my egoic needs will always cloud my artistic abilities, and I react by remaining humble. In the face of the inexplicable, I realize in truth that my activity during this brief era is too insignificant to even be considered successful or otherwise. In this dream, I have overcome myself and am free to be a unique, hard-working and honest channel for the spectacular art which is bound to come from this exciting, progressive time in history. All these things are what I see when I look into the vacant black eyes of my muse, my logo, my program, my friend, Pravda23.

Why wait to reap the benefits of pension discounts? Send a pic to fun (at) pravda23 (dot) com and get old. Remember: eye contact and well-lit, straight, unobstructed shots. Help an old man grow the gallery (I’m shot number 6).