As a multimedia artist, Dick Raaymakers (born 1930) embraces a diversity of genres and styles, from sound animations for films to "action music," never-ending vocal textures, electro-acoustic tableaux vivants and music theatre works. Raaijmakers dovetails disciplines such as the visual arts, film, literature and theatre with the universe of music.

How many composers, songwriters and lyricists wrote music in the twentieth century?? Who were they?? This first edition identifies more than 14,000 people who did so, and all are listed in this eBook alphabetically along with a hyperlink to their Wikipedia biographical data. Performers of blues, folk, jazz, rock & roll and R&B are included by default. PLEASE NOTE: THE HYPERLINKS IN THIS BOOK ONLY FUNCTION ON GOOGLE PLAY aka THE 'FLOWING' VERSION. The hyperlinks in this book DO NOT CURRENTLY FUNCTION on the GOOGLE BOOKS ' FIXED' version.

Edited by Ludger Hovestadt and Vera Bühlmann Applied Virtuality is a book series which is edited by Ludger Hovestadt, ITA Institute of Technology in Architecture, ETH Zürich, Switzerland and Vera Bühlmann, Technical University Vienna, Institute for Architectural Theory. Based on the thesis that technology changes character over time, the series aims and scopes are to reflect that change by describing and analyzing the most recent explorations and innovations in technology, as well as their implications for a more philosophically comprehensive understanding of technics in our contemporary symbolical, information saturated, climatic environments. The overall interest thereby is to (1) affirm the mightiness of the generic without embracing homogeneity as a necessary consequence, (2) to affirm calculation, computation and automatization without embracing the reduction of human intellect to mechanisation without arcane ésprit, and (3) to oppose in principle the contemporary attitude that tends towards a certain “intellectual chicness” that seems to rather narcissistically celebrate itself in a strangely detached competition for “critical divination” of soon-to-be-expected cultural doom and decay. With the birth of abstract/symbolic/universal algebra in the late 19th century, many scholars associate a fundamental crisis that affects human culture at large. We owe all of our contemporary electric and information-based infrastructures for living to these developments in mathematics, and it is no coincidence that we tend to find the symptoms that point to the manifestation of this crisis in the changes this new form of technics imposes on the people who begin to rely on it. This crisis is classically conceived as a crisis of intuition (Hans Hahn, Edmund Husserl et cetera). But from a more appreciative stance towards the sheer unlikeliness and fantastic power of intellection which is at work everywhere in the reality of such media-ized living environments, we might just as well see in this characterization an anxious (even if all-too understandable) misconception of the critical developments we are experiencing. From this stance, the sheer prominence of this misconception today indicates what appears like a certain fatigue of thinking, perhaps an exhaustion-through-overwhelming of our collective power to imagine. We mean no offence by saying this. Let us illustrate more concretely: John Orton maintains in his book Semiconductors and the Information Revolution: Magic Crystals That Made IT Happen, that “as a human achievement,” semiconductors ought to “rank alongside the Beethoven Symphonies, Concord, Impressionism, medieval cathedrals and Burgundy wines and we should be equally proud of it” (2009, p. 2). Why is it, indeed, that this demand feels odd? Of course this lack of appreciating our current form of technics is owed partially to its abstractness and the degree of expertise it seems to demand from us. But has this not been the case for any of the abovementioned artifacts we all meanwhile hold as precious and dear? We hope to find the right dosage of irony and humor that seems so necessary for theorizing technics, arts, intellection in a manner that seeks to escape (1) the servile irresponsibility that attaches to programs of mechanization, as well as (2) the narrow-mindedness and missionary commitment that attaches to ideological doctrine and programmatic. By celebrating moments of intellectual quickness, with our interest in theory and abstraction, we pursue a genuinely comparatistic approach. We regard artifacts as theoretical objects, constituted by the intelligible codes and symbolic grammaticality that give them consistency. But we don’t see the reality of artifacts in the white spectrum of these codes and symbols; rather, we see their reality in that which is enciphered thereby. The ambitions of a comparatistic approach to theory strive towards an alphabetization and literacy of these codes.

After Syd Barrett departed Pink Floyd, the band that he had co-founded and fronted became a rudderless ship, releasing a series of nebulous (though highly inventive) jam albums and taking on touring expenses that nearly bankrupted them. Their eighth album was a make-it-or-break-it proposition, and its timing could not have been better. Released in March of 1973, The Dark Side of the Moon quickly topped the US Billboard charts and took up residence there for over 700 weeks, selling over forty-five million copies to date. In Lunacy, award-winning music biographer John Kruth ("A fantastic writer"—Jim Jarmusch) delves into the making of this iconic record and considers why it continues to speak to generation after generation of music lovers around the world. Placing the album in its full cultural and musical context, Kruth provides an illuminating look at the ingredients of its great "sonic stew"—a mixture of musical styles from avant-garde electronic to jazz to classical, all of them contributing to its timeless originality. Lunacy features in-depth interviews with musicians, artists, DJs, and many others who have deeply personal relationships with the record, including a passionate astrophysicist, a leading brain surgeon's nurse (who has performed surgery while "Brain Damage" plays), and a woman who gave birth while screaming along to the Floyd's "Great Gig in the Sky." Packed with behind-the-scenes details and unexpected insights, Lunacy is not just another rock history rehash, but a celebration of a unique time and the music that made it great.

How do we live well? The first sentence of Grace and Gravity raises the fundamental question that constantly occupies our minds-and of all those who lived before us. Paradoxically, the impossibility of answering this question opens up the very room needed to find ways of living well. It is the gap where all disciplines fall short, where architecture does not fit its inhabitants, where economy is not based on shortage, where religion cannot be explained by its followers, and where technology works far beyond its own principles. According to Lars Spuybroek, the prize-winning former architect, this marks the point where the “paradoxical machine” of grace reveals its powers, a point where we “cannot say if we are moving or being moved”. Following the trail of grace leads him to a new form of analysis that transcends the age-old opposition between appearances and technology. Linking up a dazzling and often delightful variety of sources-monkeys, paintings, lamp posts, octopuses, tattoos, bleeding fingers, rose windows, robots, smart phones, spirits, saints, and fossils-with profound meditations on living, death, consciousness, and existence, Grace and Gravity offers an eye-opening provocation to a wide range of art historians, architects, theologians, anthropologists, artists, media theorists and philosophers.

London, 1966: Paul McCartney met a group of three electronic musicians called Unit Delta Plus. McCartney was there because he had become fascinated by electronic music, and wanted to know how it was made. He was one of the first rock musicians to grasp its potential, but even he was notably late to the party. For years, composers and technicians had been making electronic music for film and TV. Hitchcock had commissioned a theremin soundtrack for Spellbound (1945); The Forbidden Planet (1956) featured an entirely electronic score; Delia Derbyshire had created the Dr Who theme in 1963; and by the early 1960s, all you had to do was watch commercial TV for a few hours to hear the weird and wonderful sounds of the new world. The Sound of Tomorrow tells the compelling story of the sonic adventurers who first introduced electronic music to the masses. A network of composers, producers, technicians and inventors, they took emerging technology and with it made sound and music that was bracingly new.