That obscure Daphne Oram book will get a limited (of course) re-print of 1000 copies. Of which 900 will sit in boxes in some nerd's attic.
HOORAY! THE WORLD IS SAVED!
Who the FUCK was Daphne Oram?
Er, uh, well...no, not Walter Oram, a guy who loved listening to blip noises and then got a sex change. That was Walter Carlos, and still alive, and reclusive because a) he doesn't like discussing his lack of a penis, and b) he also isn't too fond of obnoxious twerps who want to pester him about his musical splotches and kerfuffles.
No, I'm not talkin' about Tomita Oram, the dead Japanese who thrilled the world by stealing classical music and making fart noises out of it all.
And, no, we're not discussing "Silver Orams of the Moon," a pioneering album of boring noises, Moogy Oram, who invented the electric clit, or the Theramoram, which had limited use in a few sci-movies before everyone realized you could make those noises after a curry dinner.
No, No, and NO!
DAPHNE ORAM was some obscure British twat with bad eyeglasses who DESPERATELY needs to be reevaluated as another unsung genius in a very narrow category of music that almost everyone on the (forbidden) planet finds very tiresome within 3 minutes.
Naturally in this world of FARCEBOOK and TWATTER, some useless asexuals created a "society" for her, sublimating their sexual tensions by a passion for very boring prose. HOW boring? YOU try and get through three pages of this shit:
Is there anything more boring than listening to electronic music? Yes, reading about it.
No wonder this book, merely published in 1972, is way out of print (and not even a favorite among "way out space monkeys" and other groovy lounge cats).
Yes, I noticed a copy at Amazon UK for under $10. And, yes, you can EASILY find it on this thing called the INTERNET, aka "The Monster That Ate Copyright."
BUT...the "society," nefarious gnomes in black turtlenecks, who turn up their noses at "Telstar" and fly into a rage if anyone mentions liking the soundtrack to "The Day the Earth Stood Still," (or, "The Electronic Satie" or "Switched-on-Bach" want this book BACK IN PRINT.
Never mind that the actual MUSIC is somehow nurbling (an electronic term I just invented, based on wavelength and resemblance to a wobbling nerd) between affordable and ridiculous.
Hmmm. Why isn't the "society" making sure all her Ab Fab albums are in print and at a GOOD price?
Don't they know that there are Lords of Blogspot who believe that nobody should buy music unless it's at a GOOD price, hence they give everything away to be spiteful?
Or is it that the publishing house is safely out of business, or by some quirk of Limey Law, a book published in 1972 is PUBLIC DOMAIN for FAIR USE?
Whatever, as the Millennials say.
A few months ago, the "society" decided to go to Daddy Dickstarter and pretend that it takes TEN THOUSAND POUNDS...make that FIFTEEN THOUSAND...to publish a thousand copies of a small book.
This is without checking the hundreds of re-print houses that specializs in re-issues.
This is also having no idea what self-publishing is about.
Happily, neither do Oram's idiot fans.
Yes, it was a rare KICKSTARTER WIN! In fact, they got MORE money than they know what to do with. (Pssst, you might consider dialing up a hooker and losing that virginity, guyyyysss. Gals...go hop on a horse in a pasture in Cleethorpes and get a thrill. Or sit in your washing machine. Or just go fuck yourselves...).
Do you believe the pomposity here? "Advance" interest in electronic music, huh? It's DEAD, got that? As DEAD AS DAPHNE. Nobody's really cared about esoteric electronica since the 50's and Morton Subotnick. Then it got perverted by Walter/Wendy Carlos souping up Bach and Bacharach with blips.
Happily for the "society," nerds stick together. Especially in humid weather.
21,000 fucking pounds from less than 500 affluent geeks.
YOU COULD START A PUBLISHING COMPANY FOR THAT.
Want the REAL world, suckers?
You can get a thousand copies done for a FOURTH of what you paid.
Fact is, if you live anywhere near any kind of printer, you'll probably pay less because you won't have the shipping cost. You can drive over and pick up the useless junk. Adding another 50 pages or making the book size a little bigger won't pump the price up to 21,000 fucking pounds!
Let's also factor in a bit of irony.
The Space Age nerds here, who believe so strongly in ELECTRONIC MUSIC, don't also believe in PDF FILES?
This MAKES BOOKS AVAILABLE TO ANYONE. CHEAP.
How charmingly...RETRO...that the nerds of the "Society," so dedicated to making a dead woman live again in their METROPOLIS, don't think that an ELECTRONIC BOOK would be the way to go.
Why be snobs and have a limited edition, like Keith Reid and his book of lyrics, when you can simply have an EBOOK that could sell for 1.99 or even be GIVEN AWAY?
Like: "IF you donate to our glorious quest, you get a free blip, and you can copy it and email it to all your friends. IF you have any."
Nah. If you pay the outrageous price of 32 pounds, you get the book and "stickers." Whee!
For 35 pounds, you get the book signed by "the Daphne Oram Trust Team." Do you trust that will increase the value? Then you're awfully trusting.
Oh yeah, the "team" decided that rather than just copy off the original book, and retain integrity (and even Amazon has this pdf-Kindle service for maybe five hundred) they'd hire somebody to redesign the fucking book and give it a new layout. The'd hire somebody to "write a new introduction," and hire an editor to "coordinate" the project.
What happened to "labour of love," assholes? What happened to "do it for FREEEEEEE" or "keep your day job and sell t-shirts?"
You people KNOW a writer and editor? One of YOU? And because Dickstarter is your Daddy, and you're padding the bill on him?
Some charity with more integrity would've said, "We got two copies of the book, we sent it off to Amazon, we just need five hundred to cover this price, and Amazon is only gonna charge 2 pounds per download. So if you donate 2 you get the book free. Donate 20 or 200 and you get an acknowledgement on the back cover..."
Instead, lucky "society," 10,000 pounds waffled into wanting 15,000, and with over 20,000 in the bank account, why, lah-de-frickin-dah, as the late Chris Farley used to say. You can pay your friend the writer and editor more. WHATEVER. You can springboard this into finding other books and starting your own publishing company thanks to the twerps you hustled.
This, as Tisket-a-Saskia would tell you, IS the future of economy in the world. You beg. You wheedle. You go to Dickstarter and make deals. You don't go to an established reprint publisher or even use the simple alternatives of Amazon or Bookbaby.
All you need is the narrowest topic with the most passionately warped little fan base. If your idea happens to be nerdy enough, you get a ton of money from people who don't have anything better to spend it on. Like condoms.
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