Den her passage fra American Psycho (fra kapitlet "Morning") minder mig altså en del om noget skrevet af en moderne boligindretningsinfluencer:
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In the early light of a May dawn this is what the living room of my apartment looks like: Over the white marble and granite gas-log fireplace hangs an original David Onica. It's a six-foot-by-four-foot portrait of a naked woman, mostly done in muted grays and olives, sitting on a chaise longue watching MTV, the backdrop a Martian landscape, a gleaming mauve desert scattered with dead, gutted fish, smashed plates rising like a sunburst above the woman’s yellow head, and the whole thing is framed in black aluminum steel. The painting overlooks a long white down-filled sofa and a thirty-inch digital TV set from Toshiba; it’s a high-contrast highly defined model plus it has a four-corner video stand with a high-tech tube combination from NEC with a picture-in-picture digital effects system (plus freeze-frame); the audio includes built-in MTS and a five-watt-per-channel on-board amp. A Toshiba VCR sits in a glass case beneath the TV set; it’s a super-high-band Beta unit and has built-in editing function including a character generator with eight-page memory, a high-band record and playback, and three-week, eight-event timer. A hurricane halogen lamp is placed in each corner of the living room. Thin white venetian blinds cover all eight floor-to-ceiling windows. A glass-top coffee table with oak legs by Turchin sits in front of the sofa, with Steuben glass animals placed strategically around expensive crystal ashtrays from Fortunoff, though I don’t smoke. Next to the Wurlitzer jukebox is a black ebony Baldwin concert grand piano. A polished white oak floor runs throughout the apartment. On the other side of the room, next to a desk and a magazine rack by Gio Ponti, is a complete stereo system (CD player, tape deck, tuner, amplifier) by Sansui with six-foot Duntech Sovereign 2001 speakers in Brazilian rosewood. A down filled futon lies on an oakwood frame in the center of the bedroom. Against the wall is a Panasonic thirty-one-inch set with a direct-view screen and stereo sound and beneath it in a glass case is a Toshiba VCR. I’m not sure if the time on the Sony digital alarm clock is correct so I have to sit up then look down at the time flashing on and off on the VCR, then pick up the Ettore Sottsass push-button phone that rests on the steel and glass nightstand next to the bed and dial the time number. A cream leather, steel and wood chair designed by Eric Marcus is in one corner of the room, a molded plywood chair in the other. A black-dotted beige and white Maud Sienna carpet covers most of the floor. One wall is hidden by four chests of immense bleached mahogany drawers.
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Jeg gik lidt i selvsving over den sag. Jeg fandt en artikel fra en recovering audiophile. Han led af GAS (Gear Acquisition Syndrome). Men han er altså kommet sig over det. Nok om ham. Jeg fandt så den her artikel: https://library.oapen.org/handle/20.500.12657/48282 - den undersøger emnet. En del af det er ideen om at vi køber os til en identitet. Det er hele grundlaget for vores forbrugsamfund. Vi er guitarister fordi vi køber guitarting som pedaler eller forstærkere. Sådan er alle former for hobbier vi kan have. Som Steve Waksman citerer in that foreword:
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In effect, musical production has become closely allied to a form of consumer practice, where the process of selecting the ‘right’ pre-fabricated sounds and effects for a given musical context has become as important as ‘making’ music in the first place. Musicians are not simply consumers of new technologies, rather their entire approach to music-making has been transformed so that consumption ... has become implicated in their musical practices at the most fundamental level.
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Pyscho nok!