Vocoders: What they are, how they work, and some examples of me making funny mouth noises
Honest to god, Vocoders are the most insanely fun things to mess around with. They make your voice sound awesome, end of story - and can be a sweet way to modulate synths. Some incredible Vocoder facts, how they work, and a few examples of vocoding fun after the jump.
Took me a while to check out Ohm. But now that I have, this might just be a discovery of the month for me.
Ohm is a new musical collaboration from producer Chris Peterson (Decree, FLA, Delerium) and electronic musician Craig Joseph Huxtable (Landscape Body Machine, Noise Unit) Offcial OHM homepage: www.ohmelectronic.com
FLA, Noise Unit, Delerium…I think that list alone is enough for any electro-industrial fan to give Ohm a go. Quality stuff. Great video, too.
The Spine had noticed something with his spinal collumn lately, it had been oddly stiff, and whenever he had been sitting down and needed to get up, small clicks would sound from it, and the same happened when he simply stretched his body.
This would happen from time to time, so he had thought nothing of it, for normally, it would get better, just needed a bit of oil, and there was no problem. So he had merely brushed it off, thinking that it was nothing to worry about, that it would merely vanish over time, as it usually did.
But nothing could have prepared him for what actually happened.
He had minded his own business, merely walking around the halls, a book in his hands, while a soft hum would sound from his vocoder. It wasn’t a special day in particular, he simply enjoyed the quiet of the manor at this time. He straightened his back a little, feeling his neck getting a little sore, from him having looked down into the book for so long, and what was when he froze in place, the book falling out of his hands, to the floor with a bang that echoed off of the walls.
That titanium frame would shudder, and first, he would fall to his knees, his teeth clenched, emerald eyes wide open, glowing in that vibrant color of green, in a way indicating that something was horribly wrong. Then he would fall, not being able to hold himself up anymore, all the way down, laying on his side, his hands clenched in fists, his entire frame shuddering.
His vertebrae had locked up, pain shooting through his body like a lightning bolt, making his face twist in agony, a silent scream. Oily tears welled up in his eyes, starting to roll down his silvery cheeks, dripping to the floor.
He couldn’t move, he was locked in that position, and the pain rolled through his body, making it twitch. Angry hisses of steam left his cheek vents, his core humming hoarsely, as if it gave its sympathy for him. There was nothing dignified about that bot at this moment, he looked frail, in despair, a rare sight for everyone who knew him.
That titanium automaton was broken down, his entire body in utter agony, and he could do nothing about it, the pain being so overwhelming, that he couldn’t even cry for help, he could only lay there, tears dripping to the floor, and that face twisted in pain, having a faint hope, that someone would come to his aid.
Look, real talk. I very much dislike the music of the Eagles, much like I very much dislike racism. “Hotel California,’ in particular, makes me think of lousy classic rock stations stroking the egos of white guys in their 60s in order to sell SUVs and boner pills.