I, Telenoid

One sometimes wonders if the whole effort to create humanoid robots that will fulfill various household tasks is actually derived out of necessity, or some sort of Popular Science-Fiction/fantasy wish-list. Sure, various types of robotics and machines can, could, and do make our days more convenient, but making it into some sort of cyborg android seems more in line with frivolity than utility.

It is this thought that occurs to me as I look at the Telenoid R1, a nightmarish, android, alien baby with a body like a semi-formed tad-pole. Designed and constructed by roboticist Hiroshi Ishiguro, in collaboration with Osaka University and Advanced Telecommunications Research Institute International, the Telenoid is intended to aid in long-distance communication. Functioning somewhat like a telephone, you speak to the Telenoid, and as the person on the other end of the line replies, the Telenoid program picks up their facial cues and physical language and mimics it.

Apparently, speaking to the alien from Cocoon, who has inexplicably assumed your friend’s voice, eases the pain of distance more than Skype does. And this is precisely the question, sure the Telenoid is terrifyingly neat, but is it (and would future ancestors of it) be truly more effective at personalizing long distance communication than future incarnations of a service such as Skype? I think, in the future, I would much rather speak to that ridiculous CNN hologram of Will-I-Am, than I would C-3PO with Will-I-Am’s voice.

That is, of course, until Apple gets a hold of it and creates an entirely new, hip, lifestyle changing, tech product, that they tell us we need, the iPerson.

Comedic References Across Time

Having finally caught up to the current season of Mad Men, I found myself struggling to understand, why, in its first episode, Peggy and her new creative department employee keep purring “John” and “Marsha” back and forth to eachother.

After conducting some thorough Googling, I found that what they were doing was carrying on with an inside joke/popular comic reference from the era. This, of course, is not so surprising, but what does make it interesting is that, on the one hand, it further represents the fine toothed comb which the Mad Men creators use to ensure period accuracies, and on the other, it represents a very well placed gimmick by the writing staff to not just portray an organic and realistic workplace, but one that the viewer can also associate with.

The whole “John and Marsha” thing was a skit that satirized soap operas, recorded in 1951 by comedian Stan Freberg. The skit consists of two characters continually repeating each other’s names, a narrative is made out of the overindulged intonation that the actors apply to the speaking of their names, playing on the hammy, melodramatic acting found in soap operas. Though recorded in 1951, the skit would have maintained popularity through Mad Men’s 1964, and even to modern day where it is still occasionally performed.

In regards to how this is clever writing, representing an organic and easily relatable workplace, simply consider, how frequently in a given day (especially in this time of viral videos that are instantaeneously spread through emails and links on Facebook and Twitter accounts) you might repeat fad-like jokes or phrases with co-workers for a comic cathartic release. How many times did you refer to “Charlie bit me,” the grape stomp lady, “I like turtles,” or perhaps deliberately interrupt someone with “I’m really happy for you and Imma let you finish but...”? How often do (did) you reference shows like Simpsons, Saturday Night Live, Seinfeld, Dave Chappelle, Family Guy or even How I Met Your Mother?

Though it was an obscure and out of the blue reference, kudos to the Mad Men writing staff on their insightful attention to detail, as well as effectively illustrating the cross-generational connection inherent in these sorts of workplace comedic quips.

The Wilderness Beyond Boundaries

A couple months ago, Radiohead lead Thom Yorke prophesized the music industry’s imminent and not-too-far-off downfall. The cause of this would be related to reasons that have been heard before, those being primarily the industry’s player’s unwillingness and inability to adapt to more innovative models of distribution, and lack of embracing the possibilities inherent in new technologies. Yorke encouraged young artists not to sign with the sinking ship labels, and instead, explore these new possibilities on their own.

In terms of embracing these new possibilities, artists need to look no further than Arcade Fire. Though still represented under label Merge Records, the band has not been shy about experimenting with everything from distribution to music videos in the lead up to the release of their new album, The Suburbs. Earlier in the summer, the band not only webcast their Madison Square Garden show on YouTube, but had auteur director Terry Gilliam (Brazil, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) direct the project. As well, in terms of the album’s release, aside from traditional methods and among other things, the band also made the songs available to listen in full off their own website.

Now the band has launched one of the most fascinating projects associated with The Suburbs, The Wilderness Downtown, the interactive short-film/Google Chrome and street view project that blasts the boundaries of the traditional music video. Directed by Chris Milk, the video, for the song “We Used to Wait,” prompts the viewer to enter their home address and then proceeds to lead the viewer through an abstract narrative set in their own neighbourhood.

Nearly three months since Yorke’s declaration, the industry still remains standing, but at least bands that matter, like Arcade Fire, are continually testing new waters.