Thirty beats a month by M. Robin

Buddha on sampling

But they can’t do this,” shrieked Lou Reed. “It’s my song! They’re just taking my song?”
“Are they really, Lou?” said the Buddha.
Yes! Listen to it! It’s ‘Walk on the Wild Side.’ It’s just ‘Walk on the Wild Side.'”
“Only here and there,” replied the Buddha.
“It’s only ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ here and there. The sample isn’t used everywhere.”
“But at the beginning and the end,” Lou Reed said, “it fills up everything and–”
“It’s not even ‘Walk on the Wild Side,'” the Buddha went on. “It’s the bassline. Did you play the bassline?”
“Herbie played the bassline.”
“So it’s like Herbie’s playing on this song.”
“But he’s not! He didn’t! He played on my song! Why– Why are you putting it on again?”
“Listen Lou,” said the Buddha. “Just listen.”
And they listened for a while.
“Do you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“‘Can I kick it?'”
Lou said nothing.
“‘Can I kick it?'” the Buddha said again. The silence stretched on.
“Yes you can,” Lou said finally.
“Exactly,” said the Buddha. “Exactly.” There was a long pause. “You can. It is not even a question, really. It is a question with an automatic response. ‘Can I kick it?’ ‘Yes you can.'”
“So?” Lou mumbled.
“So this is life, Lou. Live it in the present, in the instant. Hear it, say yes, accept. ‘Can I kick it?’ ‘Yes you can.’ Stop trying to interject yourself between the question and the answer.”
“What does this have to do with sampling?”

The Buddha stared at Lou. He stared at him with a grim stare, the stare he used when his blue children were misbehaving. Then the Buddha licked his lips. He began to dance. He answered Lou Reed with softshoe, one-step, two-step, three, soundless on the carpet.



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