Chris Randall: Musician, Writer, User Interface Designer, Inventor, Photographer, Complainer. Not necessarily in that order.

Why You're Here

Analog Industries is a blog about shiny things. And complaining about Amanda Palmer. And running naked through the waving fields of wheat, where "waving fields of wheat" is a metaphor for the music business. The "running naked" part is not, though. Not really.

Advertising And Press Release Policy

Analog Industries does not accept or run advertising of any sort. Analog Industries does not print press releases. Don't bother inquiring about either. At best, you'll be ignored. At worst, you'll be the subject of a scathing editorial on a well-known music blog. You don't want that, do you?

English, Motherfucker. Do You Speak It?

There is a zero-tolerance policy towards shitcockery on this site. The comments on AI are heavily moderated; anything that isn't germane to the conversation is deleted. There is no HTML or imagery allowed in the comments; you don't get animated avatars or emoticons. It is a lively community full of intelligent and creative people, and has much to offer its participants; this is largely a result of the fact that the typical internet idiocy of "+1 LOL UR GAY" is not allowed. At all.

About Chris Randall

With over 25 years in the music industry, as a musician, producer, engineer, lighting designer, stage manager, production manager and designer, and label owner, there is very little in this business that can still surprise Chris. As an artist, producer, or engineer, he appears on over 250 commercial releases. Some of them are even not that bad, if you're in to that sort of thing. In the 90s, Chris was the lead singer of Wax Trax! / Positron! recording artists Sister Machine Gun, during which he learned that if you want something done right, you're probably better off just doing it yourself. Now he releases music as RT60, under his own name, and as micronaut, is the co-owner of Audio Damage, Inc., designes user interfaces for various other companies, and takes the occasional photograph. (On film, natch.)