The most amazing drummer on the internet

My daughter introduced me to El Estepario Siberiano’s YouTube channel a few months back, and I have been obsessed ever since. The Spanish drummer (real name: Jorge Garrido) posts videos of himself playing supercharged cover versions of popular tracks, hitting his drums with such jaw-dropping speed and technique that he makes other pro drummers shake their heads in disbelief. The dozens of reaction videos posted by other musicians are a joy in themselves. 

Garrido is up-front about the countless hours that it took to get this good. He says he sat behind his kit almost all day, every day for years. At a time when machines appear to do it all, there’s a kind of defiance in that level of human effort. It’s why my favorites are Garrido’s covers of electronic music, where he out-drums the drum machine. Check out his version of Skrillex and Missy Elliot’s “Ra Ta Ta” and tell me it doesn’t put happiness in your heart.

Finding signs of life in the uncanny valley

Watching Sora ­videos of Michael Jackson stealing a box of chicken nuggets or Sam Altman biting into the pink meat of a flame-grilled Pikachu has given me flashbacks to an Ed Atkins exhibition at Tate Britain I saw a few months ago. Atkins is one of the most influential and unsettling British artists of his generation. He is best known for hyper-detailed CG animations of himself (pore-perfect skin, janky movement) that play with the virtual representation of human emotions. 

In The Worm we see a CGI Atkins make a long-distance call to his mother during a covid lockdown. The audio is from a recording of an actual conversation. Are we watching Atkins cry or his avatar? Our attention flickers between two realities. “When an actor breaks character during a scene, it’s known as corpsing,” Atkins has said. “I want everything I make to corpse.” Next to Atkins’s work, generative videos look like cardboard cutouts: lifelike but not alive.

A dark and dirty book about a talking dingo

What’s it like to be a pet? Australian author Laura Jean McKay’s debut novel, The Animals in That Country, will make you wish you’d never asked. A flu-like pandemic leaves people with the ability to hear what animals are saying. If that sounds too Dr. Dolittle for your tastes, rest assured: These animals are weird and nasty. A lot of the time they don’t even make any sense. 

With everybody now talking to their computers, McKay’s book resets the anthropomorphic trap we’ve all fallen into. It’s a brilliant evocation of what a nonhuman mind might contain—and a meditation on the hard limits of communication.