Vheissu is a fictional location in Thomas Pynchon's novel V., which was published in 1963. Pynchon is one of my favorite authors and this book, his first novel, is still my favorite of his, even more so than Gravity's Rainbow. One of the storylines in the book concerns the explorations of Hugh Godolphin, the leader and sole survivor of a 1884 British survey team that possibly stumbled across Vheissu. It is probably pronounced "VEE-su" but ever since I first read it in 1975, I always pronounced it "VAY-su" the "i" before "e" exceptions "as in 'neighbor' and 'weigh'"
Godolphin has been "fury-ridden" since his visit. He seems to have found evidence fifteen years later that Vheissu extended into Antarctica, possibly through a network of underground tunnels, one of which is also under Mt. VESUvius. His trip to the South Pole was attempted during mid-June, the middle of the winter there. His thought was that at the Pole "at one one of only two motionless places on the gyrating earth, I might have peace to solve Vheissu's riddle." [V., 205.25]
He forges on alone to the Pole, plants the flag and begins to dig a cache. "There could have been no more entirely lifeless and empty place anywhere on earth. Two or three feet down I struck clear ice. A strange light, which seemed to move inside it, caught my attention. I cleared a space away. Staring up at me through the ice, perfectly preserved, its fur still rainbow-colored, was one of their spider monkeys. It was quite real; not like the vague hints they had given me before. I say 'they had given.' I think they left it there for me. Why? Perhaps for some alien, not-quite-human reason that I can never comprehend. Perhaps only to see what I would do. A mockery, you see: a mockery of life, planted where everything but Hugh Godolphin was inanimate." [205.33-206.6]
I heartily recommend the book, for all the uncertainty about everything in the universe that its characters and readers have to experience. I called the studio Vheissu because I wanted it to be a place far enough removed from everything around it that it was a universe unto itself while still connected in some secret ways to the world outside. Only those who were there would know the extent of how far removed or how connected it would be.

I haven't played live in many years. I am not opposed to it. The problem is finding like minded folks that have the time to get together enough to rehearse, etc.

I wish it was around when I played in bands in the 70s and 80s. It is a great way to have a presence anyone in the world can access.

I don't think any of them would want me.

http://home.earthlink.net/~studiovheissu/history.htm

Progressive rock, especially of the avant-garde variety, is my favorite, but as a result of music to which I've been introduced at the prog fests I have developed an affinity to all things progressive. All music is fair game, though. Singer/songwriters, alternative, electronic, etc. almost all genres and sub-genres have a place on my shelves. I always loved modern jazz and modern "classical" music, too.

Philadelphia is a great city for music and all sorts of cultural goodness. I live about 20 or so miles away from the city and my wife and I try to explore often via public transportation.

http://home.earthlink.net/~studiovheissu/history.htm

In defense of music composition software:
Purists of all types are, of course, entitled to their opinions and preferences. However, with the huge numbers of software programs to assist in composing, processing, recording, mastering and manufacturing music, not everyone is refusing to deal with "sequencer music." Like any kind of artistic endeavor, you can choose how much work you want to perform to achieve a desired result.
Of course, I have a bit of time and money invested in working this way myself and it occasionally receives some unfair criticism, so I sometimes feel duty bound to defend it as a viable method of music creation. I haven't played in a live situation since 1985. I had a good run from 1971 until 1985, but the whole band routine got old by then. Working in a small home studio can be very rewarding even if the output is small when you're working by yourself. It can be done carefully and well. I'd like to think I take the pains to program the dynamics in my pieces meticulously enough to be expressive. It is quite easy to do it poorly, though.
I am a huge fan of Frank Zappa's music, but some of the music he composed for Synclavier was done a bit carelessly, in my opinion. Jazz from Hell is one of these albums. It sounds as though all the "note on" velocities were set to 127. The programs used these days, like Cakewalk's Sonar that I use, have the ability to produce very expressive music if you use at least some of the features the programs provide you. It takes a lot of time and effort to do things this way, of course. Not everyone has the patience to sculpt sound.
Debates about what is "real" music or art or whatever solely because computers are an integral part of its production are pointless. If the result satisfies the listener, then the recording is a success, however relative.