![]() ![]() Is that it? What else is there? Echoing sampled 808 cowbell? A little off-key bleepabloop in the breakdown? The assemblage doesn't seem like enough, yet it nudges the unplaceable sensibility toward a real location: Detroit (techno). Its chords of arbitrary complexity, not too con/dis-sonant, no forward movement, instead a perpetual folding upon itself, painting the background as it goes. But here, as the only harmonic element in the universe, it has space through which its form can emerge from the cosmic dust. It barely has harmonics it would go muddy in most tracks, unnoticed. A pad made of stillness, air itself, clouds drifting over the night-time sky. Rudiments too rapid to parse repeated and juggled, each pattern familiar but somehow different above that unchanging deep bass kick.įloating higher above that noise is the decade's warmest synth pad. The complexity! Delays overlapping and phasing, polyrhythms and proto-IDM roll by. The drums feel like some familiar breaks gone vague, chopped up and pieced together, unpredictable as expected. Really, that's when they finished introducing themselves and start getting to work. The heat doesn't start until 1:45, but by that point you already know every element in the tune. "Open your mind and your eyes won't see me." What does this mean? Diva shouting over the abstract field of sound. Today we're going to discuss a recent favorite, fresh off a Moving Shadow dubplate from '94. And maybe that's the time to plug in your headphones and toss on some Steve Reich. The track happens, you nod your head, dance around, then it ends, another track, same deal, 6 hours later the molly's worn off and it's time for a sunrise stroll back home. Music to make a space, all form, no content. It's repetitive, but you're never conscious of it. Nothing in the music reflects you back into its own structure. The chords cycle around and around forever, you never hold your breath. There's tension and release, sure, but it's of pure libido, no emotions cathected alongside the energy's rise and fall. Nah, it's never coming back.īut back to my original question: what's the mood? It's neutral, straight neutral. You weren't there, I wasn't there, but maybe if we believe. Why should your tune sound like it? And yet. You're not chopping breaks on an inch high black and sepia LCD. Everybody's got the DAW, the big computer audio editors. What about now? Nobody would have the balls to do this. This ain't Bach, nobody wrote down the rules. Are you listening on the same level as the other guy, same abstractions? A beat's not just a beat, a melody's not just a melody. Hopefully you'll copy the part that worked and miss the part that doesn't. Who knows how the track will land? You power on your gear and copy tricks from the next best guy as well as you can. Beauty and a beat nightcore how to#At least, nothing beyond pure functionality, how to get people dancing, and he's not even quite sure about that.Įven function itself isn't clear. Listen to the song, what's the mood, the emotion? What's the artist trying to say? Trick questions, there isn't one and nothing. There's two kinds of scenes, early and late. You might find yourself wondering "is that really it? Is that really all?" ![]() Later on: organ hit, "Love is the message". Brief looping melody, some sort of piano hit. Deep undefined bass frequencies, sine wave. Come on." Rolling double speed hiphop beat. Once the wall collapses, this is all that remains for one to see. Even at night, it appears as a gentle glow, the northern lights, the aura above the city. ![]() And yet, this betrays a certain delicacy, like the fragile streaks of cloud, flittering between real and unreal, defined and mysterious, of the Earth and of the Heavens above. What force could pull such an assault? Surely it must be rapid, rhythmic and synchronized, and above all ethereal, as in of the ether itself, such that it may float and soar and be of the same substance as that which it invades. The barrier has collapsed, the inside and outside no longer struggle but dance, terror gives way to calm, brutality to the gentleness of nostalgia and melancholy. A flash of white and the pain is gone, replaced with a strange pulsing euphoria. What purpose has it but for defense? Against what? Why, against the invasion of pain.Īnd so begins the onslaught, at first pinpricks, escalating into an encompassing force, the mighty wind. But the greatest wall of all guards the soul's exterior, the border of the walled city, between certain life and certain death. ![]() If I told you the soul had walls, would you believe me? Walls, chambers, catacombs, a church and a palace, all this and more. ![]()
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