Monday, December 03, 2007
Last night I discovered numbers stations. I've had a compilation of them on almost non-stop since then.
Reminiscent of a mix of ice cream truck music and the voice of a demon counting down your days, they have this odd back-and-forth quality to them that is quite musical in structure. A 4-disc compilation, The Conet Project can be downloaded for free: http://www.irdial.com/conet.htm
The structure sort of tugs you off balance, as though you're looking over a near-vertical cliff, standing at the edge. A calm and rigidly structed recitation of single digits, intermingled with simple, calming melodies and the ambience of short wave radio.
Excellent music to work too. Up there with Björk's Drawing Resraint 9 score. Like that score, I know a number of people who would absolutely love this and a number of people who would absolutely hate it. I like it enough to spend this time writing about it.
Mid-90's Meat Beat Manifesto without the bass, vocal, synthesizers, and percussion.
The score to discs is a collection of off-kilter sounds meant to convey a certain feeling, and this seems to be a more purist form of it.
Yesterday I was going through my junk mail folder, and found a message in jibberish that was almost visually poetic if you could get past the absurdity of what it was on the surface.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
It's that first real snow of the year. Not the first time flakes come down, or the first time a few stick to the ground without melting. But that first magical snow. The snow that feels warm even though it's blistering cold and blowing right in your face. The kind of snow that calls for a hot chocolate when you get inside. The kind of snow that makes you want to take a walk outside at 3 in the morning watching in blow around, turning even piles of litter into mounds and waves of peace. The kind of snow that sticks to your hair and freezes in place. Snow that brings hope and turns the darkest time of year into the brightest.