Music: THE WINDOW

THE WINDOW

I was supposed to release this last year, but I was too busy getting laid to get around to it.


THE WINDOW uses a real-time, minimalist production technique that emphasises linear, continuous recording and minimal editing. (I'm taking this method a step further on my next project, Information Theory, using feedback as the second layer.) The entire piece was recorded in the space of a few hours, early in the morning (started around 04:30, before the birds got up) on the 22nd of November. I used an old mic I got in South Africa (so long ago), which was broken until I started fiddling around with it; feeding the sound through the amp, using it as a pre-amp of sorts.

Although the song can be broken up into four parts, I've chosen to keep it as one because of my lingering thoughts on appropriate song lengths. I won't go into it too much here, but I often wonder about the purposes of 20-minute songs that feature unrelated sections and only serve as self-indulgent passages. Not to say that long songs are bad, I'd be a hypocrite if I did, sometimes you need an extended period of time to tell the full story and need to do so in the confines of a single track (Introspective Stranger), but what's the point of a 20-minute song when it can just as effectively be broken up into four 5-minute ones?
Well, those are my thoughts, anyway, and not even one-tenth of it. I'll come back to this debate sometime in the future, and will continue to do so for a fair amount of time, I suspect.

For what else all of it means, I'm just gonna be mysterious and let you figure this one out for yourself. Look through the window and take the first step.

Peace.


THE WINDOW is:

i. I started my DIY journey and clocked RIEN squarely in the future.
ii. I ate a microphone today, before the birds got up, after the twin guitars, under my bed's beat.
iii. I was still as the vampires vacuumed my floor and then flew home for the third movement.
iv. I am the narcissist that saved that cat from the birds, I choose where my journey ends.