Concrete blocks, a bit of feedback, a slow melody, erosion, moving, turning to a beat to move forward, sitting and thinking about the future.
A recycling of some of the sonic elements from 103 of the podcast, Unknown Movement Underground, originally uploaded in July of 2018. Sine waves rearranged for sample instruments, field recordings are replaced by a drum machine.
A wandering conversation of swirling chaos, or just too much to understand, too far away from how things are thought of today. A swirling thought, does this interfere with my life today? Does it change how I change my clothes? How do I treat those I know or will ever meet?
When you think about where you live, what do you see in your head? When you talk to yourself on a spaceship, too far away to communicate, what do you talk about?
stopGOstop and Idaho Street Workshop are proud to present: Christmas has been ruined… or something like that. A semi-narrative story about beepers, the before, and the thin film between life and work. Featuring marimbas, a pipe organ, a field recording, and much much more.
Looking out towards the horizon– the waves moving, the wind murmurs in melody, this morning there was a glimmer, then at noon a purple glow, as I look out now, I hear episode 166, a new composition for a small ensemble.
A field recording of Lake Michigan, interweaving chromatic scales, and arpeggios, episode 165 of the podcast features a new composition for a small ensemble (or rather a computer pretending to be a small ensemble).
The piece was partly inspired by several bike rides I took this weekend, from Evanston to a nature preserve near South Shore Cultural Center(Chicago). The weather was near perfect for bike riding, 70 degrees, with a slight wind. But the waves were rough, tossing and turning from every direction.
The piece takes its first note, middle C, from the book I finished this weekend, Orfeo, by Richard Powers. The title also appears in the novel, as the lyrics for an experimental piece Peter Els, the composer/DIY microbiologist in the novel, sees at a coffee house. He identifies it as Reich. Wittgenstein. Proverb. To paraphrase Els from later in the novel, I will never have anything to break; everything is already broken and glued back together in a mosaic of pretty bits…
stopGOstop and Idaho Street Workshop are proud to present: Thunderstruck, or how I stopped listening and learned to love the end of the world. Featuring field recordings as well as reflections about the weather, high fidelity recordings, war, and much much more.