every so often, searching for a phrase, a form, a melody, a pattern, a structure that builds onto the foundation of music and applies some of its rules (among all possible universes) feels like too much arrogance to carry on myself.
which throws me off, because the search then walks me in circles, and i tend to avoid for days the contact with something so clearly defined. and I lose balance, scope, and perspective over the horizon.
enter the healing wave. like tonight. with my back aching, and a fretless bass that doesn't talk like i would want it to, and the third set of strings that i've replaced (in three days) just to try and make things right... i've plunged into a loop myself, and i need out.
the healing wave self-oscillates of all the things i've played recently. it's the phrases i've played, all chopped, all mixed with the finest and purest of olive oils, gently stirred into a tumbler. herbs, if you want. pronto.
the wave surrounds you, its noise washing off, and the back ache has gone. too bad, it's not my fault if turning knobs never seems like an elusive action placed somewhere in time, and almost impossible to repeat... it is impossible to repeat, and i couldn't obtain this again if i wanted, or if i jotted down what i've done here and there.
and too bad for you, dancefloor heroes, too: it's your brainwaves dancing here, if you want, not your body. rhythm builds the piece in its throbbing pulse, but that's it, no bass drum, no snare, no hi-hat, no handclap. oh, and no input, either, other than hiss and noise and hum into the pedalboard, from the pickups and cable, pots and switches.
it genuinely healed me, and genuinely heals me. i do hope it has the same effect on you. and, honestly, not a feable hope. because we all could do with some healing. thanks for stopping by, thanks for reading, thanks for listening.
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