months have passed since my last track, trapped as i was and am behind an odometer. twz's set isn't portable, in the least, as it's a room, a roomful of audio tools. which makes for an equation like the more i travel, the less i play.

not that i haven't played for months. lucky me, i did, though what come out of it was simple medicine, ointment for my own use only, and not worth sharing with the world.

when i finally got a few hours today, and found myself past the "can't switch my mind off factual things", and still not yet too spent and tired... i pulled the on-switch and chased my usual aural shadows.

wait, not that fast: i realized how the carpal tunnel syndrome that's bothered me for the last couple of days, after years of (most welcome) absence, has actually anesthetized my thumb finger with a constant, whirring tingle.

if feels like hum, actually: it gets in the way of music, and spoils it. it's there, like static, doesn't change, doesn't go away. and, in my own instance, makes it quite hard to play.

so the track was built around this tingle, this hum-like tingle, mocked by the self-oscillation of my audio chain, like it was weaving the fabrics of my own tedium, in four audio tracks (plus a bass drum).

there were more ingredients to it, when i worked on it, than there are now in its finished state: brown noise, a favourite of twz, some radio static, some less-than-lo-fi clip from shortwave ham ops... all gone, all totalled, deleted, obliterated, muted.

i doubt this (windswept) will make great fun: it wasn't meant to, like almost anything zanetti, and at its very best it may take you along your daily burdens and activities, help you focus on your thoughts, or help you fall asleep earlier or faster.

whatever its influence: thanks for stopping by, thanks for reading, thanks for listening to (windswept).

    Ambient, dark atmospheres, atmospheric, soundscape, pulse, throb, deep
    • Type: Original
    • 60 bpm
    • © All rights reserved
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