salience
October 21, 2003
Thank you, Brad Zellar:
My Record Collection Is A Chemistry Set
Music carries me away, until I'm no longer capable of hearing it in any kind of a conventional way. It drives through my blood, and jangles me mercilessly. I generally can't remember tunes, melodies, solos, even songs; cannot place a particular player or identify influence. I just experience these dramatic chemical reactions taking place in my brain and rolling out through my body, until the whole experience almost literally pushes me outside even the music itself. What I'm hearing becomes merely what I'm feeling, and nothing else.
The music literally takes time, steals and dissolves it, and pulls me above it until there is, in fact, no such thing as time. I really believe that. There's beat, there are natural rhythms, but there are no bars in music. Music might be a river, raft, ladder, or trail, but it's not a prison or a cage, everything and anything but a prison or a cage.
So the whole notion of time, no, sorry, I can't buy it. That nonsense is all manufactured, and is about nothing but oppression, unreasonable demands, impossible schedules, dashed hopes, disappointment, and mortality. It's a curse from the waking world and a cattle gulag where no sane human should ever try to live or make music.
Who doesn't get to the bottom of every day and desire more clock?
Get out of time. Play what your breath feels. I'm listening.
My Record Collection Is A Chemistry Set
Music carries me away, until I'm no longer capable of hearing it in any kind of a conventional way. It drives through my blood, and jangles me mercilessly. I generally can't remember tunes, melodies, solos, even songs; cannot place a particular player or identify influence. I just experience these dramatic chemical reactions taking place in my brain and rolling out through my body, until the whole experience almost literally pushes me outside even the music itself. What I'm hearing becomes merely what I'm feeling, and nothing else.
The music literally takes time, steals and dissolves it, and pulls me above it until there is, in fact, no such thing as time. I really believe that. There's beat, there are natural rhythms, but there are no bars in music. Music might be a river, raft, ladder, or trail, but it's not a prison or a cage, everything and anything but a prison or a cage.
So the whole notion of time, no, sorry, I can't buy it. That nonsense is all manufactured, and is about nothing but oppression, unreasonable demands, impossible schedules, dashed hopes, disappointment, and mortality. It's a curse from the waking world and a cattle gulag where no sane human should ever try to live or make music.
Who doesn't get to the bottom of every day and desire more clock?
Get out of time. Play what your breath feels. I'm listening.
lasaliente, 09:45
