||Train Tracks Recorded And Edited By Felicity Mangan
||I realize and grant that this is more listening journal than evangelism,|
||or at least that my essential compulsion to do it is internal,|
||but I like to imagine that some of you, and that there is a you large enough to have a some,|
||sometimes attempt to take a week's music journey with me, as sequenced and annotated.|
||"Through All The Noise"
||I always think of them that way, as journeys, but the travel is usually abstract, and the abstract travel usually begins in locales that are familiar,|
||UNITY III III III
||at least to me, and to the imaginary other who takes them with me routinely,|
||AEDM: Interstellar 2
||whether it eventually reaches bizarre outlands or not.|
||Wanitwa Mos Exclusives
||This week, presumably due to maintenance complications, we are traveling in reverse, beginning with the at-once most literal and abstract,|
||David Jones David
||and I like to imagine that you are willing to spend 11:21 listening to edited train noises,|
||A'w DJ Mara
||and the rest of the first hour awash in other noises,|
||and the second hour wandering through a terrain of maskandi and other African realms|
||that I usually put towards the end of these lists not because they are inherently more other than Japanese idol rock or cryptic metal or Scottish electropop,|
||but because I realize I am more haplessly other to them.|
||Presenting recordings of environmental noises, processed or invented or simply captured, in the same listening space as music can't avoid music-cultural context,|
||but it offers you the challenge of listening without it.|
||There will be no chorus.|
||Your boredom or interest will not be so predictably arranged.|
||And maybe this is even more true of music we ecstatically overhear from cultures to which we do not belong.|
||Does maskandi operate on deliberate floods of new albums in December, like the Icelandic Jólabókaflóð?|
||I don't know. I don't know who these people are. I am barely able to recognize which ones I've heard before.|
||"Angikufuni ukungasho - Radio Edit"
||I rarely have time to hear more than one track each from 3-4 new maskandi albums in a non-flood week, never mind these 10-12,|
||"Banna diya natefa"
||Banna diya natefa
||depending on where we draw superfluous lines on a map of a place we have not even been.|
||I stipulate not only that I am never going to be part of this culture,|
||Tell Somebody +2
||but that no semblance of that is even my goal.|
||I have spent many hours of my week listening to these songs,|
||but those hours are embedded, as you find them here,|
||"Welcome To My Island"
||Welcome To My Island +3
||between hours of other things.|
||Sadtown USA 4
||All I ever hope to do is hear how other people's love sounds to them|
||The Hawkins Kid
||"Somebody Save Me"
||in a way that feels like joy to me, too.|
||"Look At You"
||Is this harder or easier with maskandi or amapiano or reggaeton or chalga than it is with pop punk or rune folk or train noises?|
||The News +1
||If it is, for you, then you have learned a thing about yourself,|
||Charlotte is Mine
||about the state of yourself,|
||and thus about some way in which you could become greater than you have yet been.|
||A week can't offer you much more than this,|
||but any week can offer you at least this.|
||Any day, any next song can take your hand and gently pull you forward and then turn you|
||so you see something new, so you hear the same noises bouncing slightly differently off of the surfaces of the world.|
||Guitar, bass, drums, voices. Trains.|
||The 1st: SPACE
||There is a high fluttery sound in some maskandi songs that I don't know how they make,|
||BAD DREAM 3
||by whirling a clay bird in the air, or by whirling some of the same air inside of a human soul,|
||MUST CHANGE 4
||but some of the noises I make when I'm terrified or expectant have specific mechanisms I don't entirely understand, either.|
||There are languages with clicks, languages that don't distinguish the R and L sounds,|
||languages in which the past and present are not oppositional nouns,|
||HAIIRO NO NINGEN
||languages that do not impose an identity debate onto simple referential grammar.|
||We sing in all of them.|
||一途 / unravel 2
||In all of these songs we are inscrutable and unmistakable and fully generalizable,|
||and it should be blissfully no more surprising to hear echoes of your internal monologue in the voice of a Norwegian rock singer or a Senegalese R&B producer or an Atlanta rapper.|
||We have made many terrible machines with our dubious hands,|
||but we have also made the ones that carry songs beyond their original accidental clearings,|
||over skeptical horizons.|
||We are engines of the distorted transmission of grace,|
||"The Wonders Still Awaiting"
||The Wonders Still Awaiting +3
||of the fragmentary translation of rapture,|
||"The Fire Within"
||Forgotten Songs 2
||of the tentative transmutation of nominal elements.|
||"Beyond The Deep"
||Each step can be flight or witness.|
||Maybe each step can only be flight or witness,|
||"A Chance for the Better"
||Dealer of Souls
||and flight is the ruptured detachment of movement from self-awareness|
||Symphony Of Sweden
||"Just Let It Bleed"
||Just Let It Bleed +1
||in the hopes of evading consequence.|
||"I Am the Storm"
||But of course that is never how the journeys or stories end.|
||"Never Gonna Let You Go"
||Consequences are a manifold in intent-space, not a wolf distractable by voles.|
||Or a wolf, but a wolf that sees you once and then never forgets.|
||Our honest rituals are not exorcisms or transmigrations,|
||Dekonstrukcja historyczna I
||but ceremonial circumscriptions of the dangers layered in our nerves and flesh,|
||Wound of Gods
||and thus wards we send before us to ask for preparatory forgiveness.|
||There may or may not be a chorus; I am happy to apologize if you think that helps,|
||November Monument +1
||but I suspect our immunity or culpability will not be so easily triangulated|
||Woods of Desolation
||"Beneath a Sea of Stars"
||The Falling Tide
||on this round world in infinite shapeless space.|
||"Flesh of Gold"
||Sticka En Kniv I Världen
||And of course this is just as true of the songs whose parameters you can enumerate|
||"The Alphabet of Me"
||The Alphabet of Me +1
||as it is of the ones assembled out of unfamiliar orthographies.|
||Time, The Valuator
||Binary Pulse +3
||These routes, taken end to end, think most grandly of themselves as attempting to assert a transformational congruity,|
||The Dark Atom
||and most mundanely of recommending the tolerance of following a merely described path into ruthlessly apparent darkness.|
||A playlist can take you away. A song can take you away;|
||a word; a tiny diagonal line over a single letter;|
||a line that becomes a circle.|
||INDIE DREAM MUSIC 6
||We are never going to become so much a part of any one chosen culture|
||that we cannot one day stand up and walk away,|
||Justin Courtney Pierre
||"You're The Reason"
||Permanent Midnight 5
||so the days that we don't are a decision we make.|
||The days we leave and return are a promise our future makes to our past.|
||So What? +1
||In a quiet moment they compare their hours and find them not interchangeable, but exchangeable.|
||If you can learn to collect other people's epiphanies as meticulously as your own,|
||you will understand how revelation is not finitely conserved.|
||We do not sell each other our better selves, we make them together.|
||"Vat Die Cruiser"
||We are all glib and worldwide,|
||heartbroken and ready,|
||grounded and vaporous.|
||"Love in the Void"
||Love in the Void +3
||We go in search of love in the void as if there is a void, as if the substance we travel through is anything over than love itself.|
||"Little Bull Of Blithe"
||Seventeen Going Under
||We are from oblivious disregards as natively as we are from towns or countries,|
||"Bailemos - On The Road"
||Entre las dudas y el azar
||and so our journeys are inevitably mapped along points on a dance floor|
||that leads into and then back from hell.|
||We spin. All the chords are secrets we share.|
||"DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love"
||Maybe there will be a chorus. Maybe this one will be for us.|
||We take turns imagining the divine, quickly in the way that tectonics are slow,|
||and maybe next time the rain washes away something we had inanely planned to sell, we will know.|