I am an audiophile who sired many a discordant pupils through the file-sharing experiments of early aughties, and I find the overall musical taste across the expanded crypto-economics clusters of marketual force fields a bit boring—except for a few friends who can identify a Dean Blunt vinyl without any prompt only by the cover.
However, I think the problem is the way in which people tend to signal the audio. As I am about the hit the gym for an early evening session and doing my quotidian research into crypto-markets, and the latest funding rounds across the emergent AI as service “funding bubble”, I just want to be immersed in the cold waters of some field recordings. However, this will turn out to be impractical when I’ve hit the grounds of the gym, in that, majority of people who control the sound systems at gyms are as bad at it as are they not able to comprehend that air conditioners are for climate control, not for turning the entire premise into an ice truck fridge. I’ll possibly be tuning into an early ‘90s drum’n bass compilation during this leg day.
Yet, today is such another ultra-humid and indifferently indecisive weather in Stamboul that I need to plunge into the soundscapes of two albums before I hit the gym as my Roborock makes sure I am not alone, and the coffee needs befriending.
Antarctica: Music from the Ice
by Cheryl E. Leonard
Leonard is one of those sound artists [sic] with whom you can take on a genuine journey without leaving the comfortable confines of your own very aura. I met her work through this album. It is a work that weaves Antarctic field records from 2009 when she was part of National Science Foundation’s Antarctic Artists and Writer’s program at Palmer Research Station, the penguin bone idiophones and sculptural instruments made out of properly scavenged natural material thereabouts, and sound textures.
It has the impact of that beauteous splashes of water at 6 a.m. upon my very face by these hands that type from the natural water in our village, and the winter dawns at any time period from one’s life when one needs their isolating audio-texture. It helps me focus especially during extra-busy intra-day analysis.
I suggest you should visit the artist’s home page, and enjoy some sort of art that is not directly marketed at you even by those fresh-import-traditionally-contemporaneous-curators who have been taxing your honest niché markets for the last 18 months.
People keep asking each other what would they do if they did not have any financial worry nowadays, except for touching the grass. I’d certainly enjoy a cruise down to Antarctic to take a plunge into freezing waters. However, I assume that I’d also enjoy a long-stay at any of those research stations, and just write a novel.
A tuba (with a microphone in it)
by id m theft able
In fact it has been 10 days since I started writing this post. Today, it has been sort of a hectic day in that I had to return a Nike Pro Recovery ADV men’s tight, and an Utility Elite backpack—which I purchased 9 months and 12 months ago respectively.
I use a 32-liter backpack anytime I hit the gym since 1) I train heavily, 2) people do not understand that air-conditioners are for the climate control not freezing our asses to death—I love my muscle ass.
id m theft able is such an adventurous experimentalist that I was happy to encounter his music that I paid for the above album like x5 of its price tag—don’t recall if it was free. Plus, there is a sense of JODIness to his website.
I too sometimes want to place my Sony PCM-D10 field recorder into my lungs during HIITwaves at the gym, and during one of those gym-thought sessions whilst listening to KRTM I recalled about the chill effects of his Tuba by the water. Here, I present you the tuba near the water.
Thank you for this album. I recall that I thought “here is someone who utilized the pandemic times into beauty” when I encountered the album.