Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Hello I am a kick drum slanting ever so slightly this way and that, eyeing the lattice above and wondering about my weight. I weigh a lot. But I'm fleet, still, fleeter still as time draws on and I have accumulation at my back. I used to be over there and though I'm still there I'm also here, slanting. I don’t suppose I slant, exactly, but all the parts around me make it sound as if I do. Slant isn't even really a verb; it's more a property I exhibit, and I can only be said to exhibit anything in a context. Remove me from here and I would sound more rubbery than I otherwise do. As I’ve learned of kick drums generally though there is no otherwise. There is only context.
Hello I am a snare drum and though I'm a bit embarrassed about how little I sound like an actual snare I think you know what I mean when I identify myself as such. I keep time. I lead the march, so to speak. I think it rather more stately the way I've grown beyond battlefield rustle but I'm the first to grant dissenters their right. Leading a march foregrounds functionalism and the dictates of functionalism are bound to change. Either way I'm the center of a structure whose center is self-abnegating if drawn right. Rhythm has no center; it has only outlying traces that answer to centrifugal force the same as you or I.
Hello I am the hi-hat and as might be readily apparent I am pleased to meet you. But just because I tickle doesn't mean I’m coy. I fancy myself a workhorse who keeps easy hours and knows the ways of management theory. I manipulate, sure, but when exactly did manipulation get written down for good as necessarily bad? I’m less a sound than the pinched suggestion of a sound, a letter pulled out of a word whittled to its essence. All talk of minimalism in dance music begins and ends with me. All talk of movement, likewise.
Hello I am an acid line and I don’t expect you to expect me to answer for myself in any way whatsoever. You want to know what I am and how I work? Take a number. Get in line. Don’t let the floor hit you on your way out hahaha. In certain moments I might find myself reflecting on history but seriously fuck off if you're waiting for such reflection to show. Everything I have going for me is that which continues to go, and I’m smart and devious enough to know what mystery means in the end.
Hello I am a snare drum and though I'm a bit embarrassed about how little I sound like an actual snare I think you know what I mean when I identify myself as such. I keep time. I lead the march, so to speak. I think it rather more stately the way I've grown beyond battlefield rustle but I'm the first to grant dissenters their right. Leading a march foregrounds functionalism and the dictates of functionalism are bound to change. Either way I'm the center of a structure whose center is self-abnegating if drawn right. Rhythm has no center; it has only outlying traces that answer to centrifugal force the same as you or I.
Hello I am the hi-hat and as might be readily apparent I am pleased to meet you. But just because I tickle doesn't mean I’m coy. I fancy myself a workhorse who keeps easy hours and knows the ways of management theory. I manipulate, sure, but when exactly did manipulation get written down for good as necessarily bad? I’m less a sound than the pinched suggestion of a sound, a letter pulled out of a word whittled to its essence. All talk of minimalism in dance music begins and ends with me. All talk of movement, likewise.
Hello I am an acid line and I don’t expect you to expect me to answer for myself in any way whatsoever. You want to know what I am and how I work? Take a number. Get in line. Don’t let the floor hit you on your way out hahaha. In certain moments I might find myself reflecting on history but seriously fuck off if you're waiting for such reflection to show. Everything I have going for me is that which continues to go, and I’m smart and devious enough to know what mystery means in the end.
