0345 Sunday 01 October 2023
I’m silently cursing at my watch, comparing it to the time displayed on the microwave digital display. It’s difficult to see the analog watch hands in the moonlight.
Fifteen minutes ago, I thought it was an hour later and made the decision to get up. Might as well — it’ll be better than falling back asleep only to wake up from REM in 45 minutes.
But that was then. Now, I’m in the kitchen, on my way out the door to walk my dog in the cool dewy pre-dawn quiet. Until I walk by the microwave and notice the time.
For a few moments, I wondered if it was daylight savings, spending, or whatever it’s called. But, it’s only October 1st, so no, that can’t be it.
The failure to tell time correctly is all me.
I start the coffee machine, and shuffle down into the basement to continue Mother’s laundry. I have exactly 7 minutes before the TechVarm is finished brewing two cups of strong black coffee.
Eventually, I pour a cup and make my way through the dark kitchen into the living room and sit in a chair.
It’s cool, and dark, and somewhat quiet. The white noise from the air purifier pushes every other noise underneath its noise floor. A gameshow host pantomimes brushing his hair. The contestants explode with artificial laughter. The enthusiasm is exhausting.
I sit in the cool blue glow of the television light from the sun room, sipping coffee, and watching Mother silently make her way to the bathroom. Unsteady. Slowly.
I listen for the sound of catastrophe, but only hear the toilet flushing.
Eventually, Mother occludes the television on her way back, slowly, unsteadily. She stops for a small, almost imperceptible moment, and then continues back to her bed.
I sip my coffee and enjoy the solitude.
1708 Sunday 01 October 2023
I yank the USB cord out of my phone. The truck idles patiently as I sit back for a moment and reflect on what I just heard in the cab. It sounded like the mix for ‘emergent baseline’ is finally, _finally_ done. Twelve revisions, and three weeks later; I finally cracked it.
It turns out I really did have to rip the mix down to the studs — and — refactor part of the arrangement. I must have spent seven or eight revisions just trying to get the arrangement to work before concluding — admitting, really — that it wasn’t working.
The harmonies didn’t gel. Frequencies were smearing. I finally accepted that the “energy” I was vibing with, was actually just noise. Just the latent emotional energy from what I was hearing in my mind….
So I pulled down all the faders. Deleted all of the automation. Removed all of the plugin audio processors. Took a deep breath and started again, confident I would find the song. Sometimes, it takes blind faith to keep going.
But “if you are going to do it; go all the way”, as Bukowski would say.
1925 Sunday 15 October 2023
It feels finished.
I’m watching a progress bar slowly inch across the modal window in Logic Pro. My headphones sit up above my ears like a hat.
I’m rendering`spectral companion`, the final song of the album, offline and all I can feel is a sense of grief and loss over the end of another project.
I sit back in my chair and look out of the partially covered window. I tell myself it’s possible I’ll have to remix it, in a few weeks, once I have some critical distance. But, it just feels finished. The project is over.
This is okay. I have a few other musical ideas I want to explore. And, I need a break so that I can reconfigure the studio. I have boxes of gear stacked up in a corner, and shipping notifications for “infrastructure” to host it. It’s been two years since the last significant change.
The progress bar finishes and the modal window disappears. I disable the FabFilter Limiter, and open the Finder window. I play the song, but I’m not really listening to it. Instead, over the sound flooding through the headphones, I listen to the sounds of the house; alive, with love. The loud timpani of a gameshow reverberates downstairs. My partner, on the phone in her office, working for an NGO, helping the dispossessed. My dog loudly snoring by my feet. It’s the sound of a spectral companion living along the edge of my perception; waiting patiently.