Even the most gravely infected conscience can’t keep swelling up indefinitely: there is no potential to expand beyond the rigid boundaries that are set in place once the fontanelles have solidified. It is true that a brain is as much liquid as it is anything else, but this changes nothing and helps no one, while at the same time making everything (at least, in a brain-regarding sense) possible. Extrapolating from these conditions, it might seem more advisable to run away from the problem; but whatever quick, fearful steps that the feet might attempt will in fact carry them faster and further from the things that can help than from all the good intentions that have been set in place to entrap and destroy.
It can help to remember that righteous protest is carried by that same dank air upon which sails forth those countless falsehoods with which we decorate our imaginary mansions -- the imaginary aspect not being the most important part -- and, sadly, it is often these falsehoods which prove to be the first things we attempt to rescue in a fire. Curses and compliments will both be conveyed the same distance. The air is not discriminating with its passengers. You kiss your mother with that mouth?
ON THE UNDERSIDE:
In the deepest, most claustrophobic crevices there is always something in which one can take an interest. Where does that smell come from? What kind of microbes live in here, and how will they respond to the microbes I brought in with me? Did someone make this, or did it occur naturally? Who/what has been in this place before I got here? Has the nail on my index finger always grown slightly crooked? Why aren’t any of the other ones like that? How much of my life actually has anything to do with me at all? Wither to now, Captain Cockeye?
UNDER THE OUTSIDE:
The greatest flaw with human existence is that we can never truly take a break from ourselves. Without a genuinely objective experience, the ability to transcend our otherwise terminal shortcomings is always going to be obstructed. The relentless accumulation of irreversible mistakes over time, the enormous and ever-growing aggregation of ‘human error’ as the population increases uncontrollably, creates a wave we are unlikely to crest, as our collective actions are the very thing that coaxes it to greater heights.
It is understandable that there is a necessary comfort to be found in things that are constant and familiar, but it is important to recognise that there are places where the rain never falls and which the sunlight never reaches. The priorities there are necessarily different and the routine will be unfathomable, but these domains are as vital a part of our world as is the customary damp squish in your armpits on a summer’s day.
OVER THE OTHER SIDE:
Sometimes memories from childhood will rise up and stretch themselves across our field of vision like an enormous, predatory bird about to take flight. It never actually accomplishes this, though: it always remains grounded, all the while flexing and straining to maintain its dramatic posture, which will gradually appear more and more ridiculous until it simply becomes irritating. Is it even a thing from your own childhood that you are remembering, or just a story told to you by someone else? Or something you saw on television or in a movie? This is the great reward of our technological existence: eventually all of the details of our personal history will be replaced by trivia from frivolous entertainments. The annoying jingles for countless unnecessary products has become the soundtrack to our lives. But is this really any worse than the alternatives? There is no longer anyone left alive from the pre-broadcast era with whom we can compare notes, so the truth of this is now lost along with all of the obliterated secrets of Alexandria. Were our Stone Age ancestors simply sitting around all day waiting for something to come along and entertain them and provide a narrative for their experience? Given the present state of things, I do not feel confident enough to give a definitive ‘no’ in response to this question.
I wish I had been around when dragonflies were huge. That would be something amazing to see. And also those hairy rhinoceroses that used to live in Siberia. I feel like I’ve missed out on so much.
This project is an accidental adjunct that manifested during loop development for the ‘Vacuous Truths’ album.
‘Reticulate Shifting’ is constructed from 93 different loops, 22 of which feature sounds created by a custom-made electric/acoustic Ragebox built by Wm. Rage, Esq. of Burien, Greater Cascadia. Special thanks to him.
Recorded, mixed & mastered at Rock Creek Tributary, Hillsboro in the latter half of November 2020, although creeping slightly into the first days of December.