My story...and a little experiment in elevating the art of mixing. I wanted to craft a narrative arc in different forms throughout the mix; through mood progression, melody, percussive strategy and even the tracklist. Enjoy.

Tracklist:
Formtek – Late 
Burial – Night Bus 
??? 
Visionist – Can’t Forget   
Burial – South London Boroughs 
Vacant – Alone 
Synkro – If Only
Synkro – Don’t Know 
Manu Shrine – Believe Me 
Synkro – Get Down 
Synkro – Back  Then
??? 
Wen - Lunar Tide Cycle 
Cliques – Chro 
?? – Time
Pinch – Croydon House 
Nuvaman & Gully Creepa - 0121 
??? 
???
Warsa - Nightfall
Elefant Doc - Street Sheet
Phaeleh – Ghost of Memories
Nanobyte – Kalyke
Phaeleh – Lament 
Mavado – Dem a Talk (??? refix)

Chronicles

Experimental soundsystem music since 2017.

Contact: assemblistmusic@gmail.com

Bookingz: loisse@outlined-am.com
https://linktr.ee/rekanorazalan

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

To be, or not to be...

Chronicles

Assemblist