Created for the Disquiet Junto Project 0507: In DD's Key of C
@disquiet

The Project: Make music with 10 acoustic instrument samples all in a shared key.

Thank you to @daniel-diaz for the beautiful samples!

I was inspired by the chord progression in the melodica sample, so I used that as a base to created a rhythmically-shifting generative drone in the Borderlands Granular app on my iPad, eventually using all 10 of the samples. It was a fun challenge mapping the patchwork of waveforms across the screen so that I could trigger different parts of overlapping samples with various moving 'circles' of granular processing. The end result came out rather lilting and mysterious.

Please enjoy the waves!

Artwork is by Daniel Diaz - his notes from creating the samples.

More on this 507th weekly Disquiet Junto project – In DD’s Key of C (The Assignment: Make music with 10 acoustic instrument samples all in a shared key) – at: https://disquiet.com/0507/

Tracks made with samples created generously by Daniel Díaz.

More on the Disquiet Junto at: https://disquiet.com/junto/

Subscribe to project announcements here: https://tinyletter.com/disquiet-junto/

Project discussion takes place on llllllll.co: https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0507-in-dds-key-of-c/

There’s also a Disquiet Junto Slack. Send your email address to marc@disquiet.com for Slack inclusion.

Seas of Cee - [ disquiet0507 - inddskeyofc ]

Hidden Angels

Written and produced by Editor Cole
Out 24th December 2021 - Echoes From the Core EP (Spotify/Apple Music etc)

Stone Circle

lost to time

Another track from my album "Delirium"...
Hope you'll like it ! :)

Gaucho Esperanza

Indigo Quietude

Sound reflections 
on impermanence
on everything that ends
which disappears from sight
on the oblivion of memory over time

the time that overwrites everything 
like a tape machine that play and rewrites 

endlessly

you still hear a few background noises 
like an echo

before they disappearing 
dominated by the universal background noise

the nothing advances 
and contains everything 
that has always existed 

in other shape.


work in progress
things that fade © 2022 by Nadir is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

Things That Fade

Things That Fade *improved mix on 7/11/2022

a happy tune, for Christmas

the photograph was found at the following location

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Robin_in_the_snow_3_%284250400943%29.jpg

released with a CC license

the photograph was originally taken by Tony Hisgett and uploaded to Flickr

https://www.flickr.com/people/37804979@N00


okay, that's the legal stuff out of the way

makes me think I should have taken a photograph like that myself to save all that shenanigans

anyway, this is my last creation for 2022

a short and somewhat uplifting piece, I think, and very simple too, which is what I like to do nowadays

totally drone based, which is also my thing lately... I try to do proper stuff but I am a) not very good at it and b) I get bored of trying, so, drone it is

all the sound sources are by way of Pigments 4, though I could probably have used anything, as I did not particularly push the envelope in terms of sound design here

only two sounds, out of a total of seven, were designed from the ground up, the tinkely sequence and the white noise percussion... neither one that complex

the other five sounds were tweaked presets as follows

Track 1, Drone 1 - Amorphic Overtone

Track 2, Drone 2 - Ancient Beings

Track 3, Pluck 1 - Star Ocean

Track 4, Pluck 2 - Covert FM

Track 5, Pluck 3 - Analog Unison

some parameters were modulated within REAPER, my one and only DAW

The Visitor

They sent the soldiers back after a crazy, stupid world war
which was the sequel to another crazy, stupid world war,
sent them back with demons in their minds,
with twisted corpses in their minds,
corpses missing their parts,
corpses with their inside parts on the outside,
corpses still screaming because they did not yet know that they were corpses,
corpses who just moments before were not corpses but trusted friends.

Sent them back from the war to live in the Levittowns, giant suburban sprawls with clean white picket fences for clean white families with clean white faces,
tidy little houses with enough space in between that a man can live like a man,
can drink enough to temporarily bury the corpses in his mind,
can beat his children and rape his wife without troubling the neighbors, can comfortably scream PTSD screams from the depths of hell at night,
can do some home repairs and work on his car on the weekend.

The suburbs still scream those screams of unburied war corpses, screams handed down from generation to generation by cruel hands and serrated words, cruel hands and serrated words doled out behind closed doors in private castles separated by fences and lawns, lawns of worthiness,
lawns of salvation,
lawns that if green enough will erase the sins of our fathers,
lawns watered with the tears of warehoused wives, lawns watered with the sweat of the working poor, lawns watered with the blood of indigenous gods,
overlooked by windows with snarling faces peaking through blinds
or mothers with medicated eyes spoon-feeding grains into the bellies of crying children.

After the war they went to the suburbs and pretended everything was fine (it wasn’t fine) and spent the 1950s pouring emotional concrete over their pain and savaging their children and pretending everything was fine (it wasn’t fine),
and now those houses are all haunted by ghosts pretending everything is fine
(it isn’t fine)
and haunted by living people pretending everything is fine
(it isn’t fine)
as we fill our oceans and our blood with plastic and laugh plastic laughs at screens full of plastic people
pretending everything is fine (it isn’t fine),
charging toward armageddon carrying the anguish of our grandfathers on our shoulders
the way they carried their fallen friends on the battlefield on their shoulders before they realized that their friends were corpses and fell to the ground
and cried out for their mothers,
and then got up,
and then went home,
and never breathed a word about it
to anyone.

______________

Reading by Tim Foley.

The Levittowns

This longish recording focusses on First Light rather than Dawn (Second Light and Sunrise), although it includes the beginnings of the latter. It ought to be listened to with good quality headphones, or good quality speakers, at a mid-range volume of around fifty to sixty per cent. The recording is unedited: one of the things that particularly interests me, and that I especially enjoy, about this early spring First Light forest soundscape (and other similar early spring forest Dawn recordings that I made during this road trip to Tasmania) is precisely its very gradual, slow, minimal, and spacious development. This sounds nothing like an overly-busy tropical rainforest. The 'silence' never completely disappears.

In this rich, dense, moist, cool-temperature southern forest of Tasmania, at the time that this excerpt begins, it is still fairly dark to the human eye. The first First Light call is (as usual) from a Black Currawong (Strepera fuliginosa), a species of Currawong that is found only in Tasmania. Its call is quite unique, very unlike any mainland Currawong, and I grew to adore it, and to recognise it as the main Tasmanian forest sentinel of dawn.

We also hear the final few night calls of Ninox novaeseelandiae leucopsis, which I would prefer to refer to as the 'Tasmanian Boobook', rather than its more common and familiar name, 'Morepork'. Both names are, of course, onomatopoeic labels provided by Europeans. But the name 'Morepork' suggests, to me, an image of radically displaced Europeans in an unfamiliar landscape, craving pork meat, and hearing this beautiful owl call as though it were expressing their own cravings: 'More pork!" (Interestingly, DNA evidence has suggested that Ninox novaeseelandiae is more closely related to the New Zealand Boobook (also commonly known in NZ as the 'Morepork') than to the mainland Southern Boobook (Ninox boobook).)

The other early caller, here, is the Yellow Wattlebird (Anthocaera paradoxa), also found only in Tasmania.

Gradually, the 'Dawn Chorus' stirs and unfurls into a more richly-populated wakefulness. Thankfully, the introduced and now feral Superb Lyrebirds, which have seriously infested this region, seem to be late risers that enjoy sleeping in: somewhat later in the original recording, they pretty much take over most of the forest soundscape.

Recorded with meditative respect upon the land of the Nuenonne tribe of the Palawa people. The recording was made with a pair of MKH 8040s in ORTF into an F3 recorder.

2023.09.23 First Light. Huon Valley. Early Spring.

New London Chamber Choir
London Sinfonietta
James Weeks, conductor

The Freedom of the Earth

James Weeks Composer

Recent comments

Alexandros

Related tracks