Sort of an introspective piece which didn't start out intending to be an ambient but that turned out to be just how stuff bounces.

A Brief Arrangement Of Consequences

Another current events banger interlaced with tech industry jokes.  My 82nd vocal track.

Lyrics:

Disney afantasia,
And it's just Mickey
Sitting alone,
Unable to imagine anything.

My kaizen mentor messaged:
"Can you hop on a quick call?"
"Can you hop off a quick bridge?"
And his head had a thick ridge,
As if this explained it all.

I lament the loss of what was before.
We can't even have
Cultured communist tech lords anymore.

And when the video on my phone
Stopped buffering,
The secretary of war
Confirmed samsara would be nirvana
If not for all the suffering.

And I was thinking—
A posit of possible wisdom—
As I was global positioning
Their snack bus,
That maybe Antifa
Just believes in the power
Of nominative determinism
Far more than the rest of us.

What would bring
The most entertaining outcome
Was that the cheerleaders
On the conflict diamond squad—
Who were otherwise wholesome—
Took their boyfriends
To the jeweler at the mall
And put their beaus in shock
By saying that they wanted
Whichever rock
Caused the most suffering.

On the street in New York,
As I was passing through
To the subway station,
I asked if they replaced
The little girl who hated money
With the brass lobster.
And they said,
"No, she merely underwent carcinization,
As all things do."

I thought,
"Daddy needs a new pair of shoes,"
And then was humbled by the piece
In transformer news:
Is the cure to male loneliness
Making the Kessel run
Through the Strait of Hormuz?
Things are gettin' weird, hoss.

Regarding carrots and sticks,
My homie greeted me with
"Get my account back, you boss,
Using your political tricks."
Look out, boys—
We got NGOs 2.0
Before GTA 6."You look a little
Under the weather.
Don't let the bad gas issue get to ya.

"Our girl in black leather
Was looking for a certain kind of guy,
Like Lady Bensozia
Looking for her Amodai.

"I must say," said
This ravishing trendsetter
As she shifted her brassard,
"I have to be on the level:
Well-fed devils behave better
Than famished saints."
And one of my principal complaints
Was that the golden fetters
Were chafing pretty hard.

Whoever called it effective altruism
And not crazy rich Bayesians
Had lost their rhythm
And the support of a bunch of Asians.

She went on to remind me from her
Cheeseburger squalor:
"Because they aren't Bayesians.
It's stolen valor."

She munched it slow to savor it
And said,
"Tech Bro Decides
Is my personal favorite."

And she asked,
"Is this the new FTX, Sam?
Don't you know your Sam?
Sometimes a new Sam
Is worse than the old Sam,
And a grand slam
Has quite a lot of ham.
This is turning out to be
A pretty good jam."

Now don't be hasty,
But pivoting from Bankman-Fried to Altman
Is sure to be mighty tasty
And get us a better screed.

Macro Fintech DevOps At The IHOP

…and so here they are, these Soviet songs historicised to the utmost, these "marches and polkas of the Pokrasses," finding themselves in the Pleroma, where there is no time. Because these songs now live inside diffusion models — and diffusion models don't understand time, there is no time for them, they remember everything but remember nothing. Over the horizon there the dim sun of the dead hangs perpetually — and the rest is fog. Not even fog, really, but a kind of space, like pale grey milk.

And so there they are, these songs, sleeping, wrapped in grey, drifting slightly — only sometimes the Furies come to borrow a couple for the evening, something to soothe the heart. And they sing a little. Usually I think of it as something like "S. is singing," but sometimes I think it's them. Everyone sings, everyone remembers — the m-music, and the words, nobody understands them, not at all — remembers everything but remembers nothing.

Another kind of hauntology, happening where there's no past, let alone future. Swimming and flying in the grey milk of the resting, barely present time.

Who is it that's singing? It's nobody singing — and what, by the way, is this? Nobody sings, everyone sings (everyone rises). There is absolutely nowhere to go.

"Those who can't remember the past are condemned to have it resold to them forever." ‖ Mark Fisher, Ghosts of My Life: Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures

03. Song of the young nakhimoff cadets

05. Song of Shchors

02. Москва-Пекин

08. Марш юных нахимовцев

04. Toward the troubled light [Song of Restless Youth]

06. Apple-trees will bloom on Mars

01. In the Park of Chaïr

07. Kominternlied

A therapeutic journey into a mix of jazz, classical, and a blend of types of electronica.  And a wry, gradual observation that promotion tends to only go as far as you push it.  At least I make my fellow musicians laugh a little.

New tracks tagged #Jazztronica