Name: Eighteen (for Ryan) by Highway Lights
Duration: 4 min 22 s
Description: On March 15 2023, our nephew was killed in an industrial accident. "Eighteen" is an outcry of grief, despair and clinging to faith, hope and love. In memory of our beloved nephew, Ryan (3/15/2023).

The hoodwinker sunfish belongs to the family Molidae and genus Mola. It is closely related to the more widely known ocean sunfish (Mola mola). The Latin word "tecta" means hidden. The word "hidden" was adopted for the name because the fish has blended in among other species of sunfish for a long time and has only been discovered recently. Discovered on a beach near Christchurch, New Zealand in 2015, it was the first new species of sunfish to be identified in 130 years. Mola tecta are mostly found in the temperate region of the Southern hemisphere in the water near Australia, New Zealand, Southern Chile and Southern Africa. It was first described by Marianne Nyegaard, a marine scientist who studied ocean sunfish for her PhD. [WIKIPEDIA]

Mostly the Hoodwinker Sunfish looks like random bits of other, better designed fish, stuck together somewhat haphazardly.  Seems appropriate, considering that this piece of music feels about the same.

The street art in the cover art is part of the worldwide “Fishes Invasion” project by Italian street artist MERIO.  Fishes Invasion can be seen on the streets of major cities on 5 continents as of March, 2025.  I photographed this one in Marseilles, France, in 2019.

Hoodwinker Sunfish

In January of 2025 I found myself immersed in the vibrant heart of the Medina of Tunis. My stay was in a quiet and beautiful hotel with a distinctly Berber architectural influence, and I was treated to 4 days of exceptional cuisine, shopping, and a trip to the ruins of Carthage.

One afternoon, seeking warmth with a cup of hot chocolate (Tunis was unexpectedly chilly in January), I noticed a faint rhythm emanating from speakers concealed behind palm trees. Though the music was barely audible, its rhythm resonated with me, and I quickly jotted it down as best I could.* To ensure I had a reference, I also used Shazam.

Back in Seattle, I quickly began composing, inspired by that rhythm. Drawing on past projects with a North African influence, I incorporated some familiar percussion samples.**

I had completed about 75% of the piece when I remembered that I still had the Shazam results on my phone.***  I played the track on Spotify,  only to discover it bore little resemblance to my work or my memory of the café music.  Perhaps there was a faint hint of the rhythm that I had thought I heard, but it seemed barely discernible.

Ultimately, this discrepancy was a positive surprise, confirming the originality of my composition. The final piece blends North African rhythms with an IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) influenced orchestration, a fusion that might not fully honor either tradition. However, the creative journey was immensely enjoyable, and I'm delighted with the outcome.

Please enjoy!


P.S. Later, I revisited the Shazam link and discovered it had directed me to a live performance, not the studio recording I'd heard in the café. After further searching, I found the studio version, which, to my relief, closely matched my composition. It's reassuring to know my ears weren't as deceiving as I'd feared


*Actual transcription:  “X.x x, Xx x x, (Tunis) In 6, two halves, first is a straight waltz, second is on half beats. YES!!”

** Conga, Cabasa, both from Cuba, and personal samples of an Udu, originally from Nigeria.  All of these percussion instruments are manufactured by LP, a percussion instrument maker headquartered in New Jersey.  None of these are particularly North African, but here we are. 

*** “Nassaya” by Lotfi Bouchnak.

Four Nights In Tunisia

Automaton: (1) a mechanism that is relatively self-operating. (2) a machine or control mechanism designed to follow automatically a predetermined sequence of operations or respond to encoded instructions (3) an individual who acts in a mechanical fashion

Dorriadic: (1) relating to the planet Dorradia or its inhabitants. "The Dorriadic atmosphere."  

Planet Name: Dorradia
Type: Class M
Diameter: .9 Earth
Orbital Distance: 1.2 AU
Surface Gravity: .8g 
Surface Temperature: 25°C at the equator, with diurnal temperature variation of 10°C
Presence of water: Large oceans covering 70% of the planet 

Timeline:

 2280: First contact and initial survey
 2313 – 2376:  Levels I-III terraforming
 2392: Terraforming Complete
 2392: Generation Ark Class ship "The Texas Instruments Solid State" arrives, with 519 living humans.
 3173: Stable population, trade, government and commerce.  Special arts funding and support given to modeling high-level complexity automata, creating interstellar demand for the highly prized "Dorriadic Automaton"

Dorriadic Automaton

On March 15 2023, our nephew was killed in an industrial accident. "Eighteen" is an outcry of grief, despair and clinging to faith, hope and love. In memory of our beloved nephew, Ryan (3/15/2023).

Summertime Radio

Eighteen (for Ryan)

The door shut softly behind him, a small sound swallowed in the warm October afternoon. He walked down the gravel driveway, the air crisp and carrying the scent of earth and ripening apples. The ancient branches of the oaks that guarded his property reached toward the deep blue sky, the first of their autumn leaves forming a rustling carpet underfoot. Each step was a soft crunch accompanying his departure. He wouldn't be gone long, just one night.

When he returned the next morning, the quality of the light was different. A sharper, cooler hue bathed the landscape. He noticed it first in the way it slanted through the bare branches, casting long, unfamiliar shadows. The air felt colder, sharper, and the scent was no longer just earth; there was a hint of frost, a whisper of winter.

He reached his porch, the familiar wood feeling strangely cool beneath his hand. Stepping inside, the silence was heavier than he expected. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that pierced the windows, thicker and more numerous than when he'd left. A film of neglect seemed to have settled over everything.

He walked through the rooms, unease quietly growing in his chest. On the kitchen counter, a bowl of fruit he'd left out was now shriveled and moldy. A newspaper lay on the floor, its date reading the first of December. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the ink, his surprise slowly turning to a cold foreboding. December? But, he had only been gone for a single night.

Looking for an explanation, some anchor to the reality he knew, he retreated to the living room. There, stacked precariously, were boxes of his father's old belongings. He pulled out a wind-up gramophone, its brass tarnished with age. He carefully placed the needle on a brittle, crackling record, filling the room with a ghostly melody from a bygone era. The music was hauntingly beautiful, but offered no answers.

Soon he unearthed a dusty projector and some cans of film. The reels were old, the celluloid brittle. He threaded one carefully, and the flickering images danced on the wall – blurry scenes of a summer long past. The faces were unfamiliar, the clothes outdated. The filmstrip, like the record, whispered of time, but offered no solace, only deeper enigma.

Hours bled into each other. He wandered the property, the wind sighing through the now barren trees. The landscape had shifted subtly. The vibrant autumn colors were gone, replaced by the muted browns and slate grays of late fall. The air grew colder still, promising snow.

He listened to more records, the scratchy voices and instruments echoing in the silent house. He watched more films, the flickering images a ghostly parade of unknown lives. Each attempt to understand the mystery left only echoes and dim memories. The single night he'd been gone had somehow stretched into a month, leaving him stranded in a time that felt both familiar and utterly alien. The reason for his brief departure became a forgotten detail, lost in the wound of unaccounted time, leaving him alone with the whispering wind and the crunching leaves, a solitary figure in a world that had inexplicably moved on without him.

Away Without November

A songwriting and music production team infusing elements of folk, ambient and blues into music composition for television, film and advertising sync placement. Original music from Jeremy Jongejan and Cory Kent.

Eighteen (for Ryan)

Highway Lights

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