Name: Elevator Pitch by widing
Duration: 1 min 28 s
Description: Sketches for an existential elevator game. Analogue synth + field recordings.

In history some ideas perished, others spread the world. Some of them survived quite long gaps of silence over time. 
In the end you never know if an idea came to an end or will come back some day..

The Assignment: Break apart a piece of music and fill the resulting spaces.

Step 1: Choose a piece of music (whether your own or something in the public domain) and break it into sequential pieces. You might do this to a recording, or you might place gaps between parts of a notated melody (just to provide two different ways this instruction might be interpreted).

Step 2: Now, fill the various gaps, however many there may be, resulting from Step 1.

Spoken words are taken from an article on wikinews, read by momo112, published CC-BY-SA-4.0 (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2016-11-26_-_Fidel_Castro_est_mort.ogg)


A la victoire toujours [disquiet0701]

UFO Service Station

Sketches for an existential elevator game. Analogue synth + field recordings.

Elevator Pitch

Tactical Meditations - Mix

Please read the following part (2) after listening:


Hi A,

When death comes knocking on my door, a thought unarguably goes out to you.  Where are you today? How are you feeling? Probably better now.
 
I miss your support. You always kept calm, almost living in denial. “A dreamer”, like my mum used to call you.
 
A colleague and a friend of mine hanged himself last night. What do you say? Life is so fucking cruel sometimes. Or was it death that’s cruel?
 
You never feared death. Or maybe you lived in avoidance, postponing the thought of your near mortality. I wish I could’ve asked you how it feels to know that you’re going to die. But I probably wouldn’t have dared to ask you anyway.
 
Everyday life seems meaningless when our fragility creeps upon us. You never told anyone you where sick until we saw it with our own eyes. Maybe my friend kept it to himself too. He just took his life. And parts of me understand him.
 
Correction: his illness took his life. Just like your illness took your life. And I could be the next one in line, we really don’t know.

I’m thinking a lot about my future these days. But it’s obvious that my priorities are off. While thinking of my own petty upcoming career goals something bigger is going on. And I might be missing it.
 
Life with all its beautiful clichés. Finding balance. Floating and fragmentation of time. Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans and so on…
 
Thoughts of death. To one day be united with you, with my friend, frights me of course. Frights me to not think about it. Frights me to think about it a lot.  
 
So I try to find a little breathing space.
To give room for the unexpected.
Where I might find some answers.
 
Answers to why you disappeared so quickly.
Why you became sick.
Why the world is assembled the way it is.
 
But foremost. In the room of the unexpected, I can stop and truly be in mourning. In thought of you. Of him. Life and death.
 
There I’ll open up for dialog with what’s impossible to express.
 
I re-read our text messages and I remember our encounters, dinners and hangouts. Our arguments. My worries for you and the fact that you where ill and ignorant about it. It still pisses me off.

But it also makes me sad, sad that you left my mother alone too soon. And I think about your son. That I should contact him and tell him your version.

But I write this text message instead. I write this message to see if it reaches you. I know, I know, it’s not going to reach you; I have your old phone goddamn it. But for some reason, I still keep your number.
 
So I try it out. Maybe, you’re on the other side of the fragmentation of time, reading this. Feeling what I’m feeling. Like a projection of thin air bouncing right back at me.
 
And suddenly, I sense you sitting next to me, smiling slyly.
Slightly annoying. But still. I feel your tongue-tied presence.  
 
I send you the text. The longest I’ve ever written.

"Roger that", I hear you say.  
 
 
Love,
Your Friend A
 
 
Ps. At first the notification on my phone said that the text message wasn’t sent to you. But then, when I looked again the notification was gone. Weird. Ds.

Audiowalk to A: part 1

A3. Blue Crystal Fire - W Julia Kent MIX1 - Master 1 - Digital

All Hallows' Eve

First mix, all vinyl, some post editing done in Audacity (Ubuntu) so it's smoother for your ears. Enjoy!

Ready for the new world

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Elevator Pitch

widing

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