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“After so many things I could no longer enumerate, the nails, the frog, the sparrow, thebit of wood, the pole, the nib, the lemon peel, the cardboard box, the chimney, the cork, the arrow on the ceiling, the gutter, the hand, the lumps of earth, the bed springs, the ashtray, bits of wire, toothpicks, pebbles, the chicken, warts, gulls, islands, needles, I had been ready for anything, but not for teapot. There is sort of an excess about reality, and after a while it can become intolerable.”
My music runs without stopping, and at a vertiginous speed. The architecture is simultaneity: What happened to you today, and did you give more heed to the glance of a passing stranger than to the mighty work of creation? You're probably on the right track if you did. Sweep up off the street that which is:
Shattered
Broken
Twisted
Pulverized
Damaged
Smashed
Powdered
in short, dust. An assemblage of failures, incompletions, traumas, lacerations, fragments. The que3stion is always: Where does the next step lead, and what are the mechanics of our hoodwinking ourselves into taking it? To hold that step in suspension is the breakage point, the syncope.
“the primary and most beautiful of nature's qualities is motion, which agitates her at all times, but this motion is simply the perpetual consequence of crimes, it is conserved by the means of crimes alone”
Plan: Not to perceive noise as music, but music as noise. Precisely in the disjunct of failed causation is where we have to look for poetry. Music has fallen into the habit of smoothing things out and slowing things down, and because we are lazy we confuse that sop to our lassitude with so-called aesthetic experience. The mechanics of consciousness require disaster, bloodshed, and fucking in order for us to stop, without that step for one moment, and perceive motivation is not to produce a well-formed artwork but to track and amplify the microscopic domino-falls and systematic shudders of our synapses - create a macro-level experience of the pre-sensory world not for the sake of abstracted and somnambulistic appreciation but for DIRECT and ELECTRICAL contact with the subatomic elements of the glances in the street the united shoelace the fall of a single strand of hair.
“How does one widen the edges of consciousness? By fragmenting the attention span. Something begins to leave the precision of the awakened state, and suddenly goes astray.”
This is a recording of a live performance: one member of a set of possible solutions. Vertebra is a computer program, an environmental construction, a scaffold, in which the activity of making sense and it's suspensions are not merely illustrated, but actually taking place.
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