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The Museum of Vestigial Desire


tags: hunger published on:

Music is a means to measure time. Clocks measure only absolute time. There is one distinct start and stop point.

Continuously staggering sequences of events also need to be measured.

These measurements are discreetly performed and have an infinite scale. The scale is vast at all scales of perception.

How does this measuring help us? How does this expand the depth of our silence?

What we know is that the abstract nature of our experience, our capacity of claiming perceptual drift at slight provocation, is the reason for our reliance on music.

Music is a very bad descriptor. What exactly is implied but the word we will never find out except by experiencing it first. Music is memory. If it relies on the performance of the memory, it needs to identify its core building blocks clearly. Similarity is one such block. Measure is another such block, the ambiguity of experience occupies fixed positions with this measure. Density is another block. The air into which music has been transmitted and the air into which music has not been transmitted is different. We understand this difference from the perspective of density.

Music is produced from a memory of patterns but also the memory of music is difficult.

When music is remembered only the felt experience is remembered and not the specific detail and schematic of the musical moment. When music is not remembered the mind is capable of filling in and creating fiction. Music remembered is often sweeter than the music in the actual past.

Music is often simulated in mathematics, but a simulation is always aware that it is not real. A simulation never deludes itself of its make-shift arrangement.

When a musical note resonates in the air, the environment thickens with the expectation of the resonance passing into perpetuity.

Music is a promise of eternal continuity.

When music is the answer, the question is not known. What does it answer? What is the need to come up with an answer? What is the negative space of music?

If musical archives were the notebook of experience, if narratives were getting recorded in musical form, then music would be known as a kind of shorthand of natural language.

The other half of a musical tendency is the urge to project clearly the ability of sound to break free from the responsibility to merely transmit language. This autonomous sound packages itself and plays with its own pattern of being.

Music is the absence of narrative. If the negative of positive identification were to be the norm then music would have a clear function irrespective of the allegiances of the institutions that support it.

Music is a developmental bias. We learn how to listen to music, and form sophisticated filters and functions to recognise musical pattern. But the compositional urge only gets strengthened this way. The compositional urge isolates fine experience from coarse. The undesired nature of composition determines our preference for the state of music irrespective of the kind of music the state contains.

We experience states and do not care about the contents. The surface of music contains the essence of musicality without needing to engage with music at all.

This surficial ability saves us from the pain of having to progress from aesthetic category to category restlessly.

The ability to be static stems from a state of featureless harmony. Noise and music can be be packaged together without any differentiation.

We are interested in this hum that precedes quality and manages to remain distinct within the package of sound.

In a hum, all musical strains can be found and all harmonies can be distinguished. It is the singular flat surface of sound that escapes all other formats and bounds.

What will we do with the hum?

We will use the hum to centre ourselves within a universe of featureless obscurity. If we do not need to filter the harmonics of experience, we accumulate the corpus of all that there is to be churned and assimilated.

The honesty required to be able to listen to all voices as same is developed on churning this corpus.

When you open your eye after honesty has set in, ambiguity saves you from the pain of having to distinguish actors and agents. Things and people are rendered as same.

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