This composition is built from various new recordings of encounters with insects and birds, and wind-song heard through a gap in the wall of a remote rural building, wound together with outputs from various synthesisers - modular and otherwise -, a temporary sonic-kinetic sculpture made from tins and containers, and recordings of analogue, generated sounds I find interesting such as a quartz pebble bounced around on the steel tray of an old dustpan, and tapping a collection of antique porcelain plates displayed on a weatherboard farmhouse wall.
With many of the small digital audio generators I’ve bought over the past few years, it’s close to impossible to replicate sounds because once the device is switched off, many or all of the internal settings of the session are negated, lost, wiped. On power-up, the electronics are refreshed and each new combination of dial settings, cables, inputs to outputs and so on creates a new sonic field unique to the moment of its generation. I quite like this - probably unintentional - surrender of control - it ensures a degree of non-attachment and might be interpreted as a respect for the moment of making, for the valuing of process over product.
As ever, this new composition is offered for listening with full, wavering or minimal attention - intended as a contribution - strange and unusual - to the ambient sensory environment of your studio, home, travel or workspace and as food, fuel or grit in the oyster of your creative inner life.
