Here I am, knocking out sounds

In the spirit of resistance—no, I do not believe that all resistance is expressed by words, and we can live in a world where we overestimate the efficacy of speech. Music, like all forms of art, presents gestures that assume significance under specific pretexts. In directing our cognitive efforts it must be noticed that one language, if a language means to influence, isn’t, and cannot be, the whole story.

I wonder sometimes to what extent are we merely knocking out sounds that do not ripple the same way for others as they do for us, so without knowing better, I’d venture, we are merely knocking out sounds that do not ripple the same way for others as they do for us. Worst is that the merit of silence is constantly overlooked, not a conscious mistake perhaps. We are, after all, slaves to the senses, and silence, you mount the false face of a void that, clearly, most only wish to avoid. So repressed are the dissonance, the anti-emotions, sounds that do not exist to evoke recollections but exist because they do.

I listened, today, to a riff that was sweetly and simply looped, layered under some elongated notes. It was not out to assume nor to capture anything, in which I sensed a quivering joy.

That there is a music that can be rich without being corpulent.