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[Warp] VA - Daydreaming at Night


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Phantasmagoria of landscape and biography. Did you feel, as each year passed, the imprint of environment modelling you, incrementally? Reciprocal telekinesis; the inhabitant is permeated, re-formed. A language emerges. It was forged in you, unseen.

The vision of a childhood bedroom endures; burnished by the orange glow of a streetlamp, smudging through a window wet with condensation. At night the trains would rumble past the houses, causing the fringes of my lampshade to tremble. I’d lean close to the wall and whisper into the bricks and mortar - ‘’remember me’.

A storehouse of ripening Summers, heavy with the scent of rhododendrons, nettles, dandelions. Repetitions of backyards contain the small moments of our living. Laughter and screams dart up into the sky. Overhanging apples, railway blackberries, allotment rhubarb; acidic, dirty morsels we’d steal. Tangled hair, scabbed knees. VHS flicker of Saturday cartoons. Dirty fizzle of raggedy animation forges an aesthetic for life. Pavements, avenues and fields remember you long after you grow up and are gone.

Diaries of sound; multiple, like a liquid painting, shapeshifting at the attentive ear. I have spent hundreds of hours painting sound-worlds that bear the imprint of my environment, in a compulsive synasthesia. Each of us contains our own sublime, the ongoing reverie. Every atom precious, not to be wasted. Motes lodge in the grain, awaiting re-substantiation. If I will this endlessness I can make anything happen; inventor, intentionally delusional.

 

goddamn it

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On 6/27/2019 at 10:36 AM, dr lopez said:

Phantasmagoria of landscape and biography. Did you feel, as each year passed, the imprint of environment modelling you, incrementally? Reciprocal telekinesis; the inhabitant is permeated, re-formed. A language emerges. It was forged in you, unseen.

The vision of a childhood bedroom endures; burnished by the orange glow of a streetlamp, smudging through a window wet with condensation. At night the trains would rumble past the houses, causing the fringes of my lampshade to tremble. I’d lean close to the wall and whisper into the bricks and mortar - ‘’remember me’.

A storehouse of ripening Summers, heavy with the scent of rhododendrons, nettles, dandelions. Repetitions of backyards contain the small moments of our living. Laughter and screams dart up into the sky. Overhanging apples, railway blackberries, allotment rhubarb; acidic, dirty morsels we’d steal. Tangled hair, scabbed knees. VHS flicker of Saturday cartoons. Dirty fizzle of raggedy animation forges an aesthetic for life. Pavements, avenues and fields remember you long after you grow up and are gone.

Diaries of sound; multiple, like a liquid painting, shapeshifting at the attentive ear. I have spent hundreds of hours painting sound-worlds that bear the imprint of my environment, in a compulsive synasthesia. Each of us contains our own sublime, the ongoing reverie. Every atom precious, not to be wasted. Motes lodge in the grain, awaiting re-substantiation. If I will this endlessness I can make anything happen; inventor, intentionally delusional.

Warp is now Sub Rosa.

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Still makes me cringe to see the Sabres' Smokebelch II (Beatless Mix) on any compilation. Nice track but was absolutely hammered and featured on just about every 90s/00s 'chillout' compilation.

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nice ambient selection, just made myself a playlist with these (except switching rhubarb with "1 lmt b", because rhubarb has too much memory attachment)

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