There is this compilation I am listening to that deals with all sorts of strange, atmospheric recordings. You can’t call it all music, as some of it is talking, scrapping, and just plain sounds.
But it is full of artists. So a compilation of artists is the best way to describe it.
I am thinking about each of them, producing something of their own. They get on a compilation CD, and they might have said to their family, or to their friends: “I am on this compilation! One of my pieces is on this compilation”. It makes me wonder about my own ambitions of past. The sneer an ex would suggest in a letter I was no good, as I dreamt of stupid stuff. Rock star stupid stuff. They were right, as I had known all along. I wasn’t interested in that rock star famous stuff; but these guys were what I cared to be. Something outside. An outlier. A person of some sort of interest.
I too could’ve said: “hey look. I am on a compilation”
I want to swim amongst this lot. Join in on their works and be a part of a society that has little interest in corporate business like places, but get into the depths of great sounds and soundscapes. Just to be an artist is what I actually would like to consider myself – let alone anyone else.
You get involved with sounds more than music, and that what music really is – an extension of sound. Something out in the outer regions of sound; a controlled sound, a set piece of soundscapes. I love it, and I got mixed up with artist and music.
I have to maker something worthwhile for me; my brain is seeing and answering the call. And yet it is also feeling weirded out by the extraordinary talent out there. These artists: the compilation composers. I love them!