This falls roughly in a similar category to the Salarymen css (unfair comparison, I know, but both in same-similar rough ball-park) – of what I called (sorry) “Cagean Focus-Field”; ie it alerts you to outside 'world' / environment...) – but, mainly, mostly similar in it being fucking great. Some fun here using a creaky floorboard plus foot, then some seriously tight / eye-muscle tightening oscillations (if you listen on headphones, it really does cra-a-a-a-awlll around deep inside yer head); only slightly more disturbing when it shifts up a pitch or two.
Trying to figure out what he's used / where he's found these (this) sounds, then deciding it really doesn't fucking matter. I don't need to know.
“Nice” isn't the word I'd use to describe it – feel like I'm being brainwashed LOL– but grooving on the idea of not knowing / being surprised. Think about it: even in the 'underground', how often are we, you know, really surprised; how much of what we hear has been socially 'codified' / mediated on some level?
And fuuuuck, when it goes down into a subtone. Ooooof.
Bumps and rustles behind the sinewaves, like someone rummaging around in a cupboard. Ear-panning.
A car goes past, but is it on the tape or outside my ears / room / house?
Wine-glass (taps). Tinnnngs.
A slow bellhop summonsing via pushbike bell. Timmmmmmme at the bar in the 19Hz Arms. Or just Time.
Fake Tibetan bowls: a teaspoooooooooooon on a charity-shop glass. Rings // Tones.
Blood, breath. Just your body and ears.
The world: an illusion. A mistaken fascination with all that is outside ourselves.
"Silence, begone!!" (Cage's banishment; his Grand Trick, his de-illusion).
On the other side (of the tape): disembodied bodies & voices, the footstep recast as an illusionary (sic) In & Around & Near & Away: a comingandgoings-ing, a presentation of the illusion of a 'space' from... somewhere else, from somewhere temporally 'Before', from some other Other beyond the tape, beyond Now, beyond ourselves.
The creak returns – beautiful in its brilliant simplicity, its use – implied 'rhythm', implied 'space', implied 'movement' – but, you know, we all do this in our heads without realising it every day; it's called... Life: the decoding of visual / audio / linguistic illusions, the making sense of the world – and music (or whatever the hell this is) like this reminds us what it's like to be cast adrift, sat alone in the ocean of our own senses, audio-cues and landmarks suddenly heightened or distant or presented without, say, visual verification n cross-referencing...
But I'll stop now before I disappear completely up me own arse; and, but – oh! – that CREAK, that bloody glorious genius of a creak (and the Escher-like appearance / re-appearance / dis-appearance of steps in and out of sonic-frame)...
And it ends on a typewriter (w traffic backing-'vox'), manual-keys being pecked at. Sheets of paper being turned. Poignant gaps between the taptapatappitytap / ratchet-and-return, a not-quite-beat.
Life: it's music to my ears.