Timescale: Volume 1: Hierarchy 1: (Arrival: Years)


Music to share
Music to coagulate
Music to bring people together, even if it’s me in the past.

Weary of the muses that enchant wanderance from my circadian course.
But happy to have a companion at this
Knowing you can do it because you know you can.
It’s the work you’ve done continually over time, not the day of that counts.
Doing one thing that isn’t everything.
Run hard to run easy.
The work should be easy, especially if it’s hard.

There is a theory that every electron
Is the same electron
At different points in time

Sitting in a blank canvas, a blank city, doing something that feels entirely disjointed, uncontained, unincluded in the grand schemata of everything
At its idealist state is freedom
In truth it’s boundless energy, boundless void.
Causality is not measured in the accrual of pleonastic sticky-notes and playing card bookmarks
The Whole, the all, the everything, the nothing curls and coddles what it contains
It is measured in its effect. It’s tender touch. It’s relative measurement
That’s what makes it matter
Not to an absolutism.
And sometimes, alone, here, with nothing but a butterfly net to detect Tachyonic thoughts
But to others
Is crushing weightlessness.

Information: The belief in the squiggles on a page
resemblance of a regurgitate-able formulaic transcription of the theory of everything
Love truth death life are all just objects in the category of life
But there is something you truly believe
My gut squelches with the receding image
Paradoxical parallax-ical polyphony, timespaces moving in different relative rates in orthogonal directions
on top of one another next to one another,
Of the same face at every moment
It’s all the same matter
It’s all the same stuff
It’s all just a matter of time.

And so
And so then
And so then collecting
Is just like remembering
Except you had to get there in the first place


Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me wait us no me no us no them them them it it it it they they it them it I it it’s time I it’s time I it’s time I it it it it


A few words of Acknowledgement:

Some of this stuff is old, some of this stuff is figurative *wet ink*, but the particular variety of belief these are “complete” (no matter in what stage they were abandoned) doesn’t require a ritualistic resurrection to be music.

Theodore Haber is one of the most incredible planets on the musician, and also one of my human favoritest. He wrote me the day after this came out telling me he had recorded the sound in "listening" and sent it to me. I just found it on my computer and knew it fit, but "It's one of the cooler things I've found in the world" (a quote from Theo) is definitely correct. Thank you for lending your ears to the world and your amazing insightful interesting thoughts over the years.

I’d like to thank Chris Fishman for being one of my favorite musicians on the planet. It is an altogether magical feeling that some of my favorite sounds to ever come out of an instrument are from a friend of mine. In addition the limitless well of reticent brilliance, I so deeply appreciate his continual excitement for my music. He was one of the first people to accusatorially ask me “Where’s your guitar?!” when I moved the Pacific Northwest without one. “You need to put this shit out” sticks in my ears.

Thank you Thomas Mellan for listening to these things ten thousand million trillion times. Your support as a friend has been monumental.

Thank you Susana for being such a deep listener, such a steadfast friend for 8 years. In the strictest, compactest, “concrete and physical law abiding universe” sense, thank you for recording what became Trinkets, but more deeply, thank you for believing in me and my ideas enough that you start recording on your phone when you’re at the door, come inside, play duo piano and talk for hours, and then send me our entire duet later in the evening. You have always been my favorite sound on my piano.

Thank you Brant for being a good sport, a great time, a fantastic roommate, and an even better friend. If it came down to it, I'd definitely marry you for tax reasons.

Hunter Emigh, thank you for letting me crash in your yard a few years ago, letting me record with your 5 string bass to record over valentine’s day weekend 2 years ago, borrow a bike. Thank you Sheena for giving me your bass. I hope you’ve found that undefinable, ineffable place you’re looking for.

A few people, like Kirk, like Ben, like Susana, have heard small increments of this music over time, yet none of it together. That’s a familiar feeling now, of introducing friends from discrete parts of life and saying something along the lines of why it is that they would be meeting now anyway, like how a Chilean programmer might meet a half Spanish Half Californian half monkey bike adventurist at a dinner party with my cousin, and there's no reason they all ended up in the same place other than different moments in time folded together.

That’s also what finishing this music is about, to finally put it together and show “where it came from.”

Thank you mum and dad and Liam. You don’t always know what I’m going to do next, but you’re magnificently happy along the way.



Here I have finally arrived at a music and a style I have had the figment of forever. It can be summed up as linear harmonics. The resonances of different moments in time sequentially act as a type of verticality. These horizontal spaces are felt in vertical beats, where the speed that one moves through different perceptual and musically parameterized spaces is the undulation of consonance and dissonance.

Lastly, thusly, firstly, this project had me consider what scale of time I make music in. Does it take hours? Does it take months?
The final piece (*wink wink*) comes in the form of mapping the music making process to the passage of time, and joining the results. This is merely one such mapping. What would another one look like?