Studio Notes - Spring-Summer-Autumn - 2025
November 2024 saw a Tower Card whap-splat my life
the flying magic carpet being slipped out from beneath my dancing feet.
Gulp.
Falling hard and fast for six months.
Today I sit in the new studio,
gleaming like the glisten thing,
listening to sounds of sacred magic instruments,
bagged and boxed ten years ago and more.
Got my shit back together.
Got my studio back together.
Previously it was an underground music studio
in a flat in Zooport city for my sins.
Now it's in the White Room.
It's been 17 years.
Two cycles of 7 and a half.
The numbers form a theme,
etching shapes in their wake,
surfing the dream sea of infinite potential.
Problem being, technology has evolved in that time
I got a push-button digital dreamscape in a box
The likes of which we used to talk about
Does it make the old school gear obsolete?
Productivity from using AI competes
with a huge skill set honed only of experience
Don't know what to do about it
The philosophy of Samplists is easy
All sound is a valid source of inspiration
To be copied & crafted
Into a new context
Different than the original creative intent
It's actually a better world
But hey,
We have all been compromising with the interface
For so long now
It's just another tool in the box
Shaping us as much as we hope to shape it
28 AI albums later
Getting it out of the system
Before returning to the slow old ways
Of real sound
Of real Human artistry
For what it is
Does it still hold up and compete in the new world?
Who is to judge?
Perhaps it has become a thing of the doing, rather than the sharing
And perhaps it always was
Despite the sharing being the purpose
Musicians are channels who music flows through
From whatever it is before it becomes music
To the emotions of the audience
If there even is one
But hey
We do it anyway
Music is religion
Truth is God
