Things that sound good.

It is at times deeply frustrating, as it is such a straight door to self-indulgence, but I concede – personal narrative is one´s greatest gift. Concession with a twist, though – creativity is only worth it if it means attempting to interconnect personal narratives towards something that is greater than the sum of its parts.

This latest bunch of gobbledygook surfaces courtesy of a song I have been hunting down since last December´s epic ride in Istanbul at rush hour. Radio Oxi-Gen played its tropical grooves amongst the toxic traffic, much to my designated driver´s joy (and my own, I admit), and among the swirl of far-flung sounds a chorus emerged – “life is such a gift”.

I pursued this stereotype intermittently until tonight, and thanks again to the wizardry of Google, the conundrum is finally solved. The beloved chorus, so full of contextual Eastern magic, is by Jazzhole, an Acid Jazz combo from NYC. The album is called Poet´s Walk, the track is entitled It Would Have Been Enough.

Look it up by all means, it won´t be hard to sample, stream, download – whatever may please your online habits. The point is not so much the track in itself but the fact that it became so significant to yours truly through the context in which it played. The track itself is, by all standards, fairly mediocre. Yet it encapsulates a moment in personal history when life was about to change dramatically less than one week later. As such, it became the carrier of so much narrative, almost a prescience of how I would have to force myself to rejoice in the brutal face of adversity. Life is such a…

And now for something not that different.

Personal narrative is changing the landscape of cultural production – this is becoming old news, but the fellas at Steal This Film have portrayed it beautifully. Download the Second edition and hear the good news, the inspiring news. A favourite quote among many… The one by skitz beatz: “I ain´t no musician. I just like to make things that sound good”.

To what ears, in which context? Endless fascination, endless abandonment.


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