BLAKK HARBOR… more techno today, dark ambient, industrial etc. Athens by way of Berlin. Everyone knows by 2021 that Petite Mort, or Little Death, is French slang for the post-orgasm crash. Seems so typically French too that it’s funny. Now the ecstasy is over and done so it’s all a let down from here on. Makes me shake my head. It’s funny, but obnoxious at the same time. Who knows what Petite Mort has to do with the music? Maybe it’s just an attention grabber. I don’t know.
The music though is edgy and kind of dangerous. It’s night time in a neighborhood that you probably shouldn’t be in during the day either. It’s totally a sinister vibe, persistent, grinding metallic clash. What does it have to do with a summer morning in Brooklyn. Everything and nothing. It depends on your level of consciousness of what you’re waking up to in the concentric circles of life. Right here in this immediate circle it’s safe for a bit, but out in the other rings, which are going to close in eventually it’s not safe at all. They will all collapse on the center and what’s outside will… well, you get the picture.
This is not happy, celebratory music. It’s music for the last hours of civilization. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, it’s all coming down.
Someone mentioned in the comments of the Youtube video that they are certain sooner or later that this will end up as the soundtrack to a major blockbuster action film. I can totally see that. It’s that sort of vibe. That’s true of a lot of instrumental music though, almost like it’s composed with that in mind. Like, hey we’ll do the music now and you can build the movie from there. I’ve really decided that while I love movie soundtracks, music for the sake of the music itself is preferable. Make the movie in your head. Find the mood that suits your mood and move your day from that point. Your movie will write itself so forget about the performative business of doing your best imitation of who you would rather be. Your character is already written. Grab the soundtrack and run.
I sound like a mental patient today. Ask and I’ll explain. For now though…
I ended the day yesterday in a collapse into melancholia. A friend… and ex-lover… was expressing her body insecurity and it struck me as tragic. Her body has changed since we met years ago. Everyone’s body has changed. Time does that. It hit me though that her body is no less beautiful than at any point in our time of acquaintance. It’s really kind of perfect. People don’t really know exactly what it is that makes them beautiful or less than. They look at reflections and take all the manufactured images and then stand in front of the mirror and go through compare and despair. They weigh and measure against their own pasts maybe. I don’t know. It hit me like a punch in the solar plexus that she and I and everyone else spends most of our lives wracked with insecurity about how we look rather than how we function. Her sadness made me… sad. The only way to win is to let go and I realized how much I have not let go. So yah, it was a weird end to an otherwise great day, this realization of the weight of our personal dissatisfaction. So strange.