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We are encumbered in a world where we are relentlessly harangued and hectored by attention of the wrong sorts — when such “false wolf” cries pollute what really deserves our focus, modern life becomes a chronic burden of persistent unease.

Responsiveness, as a practical matter, is a courteous and appreciable habit. Confusing this with when a reply can’t be pressed down and spat forth within a day, or even minutes, is weary indeed. Especially when the topic is ill-birthed between the loins of a vexatious, bastardly dearth of spirit.

For example, consider the ouroborian death-trap of the modern media machinery: with only moments to spare before an article goes live, the “journo” makes not even a half-of-a-half-hearted attempt to “reach” the subject for comment, then preposterously proceeds to expound that “We tried but didn’t they didn’t reply (so we’re going ahead with this soiled stain of a ‘story’ anyway).” Deplorable balderdash!

Peripherally, you’d be conscientiously cognizant in your vigilance to remember that “the news” does not, by far and large, care about informing and enlightening you. If there is an emotion they seek to stir up, it harkens more toward fear than love, and amidst a turmoil of business model contortions, what money-grubbing, breech-rubbing leeches can resist exchanging their readers’ well-being for OMG AD VIEWS lucre?

It is also such, that in conjuring their own localized terrors, that “the news” prefers that you leave a response that is both (1) fast and (2) furious, careening into the ever-expanding, downward-scrolling pile of piffle that stokes many a war o’ flames. (This does not contribute in any way, shape, or form to advancement of culture.) Express your rage in a pithy one-liner, and you too can be an Internet commenter! Repeated responding of this sort and extended engagement, duly noted, results in more page views and potential traffic for all those ad dollars. A trap we should all avoid, but human nature is both glorious and insidious.

I choose to abstain from such bloated ballywhoring, although like many learned habits that are groomed to robustness, I’ve made many a mistake along the way and posted when I shouldn’t have — however, one posits in retrospect that you cannot correct course without erring first. There’s a paradox in there somewhere.

Another situation I find awkward is when I am asked to give my opinion on a great many things, from musical technologies; philosophical views; and why I do X, Y, and possibly Z. “No comment” by itself is curt without context, and in the many things I must do, it is simply too draining to keep spraying “idea shrapnel”, especially when intellectual weaponry is often best reserved for constructing atom bomb-scale insights and cultivating growth for “the cream of the crop”. Alternatively, I may have a response, if you can be patient and wait a few weeks and/or years. I honor a kindly request and permit it to gel, marinate. So rudeness is not the intention, especially if I leave a pause.

(Insert relaxed breath.)

But, I digress: I really don’t (yet) have an opinion on many the things I’m asked, or I feel I’m ill-informed to give one. I’m certainly touched I am thought of as knowledgeable in various fields of expertise, but I choose not to travel the paths and patterns that won’t fit my thought-ship. When light casts stark shadows on impulsive intentions, it is then we learn kung fu NOT to assail bullies, but for inner strength. In other words, do not converge the effect with the cause, but seek to grace the connection between the two.

Repeating principles akin to these often feels uselessly redundant, and it is a shame that FAQs aren’t auto-transmitted to askers who need them, which is why I’ve stopped that route. Although as noted, if I find a particularly eclectic question, framed within the confines as mother-of-pearl glistens both under sea and on land, then it is likely I am compelled to contribute a response. These, by statistical consequence, are fewer than far between.

I’ve reflected on many a thing for many a year, depth not becoming understood to me until my temples gray. I’ve enjoyed many a song superficially after a few listens, but only time (and the song’s deployment in life experience contexts) can tell the enriched story. I wax nostalgic, a testament to my fragile humanity, and I believe great art breeds new delights the older it gets! Perhaps that’s why I mused about Jan Hammer’s dynamic arrangements in Beyond the Mind’s Eye, and only the other day upon finding out some of his percolating sequences were the product of a Korg Wavestation, I rushed to my wife and geeked out. All this, after having first heard it shortly after it was released in the early 1990s. (There’s another kernel here about the overabundance of technical detail in modern electronic music, at the expense of an imbalanced lack of arranged songwriting — another story for another time, natch.)

This, coupled with a shortness of mental breath, is why I do appreciate reciprocal offers from fellow creatives to “Check out their stuff” as I’ve made remarkable discoveries and allies in doing so — often however, if that is followed by “and let me know what you think”, 99.44% of the time I can’t grant what’s expected. The <1% depends on a trustful mating of my exuberance + that old rascal.

Perhaps you can relate. Perhaps social spam filters to cut down on that noise and improve the quality of the signal are on the forefront of your productive brain, too.

Irrevocably, when one states their opinion so forthright and Scalzian (also, bequeathed vapor of “I will not read your fucking script!”) there is bound to be backlash from those who haven’t communed with time, in a meditative effort to explore further angles. Accusations of “douchebag!” and “what a jerk!” do not attend to the weeping heart of the matter — that is —

at least one pause before reflection, and another applied before response.

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Words collapsing into crumbly wrapping paper, in which we bundle our prism of “other” creative languages. Packing it with great care, to be mailed off to an intended recipient whose name nor address we do not yet know.

But such signals have a way of striking the receptors of the right people, and you’d be all good and well to keep your transmitters regularly maintained.

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As transmission velocity has, in many situations, ceased to be a a hard limit for delivering content, a delay becomes a choice to exercise wisely.* But what is that they say about seeking to recreate limits upon having transcended them?

* Often not a welcome one, because it’s nested at the tail-end of the day’s decision-making priorities before fatigue must be vented.

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Some craftspeople are fantastic explainers of the processes “behind the curtain”. Walter Murch’s books provide an exceptionally deep and thorough investigation of the film editing and sound design worlds — with anecdotes sprouting about like lush foliage.

A Walter Murch-type is exceedingly rare, not just for his polymath mad skillz, but for his ability to break it down into its core components. Why, he’s like the Wolverine of film scenes — one sniff and he knows what all the base ingredients are!

I adore other artists with just as much intensity as I do Murch, and some of these are flat-out terrible/blank at explaining how they do what they do. And that’s fine!

Take Vangelis. You can’t wade into the electronic music waters without the hirsute Greek titan surfacing, mermaids in tow. Or at least memories of green. I enjoy reading his interviews as much as I dig his pioneering performances on ribbon controller, but it’s more to hear his philosophical perspectives than glean workflow specifics. Vangelis, you see, is like the complete opposite of Murch in terms of being able to explain his art, and that’s because his own approach (which, remember, empowers him to express himself as he does) is not just intuitive, it’s a process apparently better explained by observers than the artist himself.

Some actors don’t like to watch their own performances, either.

And then there are people who choose to avoid articulating aspects due to trade secrecy (hoarding secrets?) and other perceived insecurities and deficiencies. After examining the greats I lionize, I looked at where I fall, and the reasons for being that way… all subject to change.

A lot of my music (and further art) comes to me in dreams. I can dream lucidly, but can’t explain the precise mechanics of why some motifs recur. I also can’t explain why I am utterly unmotivated to do most anything… unless it comes to me in a dream. Which is why sleeping a lot is essential. Some artists brag about sleeping as little as possible; I on the other hand am Slumber-Powered™.

I value technical insight and I prize learning from synthesis masters who’ve graciously spilled their secrets into my satchels, but I’m not big on “gear talk”. Used to be years ago, had my fill of that. It’s like graduating from school — core threads are worth revisiting, but not this. And I reckon it bores me because so many questions have shoddy ulterior motives or come from misguided expectations that yield black/white answers, threads that play out the same way each time… rather than the elegant Zen enigmas I harmonize with, and the oblique strategies that emphasize truly rewarding fun. I used to engage “What gear do you use?” a lot before actively stating my dislike.

Realize that I do write enthusiastic (to put it warmly) fan mail to tool creators, and am an advocate for promoting more collaborations between the product-makers and product-users (and there are those who are both!). I’ll be the first on the frontlines to praise gear I love. After a long meditation, of course. I’m not one for on-the-spot reactions to issues worth contemplating.

But all too often, “What gear do you use?” is borne from laziness. Someone wants a how-to list they mistakenly think is magic and will solve their problems to make something great. It’s the worst of invisible scripts, a piss-poor lottery, like having a hundred people say “Let’s do lunch sometime” and perhaps one or two actually following up with a more meaningful discussion. Instead of playing to those barren odds, I respond to commitment that terrorizes most. I am here for the long-term, the slow burn, the anti-impulse trek. I know, and have found, others like this. This is our articulation thoughtline.

Then again, I don’t like the bromides that cluster around the opposite arguments. Tell me if you’ve heard this one before: “It doesn’t matter what a great artist uses.” That’s extremist sentiment that has no practical bearing on empirical creation. Advancement of tools is what helps us progress the self-expression lifecycle, and those tools impact the end result. I could drop a thousand examples like overripe fruit, but to wit, what is a Hendrix without an electric guitar?

In effect, I embrace magicians who give us a peek behind the veil, and I also adore the ones who’ll go to their graves with their escape routines. The world needs many types to have a prosperous creative ecosystem.

There’s a not-old saying that a sure way to find your own voice is to speak in someone else’s voice first, then subtract the difference. In other words, be a copycat, and what you CAN’T imitate — well, that was yours all along to begin with. You may not fit in someone else’s dress, but do they have curves like these? Didn’t think so.

As humankind accumulates knowledge, it astounds me how specialized some fields become. Newly-discovered branches flourish in response to unlocked research and market demand. A relatively few brave souls bent on becoming “deep experts” — their life’s work! — dive towards the bottoms of these proverbial oceans.

There is another way to go deep, and that is to also go wide. In a colorful sense, traversing diagonally and dynamically. Often, “creativity” is simply about combining two (or more) known elements in unknown ways. That may mean linking a couple fields together that were previously viewed as unrelated. The common barrier to doing this is not one of a technical nature, but cultural prejudices. Every field has its own cast of characters, among them purists, who reject mergers with outside forces. It takes a modicum of persistent freethought to overthrow these shackles of societal conditioning… and prosper!

For example, witness the controversy around “modernist cuisine” and its flavorful “molecular gastronomy”. There is not opposition from traditional chefs, but infighting too. Beyond label disputes, it’s food science. I’ve seen (and wish to taste) some delectable wormholes being tunneled between cookery and chemistry: where the kitchen and laboratory are bethrothed! Regardless of what one chooses to call modernist cuisine, such friction has resulted in creativity, as how any burgeoning artistic movement splinters into sub-genres claimed by their champions.

On another note, I was enchanted to learn about Apollo Robbins, dubbed “the gentleman thief”. He’s mixed the art of magic with not just neuroscience, but photographic principles too! I was fascinated to hear him describe his physical act more vividly than a generic misdirection: explicitly, focusing someone’s attention to a “foreground” while the rest blurs out. All while he nabs their watch or pen, akin to a pickpocket bokeh. Through the fusions of these fields, new things are learned which can apply peripherally, latticed and latched onto other paths.

One more example I’ll entertain you with is the action-packed, zombie-smashing game, Dead Rising 2. I’ve been enjoying co-op mode with my brother, and we’ve raved about how the game uses a system of combining two ordinary household objects into a powerful (and oftentimes bizarre) weapon to clear out those zombies en masse. Fuse a costume alien head with sparkling jewelry to forge LASER EYES! Those concoctions bring to mind the playful energy of a tropetypical mad scientist, although such vibrancy need not be confined to a fictional realm. Happy accidents do and should happen more often!

In my own story, I care about alloying genres, envisioning how a trendy style will have developed differently (earlier? Later?) in an alternate universe. I’m also enamored with finding parallels between audio and visual phenomena. Ideal matches don’t exist due to differences in senses, but enough exists to form strong bonds. For example, applying a low-pass filter to remove high frequencies is like the sonic equivalent of blurring a picture. So is spatializing a sound in a wash of reverb. This is why some of my compositions are named after optical themes. I choose to explore these spaces because no one else is doing it exactly the way I want to. Rather than blame the absence of such art, I continue to study how to do it myself — and it feels amazing!

When you venture into the intersections of fields, it is almost certainly foreseeable you will be challenged, and irrationally so. It is a reflection on the insecurities of others’ worldviews, and doesn’t reflect the actual merit of your craft. The funny thing is, though, if you find a few resonant minds to confide in, then spend habitual time around them, THIS becomes your reality. One that is hopefully a nourishing and supportive environment to find the intersections that whisper to you — the streets that call your name.

Are you a perfectionist? Do you struggle to get things done because of it — or perhaps more accurately, struggle to start at all? Fear of an ideal you’ll never live up to is crippling. Instead, raw life experience (flaws included), in all its colorful permutations, gets you closer to where you want to be.

I grew up with perfectionist tendencies, a bad habit reinforced by classical music training and rigorous stretches of practice. Then I discovered jazz, which is anti-classical in some aspects, and there’s that funny saying: “Once is a mistake, twice is jazz.”

Then what comes of the third, and fourth iterations?

I adore connections in the timeline, the bridges that bind old and new. They are almost invisible, like the glass of some upscale shops that unobservant folks unfortunately walk into. But they are there. Glitch art, characterized as the “aestheticization of digital or analog errors”, is connected to wabi-sabi, “the acceptance of transience and imperfection” — and that even when mistakes happen, it may not be the same mistake twice.

Over the years, I found myself more drawn to quasi-bromides like “imperfections give art character”. Words like “texture”, and to a lesser extent, “patina” appeal because they suggest a history and story behind what’s on the surface. As I often am keen on saying, “Once we can transcend limitations, we seek to recreate them.” Evident in this Instagram age of being nostalgic for… memories we never had in the first place?

These strands have been woven into my tapestry — whether it is audio or visual — and I continue approaching “unity in diversity”. I often consider it a good sign when someone refers to their passions as being at the “crossroads” or “intersection” of separate fields. At least they were parted until now. That things themselves don’t change, but how we see them — how our attitudes towards memories color our future actions inspired by them — do.

Some glitch artists write about how their craft is an incarnation of fading and incomplete memories. I can see that as letting go of the past in one sense, and choosing to remember it differently in another. I like approaching art with great control, then in a blender, surrendering some elements to chance/chaos. I think it was Trent Reznor who once made a case about combining quantized and unquantized drums to my tender and impressionable mind, and even if it wasn’t him due to faulty memory, that lesson has stuck with me thus.

Glitch art has been healing to me in finding unexpected beauty in strange places, in the serendipitous exploration of paths I once thought were dead ends. On one of my fave sci-fi shows (in the early seasons, anyway), Sliders, the characters travel from one parallel Earth to another, lacking control over WHERE they’ll travel, and only knowing WHEN they must make the jump. That right there is an unknown factor paired with a predictable one, a lynchpin of glitch art.

If (to paraphrase Wittgenstein) the limits of my language are the limits of my world, then I choose glitch to create new languages, and new worlds.