… and meanings & the whole context. The whole culture of communication, if you will!

Here’s the deal, BENEVOLENT AND THE BRUTE is todays tune and it’s supposed to be “cinematic”, although I very much dislike the term, that seems to be the substance, causing my heartburn.

“Cinematic” does not tell you a dang thing! It’s a broken umbrella term, that let’s the rain creep in, as I try to think out time.

More suitable term to describe our tune there would be something like: “Massive burst of metaphysical instruments, going mezzopiano, then forte and then piano, indicating great drama”.

“Cinematic” is not the only word I’m complaning here. For instance…

What started as a stupid guitar chord structure, little by little became, well… BESAME UN POCO.

(And when I say stupid, I mean a chord thingy where you barely move your fingers, and the result makes absolutely no sense… The kind of a thing you play on a sofa, when you’re really tired, and don’t really care what’s coming out of your instrument.)

About the title: I like it! There’s no need to always go full slurp mode, like it’s more famous counterpart.

Sometimes lots of smaller ones are more.

Presente: BIG DRIFTY. It’s jazz.

Or not. It really is retroscapist rock-jazz fusion, standing on the halfway line between sweaty blues & robot farts.

There’s the band. With instruments & all.

Drum track contains more dots than my shirt, and way more Onyxia should’ve had on.

Synthesizer goes squeak & bass is boring.

There’s also a guitar. Or several if you count in all the octaves & bits of delay.

That’s it. It’s jazz. Jazz that.

So, a while ago I had a bad week.

You know, cutlery escaping my grasp, making violent sound when they hit the floor. Really bad weather, causing commuter train to stop for 40 minutes on an exit, that’s one before my destination. General trouble with humans, small animals & aliens.

And most of all, terrible football results.

Then I decided, I think it was already thursday, that I’m done with this week, and lo and behold, NO MORE BAD WEEK.

I also turned thursday to friday, which helped.

This here is the kind of post, that usually starts with me saying: “I’m not an expert on (add variable), but…”.

… There doesn’t seem to be any workaround, so here we go again:

“Ahem. As you may have guessed, I’m not an expert on Slavic folk music. However, I dare to say, that this time I’m much less of a complete dimwit, compared to when I’ve been messing with, let’s say Polynesian or Malian music.”

Why is that?

Simple matter of geography and cultural leakage.

This ain’t no Down by the River… or it is… DOWN BY THE DNEPR, to be exact.

Not much to say today, other than I really like making these “computer game music”-type of tunes.

I originally named this guy “Space Lead”, lead being Pb. Knowing this, you may find some hidden information inside the current title: SPACE READ.

If you didn’t get it, don’t you fret. It’s stupid & linguistical, tapestry themed joke.

No, this was not the joke I’ve been working on for the past four years. It’s still on its way.

…well, yeah. I could say pretty much the same things I did three weeks ago, but I don’t, ‘cos I already did done dat.

Dee doo dow don’t dee dow.

Along with the discovery of Fusion Dark Band – the band, I’ve already tormented my friends, neighbours and pupils. Now it’s your turn: PICTURE PERFECT.

You know, “I’ve suffered for my music, now it’s your turn”-kinda thing.

NAILS was my character in Cyberpunk. (The 1988 tabletop role-playing game)

She was a solo, a person who was willing to wash other peoples dirty laundry. Figuratively speaking. She was resourceful, fast thinking & moving, and when it came to dealing problems with firearms or fists, she was unstoppable. You could almost say… you know what’s coming… she was tough as… nails.

Then she got arrested and was sent to prison.

The trial and sentence was a huge sham, orchestrated by unknown forces. I mostly blamed the GM.

After some time in the slammer, she made her risky move. She faked an sporting accident, in which she was actually injured, and during a transport to a hospital she escaped.

She was a bloody mess, but she got out!

About the tune, well, it’s appropriate for this little story of mine.

Have you tried typing “Classical Music” in yOt00B?

It’s a total overload overload of Mozarella and Beathoffen.

But where are your Cages & Nancarrows, Johnstons & Stockhausens?

The answer: Buried deep, under the surface of algorithms. Such shame. Stupid algorithms.

I was tempted to call this one “Treacherous Banana” or “Sub-Terranean Deceit”, or something equally silly, but in the end I settled for CANON IN C FOR WOODWINDS AND ORGAN.

Because that’t what it is.

Absolutely.

Oh hey, look who just progressed into the 80s CHILLS.

1980’s that is. I still haven’t visited the earlier ones. Or maybe 1280’s a little.

Yeah, I know that the 80’s is no longer cool, and the 90’s nostalgia is the hip new thing. I guess… ‘cos at least I’ve seen people wearing the mom jeans with the non-existent legs.

Oh you magnificent Lord of Fads, please don’t let them bring back the boat shoes! Nor fanny packs, the high-pitched snare drums or the hair! Not the hair!

Spice Boys. Now that’s memory from the 90’s that instantly gives me joy. Maybe Spice Girls too.