July 10, 2012 § Leave a comment

He lives in the neighbourhood “where time began”. The time of empire & industry, the time carried out for navigation, subduing encountered light, sound, ecosystems; the time, as Foucault notes, of the prisons & barracks, with its precise & objective division to the basic unit of the second*, its persistence in the dark of night. He lives in the midst of the time which – being also the time of the sampler, of the 808, of the mixing-desk – makes possible this other time, a time of doubling-back, recursions, of seconds that cycle around the nagging memory of a sounded object, of passing vibration, coming to climax, to disappearance. Into the night.

* Now that he thinks on it, this is also what annoys him about time read-outs during record playbacks: the sense of time as something wasted on mere listening; seconds, under an irrationally rational regime of time, are abstract, infinitely fungible, & the world will tolerate their use for only a certain range of activities. (After 60s pop banished Tin Pan Alley, it was punk that re-established this musical Taylorism.)

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