This single opens with the lines: "Can you stay up for the weekend
And blame God for looking too old?
Can you find all that you stand for
Has been replaced with mountains of gold?"
This has inadvertently become a rather ironic lyric considering Calvin Harris' later move to exclusively creating music for the masses, simultaneously forsaking his earlier more independent efforts.
Meaning and MeaninglessnessReviewing Tim Hecker's Virgins and a meditative guide on how to find meaning in the inherent meaninglessness
The money's running out and the whoosh of the upcoming ground is getting deafening. Am I running forward or am I collapsing? Am I still getting away with my risks or is this The Great Reckoning at long last? If I was given another chance would I do anything differently?
The Void is calling and so I enter it, à la Gaspar Noé. In the town that I have spent the last three years of my life (God has it been so long?!), I still feel trapped and the music of Tim Hecker and other ambient music full of more emptiness than the ethereal. More numinous than ominous, more lonely and ethereal than New Order’s Movement, and more ill-defined than my own movement forward. Why is Icelandic and ambient music so fitting in a place that feels so empty? It’s only natural.
Music for staring at the pale full moon whilst watching the wispy, elusive phantom fumes come off your cigarette.
Ephemerality Exploring the aspect of the numinous through a review of Nina Kraviz's eponymous debut
Sensual, sexual, ephemeral but inescapable, Nina Kraviz has created something truly beautiful and unique and yet something that approaches a numinous experience.
The deepest of house reminds us of our most deep and intense memories and dreams and leads us on, a definite will-o-the-wisp, forcing us to trudge ever onward through the muck, to sail through the mist, a siren's call that leads us onto the rocks.
It's briskly walking through the freezing streets of Moscow at 3am, walking quickly because of the howling gale and the bitter cold, but never running because it's undignified. It's more Murmansk or Irkutsk than Moscow but the lights are of the boutique stores and the inescapable grim albeit everyday realities that contrast sharply with the dream-like opulence displayed publicly. The contrast of a drunk with a glimmering shopfront all in this mist, all while actively trying to go somewhere and being purposeful about it but not actually having anywhere to go to.