Monday, February 19, 2018


Horns, whistles and human voices drone at protest in Bucharest
     drone is not unrelated to the disappearance of the universe  
        and everything we ever knew or wanted to think 
   we might know. but then again,  
drone is too lazy to think for itself. 
   drone would prefer to be other and undecided.
 what will I be? background, foreground? 
forever on the other side of any intention? 
   Am I a noise or a consequence of noise or am I silence in disguise?

 and yet drone, as a genre of post-ambient music, manifests a forced identity pattern, passive aggressively, in the realm of gendered politics, where drone must dominate the aesthetic scene, primo piano
  rather than background the soloist.   this lamentable turn of events only  expresses the failure of post-aesthetics to create a mythology based 
 on it's own genetic material. drone, as the concept and process-oriented ambient   after-effect mall-music for the art-schools, denies 
   the sacrificial origins of the search for a visionary trance portal 
. drone as an opiate of the chill-out lounge set is as much ill-at-ease with marx as it is with uber capitalism. drone also needs industrialism, labor exploitation and power sources to make itself louder than usual.
   drone enters the west from the east. 
         it's the sound of cave and fire. the composers of the first drones were the first performers of them and the first audience is between them lost in sleep already.  
there are no new drones that have no access to ancient drones because water is every where water. drink of it with great care. it is the water in the river of Lethe. drone is flow that does not remember nor recall. it is the consequence of all the things people don't pay attention to in their life of making noises. and yet even this global drone itself seems to drown or get lost inside something beyond we still don't know how to name. the keys to drone are given to all people equally according to the means of their hearts to create it and to receive it. everything is made of waves. the waves all go flat. rhythm is in everything. but time has no tempo. there's no end to the possibilities of what we can say. no conclusion. only the falling away of attention. 
  the drone versus noise dialectic versus silence versus non-sense

    when the noise is normal, pumped from the designer noise-box
it's not normal anymore, not normal noise, not even half-normal. 
it's not noise anymore at all but does it strip itself of name? when does the cumulative effect of noise become the fallout of drone? is there a dialectical and scientifically recognizable relation between the bullshit music no one really listens to and the background radiation of the universe that's reached thermal equilibrium and flat sleep?

  For further sentences in this mode see my THESIS IN NOISE in the blog from 2008

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