Now, I’m a big fan of sound and I can get pretty wrapped up in ambient music and the whole discussion about what “ambient” really is. I fell in love with the Buddha Machine immediately and was fascinated with what others did with the loops (as in Robert Henke of Monolake fame, as well as a cast of characters for Staubgold’s Jukebox Buddha) — in fact, I made some favorable noises about all three over at Igloo recently (three-pack review here). So, you’ve got a box that makes (somewhat) random loop structures. You’ve got ambienteers making songs out of loops and environmental noises. What else could a young boy in love with sound want?

Well, how about this? The Ambient Addition. It’s a walkman that contains a pair of binaural mikes, a DSP chip, and some of its own loops. Put on the earbuds and everyone thinks you’re doing Apple’s isolation game. Nope. You’re actually listening to randomly generated ambient music that is sourced from your surroundings.

Temporal Drift


Well, I’ve fallen into all manner of temporal holes. In one, I made a visit to the gonad doctor late last week. He presented me with some lovely stubs (the magic number around our house is “four,” not three and not more). In another, I’m two months in the future where I’m finishing MARCH for the Farrago’s Wainscot project. And, even there, I’m actually in JUNE because that is where MARCH becomes comprehensible. And, during the day, I’m about six weeks behind. It’s all very slippery, really.

Anyway, here’s a bit of background noise from a cab ride in the middle of winter.

“Good evening, you are listening to Last Hour. We are counting down the minutes and seconds until Bleak Zero. I will be your host; I will be the voice of reason and compassion. My words will be your anchor. In these last days, in this last hour, I will give you hope. I will give you reason. I will give you a chance. Listen closely, my dear children, for your lives are very brief.

We are all participants in a global experiment, a world-wide trial where there is no control group. This is the secret of our leadership. You can look through the empty spaces in their expedient rhetoric, data mine their whispered phone conversations, and even eavesdrop on their midnight moaning as they climax all over the scarred bellies of their whores, but you won’t find any admission of their secret agenda. They are too clever for that, too bound by their own pacts and betrayals to admit the truth of what they have done.

The blood has dried at the bottom of the page where all thirteen signatures are in place. The stars are aligned, the order is kept, and the wheel has been set in motion. All that is left is your participation. Your. Sacrifice. Is. Required.”

When you see it next, it will look something like this:

715154 5225149147, 251521 1185 12919205149147 2015 1211920 8152118. 235 1185 3152114209147 4152314 2085 139142120519 1144 19531514419 211420912 2125111 2651815. 9 2391212 25 25152118 8151920; 9 2391212 25 2085 2215935 156 1851191514 1144 31513161191991514. 1325 231518419 2391212 25 25152118 114381518. 914 2085195 1211920 412519, 914 208919 1211920 8152118, 9 2391212 79225 251521 815165. 9 2391212 79225 251521 1851191514. 9 2391212 79225 251521 1 3811435. 1291920514 312151951225, 1325 45118 38912418514, 61518 25152118 12922519 1185 2251825 218956.

Because that’s the sort of project that it is. Or becoming. Slippery all around.