Description
Let’s say you work too hard.
Let’s say you’re a mp3 player or iPod addict.
You love shuffling through it when you’re back from the office in your little daily bus.
Playing it relaxes your ears from the industrial coffe machine whose techno rythm beats taps on your nerves 8 hours a day. It is too bad the «Coffee-Ready » is located just right to your desk and you can’t stand it anymore.
Everyone but you uses it to help them finish their job… your ears from the industrial coffe machine whose techno rythm beats on your nerves 8 hours a day. It is too bad the «Coffee-Ready » is located just right to your desk and you can’t stand it anymore. Everyone but you uses it to help them finish their job…
It is too bad the «Coffee-Ready » is located just right to your desk and you can’t stand it anymore. Everyone but you uses it to help them finish their job…
It has become very monotonous to some degree…
You got the repetitivity and the copy/paste influence of the machine on your organism now…
Who is the human ? who is the machine ? Well, you don’t have that much time for any philosophical thinking…
So you randomly ride into your multi thousand pop ballads library…it gets you closer to silence…your own, peaceful silence…
Let us say that one day, the coffee machine has been beating to strong on your mind and now,
on the same little daily bus, as you repeat your after-office-pop-ballad-listening-ritual over and over again, you really don’t know what happens….
YES, the music is random, but now, there is more aleatory than ever before,
you don’t recognize your favorite pop ballad neither your Palchebel’s Canon,
there is nothing quiet anymore, all you hear are parasites, mp3 interpolations, or, let’s say….ARTEFAXXX…
Maybe your chinese-imported player is kind of broke, maybe you’re becoming a machine yourself,
maybe you’re just flipping out….or maybe your player turned into a contemporary, automatic, zapping composer, a sort of modern bandstand…
Maybe.
JONATHAN PONTIER, Bondy, France, nov 2005
