dutimugunitec by Simon Aulman

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Distorted in a most meaningful way, relentless and (up to you, of course) very loud, and very beautiful-ugly. The first track is the most distorted, and it's also the one that's closest to the truth - the second track is cleaner and more blurred, wearing too much make-up, but it's the one that needs less alcohol to be tolerable.

Well anyway I think this is beautiful. I really loved my previous album too, the noisy one with the cracked title and "(live)" at the end - though clearly no one else liked it. For some, that's a sign that the muso has failed. For the others, it's a sign that the muso is still alive. I'm 40:60, respectively.

I'm not trying to piss anyone off, and I'm not trying to fail. But success at this level is very little different from failure. It's the difference between knowing that your funeral-day will be sunny versus knowing that it will be raining. It's the three-bad-shags difference in our end-of-life shag-tally as we compare notes on our adjacent death beds.

In the end, down here, the best thing to do is for the muso to just make the music that they most want to hear - especially if that muso is the sort of person who struggles to find that kind of music being made by others. The reason it's not being made is probably because no one else likes it. I love repetition and distortion, like noise but quickly tire of it, never tire of endless beats if they resonate with me from the off.

Somewhere in this one and the previous one some of those things happened. Living in a terraced house with tired homebody Sunday-evening-neighbours all around I don't feel any wish to piss them off by playing these things as loudly as they need to be played, and I hate headphones - so all their brilliance and beauty are in my imagination really.

And probably similar from your angle - best never heard, best not downloaded, best just passed over as we move on to working on the new things that keep the timeless plates spinning.
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(recorded today, photo Marco's, Southampton, today)
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