ewingj
Comments by ewingj
Comment by ewingj
Just what it says. A sonification of the output of a Lorenz Attractor equation (that beloved of early computer musicians). This is struggling against the bars of a 909 kick.
Comment by ewingj
Exercise using a scale derived from the golden proportion and the harmonic series. I wrote this by painstakingly drawing line-graphs representing the changes of every musical parameter throughout the course of the piece. This was actually done in installments over a period of months, while I was very busy working both at a coffeeshop and as a private investigator.
Comment by ewingj
Pitches were selected improvisationally from the results of three related equations as they developed in time. These equations were derived from the golden proportion, but I forget how. Interestingly, the pitch register of this piece grows higher by an interval that grows smaller. I ended the piece at the point that this change ceases to be perceptible.
Comment by ewingj
"Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life."