One listen, and this one was a bit odd. There were times where I was writing a good bit behind where the song was and I’d snap back but then fall behind again pretty soon after. So a lot of trying to catch up. I think that because of that, this is much closer to what I initially wanted to do with this form of writing.
I don’t think what I wrote works as well as it could, but I’m happy with the result.
a picture of her’s “History Repeats itself” is from C.
I hope you enjoy.
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The guitars hum a breath, then a brief, rough string strike. Another hum; more string striking. Some notes draw out a bit. Percussion comes in and everything starts coming more to life, more awake, and those rough strikes reveal themselves part of a pattern, and everything locks into each other.
The percussion plays rough and excitedly, almost. The guitars and bass seem awkward, but are instead smooth and deliberate, The sounds strike out in angles with intent, and they play with an energy whilst holding onto the calm.
The sounds come to a point where they become more obviously organised, and still play together, but seem a little apart. They move and play their parts, and the guitars seem to take turns whilst remaining tight.
It’s not long before there’s a bit more of a looseness; a slinkiness to the sounds. The bass plays more continuously and almost a field is painted. The percussion stays driving but remains calm.
Another section is eventually reached and its brushes, and the percussion grows louder whilst the guitar sweeps across. And it all locks in and drives forward until a moment where just the guitars are almost singing as though the katydids in a cool evening. They grow louder, and percussion comes back in. They twinkle and the percussion plays gentle, and bass starts striking specific notes, and all seems rising. The bass lowers, but all seems rising, but it almost never was, if it was at all.
The percussion comes in more full and seems to move in swaying steps, and the guitar changes and shifts, and some of it brushes once more. One guitar rises and brushes and glides upon frayed wings, and it grows louder whilst the bass, other guitar and percussion keep it steady; they are there, keeping everything moving forward whilst this guitar grows louder and more ragged, in a burst of energy, making its mark as an emotive moment.
A sudden noise and now everything is pummeling away, pushing into the moment, expanding into mass and energy and raging joy and sadness and all sorts of things until a sudden noise once more that stops at silence as the song ends.
Stupidity Hole 