good morning ~
(click the baby grand to listen)
https://soundcloud.com/benjaminseretan/pedal-steel-warping-in-the-mph/s-Wl095xrrhHS?si=d0c8911a455f4658b3d30028c9e1c250&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
today's track + writing is the final installment of "sandhills music," which is now available via Tiny Showcase, on Bandcamp, or wherever you stream music - - thank you for listening!
the tape editions are extraordinarily beautiful - take a look:
birds of various unidentified types singing between weather events
cars rushing by at all hours, ATVs and motorcycles, too
from the cars there is the occasional muffled kick drum or if the windows are open there will be the chorus of a country song blowing by, pedal steel warping in the mph
one morning my girlfriend's mom demonstrated the dewy pop of tobacco that's ready to harvest - a leafy sound, not unlike ripping the bottoms of a washed bunch of greens
the tools of the field: tractors and lawn mowers and the beep of backing up trucks
for a while my girlfriend's dad rented an entire backhoe in efforts to rehabilitate the farm pond - there'd be the roar of its diesel, the various electronic screams of its warnings, the hefty plop of excavated mud.
then there are the smaller works - spades breaking ground in the garden, weeds being torn at their roots
the ancient neighbor wheeling around the lawn on his ride-on mower, something he's been doing for something like fifty years, see how he lifts his hat in his overalls to say hello
while observing (and for a brief moment using) the backhoe - especially in the evening - the incessant croaks of toads and frogs, rippling across the pond
the reassuring thump of an upright bass, bolstering an accompanying melody - were you to pass by the house at a few particular times there'd be my girlfriend's mom and I trying a few different harmonies on "Hey, Good Lookin'"
various home appliances whirling, doing their work while everyone else goes to sleep - low tumble, cold water wash, heat steam dry
voices in the other room - one of the more constant sounds, that of someone taking a phone call
out just a few steps from the garden is a ponderous bell up on a post left from the very first days of the farmhouse - the bell they used to call everyone to supper with, clang and heavy and rung by my girlfriend's niece and nephew when lifted up to it
the television - auto-playing recommended videos related to my girlfriend's dad's interest in woodworking or bopping along to jazzercise classes or a streaming music service left to its own devices, trying desperately to predict what we want to hear
words of prayer before tucking into a meal, sometimes as a motion gone through but other times profound
the various inner workings of the house - ceiling fans whirling around, how their chain pulls clink in rhythm against the glass of the sconces, bathroom exhaust fans, the creak of the occasional door hinge or window opening
the soft roar and gentle crackle of a back patio fire, smoke twisting and columnar, the creak and squeak of the deck chairs
phenomena experienced but never heard - the web of radio that is wireless internet and cellular communication, how life was (and how it sounded) when the various photographs lining the house were taken, the persistent, tender moans of the ghosts of a hundred-year-old building
(but what about you? who's with you in the room right now? what surfaces are singing? what waves are you riding, unawares?)