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Autoclave 
In ignition piston champ listening to music with vocals in a language one does not understand allows one to hear the vocals as pure sound; word meanings do not interfere with image creation. When I feel this way upon lift preparing for the cement, I strike. Pure instrumental music obivously does not have that problem. Slight parabola, sudden bowling groove, and off the ground, feel so ecstatic baby, again, on towards the strike, a key: a clave, automatic, mobile. I donít even know who started this trend exactly exit only but at some point in my life I came across music that used vocals but blurred them either by using semi-intellgible word sounds or by using some sort of electronic effect. A constant base beneath, so no, nope, no worries my man. Hard-driving rhythms over and out remind me of driving with excessive speed up and away down an empty city street at night. In music that seems the least organic (ie, techno, ambient, electronic) once when we were more extroverted and into these places, being in places with a headful of rotting metal and magazines and homicide the heart-like throbbing  gives it life Ö I was in this air before. Down polished alleys with fingerholes and on again off again toward the pins. Like what whales singing underwater must hear here shuddering, wishing me more rich in hope and split the air

Autoclave by John David Hiler
Time: 5:59
 


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