A week ago, Darren Harper posted the results of one of his synthesizer patches online. The audio track, bearing a timestamp for a title, “~4/23/18,” is soft matter infused with abrasions and occasionally launching peaks of sound from its core. At nearly eight minutes in length, it is like the scientific surveillance of some newly discovered utopian microsonic world, Whoville via R. Murray Schafer. A brief technical explanation is provided by Harper, those occasional peaks characterized thusly: “new bits and pieces pop up throughout.” The depiction is for participants of synthesis more than for observers, and it belies the environmental simulacrum of the achievement.
A week later, Harper revisited his patch, and found another environment entirely. This follow-up track, “~4/30/18 (4/23 redeux),” is even softer than the original, and it seems to look up and outward where the other looked down and in. Those “bits and pieces” are largely gone, replaced with lens flare grace notes amid a huge floating zone. It is, as Harper writes briefly, a “more spacious version.” That is an understatement.