Marc Kate Live on the Prophet 12

A performance from the 2019 San Francisco Electronic Music Festival

One highlight of last year’s San Francisco Electronic Music Festival was a disarmingly simple set on the part of local musician Marc Kate. While many participants in the annual festival bring a richly performative aspect to their work, not to mention a range of devices, Kate sat behind a single Prophet 12 synthesizer atop a card table. I reviewed the concert series that year for *The Wire*, noting that Kate [“plays stately, increasingly lacerated chords.”](https://disquiet.com/2019/10/11/reviewing-sfemf-2019-in-the-wire/) There were a lot of performers in 2019 and only a little room in the review, so that’s all Kate got in the piece. Now he’s uploaded the performance, all 20 minutes, giving it a larger audience than it did that evening. When you listen, and you should, do pay attention around the halfway mark. That’s when the piece, which bears admirable qualities of the *Blade Runner* score, transitions from gentle atmospherics to threatening ones, from chamber music to something far more orchestral. Early on, the tones are not necessarily comforting, but the drones have a sleepy quality, with hints of the depth of night, the undercurrent of something wicked coming this way. Then the wickedness arrives, and does it ever. The second half is full of climatic (and climactic) tumult, the force and bluster of a raging storm, combined with the anxiety of an alien invasion. It’s a pretty masterful performance.

Track originally posted at [soundcloud.com/nvrknws](https://soundcloud.com/nvrknws/marc-kate-live-at-san-francisco-electronic-music-festival-2019). More from Kate at [marckate.com](http://marckate.com/).

Disquiet Junto Project 0447: Listen Ahead

The Assignment: Make some music for the near future.

Each Thursday in the Disquiet Junto group, a new compositional challenge is set before the group’s members, who then have just over four days to upload a track in response to the assignment. Membership in the Junto is open: just join and participate. (A SoundCloud account is helpful but not required.) There’s no pressure to do every project. It’s weekly so that you know it’s there, every Thursday through Monday, when you have the time.

Deadline: This project’s deadline is Monday, July 27, 2020, at 11:59pm (that is, just before midnight) wherever you are. It was posted on Thursday, July 23, 2020.

Tracks will be added to [the playlist](https://soundcloud.com/disquiet/sets/disquiet-junto-project-0447) for the duration of the project.

These are the instructions that went out to the group’s email list (at tinyletter.com/disquiet-junto):

Disquiet Junto Project 0447: Listen Ahead

The Assignment: Make some music for the near future.

Step 1: Imagine what the world will be like in six months, what your world will be like six months from today.

Step 2: Make some music that reflects what you imagined in Step 1. You might make music about that time, or music that responds to that time. In some manner, make music for the near future.

Seven More Important Steps When Your Track Is Done:

Step 1: Include “disquiet0447” (no spaces or quotation marks) in the name of your tracks.

Step 2: If your audio-hosting platform allows for tags, be sure to also include the project tag “disquiet0447” (no spaces or quotation marks). If you’re posting on SoundCloud in particular, this is essential to subsequent location of tracks for the creation of a project playlist.

Step 3: Upload your tracks. It is helpful but not essential that you use SoundCloud to host your tracks.

Step 4: Post your tracks in the following discussion thread at llllllll.co:

https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0447-listen-ahead/

Step 5: Annotate your tracks with a brief explanation of your approach and process.

Step 6: If posting on social media, please consider using the hashtag #disquietjunto so fellow participants are more likely to locate your communication.

Step 7: Then listen to and comment on tracks uploaded by your fellow Disquiet Junto participants.

Additional Details:

Deadline: This project’s deadline is Monday, July 27, 2020, at 11:59pm (that is, just before midnight) wherever you are. It was posted on Thursday, July 23, 2020.

Length: The length is up to you. The future can feel a long ways away, but the music needn’t be long.

Title/Tag: When posting your tracks, please include “disquiet0447” in the title of the tracks, and where applicable (on SoundCloud, for example) as a tag.

Upload: When participating in this project, be sure to include a description of your process in planning, composing, and recording it. This description is an essential element of the communicative process inherent in the Disquiet Junto. Photos, video, and lists of equipment are always appreciated.

Download: It is always best to set your track as downloadable and allowing for attributed remixing (i.e., a Creative Commons license permitting non-commercial sharing with attribution, allowing for derivatives).

For context, when posting the track online, please be sure to include this following information:

More on this 447th weekly Disquiet Junto project, Listen Ahead (The Assignment: Make some music for the near future), at:

https://disquiet.com/0447/

More on the Disquiet Junto at:

https://disquiet.com/junto/

Subscribe to project announcements here:

https://tinyletter.com/disquiet-junto/

Project discussion takes place on llllllll.co:

https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0447-listen-ahead/

There’s also a Disquiet Junto Slack. Send your email address to twitter.com/disquiet for Slack inclusion.

Image associated with this track is from Andrea K., used thanks to Creative Commons licenses and Flickr. The images have been cropped, colors shifted, and text added.

https://flic.kr/p/2ZoLN3

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/

The Dark Side of Ekin Fil

At the outset of the coronavirus pandemic

Back in mid-April, perhaps when it felt more like an end might be in sight, when the new abnormal was more new and more abnormal, a group of musicians under the umbrella of Katuktu Collective individually recorded nine tracks with a shared theme. The album is titled *Isolate With I.* It’s described as follows:

>A compilation of music recorded entirely during the coronavirus pandemic in two parts, a dark and a half-light, messages in a bottle from our island to yours. Both parts are free downloads; if you hear something that resonates with you, please visit the individual tracks for more information and to support the artists directly.

This album is the first half, the dark half. (If you didn’t know the title of the second half, you might read the “I” as first person. It’s a Roman numeral one, in fact; the second album is *Isolate With II*.) The participants include C. Brickell, German Army, Fading Tapes, Danni Rowan, the Corrupting Sea, Aidan Baker, Anders Brørby, Brian Case, and Ekin Fil. Fil’s track, “Detour,” is a highlight, the underlying rumble like a train running fast, the intermittent patches of noise like echoes in a series of tunnels. It’s so stark, so precise, one could easily imagine that the piece isn’t electronic, and that she had scored it for strings and timpani.

Track originally posted at [soundcloud.com/ekin-fil](https://soundcloud.com/ekin-fil/ekin-fil-detour). The full album is available for free download at [katuktucollective.bandcamp.com](https://katuktucollective.bandcamp.com/album/isolate-with-i). More from Ekin Fil at [ekinfil.com](http://www.ekinfil.com/).

Five Nights

An online collaboration from Cody Ellingham and SJF

New Tapei: construction in the distance, a mid-rise building illuminated with color bands, the music an orchestral drone with a sublimated pulse. Hong Kong: viewed from above, a forest of lit skyscrapers, the music lending the drama of a thriller. Tokyo: a dark street corner, much of the light coming from a set of vending machines, the music introducing a glitchy twitch.

Those are three of the five cities that set the scene for Wander the Night, a collaborative online project from photographer Cody Ellingham, who has a way with images that seem intended to benefit from the projection of screens, and musician SJF (Simon James French), who has a way with held tones and underlying drama.

The website contains five pages, each pairing one of Ellingham’s striking photos along with a roughly 10-minute recording by SJF. The images are still, but a gentle current pushes clouds across the screen, from left to right. (Pictured up top is Bangkok.) For added emotional undercurrent, there’s an option to add some rain. It’s a beautiful collection, and a moody accompaniment if you have a spare screen at your disposal.

The score is also available for streaming and purchase:

Visit at [wanderthenight.com](https://wanderthenight.com/), and don’t expect to leave anytime soon. The photos are available as prints and in book form: [store.derive.tokyo](https://store.derive.tokyo/).

Listen Out a Window

Thanks to WindowSwap (dot com)

The great thing about [window-swap.com](https://window-swap.com) isn’t necessarily the view. WindowSwap is a site where people can experience browser-spanning views out other people’s windows, and the folks sharing their view generally seem to leave the microphones on. So you don’t just see. You hear. You listen. When you have a glimpse out a window in Wangerooge, Germany, for example, you can hear water gurgling, as well as what seems to be office noise. When the feed switches to Haridwar, India, there’s birdsong. A siren passes, the source unseen, by someone’s pad in Mexico City, Mexico. There’s pots and pans rattling from a home in the Indonesian city of Tangerang. It goes on and on, around the globe and back again. It isn’t an endless itinerary, though. I’ve only used it a few times, and already come to notice repeat windows.

If WindowSwap brings the world close, details from the individual settings make the notion of distance (that is, of difference) more amorphous. The Tangerang kitchen has a radio playing, of all things, Tom Jones’ “It’s Not Unusual.” The shot of Bangkok, Thailand, is as generic as might be: open laptop inside, dangling power cables outside; nearby are sounds of construction work. And then there’s the houseplants, which are universal, with an emphasis on pint-sized succulents. As it turns out, nothing is unusual.

Nothing is unusual in part because a shared aesthetic has kicked in. No human is in view, at least not on the inside of the buildings. The window in each is likely centered and fairly horizontal, or outside the frame of your browser. No brands are to be seen. And what we hear is quiet precisely because the people doing the filming are themselves, for the most part, keeping quiet. We’re hearing their world in a unique circumstance where they are doing their best not to be heard. It isn’t everyday life; it’s life minus us (with some exceptions made for actual activity, generally at least a room away).

It’s also not everyone’s life. It’s a self-selecting cohort who have the interest and time to participate, and whose domestic life allows for such a thing. The supposed quiet of right now, amid the pandemic, can be overstated. There is violence, and protest, and anxiety, and noise. To a degree, the windows viewed through on WindowSwap comprise the opposite of disaster tourism. It’s a depiction of placidity in a world that is, in point of fact, anything but. That siren in Mexico City is the rare discordant sound in all the videos I witnessed. WindowSwap is, in a manner of speaking, another form of peer-to-peer sharing.

That said, though, the service is beautiful, and serene at a time when serenity is in short supply. In my office-chair travel, I didn’t just tour the quiet world; I also came across some familiar views, one from far across San Francisco, where I live, and another from a window on a rainy evening in Manhattan. The latter was especially familiar, and then I noticed the name Nomadic Ambience in its corner. That’s a [YouTube channel](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqRTj-Nu_8to3jIBlXptOtA) I subscribe to, one of several that post lengthy, uncut footage of stationary and ambulatory periods. It was a uniquely internet experience to run into not someone but someplace, someplace that was familiar, a place I’ve never been and yet where I have spent considerable time. I often have such videos running in slow motion on a secondary screen at my desk.

According to a [Guardian](https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2020/jul/15/covid-19-travel-windowswap-photos) story by Poppy Noor, WindowSwap’s developers, Sonali Ranjit and Vaishnav Balasubramaniam, are based in Singapore, and initially created it for friends during our extended pandemic, and later opened it up to submissions. The videos aren’t live, which explains why so many tend to be shot during daylight hours. The submission guidelines request the recordings be 10 minutes in length, long enough to immerse oneself in. And there’s a caveat, listed as an “update” on the submissions page, that brings up privacy concerns: “All videos have sound. So please make sure not to say anything private or sensitive. If you want your sound to be removed please let us know. Or record a video without sound. To safeguard your privacy, we will only display your first name in the credits. If you want your full name to be added, let us know.” Sound may have been a secondary consideration upon launch of WindowSwap, but it’s at least 50 percent of the experience.

Check it out at [window-swap.com](https://window-swap.com/). The above images are, from top to bottom, of Shanghai, Copenhagen, and Singapore.