Magical is a great descriptor for Live at Primavera Sound 2012, because I cannot tell you how much better this makes me feel, and how little sense it makes that it does. It's that feeling if you were able to not only recreate it whenever you wanted but it sounded just as good as the first time, and you lost none of the magic. and happened upon a fun little loop? Then, naturally, you start to expand on that loop, forming your own miniature jam session where everything, for the moment, sounds perfect, and your potential feels infinite? That's what this is like. I am struggling to describe this in ways that in any way clarify exactly what is so great about it, but maybe this will help - have you ever been playing an instrument, creating music, etc. The lead melody does its own thing for a while and is then accompanied by what I imagine a growling butterfly sounds like and some computer clicks and jangling percussion, eventually followed up with some vocal cries. It launches ("launches" being more accurate than "opens" as a verb to describe this - it sounds like a computer game from the 2000s) right away, with a vocal "yo" or "go" sample, birdsong, quickly joined by a high-pitched synth. James Ferraro's Primavera Sound 2012 performance is playing. I still have to wait about ten more hours before I get a break.īut then, for reasons I don't understand, the tar gets thinner, and colors itself a shade of light cyan. Sometimes I wonder if I even like music any more. No matter what I hear, what I see, what I feel, I still want to die. All the while, the sound plays in my ears, and just keeps playing, over and over again. I grow frustrated with my inability to produce any more dopamine and swap back to the smaller one. I soon accept my boredom and move on to the larger display, tapping the arrow keys back and forth. I look at my phone until it recognizes me, tap the same five spots I always tap, and move my thumb up and down the screen, my expression unchanging. I am now surrounded by it, and I'm not strong enough to resist it anymore. A tar pit opens up beneath me and I slowly fall in. But I just keep sinking further into my pillow. I keep listening to project after project, trying to find the one sound that will make me want to get up and do something hard, like it used to. It takes so long to find purpose, and when it's there, it's gone just as quickly. Review Summary: drudgery, a light, transcendenceĮverything feels meaningless.
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