Wednesday February 8, 2023 OUTLINE Seaside_005 humming along to Avril 14 (played on pedal steel)

Assembled by Jan-Pieter ‘t Hart, broadcasted on 8 February 2023 on Stranded FM. A mixtape of loose sonic research on the thin line between isolation and intimacy through recording and sharing practices; acts of identification and imitation in virtual, (para)social relationships. The mix elaborates on elements from my earlier sonic works, contextualising it with words and sounds I found along the way.

Tracklist:
I missed you so much ASMR
Mic check sound effect
Public Relations – Giving Space
VOICE ACTOR – Blip
bod [包家巷] – music for finding other music
Gal Gadot voice sample
Jacob Dwyer – The Devil Museum (excerpt)
Hildegard Westerkamp – A Walk Through The City
Joanna Brouk – Diving Deeper, Remembering Love
How to beatmatch on CDJs
lovefear – Breathe
ASMR Malibu – Held
Avril 14 on pedal steel
Drummer reacts to Concorde
Mic Sound effect
Mutter (children’s choir cover)
Applause – Applause at concert, sustained final applause.
Lauren Duffus – Soho Road (Crying Song)
VOICE ACTOR – Indecent Thoughts
Hildegard Westerkamp – Fantasy for Horns II
Norton Lecture 1: The River | Laurie Anderson: Spending the War Without You
Jules Venturini – Keep Me Close
Public Relations – Radio
Should I describe my living room or just invite you over? (excerpt from performance lecture)

“Someone recently told me that when writing I should pay more attention to which elements I expect the reader to know and identify with. For example, say, if I describe my apartment, or if I describe coming home in great detail; who feels included and who is estranged? And it got me thinking… whether I am writing, or remixing, or hosting: all I do is mirror, all I do is describe. And I wonder, is it to set the stage to the story, so the reader can get comfortable and place themselves? or is it to keep someone out? When does sharing block the conversation, when does the invitation become a counter-incentive?

I jump on the ferry with 29 seconds on the clock, I am on my way to work after a good night’s sleep, or on my way home after a long night dancing (no one has to know). I stand on the foredeck, where I always stand, in a little recess on the left side, where I can lean against the slightly sloping painted metal. I look at the skyline I am slowly approaching. it is a new skyline, still partly in scaffolds. We slowly cross the river, slaloming around a freighter and a canal cruiser. Almost arriving on the other side, I quickly scan the faces of the people waiting to board. There’s no one I know.
It is a 10 minute walk northwards to my apartment. Past the recently built short stay apartments, long stay apartments, still vacant apartments; past the pizza place, the biodynamic bakery, barber shop and supermarket. When I turn into my street, I tap my left pocket twice to hear the reassuring jingling of the keychain. I open the door and check the mailbox–there is nothing there, except for a cheaply printed folder promising eternal life. I put it back and walk two floors up. I turn the key and hold back the cat with my right foot while I open the door. I give him a few pats and some food, and put on water for a cup of vervain tea. After checking if my flatmates are home (they are not) I put on a song, one that’s taken up residence in my head earlier this night. It goes something like:

🎵 It was a late capitalist night
🎵 And I was feeling alright
🎵 It was in pre-Apocalypse times
🎵 And I was living a good life
🎵 I’ve studied the clouds for 30 years now
🎵 And I know nothing
🎵 That night I got ready to leave the house
🎵 See a friend for a change and just talk about something
🎵 I don’t care if the world is through
🎵 Every night is new”