Just more thoughts while I’m on this machine. I feel unfortunate because this will make the total number of my drafts reach thirteen.. oh well. Haha well, this art-blog-scrolling-music-listening hobby of mine is getting nowhere. It has no point, and yes I don’t know. The music is nice though, very goood. So I am going to watch television series now I guess, which is so dissapointing, but there’s no helping it. I’m sorry.
on my way back from the recipe of exuberant immensity that was Yaeji 11/09 at Knockdown Center, I heard “Han Jan” by Peggy Gou for the first time. And then for the second time, and third, fourth all the way till I got back to Long Island time, where I’m listening to it still, in awe.
If you haven’t recently, stream this fucker right now. It’s unspeakably cool, gargantuan in sound and soul – like it’s plundered the auditory vaults of God herself and walked away dripping with the divine refuse of this other realm where things all things sound great all. the. time.
There’s not one second of this track, all six minutes 20 seconds of it, that trips, slacks or bores. The whole thing morphs itself around the listener immediately as you yourself morph into its gravity. While you’re listening, nothing is more important than the unyielding synths, rapid percussion and Gou’s own voice, illicit, enchanting and all but slightly out of focus, directing you to “do it right, enjoy your night” over and over again.
Its cyclical progression never defers to any secondary notion of ennui or inattention, and before you know it it’s on repeat, looped like a love
On my first two listens of Gou’s track, i felt paralyzed, like I was bein confronted by a higher, so much fucking higher, being.