As The Leaves, like all recorded work, is an unblemishable time capsule. The same fortune can not be said of a score, screenplay or film negative. As The Leaves is finished, therefore it is dead. Its production was its life, its consumption is its afterlife. The copy you listen to is an artifact. By listening to an album you are not participating in a shared experience with its makers, rather, you are travelling backwards in time to the point of its creation and witnessing its life.
This is the true nature of my introversion. My music is me but it is not me.
Every time you listen to a record you must first subscribe to some level of fatalism. Every time you listen to it, it's going to be the same. The notes, the instrumentation, the tempo will always be the same. You have no control. Any type of control you attempt to exert on the recording maims it into something else. Consequently, music is not well suited for optimists. You may not know me, but when you listen to this album you will witness my life, and that of Deciduous Intent's. You will hear two years of our work, and you will begin to understand us and our dynamic between us. This is a risk we are willing to take. You decide the nature of our relationship. You decide our level of intimacy. I can't control when or where you listen to this album. If you put it on as background music, that's as close as we will be. Or you could put on headphones and lock yourself away in the quietest corner of your home and let us tell you a story. If you choose not to listen at all, neither of us will gain or lose. It's safer that way, isn't it? Parts of this album are painful to listen to. I understand if you choose to skip over those parts. The story we are telling is occasionally violent, occasionally dark, occasionally hellish. In fact, once I complete the publishing process of this album I will never listen to it again. Every part of this album is too painful for me, painful not in the sense that it hurts, but in the sense that my participation with it is over. Music is comforting in its inevitability. It is because of its relentless reliability that we listen to our favorite record so many times. But as humans we cannot afford to be so predisposed. I am not my music.
As in visual art, there is in every musical work a focal point designed to draw your attention to a singular object. In terms of the sound spectrum the focal point is most often the melody, but to a larger scale the melody is subservient to the song, the song subservient to the album. This object may be physical or conceptual, but in any manifestation it must unify the work or risk invalidating it. To the illusionist, the melody is the misdirection. The answer is hiding in plain sight, but you can never understand until you take your eyes off the melody. Like the criminal that wants to be caught or the gambler that wants to lose, everything I am you can hear in my music. It's too much of a risk to make everything obvious. And so I hide the answers in the dark corners of these songs.
Menesar Cautrusse, 2006
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