Well, i don’t like to start any sentence with well but it imbues an sense of previous acquaintance if not a solo means of imagined experience into any dialogue-like monologue. Most of the time, many a musical review is but an attempt at bad poetics with a sense of a miniscule novelisticism—just like this one.
Today is one of those “OK, Ima dig my own crate at home” days for i lit don’t have any internet connection other than a weak mobile one and no there are no Starlinks around tbh. I decided to finger those vinyls, take out their static a bit, and undust them by placing some on that Musichall USB 1—wish ‘twas but a mechanical turntable but it ain’t.
Today’s record is bit of a fusion on the soft end in one of those Near Eastern expat-laden jazz pub-dinerish space soothing of jazz tunes. The album is Relatives, and all I can relate here is a bit of guitar jazz softness in a Hall-like volatility of amicable feelings on a chilly Spring morning when you are remote-quanting on a 13 inch Macbook Pro M1 whilst all your anon mutuals are busy af to flock into those random penthouses convertibles into crypto AI trading desk startups trying out to pivot from shitcoin status into onchain real asset class.
It feels well to be listening to these tunes when you are basically barred from reaching the internet on the landline level. No, neither Mullvad nor Proton VPN works, either. Maybe, you don’t get but there is literally NULL connection.
“Istanbul” is the intro to the A-side of this LP by Jeff Parker. I must admit it envelopes the metropolis as if you are constantly looping into a long jog from Bebek coast to Karaköy at dawn only to stop it with an espresso triplo reading The Freelys’ seminal biographic book on Galata, Pera and Beyoğlu.