1 Grand Orchestral Theme

Fake orchestral surges swell and gasp, until melody stumbles in, asking for charity, which triggers another swell of orchestral magic and love. High harmonies fly, and then underwater gongs pop up from the under-swell. Pauses regard, the orchestral noise pumps in steps of sumptuous chordal choruses. Metal swings divide the sonic sky, and previous layers slide back in and out of the stereo divide. Arpeggiators climb. 5:30m. One frantic arpeggiator pops up, and catches up to a background of birdlike small talk, until nothing, but nothing, is left of that sound.

2 The Reason is C

Swashes of chords in C, battling time in a froth of different signatures, eventually settling to a sunset in the Sahara kind of vibe, as the harsh evening heat slowly sinks into the slowly slithering sand.
2m. The running of the tones commences, as each C-based subset competes for a beat unsuited for even the basest of the competing chords combined. An eraser dust motif comes in, shaking itself vigorously over and over. 4m. The tones settle down to a lucid, sun-lit sonority, and drift obliviously by the off-kilter drums, and descend, with a modicum of grace, into a netherworld of tinkling song, while outside the drums gnash and bite at the windows and the doorsills. A tone sweeps up and down with hidden musical signals, settling into splendor at 7m. When it pops back up it’s like a frantic cheat of time, but then it starts going back down into the drift bowl, on down into the tank, out of the orbit, and further degrades into what seems to be blank and empty space.
9m. Grandiosity rears its handsome head, and the beats approach an almost martial flavor. As several packs of ghosts flow across each space time path, you then inhabit them and seek to replace newer actions with old, and lost in a maze of thought, flinch as the drums introduce a dramatic series of swells. This attracts the ravenous beat, as it hones in on the cacophony and attempts to regulate it by rigidity. This echoes outward into that nothing that signals the end.

3 Spanish Grocers

A fanfare of synth horns resound, curling upwards into delicious discord, leaking harmony, while mechanical puff-a-loes saunter sideways through the sun-baked suburban prairie. Memory remains of city streets, following lorn and woe-wracked horns. A swinging dance unfolds, and dissolves into shivers, big half-frozen shivers of naked skin late in the silent night.
3m. The Spanish guitar lowers in, and pays off in the iron clad pumps of endlessly profitable industry. Time marches on, and the guitar pumps a cracked chorus behind a shower of synth cascades. Fumble fingers squashes a fret. Stomping one note guitar idiocies bloom, nearly overcome by incumbent weather.
6m. Back to the pump-a-note guitar. A two bar refrain repeats ad nauseam, while over head, the weather ignored yet reigns, though it reigns forgotten. Eventually it ascends high enough to disappear. 8m. Like a half-remembered dream, a train pumps into and out of the station, never early, always late. The guitar spins a long melody, bells chime, intonations swell and shine. The melody winds up a wandering path to a stately refrain by 10m. The backing fades gracefully, guttering into futility.

4 Los Morosos

Opening with shuddering long extensions, wavering notes come under, then over like angels, then shudder as one in a climax that ends with bubbling brooks at midday. The bubbling becomes regular, then insistent, until you’re lost in a mist of bewilderment.
3m. The pace remains guardedly frantic, out of control within limits. When the thrill winds back in over the pop, curtains of azure and gold contrasts illumine the once forgotten dawn of ecstasy’s ignoble remembrances.
At 6m. The pipes vibrate and the tones drone and it all ends up thrillingly beside the well-gnawed bone.

5 Juneteenth

The lowing tones of the horn lament their drone under the echoing pipes of maleficence. The chorus reminds us that heaven awaits the deserving, the pious, the grateful and the dead. Turtle-tunes amble back and into the depths of created time, and launch futile cries to the midnight sky.
3m. A spectral tone belts a head-shaking drone, and the chorus comes back in time to shadow the tinkling piano spy movie melodic crimes. The ability to skirt perfection, to avoid, at all costs, the right note, the right sequence, the right refrain, this ability, once discovered, becomes inimitable, unimpeachable, and triumphant.
6m. The resurgence of the horns brings the funereal back to the hyperreal. A certain dignity prevails, justice triumphs, law and harmony upheld despite the nihilist’s sway. Lush waves surge and fade away.

6 Sad Refrain of Restraint Prelude

The core of the Sad Refrain resounds, echoing over itself, echoing stuttered cross-beats, and repeated into sensibility. The gist of the little phrase surges and slides away, relaxing into pops.

7 The Sad Refrain of Restraint

The Sadness begins as a piano plucks a simple explanation over the surging synths, refusing every false hope of conventional sequence or expectation. Slammed chords float between ascending choruses, followed by more explanatory melody, presaging a flutter flock of synth notes, and introducing the Sadness.
3m. Chords stumble over the Sad Refrain, then climb the steps of hope, plan an escape, then tinkle over it all to make what sense they can out of the chaos of life. A deep call resounds in the forest, and is answered by straining synths, maddening to bubbles of disjointed notes trailing behind.
6m. It swells up from liquid dark, glistens briefly, and a sober melody plays alone, until more twisted harmonies join in, causing the piano to flutter like a bug in the wind. Sadness fights insinuations of glorious hope. The piano joins the fight with some chords, themes collide, and a path is found.
9m. The feeble prayers of the meandering melody-line align with uprising synths, and ends with several simple, insistent phrases.