Documentary
Sometimes, you need evidence of the fact that you exist, or existed, and that something you know happened – happened.
Sometimes, you need evidence of the fact that you exist, or existed, and that something you know happened – happened.
Something happened on the 27th June 2024. Electrical charges were generated by the vibration of thin metal wires in close proximity to magnets. Similar effects were generated by the movement of air into a capsule. The end result was the movement of large paper cones, and an observation by a roomful of people.
I can’t escape my past. Nostalgia (“the pain of remembering”) means I have to attempt to exorcise the demons of my childhood, by whatever means at my disposal.
I found it. An mp3 file on an old hard drive. A recording of a numbers station. Mandela Effect. A new song. A release date – 11th March 2022.
Those numbers – 35719 – are written on a sticker on one of the suitcases I got from the storage unit. I don’t remember seeing the sticker before, but perhaps a decade ago when I packed everything away it stuck in my subconscious somehow. I still don’t know the significance of the numbers, or why they appear in my dreams.
I haven’t been sleeping well recently. I’ve been having strange, vivid dreams, often waking drenched in sweat. Not scared, necessarily, but confused – disconnected, you could say. Like I’d just travelled back from a long journey. A five-number sequence seems to be the recurring theme in these dreams, injected into dialogue, heard on tannoys and snippets of TV static. I’ve
GLASS has returned. The man and the music, into my psyche and out of my fingers and mouth. I can’t say any more at present, but I’ll try to get you all up to speed as soon as I can get my head round the past 11 years.
…But, it’s that magical chemistry that results from the clever lyrics and bizarre arrangements, that will make you feel like you just can’t help but admire the ingenuity and abandon that Glass brings to the fore. – Lisa Torem Read the full review here
“There is a fine line between artistic merit and pretension, and on paper a debut concept album, inspired by the life of a 19th Century inventor most listeners will never have heard of, slides firmly over to the latter side of the scale. This is one of many reasons why music can never be judged on paper. ‘The Sound of
“This album was inspired by the inventor from the 19th Century, Anthony Philip Glass. He apparently invented a machine that could transmit sound through time. This is quite an apt title for an album that actually sounds like it has fallen through time from an unspecified decade. ‘Driftwood’s Daughter’ kicks the album off in a crisp indie style, not particularly