“Funky Blue Note” is a circuit board of stuttering and scrambling vibrations and beats, guided by a visible end to sheer noise, and fascination for neighbouring sounds – the team effort. Something like that, I suppose. Through it I imagine a band of the aged; boys of ninety-three, seated and leaning, whispers and bleating. Each chasing layer of this motley-clique a spasm of their educated folly, sleight of hand and play. I see the sweat, the casual shakes, and the overhead pipe-smoke screen. The competition for air and a final breath. There’s one man on organ, holding an end note with unconcealed wincing mirth. The note, like life, colossal even as it fades. “Funky…” is thick and piercing and if you lean a shoulder too close you’ll catch a void. You’ll catch a pixel among millions, and you’ll grasp at nothing. The short straw. The point – if you can ever devise a pure point from conception to end in music – is surely that of passing on experienced devotion and with it an offering of arrested motion. Own up to the sound; it’s monstrous and demanding.
[Shades-o-blu.]