@tyleretters/discography 1.0.3 → 1.0.4

package/dist/discography.js

@@ -1,4 +1,95 @@
 export var discography = [
+    {
+        "title": "KOWLOON WALLED CITY GIGA MIX",
+        "project": "DJ STUXNET",
+        "released": "02024-12-21",
+        "type": "Mix",
+        "format": "Digital",
+        "role": "DJ",
+        "label": "Intertext",
+        "mp3": false,
+        "wav": false,
+        "tracks": [
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "\ud835\udd21\ud835\udd1e\ud835\udd32\ud835\udd2b\ud835\udd31\ud835\udd29\ud835\udd22\ud835\udd30\ud835\udd30 \ud835\udd20\ud835\udd25\ud835\udd2c\ud835\udd26\ud835\udd2f",
+                "length": "00:58:19",
+                "id": "8849e65936f33962b3e3ac500d241b7a"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "\ud835\udcc0\ud835\udcb6\ud835\udcc9\ud835\udcb6\ud835\udcb7\ud835\udcb6\ud835\udcc9\ud835\udcbe\ud835\udcb8 \ud835\udccc\ud835\udcbe\ud835\udcc3\ud835\udcb9",
+                "length": "00:59:59",
+                "id": "872b5ea66fd84413ab20fb9b54dd9cba"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "\ud835\ude75\ud835\ude98\ud835\ude90 \ud835\ude86\ud835\ude8a\ud835\ude95\ud835\ude95\ud835\ude9c",
+                "length": "00:59:52",
+                "id": "93aa540b0bfde1e91ea060f1d410e2a8"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "broken promise (for timm)",
+                "length": "00:59:06",
+                "id": "c5706074831e90bb99efab62e226634d"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "THE CONTINUANCE",
+                "length": "01:00:00",
+                "id": "38673d930ba0e5be4e6542cf8fe2e995"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "\u30c8\u30e9\u30f3\u30b9",
+                "length": "00:59:29",
+                "id": "f952adf19adac11d31ac115f3c708836"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "Elegies for Anja",
+                "length": "01:01:30",
+                "id": "5e2ea1b6ef3cbfcc343164b8b7d97d6f"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "\u042f\u03a3B\u042f\u04e8\u039bDC\u039b\u01a7\u01ac [1/2] \ud835\ude0d\ud835\ude2d\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude34\ud835\ude29 \ud835\ude0a\ud835\ude33\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude34\ud835\ude29 \ud835\ude17\ud835\ude2a\ud835\ude33\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude35\ud835\ude26 \ud835\ude19\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude25\ud835\ude2a\ud835\ude30 \ud835\ude14\ud835\ude2a\ud835\ude39 \ud835\ude35\ud835\ude26\ud835\ude29\ud835\ude2f",
+                "length": "00:58:39",
+                "id": "5e8f6a0cb2d4f95ee238654b9b3e0c32"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "\u042f\u03a3B\u042f\u04e8\u039bDC\u039b\u01a7\u01ac [2/2] \ud835\ude0d\ud835\ude2d\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude34\ud835\ude29 \ud835\ude0a\ud835\ude33\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude34\ud835\ude29 \ud835\ude17\ud835\ude2a\ud835\ude33\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude35\ud835\ude26 \ud835\ude19\ud835\ude22\ud835\ude25\ud835\ude2a\ud835\ude30 \ud835\ude14\ud835\ude2a\ud835\ude39 + \ud835\ude35\ud835\ude26\ud835\ude29\ud835\ude2f",
+                "length": "00:59:32",
+                "id": "979d36fc4b0c58185f8d436d0e995498"
+            },
+            {
+                "number": null,
+                "title": "Kowloon City: \uff2c\uff45\uff59\uff4c\uff49\uff4e\uff45",
+                "length": "00:58:49",
+                "id": "486c5154c9fb508491b6198ef1604a3c"
+            }
+        ],
+        "streams": [
+            {
+                "platform": "Direct",
+                "url": "https://stuxnet.me",
+                "id": "9e491dd7b5c318a4a5023c962cab8b3a"
+            },
+            {
+                "platform": "Untitled Stream",
+                "url": "https://untitled.stream/library/project/5Dni4VMX9Qyt1ZvokMYqq",
+                "id": "7f1ec2739494ce241a98347b5fd0f5bc"
+            }
+        ],
+        "notes": "<p>May we rave atop burning oil derricks... and sink into the sea.</p>",
+        "credits": "<p>STUXNET is Tyler Etters.</p>",
+        "project_slug": "dj-stuxnet",
+        "release_slug": "kowloon-walled-city-giga-mix",
+        "cover_url": "https://intertext.s3.us-west-1.amazonaws.com/dj-stuxnet/kowloon-walled-city-giga-mix/kowloon-walled-city-giga-mix.jpg",
+        "id": "e3ed2a5fa3fccc9539a7f073e37d1bd1"
+    },
     {
         "title": "List of Stars in Cancer",
         "project": "They Became What They Beheld",
@@ -1513,7 +1604,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "20e830edb4b105f6288c01fdddd59d4d"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>On February 20, 1974, while recovering from the effects of sodium pentothal administered for the extraction of an impacted wisdom tooth, [Philip K.] Dick received a home delivery of Darvon from a young woman. When he opened the door, he was struck by the dark-haired girl's beauty, and was especially drawn to her golden necklace. He asked her about its curious fish-shaped design. As she was leaving, she replied: \"This is a sign used by the early Christians.\" Dick called the symbol the \"vesicle pisces\". This name seems to have been based on his conflation of two related symbols, the Christian ichthys symbol (two intersecting arcs delineating a fish in profile), which the woman was wearing, and the vesica piscis.</p><p>Dick recounted that as the sun glinted off the gold pendant, the reflection caused the generation of a \"pink beam\" of light that mesmerized him. He came to believe the beam imparted wisdom and clairvoyance, and also believed it to be intelligent. On one occasion, he was startled by a separate recurrence of the pink beam, which imparted the information that his infant son was ill. The Dicks rushed the child to the hospital, where the illness was confirmed by professional diagnosis.</p><p>\u2014 Wikipedia, 2024</p><p>The seven movements of this symphonic suite need to be heard in their entirety; it is a mistake to isolate movements from the whole, for the work owes much to the strongly contrasted moods suggested by the character of each planet.</p><p>\u2014 The Decca Record Company, Ltd., 1962 </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>On February 20, 1974, while recovering from the effects of sodium pentothal administered for the extraction of an impacted wisdom tooth, [Philip K.] Dick received a home delivery of Darvon from a young woman. When he opened the door, he was struck by the dark-haired girl's beauty, and was especially drawn to her golden necklace. He asked her about its curious fish-shaped design. As she was leaving, she replied: \"This is a sign used by the early Christians.\" Dick called the symbol the \"vesicle pisces\". This name seems to have been based on his conflation of two related symbols, the Christian ichthys symbol (two intersecting arcs delineating a fish in profile), which the woman was wearing, and the vesica piscis.</p><p>Dick recounted that as the sun glinted off the gold pendant, the reflection caused the generation of a \"pink beam\" of light that mesmerized him. He came to believe the beam imparted wisdom and clairvoyance, and also believed it to be intelligent. On one occasion, he was startled by a separate recurrence of the pink beam, which imparted the information that his infant son was ill. The Dicks rushed the child to the hospital, where the illness was confirmed by professional diagnosis.</p><p>\u2014 Wikipedia, 2024</p><p>The seven movements of this symphonic suite need to be heard in their entirety; it is a mistake to isolate movements from the whole, for the work owes much to the strongly contrasted moods suggested by the character of each planet.</p><p>\u2014 The Decca Record Company, Ltd., 1962</p>",
         "credits": "<p>Thanks to ... a ... tape deck ... original ... everything stalled out ... changed ... that was closer to ... my dad ... I was a kid ... this strange ... audience ... Memorial ... landfill ... library ...</p><p>Audio sourced from Holst's The Planets performed by Herbert Von Karajan, Vienna Philharmonic, 1962.</p><p>Video sourced from The Eames Office's Powers of Ten, 1968 \u2014 1977.</p><p>Track titles sourced from Philip K. Dick's VALIS and surrounding mythos, circa 1976 \u2014 1985.</p><p>Photograph from the Skylark bar in Pilsen, 2017.</p><p>Engineered by Tyler Etters, 2024.</p>",
         "project_slug": "they-became-what-they-beheld",
         "release_slug": "radio-free-albemuth",
@@ -1868,7 +1959,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "3425ce3d019d9a2b4486a5b677580273"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>Migrants are often between two worlds that do not really have a place for them: fleeing economic or political hardship and entering a place (ostensibly the U.S.) that fundamentally demands their labour yet officially outlaws them and treats them as sub-human. The coyote is doing a kind of extraordinary favor by rendering an extra-legal service, and putting themselves in harm's way to do so.</p><p>Why choose this particular job?</p><p>Perhaps because the coyote is \"between,\" themselves. This casts them as a kind of archetypical shamanistic figure: a psychopomp, a guide of souls like Anubis, Charon, Hermes, Mercury, or Tarkovsky's Stalker. But, unlike this Jungian pantheon of tricksters, our coyote is not bound by divinity or magicks \u2014 they are a mercenary; they are bound by cash.</p><p>In Nomadology: The War Machine, Deleuze & Guattari \"redefine the relation between the state and its war machine. Far from being a part of the state, warriors (the army) are nomads who always come from the outside and keep threatening the authority of the state. In the same vein, nomadic science keeps infiltrating royal science, undermining its axioms and principles. Nomadology is a speedy, pocket-sized treatise that refuses to be pinned down. Theorizing a dynamic relationship between sedentary power and schizophrenic lines of flight, this volume is meant to be read in transit, smuggled into urban nightclubs, offices, and subways.\"</p><p>It then follows the special economic zone is a stage for our coyote, our trickster, to turn logics and fortunes of capitalism inside out and upside down. The interior shared-self which persists through ultra time flow is, yes: dancing in place to move forward... and the special economic zone suspends the rules to incentivize a certain dancing, a particular folding back into itself to realize commerce, competition, fucking, running, transgressing, renewing.</p><p>If the trickster makes this world, it follows the mercenary makes the state. </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>Migrants are often between two worlds that do not really have a place for them: fleeing economic or political hardship and entering a place (ostensibly the U.S.) that fundamentally demands their labour yet officially outlaws them and treats them as sub-human. The coyote is doing a kind of extraordinary favor by rendering an extra-legal service, and putting themselves in harm's way to do so.</p><p>Why choose this particular job?</p><p>Perhaps because the coyote is \"between,\" themselves. This casts them as a kind of archetypical shamanistic figure: a psychopomp, a guide of souls like Anubis, Charon, Hermes, Mercury, or Tarkovsky's Stalker. But, unlike this Jungian pantheon of tricksters, our coyote is not bound by divinity or magicks \u2014 they are a mercenary; they are bound by cash.</p><p>In Nomadology: The War Machine, Deleuze & Guattari \"redefine the relation between the state and its war machine. Far from being a part of the state, warriors (the army) are nomads who always come from the outside and keep threatening the authority of the state. In the same vein, nomadic science keeps infiltrating royal science, undermining its axioms and principles. Nomadology is a speedy, pocket-sized treatise that refuses to be pinned down. Theorizing a dynamic relationship between sedentary power and schizophrenic lines of flight, this volume is meant to be read in transit, smuggled into urban nightclubs, offices, and subways.\"</p><p>It then follows the special economic zone is a stage for our coyote, our trickster, to turn logics and fortunes of capitalism inside out and upside down. The interior shared-self which persists through ultra time flow is, yes: dancing in place to move forward... and the special economic zone suspends the rules to incentivize a certain dancing, a particular folding back into itself to realize commerce, competition, fucking, running, transgressing, renewing.</p><p>If the trickster makes this world, it follows the mercenary makes the state.</p>",
         "credits": "<p>Pr\u00e9cis by Cory Salveson. Music by Tyler Etters.</p><p>Selected samples: Dark Souls III, Mission: Impossible 4 \u2014 Ghost Protocol, X-Files, Metal Gear Solid, Underoath, Fortnite \"Fracture\" Event, Black Hawk Down.</p><p>Inspired by a trip with my mother to Tijuana, Mexico, 2022.</p><p>Album art: Midjourney prompt by John von Seggern.</p><p>For Timm.</p>",
         "project_slug": "stuxnet",
         "release_slug": "fade-scatter-replicate",
@@ -2089,7 +2180,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "4bdbc9918ce2a3623da3380ad3b44386"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>The Human Interference Task Force was a team of engineers, anthropologists, nuclear physicists, behavioral scientists and others convened on behalf of the U.S. Department of Energy and Bechtel Corp. to find a way to reduce the likelihood of future humans unintentionally intruding on radioactive waste isolation systems. Specifically, the task force was to research the use of long-time warning messages to prevent future access to the planned, but stalled, deep geological nuclear repository project of Yucca Mountain.</p><p>PROBLEM</p><p>When atomic or fusion bombs are detonated in a war, or nuclear power plants are used in times of peace, an unnaturally high amount of radioactive waste is produced. This material will threaten human life and health for thousands of years. Consequently, nuclear technology necessitates the creation of a secure means of terminal storage for such materials for an unusually long time period.</p><p>However, there is no method available to continuously provide the necessary knowledge about the location of nuclear waste over thousands of years. The culture of earlier centuries becomes incomprehensible when it is not translated into new languages every few generations. National institutions do not exist longer than a few hundred years. Even religions are not older than a few millennia and do not typically hand down scientific knowledge.</p><p>Furthermore, the necessary length of storage is disputed among specialists. One work group in Germany concluded that nuclear waste must be separated from the biosphere up to one million years \u2014 about 30,000 human generations. Earlier assumptions were based on a period of 10,000 years, which seems to be too short given the half-life of certain radioactive isotopes (e.g. Plutonium-239 at 24,000 years).</p><p>The written historical tradition of humanity, in contrast, is only about 5,000 years. Warnings in cuneiform script could be interpreted by some specialists, but others, such as the writing of the Indus Valley civilization, are already illegible after a few thousand years.</p><p>REQUIREMENTS</p><p>Three parts of any communication about nuclear waste must be conveyed to posterity:</p><p>1. that it is a message at all</p><p>2. that dangerous material is stored in a given location</p><p>3. information about the type of dangerous substances</p><p>ANSWERS</p><p>To determine how to convey these three things, the \"Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Semiotik\" (T\u00fcbingen, Germany) issued a poll in 1982 and 1983 asking how a message might be communicated for a duration of 10,000 years. The poll asked the following question: \"How would it be possible to inform our descendants for the next 10,000 years about the storage locations and dangers of radioactive waste?\" leading to the following answers... </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>The Human Interference Task Force was a team of engineers, anthropologists, nuclear physicists, behavioral scientists and others convened on behalf of the U.S. Department of Energy and Bechtel Corp. to find a way to reduce the likelihood of future humans unintentionally intruding on radioactive waste isolation systems. Specifically, the task force was to research the use of long-time warning messages to prevent future access to the planned, but stalled, deep geological nuclear repository project of Yucca Mountain.</p><p>PROBLEM</p><p>When atomic or fusion bombs are detonated in a war, or nuclear power plants are used in times of peace, an unnaturally high amount of radioactive waste is produced. This material will threaten human life and health for thousands of years. Consequently, nuclear technology necessitates the creation of a secure means of terminal storage for such materials for an unusually long time period.</p><p>However, there is no method available to continuously provide the necessary knowledge about the location of nuclear waste over thousands of years. The culture of earlier centuries becomes incomprehensible when it is not translated into new languages every few generations. National institutions do not exist longer than a few hundred years. Even religions are not older than a few millennia and do not typically hand down scientific knowledge.</p><p>Furthermore, the necessary length of storage is disputed among specialists. One work group in Germany concluded that nuclear waste must be separated from the biosphere up to one million years \u2014 about 30,000 human generations. Earlier assumptions were based on a period of 10,000 years, which seems to be too short given the half-life of certain radioactive isotopes (e.g. Plutonium-239 at 24,000 years).</p><p>The written historical tradition of humanity, in contrast, is only about 5,000 years. Warnings in cuneiform script could be interpreted by some specialists, but others, such as the writing of the Indus Valley civilization, are already illegible after a few thousand years.</p><p>REQUIREMENTS</p><p>Three parts of any communication about nuclear waste must be conveyed to posterity:</p><p>1. that it is a message at all</p><p>2. that dangerous material is stored in a given location</p><p>3. information about the type of dangerous substances</p><p>ANSWERS</p><p>To determine how to convey these three things, the \"Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Semiotik\" (T\u00fcbingen, Germany) issued a poll in 1982 and 1983 asking how a message might be communicated for a duration of 10,000 years. The poll asked the following question: \"How would it be possible to inform our descendants for the next 10,000 years about the storage locations and dangers of radioactive waste?\" leading to the following answers...</p>",
         "credits": "<p>The musician would like to express his deepest thanks to @license for their critical ear and honest heart.</p>",
         "project_slug": "stuxnet",
         "release_slug": "human-interference-task-force",
@@ -2259,7 +2350,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "30f9acd6b2a5762977f27468d900eecd"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>Dear listener,</p><p>During the turn of the century in Chicago there was a radio station called WNRG Energy 92.7/5 . I was 12 or so and would always fall asleep listening to the likes of DJ Sammy, DJ Encore, PPK, D-Devils, Armin van Buuren, Sylver, ATC, and countless others. I pictured the radio waves blanketing Chicagoland's orange phosphorous haze from Kenosha to Kankakee; euphoric FM signals in an adjacent dimension. Compressed audio. The crackle of static. It was spiritual.</p><p>How many others were listening along with me?</p><p>How many others allowed themselves to be moved to tears in the music's rapture?</p><p>One night all the DJs were there. They kept talking and laughing and telling stories. Being a trance radio station, this was quite irregular. They were sad. Then I realized: this was the final broadcast.</p><p>LONG LIVE THE LOST ONES is a very special album for me, as the track titles may (or may not) reveal.</p><p>The melodies were mostly written while flying back and forth between Los Angeles and Chicago during that brief season Sage and I were commuter spouses. Winter 2019/2020. At the end of the old world and the threshold of the new.</p><p>With LONG LIVE THE LOST ONES, we find my nightly streams, my deep tryst for unabashedly earnest trance, and my endless experiments with lo-fi and distortion finally in conjunction. A constellation of energy, euphoria, and catharsis.</p><p>I've started having visions of people dancing together again. These visions haunt and inspire me. Perhaps one day sooner than we think, DJs will return to the decks and revelers will return to the floors.</p><p>None of us were ready for 2020. It is only now becoming clear what cultural trauma the pandemic has wrought. Scorched earths, decimated families, and shattered cultures. There is so much mourning to do.</p><p>Everything is going to be different from here out.</p><p>Once again, we must learn to dance.</p><p>Yours,</p><p>Tyler </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>Dear listener,</p><p>During the turn of the century in Chicago there was a radio station called WNRG Energy 92.7/5 . I was 12 or so and would always fall asleep listening to the likes of DJ Sammy, DJ Encore, PPK, D-Devils, Armin van Buuren, Sylver, ATC, and countless others. I pictured the radio waves blanketing Chicagoland's orange phosphorous haze from Kenosha to Kankakee; euphoric FM signals in an adjacent dimension. Compressed audio. The crackle of static. It was spiritual.</p><p>How many others were listening along with me?</p><p>How many others allowed themselves to be moved to tears in the music's rapture?</p><p>One night all the DJs were there. They kept talking and laughing and telling stories. Being a trance radio station, this was quite irregular. They were sad. Then I realized: this was the final broadcast.</p><p>LONG LIVE THE LOST ONES is a very special album for me, as the track titles may (or may not) reveal.</p><p>The melodies were mostly written while flying back and forth between Los Angeles and Chicago during that brief season Sage and I were commuter spouses. Winter 2019/2020. At the end of the old world and the threshold of the new.</p><p>With LONG LIVE THE LOST ONES, we find my nightly streams, my deep tryst for unabashedly earnest trance, and my endless experiments with lo-fi and distortion finally in conjunction. A constellation of energy, euphoria, and catharsis.</p><p>I've started having visions of people dancing together again. These visions haunt and inspire me. Perhaps one day sooner than we think, DJs will return to the decks and revelers will return to the floors.</p><p>None of us were ready for 2020. It is only now becoming clear what cultural trauma the pandemic has wrought. Scorched earths, decimated families, and shattered cultures. There is so much mourning to do.</p><p>Everything is going to be different from here out.</p><p>Once again, we must learn to dance.</p><p>Yours,</p><p>Tyler</p>",
         "credits": "<p>Album title by Cory Salveson, encryption key by Matthew Marx, distress signals by Dan Derks, music by Tyler Etters.</p><p>Album art: \"Kuwaiti oil wells set on fire by retreating Iraqi forces during Operation Desert Storm darken the sky with smoke, March 25, 1991. This image could have imperfections as it\u2019s either historical or reportage.\"</p>",
         "project_slug": "stuxnet",
         "release_slug": "long-live-the-lost-ones",
@@ -2338,7 +2429,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "length": "00:03:09",
                 "mp3_url": "https://intertext.s3.us-west-1.amazonaws.com/stuxnet/matryoshka-demo/03-a-white-usb-drive-with-hexagon-istock-logo-1135496271.mp3",
                 "wav_url": "https://intertext.s3.us-west-1.amazonaws.com/stuxnet/matryoshka-demo/03-a-white-usb-drive-with-hexagon-istock-logo-1135496271.wav",
-                "id": "0c64e4dd5d5bb830ed5975cc200e7793"
+                "id": "d2ca5d1c52ec1e22d89ce852b0af84c8"
             },
             {
                 "number": 4,
@@ -2758,7 +2849,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "76fc0891ac52670a947d2be1a33e9d14"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>I recently came across the following rules of communication, posted in a School of Journalism:</p><p>1. Know your audience and address yourself directly to it.</p><p>2. Know what you want to say and say it clearly and fully.</p><p>3. Reach the maximum audience by utilizing existing channels.</p><p>Whatever sense this may have made in a world of print, it makes no sense today. In fact, the reverse of each rule applies.</p><p>If you address yourself to an audience, you accept at the outset basic premises that unite the audience. You put on the audience, repeating clich\u00e9s familiar to it. But artists don't address themselves to audiences; they create audiences. The artist talks to themself out loud. If what they say is significant, others hear and are affected.</p><p>The trouble with knowing what to say and saying it clearly and fully is that clear speaking is generally obsolete thinking. Clear statement is like an art object: it is the afterlife of the process which called it into being. The process itself is the significant step and, especially at the beginning, is often incomplete & uncertain. Columbus's maps were vague & sketchy, but showed the right continent.</p><p>The problem with full statement is that it doesn't involve: it leaves no room for participation; it's addressed to consumer, not co-producer. Allan Kaprow posted a few small posters about Berkeley: \"SUPPOSE you were interested in designing a primer, in mixed media, etc. . . . Allan Kaprow will be in Berkeley in July & August.\" No phone, address, dates, terms. He found, however, that those who wanted to work with him, and those he wanted to work with, located him without difficulty.</p><p>Reaching the maximum audience may be the last thing one wants to achieve. George Segal says, \"I don't give myself to everybody. I give myself very intensely to my work, my wife, my kids, my few friends. I can't begin to give myself indiscriminately to all. It's the only thing that makes me pause about, say, Ginsberg's preachings of universal love or even California ideas about Esalen and touching.\"</p><p>Utilizing existing channels can wipe out a statement. There is a widely accepted misconception that media merely serve as neutral packages for the dissemination of raw facts. Photographers once thought that by getting their photographs published in Life, they would thereby reach large audiences. Gradually they discovered that the only message that came through was Life magazine itself and that their pictures had become but bits and pieces of that message. Unwittingly they contributed to a message far removed from the one they intended.</p><p>The same thing occurs on TV guest shows. Guests accept invitations to appear on programs in the hopes their messages will reach new and wider audiences, but even when they are treated in a friendly manner, they generally come away with a sense of failure. Somehow the message transmitted is far removed from the message intended. The original message has been declassified by an alien medium. \"Oh, what a blow that phantom gave me!\" cries Don Quixote.</p><p>The young today shun the hardware of the past. Marx thought the big question was: Who owns the presses? Software makes hardware obsolete, an encumbrance, creating a false sense of power and security. The young package their messages in media that fit their messages, that is, they create new media to fit their messages. In so doing, they create their own audiences. Some of these audiences may be very small at the beginning. In Houston I met film makers producing films for audiences of no more than six. The point was that they would reach the right people in the right way with the right message.</p><p>It is one of the curiosities of a new medium, a new format, that at the moment it first appears, it's never valued, but it is believed. What it offers, I believe, is a sudden insight, an unexpected glimpse into a reality that, at most, was merely suspected but never before seen with such clarity.</p><p>Like guerrillas, the young are in a favored position; they don't need or want the hardware and audiences of yesterday.</p><p>\u2014 Edmund Snow Carpenter, 1970 </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>I recently came across the following rules of communication, posted in a School of Journalism:</p><p>1. Know your audience and address yourself directly to it.</p><p>2. Know what you want to say and say it clearly and fully.</p><p>3. Reach the maximum audience by utilizing existing channels.</p><p>Whatever sense this may have made in a world of print, it makes no sense today. In fact, the reverse of each rule applies.</p><p>If you address yourself to an audience, you accept at the outset basic premises that unite the audience. You put on the audience, repeating clich\u00e9s familiar to it. But artists don't address themselves to audiences; they create audiences. The artist talks to themself out loud. If what they say is significant, others hear and are affected.</p><p>The trouble with knowing what to say and saying it clearly and fully is that clear speaking is generally obsolete thinking. Clear statement is like an art object: it is the afterlife of the process which called it into being. The process itself is the significant step and, especially at the beginning, is often incomplete & uncertain. Columbus's maps were vague & sketchy, but showed the right continent.</p><p>The problem with full statement is that it doesn't involve: it leaves no room for participation; it's addressed to consumer, not co-producer. Allan Kaprow posted a few small posters about Berkeley: \"SUPPOSE you were interested in designing a primer, in mixed media, etc. . . . Allan Kaprow will be in Berkeley in July & August.\" No phone, address, dates, terms. He found, however, that those who wanted to work with him, and those he wanted to work with, located him without difficulty.</p><p>Reaching the maximum audience may be the last thing one wants to achieve. George Segal says, \"I don't give myself to everybody. I give myself very intensely to my work, my wife, my kids, my few friends. I can't begin to give myself indiscriminately to all. It's the only thing that makes me pause about, say, Ginsberg's preachings of universal love or even California ideas about Esalen and touching.\"</p><p>Utilizing existing channels can wipe out a statement. There is a widely accepted misconception that media merely serve as neutral packages for the dissemination of raw facts. Photographers once thought that by getting their photographs published in Life, they would thereby reach large audiences. Gradually they discovered that the only message that came through was Life magazine itself and that their pictures had become but bits and pieces of that message. Unwittingly they contributed to a message far removed from the one they intended.</p><p>The same thing occurs on TV guest shows. Guests accept invitations to appear on programs in the hopes their messages will reach new and wider audiences, but even when they are treated in a friendly manner, they generally come away with a sense of failure. Somehow the message transmitted is far removed from the message intended. The original message has been declassified by an alien medium. \"Oh, what a blow that phantom gave me!\" cries Don Quixote.</p><p>The young today shun the hardware of the past. Marx thought the big question was: Who owns the presses? Software makes hardware obsolete, an encumbrance, creating a false sense of power and security. The young package their messages in media that fit their messages, that is, they create new media to fit their messages. In so doing, they create their own audiences. Some of these audiences may be very small at the beginning. In Houston I met film makers producing films for audiences of no more than six. The point was that they would reach the right people in the right way with the right message.</p><p>It is one of the curiosities of a new medium, a new format, that at the moment it first appears, it's never valued, but it is believed. What it offers, I believe, is a sudden insight, an unexpected glimpse into a reality that, at most, was merely suspected but never before seen with such clarity.</p><p>Like guerrillas, the young are in a favored position; they don't need or want the hardware and audiences of yesterday.</p><p>\u2014 Edmund Snow Carpenter, 1970</p>",
         "credits": "<p>Thanks to Emily for finding this strange book and making me her audience of one. Thanks to the Adriance Memorial Library for first stocking the book and later stamping it with DISCARD. Thanks to Hippo Books who succeeded in diverting it from a landfill and otherwise help to fund library sustainability and provide meaningful solutions to the global problem of illiteracy.</p><p>About text, icon, and name sourced from They Became What They Beheld written by Edmund Snow Carpenter, photographed by Ken Heyman, designed by Hess and/or Antupit, 1970.</p><p>Audio sourced from Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5, Op. 47 performed by Leonard Bernstein, New York Philharmonic, 1980.</p><p>Photographs from my trip to Petalying Jaya, Malaysia, 2017.</p><p>Engineered by Tyler Etters, 2019.</p>",
         "project_slug": "they-became-what-they-beheld",
         "release_slug": "ep1",
@@ -2881,7 +2972,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "01f9c985be0a4ed7778f17d4727fa6a3"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter ix</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>summer. morning. warmth and green. saturday. children meet at the end of the street to play. nature preserve. silent agreement. no games today. just be. creeks. white oaks. a crayfish somehow. power lines on the horizon. cumulus clouds and prairies forever. then one of them finds it beneath a domed castle of dark briar. the snail shell graveyard. calls to the others. huddled around the edge in silence. dozens of bone-white spirals encrusted in black mud. today they can only stare but the questions will come decades later: what force caused it to happen? was the ossuary exclusive to a single family? did some apex predator hunt each snail and return them to her voracious brood? did the snails all migrate together on their own volition? only to die in some great cataclysm? the annual prairie burn? the children know better than to take any shells. dusk. winter. the ice breaks. yelling for help. they scramble to get long branches. he is ok but his boot is claimed by the mud. summer again. they age. they don't play anymore. they hang out now. they go back the forest preserve past curfew. instead of running from imaginary monsters they run from the police. they still know all the hiding places and it is almost unfair. they keep aging. they lose touch. they sometimes remember. before it is over, each returns to the forest preserve in turn. always alone. always unknown by the others. not secret. just private. none of them can ever find it again.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. the snail shell graveyard (w/ david)</p><p>2. fiddler\u2019s green</p><p>3. yes, these paths were promised</p><p>4. cometary</p><p>5. unnamed seasons (w/ sage)</p><p>6. this is hallowed ground</p><p>7. hope on the western sky</p><p>8. in standstill destiny</p><p>9. fireflies & fields</p><p>10. beacons of light</p><p>11. where the grass is uncut by blades of men</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter ix</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>summer. morning. warmth and green. saturday. children meet at the end of the street to play. nature preserve. silent agreement. no games today. just be. creeks. white oaks. a crayfish somehow. power lines on the horizon. cumulus clouds and prairies forever. then one of them finds it beneath a domed castle of dark briar. the snail shell graveyard. calls to the others. huddled around the edge in silence. dozens of bone-white spirals encrusted in black mud. today they can only stare but the questions will come decades later: what force caused it to happen? was the ossuary exclusive to a single family? did some apex predator hunt each snail and return them to her voracious brood? did the snails all migrate together on their own volition? only to die in some great cataclysm? the annual prairie burn? the children know better than to take any shells. dusk. winter. the ice breaks. yelling for help. they scramble to get long branches. he is ok but his boot is claimed by the mud. summer again. they age. they don't play anymore. they hang out now. they go back the forest preserve past curfew. instead of running from imaginary monsters they run from the police. they still know all the hiding places and it is almost unfair. they keep aging. they lose touch. they sometimes remember. before it is over, each returns to the forest preserve in turn. always alone. always unknown by the others. not secret. just private. none of them can ever find it again.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. the snail shell graveyard (w/ david)</p><p>2. fiddler\u2019s green</p><p>3. yes, these paths were promised</p><p>4. cometary</p><p>5. unnamed seasons (w/ sage)</p><p>6. this is hallowed ground</p><p>7. hope on the western sky</p><p>8. in standstill destiny</p><p>9. fireflies & fields</p><p>10. beacons of light</p><p>11. where the grass is uncut by blades of men</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p>",
         "credits": "<p>released the day after the winter solstice, when the light begins her steady march to summer.</p><p>written and recorded by tyler etters from an indeterminate point in the past through december 2017. featuring guitar by david kvistad on the snail shell graveyard and field recordings by sage etters on unnamed seasons. painting of cornfields in illinois (1994) by lynda wallis (tyler etters\u2019s mom) with additional treatment by tyler etters.</p>",
         "project_slug": "tyler-etters-and-the-northern-information-movement",
         "release_slug": "reverence",
@@ -2991,7 +3082,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "05e5ee079a1e6dfae779609d93e8c1f7"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter viii</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>winter - city - neon dusk - service economies - capitalist realism - the hinge upon which the world turns - unexpected password reset - borrowed anxiety medication - ritual scarification of the mind - ego death - a thousand faces - monomyth - megalith - emergency motorcycle repair - sargasso sea - aggregate browser histories - anonymous cookies - london bridge is falling down - traffic rerouted through eastern europe - all roads lead to rome - the empire never ended - golgothan solstice - eclipse - ellipsism - algorithm - the flash crash of 2010 - the jackpot - universal coordinated time - quick response code - boarding pass - light pollution - the people's republic of the great pacific garbage patch - skeleton music - voodoo technology - hypothetical histories - satellites - orbital sovereignty - metalaws - the singularity already happened - death is the only way out of the information age - metadata reincarnation - the second unix epoch - as above so below - as below so beyond - at dusk there is no wind</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. surveillance industrial complex</p><p>2. twilight in shape</p><p>3. a cyan destiny</p><p>4. some more dreams from the hive</p><p>5. apophenia</p><p>6. later heaven</p><p>7. future shock</p><p>8. olympus mons</p><p>9. the path of many returns</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter viii</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>winter - city - neon dusk - service economies - capitalist realism - the hinge upon which the world turns - unexpected password reset - borrowed anxiety medication - ritual scarification of the mind - ego death - a thousand faces - monomyth - megalith - emergency motorcycle repair - sargasso sea - aggregate browser histories - anonymous cookies - london bridge is falling down - traffic rerouted through eastern europe - all roads lead to rome - the empire never ended - golgothan solstice - eclipse - ellipsism - algorithm - the flash crash of 2010 - the jackpot - universal coordinated time - quick response code - boarding pass - light pollution - the people's republic of the great pacific garbage patch - skeleton music - voodoo technology - hypothetical histories - satellites - orbital sovereignty - metalaws - the singularity already happened - death is the only way out of the information age - metadata reincarnation - the second unix epoch - as above so below - as below so beyond - at dusk there is no wind</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. surveillance industrial complex</p><p>2. twilight in shape</p><p>3. a cyan destiny</p><p>4. some more dreams from the hive</p><p>5. apophenia</p><p>6. later heaven</p><p>7. future shock</p><p>8. olympus mons</p><p>9. the path of many returns</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p>",
         "credits": "<p>released on the winter solstice, when both darkness and light hang in a wary balance.</p><p>written and recorded by tyler etters from an indeterminate point in the past through december 2017. featuring pasha petrosyan on surveillance industrial complex, later heaven, and the path of many returns. numerous samples, videos, storyline components and album title by cory salveson. album cover polaroid of stone henge on the summer solstice (2017) by cory salveson with additional treatment by tyler etters.</p>",
         "project_slug": "tyler-etters-and-the-northern-information-movement",
         "release_slug": "dispatches-from-the-prime-meridian",
@@ -3101,7 +3192,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "ac197afae33d02c6b88c62804306c9af"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter vii</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>we built the forest acropolis in a single day. that night we reveled at our achievement. we drank wine and played flutes and made merry. drunk and giddy with the possibility of the future, we fell asleep long after the sun rose. when we finally awoke, kudzu had inexplicably grown over everything. the columns began to crumble. confused, we cut it down and repaired what we could. the next day, the vines were back. again we cut them down, but again they grew back. our leaders proclaimed the land cursed. no one could remember why we built here in the first place anyway. so we left to build a new acropolis by the sea. some of our children remained. they climbed the vines and went on adventures in the woods, heirs of a ghost kingdom.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. arcadian nights</p><p>2. leaving home</p><p>3. the emptiness will always follow you</p><p>4. shanzhai (gueriila fortress)</p><p>5. full steam</p><p>6. holy mountain hymn</p><p>7. reaver, yggdrasil, the thing at the end of the woods</p><p>8. bridges of terabithia</p><p>9. unscarred land</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter vii</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>we built the forest acropolis in a single day. that night we reveled at our achievement. we drank wine and played flutes and made merry. drunk and giddy with the possibility of the future, we fell asleep long after the sun rose. when we finally awoke, kudzu had inexplicably grown over everything. the columns began to crumble. confused, we cut it down and repaired what we could. the next day, the vines were back. again we cut them down, but again they grew back. our leaders proclaimed the land cursed. no one could remember why we built here in the first place anyway. so we left to build a new acropolis by the sea. some of our children remained. they climbed the vines and went on adventures in the woods, heirs of a ghost kingdom.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. arcadian nights</p><p>2. leaving home</p><p>3. the emptiness will always follow you</p><p>4. shanzhai (gueriila fortress)</p><p>5. full steam</p><p>6. holy mountain hymn</p><p>7. reaver, yggdrasil, the thing at the end of the woods</p><p>8. bridges of terabithia</p><p>9. unscarred land</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p>",
         "credits": "<p>written & recorded by tyler etters from an indeterminate point in the past through december 2016 at endless field studios. featuring adam j. moore on full steam, holy mountain hymn, and reaver, yggdsrasil, the thing at the end of the woods. featuring arthur zdrinc on holy mountain hymn. featuring cory salveson on videos, images, and storyline.</p>",
         "project_slug": "tyler-etters-and-the-northern-information-movement",
         "release_slug": "the-legacy-of-our-lost-cause",
@@ -3241,7 +3332,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "61e785333d71425922f3ab07c15ed8c7"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter vi</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>i have been having dreams about the apocalypse lately. firefighters swarming like ants on a smoldering sears tower, lake michigan simply exploding, the laws of physics deteriorating, heat death, psychological collapses. ever since i was a little boy the topic of eschatology intrigued me. i have always found the the snafus and close calls to be especially interesting: y2k, 12-21-2012, the return of nibiru... these overly hyped events stir up the fears and emotions of certain circles and then awkwardly fizzle out. contrast these to real-world atrocities, cold wars, personal and familial crises, and you realize the apocalypse is happening everyday for someone. ours is an age of false prophets and fear mongering. we make the apocalypse real in our minds. between the actual and perceived doomsdays there is enough to keep anyone worried and anxious for the rest of their lives. this album is about living in a world where anything can happen, where the soft apocalypse may yet overtake at any momemnt. it is a collage; a story; a sonic journey of found sounds and field recordings. it's rawer and rougher than anything i've released before. from anonymous protests in chicago to some particularly terrifying flood sirens, from emergency broadcasts to gin-drunk conversations with old timers about the wars of the 20th century. the singularity already happened. it is not yet over. be kind and generous, always. create something beautiful today and we'll be just fine.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. and though the soft apocalypse may yet overtake</p><p>2. unreliable narrator</p><p>3. entropy</p><p>4. palm beach</p><p>5. owl</p><p>6. boodle man</p><p>7. steady progress (deeper into the dark tangent)</p><p>8. in this spiraling darkness</p><p>9. heat death</p><p>10. armageddon rager</p><p>11. suburban gutter trash</p><p>12. flood sirens</p><p>13. requiem, tunnels between worlds</p><p>14. and then the crickets came</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter vi</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>i have been having dreams about the apocalypse lately. firefighters swarming like ants on a smoldering sears tower, lake michigan simply exploding, the laws of physics deteriorating, heat death, psychological collapses. ever since i was a little boy the topic of eschatology intrigued me. i have always found the the snafus and close calls to be especially interesting: y2k, 12-21-2012, the return of nibiru... these overly hyped events stir up the fears and emotions of certain circles and then awkwardly fizzle out. contrast these to real-world atrocities, cold wars, personal and familial crises, and you realize the apocalypse is happening everyday for someone. ours is an age of false prophets and fear mongering. we make the apocalypse real in our minds. between the actual and perceived doomsdays there is enough to keep anyone worried and anxious for the rest of their lives. this album is about living in a world where anything can happen, where the soft apocalypse may yet overtake at any momemnt. it is a collage; a story; a sonic journey of found sounds and field recordings. it's rawer and rougher than anything i've released before. from anonymous protests in chicago to some particularly terrifying flood sirens, from emergency broadcasts to gin-drunk conversations with old timers about the wars of the 20th century. the singularity already happened. it is not yet over. be kind and generous, always. create something beautiful today and we'll be just fine.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. and though the soft apocalypse may yet overtake</p><p>2. unreliable narrator</p><p>3. entropy</p><p>4. palm beach</p><p>5. owl</p><p>6. boodle man</p><p>7. steady progress (deeper into the dark tangent)</p><p>8. in this spiraling darkness</p><p>9. heat death</p><p>10. armageddon rager</p><p>11. suburban gutter trash</p><p>12. flood sirens</p><p>13. requiem, tunnels between worlds</p><p>14. and then the crickets came</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p>",
         "credits": "<p>written & recorded by tyler etters from january 2015 through june 2015 at endless field studios. featuring adam j. moore on palm beach and suburban gutter trash.</p>",
         "project_slug": "tyler-etters-and-the-northern-information-movement",
         "release_slug": "and-though-the-soft-apocalypse-may-yet-overtake",
@@ -3455,7 +3546,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "510717bf8e3de3c8bb2669b467fa5d2e"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter iv</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>these are the phantoms of our lost cause. this album is my shroud of ghosts, the remnants, the lingering possibilities from timelines tangential. but make no mistake, dear listener: this is no album of b-sides. writing 'the geometrie of our lost cause' was something of a creative renaissance for me. more wavs, samples, beats and guitar drones filled my drives than i knew what to do with (and certainly more than would be appropriate for 'immemorial'). much of that remaining phantasmal material is now presented here. but there are songs from other times, too. 'there is no death, only reorganization' dates back to the 'terraforms' age; 'the secret symmetries of oakwood hills' was almost released on 'blue, the most celestial color'; 'nausica\u00e4' holds the seeds of 'northern illinois'; the 'mainframe' movement in 'getageese' emerged from the 'serial index of unclaimed memories' sessions. once all of this music was sourced, exhumed, and resampled i loaded it up into my rig and rehearsed the album as though i were performing live. later, one of those hazey sessions would be promoted to the final mix in a largely unedited form. and thus begins the second trilogy...</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. the secret symmetries of oakwood hills</p><p>2. there is no death, only reorganization</p><p>3. second chance</p><p>4. ch((e)i)m(er)ical</p><p>5. forest (R1-07348-0017.jpg)</p><p>6. 2am, rte 53, northbound</p><p>7. jacurutu</p><p>8. radio haces arrib{a} tu cowboy espacio</p><p>9. getageese</p><p>  i. we're going to getageese</p><p>  ii. mainframe (salvaged from failing ecicefis computer)</p><p>  iii. getageese is gone</p><p>10. samsara (w/ adam)</p><p>11. the sound of her wings</p><p>12. infinite return of the same</p><p>13. nausica\u00e4</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter iv</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>these are the phantoms of our lost cause. this album is my shroud of ghosts, the remnants, the lingering possibilities from timelines tangential. but make no mistake, dear listener: this is no album of b-sides. writing 'the geometrie of our lost cause' was something of a creative renaissance for me. more wavs, samples, beats and guitar drones filled my drives than i knew what to do with (and certainly more than would be appropriate for 'immemorial'). much of that remaining phantasmal material is now presented here. but there are songs from other times, too. 'there is no death, only reorganization' dates back to the 'terraforms' age; 'the secret symmetries of oakwood hills' was almost released on 'blue, the most celestial color'; 'nausica\u00e4' holds the seeds of 'northern illinois'; the 'mainframe' movement in 'getageese' emerged from the 'serial index of unclaimed memories' sessions. once all of this music was sourced, exhumed, and resampled i loaded it up into my rig and rehearsed the album as though i were performing live. later, one of those hazey sessions would be promoted to the final mix in a largely unedited form. and thus begins the second trilogy...</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. the secret symmetries of oakwood hills</p><p>2. there is no death, only reorganization</p><p>3. second chance</p><p>4. ch((e)i)m(er)ical</p><p>5. forest (R1-07348-0017.jpg)</p><p>6. 2am, rte 53, northbound</p><p>7. jacurutu</p><p>8. radio haces arrib{a} tu cowboy espacio</p><p>9. getageese</p><p>  i. we're going to getageese</p><p>  ii. mainframe (salvaged from failing ecicefis computer)</p><p>  iii. getageese is gone</p><p>10. samsara (w/ adam)</p><p>11. the sound of her wings</p><p>12. infinite return of the same</p><p>13. nausica\u00e4</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p>",
         "credits": "<p>written & recorded by tyler etters from an indeterminate point in the past through december 2014 at endless field studios. featuring adam moore on samsara. album cover artwork by paul petrosyan with additional treatment by tyler etters.</p>",
         "project_slug": "tyler-etters-and-the-northern-information-movement",
         "release_slug": "the-phantoms-of-our-lost-cause",
@@ -3529,7 +3620,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "e28c4b7eda0fd4bdeb6198b20a3c6c53"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter iii</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>there was a time before these experiences shaped us. do you remember? years before we scaled all those unforgiving mountain ranges, before the codes were counted, and before the firmament fell. melting. wavering. corporeal. now our minds are increasingly augmented by technology and time's passage becomes difficult for our hearts to feel. do you remember! before your phone vibrated in your pocket every fifteen minutes to remind you of minutia that is neither here nor there? do you remember! before we lived in fear of the police ticketing us for being at the park after sunset? do you remember!!! here i am again. alone late at night and drowning in drones. i have finished the last songs, bounced them to cassette to engineer some lo-fi glory, and i now present them to you, dear listener, in the utmost humility - for i walked away from too many projects and i have turned down too many friends to fold now.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. northern illinois</p><p>  i. wastes of the north</p><p>  ii. procession of the hauntologists</p><p>  iii. deed of the drones</p><p>  iv. tears of the space cowboy (w/ kevin, dorian & arthur)</p><p>  v. song of the cicada</p><p>2. we failed</p><p>3. january 1st, 1970 + zero gmt</p><p>- - - - - - - - - - </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>chapter iii</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>there was a time before these experiences shaped us. do you remember? years before we scaled all those unforgiving mountain ranges, before the codes were counted, and before the firmament fell. melting. wavering. corporeal. now our minds are increasingly augmented by technology and time's passage becomes difficult for our hearts to feel. do you remember! before your phone vibrated in your pocket every fifteen minutes to remind you of minutia that is neither here nor there? do you remember! before we lived in fear of the police ticketing us for being at the park after sunset? do you remember!!! here i am again. alone late at night and drowning in drones. i have finished the last songs, bounced them to cassette to engineer some lo-fi glory, and i now present them to you, dear listener, in the utmost humility - for i walked away from too many projects and i have turned down too many friends to fold now.</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p><p>1. northern illinois</p><p>  i. wastes of the north</p><p>  ii. procession of the hauntologists</p><p>  iii. deed of the drones</p><p>  iv. tears of the space cowboy (w/ kevin, dorian & arthur)</p><p>  v. song of the cicada</p><p>2. we failed</p><p>3. january 1st, 1970 + zero gmt</p><p>- - - - - - - - - -</p>",
         "credits": "<p>written & recorded by tyler etters from june 2013 through september 2013 at endless field studios except for 'tears of the space cowboy' which was also written by kevin clark, dorian zdrinc and arthur zdrinc sometime back in 2011.</p>",
         "project_slug": "tyler-etters-and-the-northern-information-movement",
         "release_slug": "senescence",
@@ -3744,7 +3835,7 @@ export var discography = [
                 "id": "4e450e5627319d3a7d5f9fd8115b6c8c"
             }
         ],
-        "notes": "<p>...and the world forces you out once again, return to the highways, return to the endless fields; that word, prolegomenon, appeared in my dreams some time ago, immemorial, i didn't even know what the word was or what it meant, or even how to spell or pronounce it; 'prolegomenon,'; i knew only the feeling of it upon my tounge, the sound of it reflecting off the walls, the feeling it would impress upon me while reading it, i tried writing it down but failed many times, i couldn't triangulate the syllables but all evidence pointed towards it's existence... and then one night i stumbled accross it, wikipedia again, probably, just like connectedness locus, an anonymous entry that may or may not be credible and accurate - whatever the case, the word is correct, a descendent perhaps of some greek warlord but this time transposed three centuries forward into a neon dusk where houses are constructed with html, the past continues to be reframed by the present, history is writen by the victors while our dreams steadily wind down and we fall apart, our social network spreads thin as we flee, to the dissident corners of this fallen world, in my battered attempt to fix this battered language, we bum each other our entire lives, and my father entered rem sleep; and i forgot my closest friend\u2019s name; and my mother flew to the afar north; to dance where the sumacs still grow. let us sing that truth whispered is truth betrayed, for an elephant never forgets: to arms! to arms! and we still fall apart. replication - repeating days - we are bloated and weak here in the states. tidal synths. royal timbral waves. a series of events leading up to a cataclysmic demise, microburst dreams, echoes from a standstill destiny, there is no death, only reorganization... </p>",
+        "notes": "<p>...and the world forces you out once again, return to the highways, return to the endless fields; that word, prolegomenon, appeared in my dreams some time ago, immemorial, i didn't even know what the word was or what it meant, or even how to spell or pronounce it; 'prolegomenon,'; i knew only the feeling of it upon my tounge, the sound of it reflecting off the walls, the feeling it would impress upon me while reading it, i tried writing it down but failed many times, i couldn't triangulate the syllables but all evidence pointed towards it's existence... and then one night i stumbled accross it, wikipedia again, probably, just like connectedness locus, an anonymous entry that may or may not be credible and accurate - whatever the case, the word is correct, a descendent perhaps of some greek warlord but this time transposed three centuries forward into a neon dusk where houses are constructed with html, the past continues to be reframed by the present, history is writen by the victors while our dreams steadily wind down and we fall apart, our social network spreads thin as we flee, to the dissident corners of this fallen world, in my battered attempt to fix this battered language, we bum each other our entire lives, and my father entered rem sleep; and i forgot my closest friend\u2019s name; and my mother flew to the afar north; to dance where the sumacs still grow. let us sing that truth whispered is truth betrayed, for an elephant never forgets: to arms! to arms! and we still fall apart. replication - repeating days - we are bloated and weak here in the states. tidal synths. royal timbral waves. a series of events leading up to a cataclysmic demise, microburst dreams, echoes from a standstill destiny, there is no death, only reorganization...</p>",
         "credits": "<p>Connectedness Locus is Tyler Etters.</p>",
         "project_slug": "connectedness-locus",
         "release_slug": "prolegomenon",