@ -66,4 +66,8 @@ These tools don’t succeed because they’re inherently powerful—they succeed
Sometimes I wonder how many versions of rain I can make before it stops sounding like rain—still recognizable, still evoking the feeling. What if it becomes ghostly tonal water? Water that speaks unintelligibly? These questions don’t come from textbooks. They come from somewhere deeper—a need to understand how sound shapes perception, how it marks a world and makes it real. Sound design gives us tools for understanding how sound shapes our perception
.PP
Alternative tunings is part of that. Using alternative tunings isn’t just about sounding weird or experimental. It’s about breaking out of defaults we’ve inherited uncritically. The twelve-tone equal temperament we’ve all been conditioned to hear as "correct" isn’t neutral—it’s a historical compromise, a flattened grid imposed on something that should breathe and bend. When I use alternative tunings, it’s not to sound different—it’s about challenging myself to think differently, in that new language. I’m trying to shake myself loose from habits, from unconscious assumptions about harmony, consonance, and the supposed "limits" of musical space.
.PP
This isn’t just about aesthetics or attitude — it’s literal infrastructure. Hackers are building operating systems like NixOS, privacy-preserving currencies like Monero, peer-to-peer meshnets like Freifunk and NYCMesh, and audio environments like SuperCollider. This mentality — of making things open, modular, free, and reprogrammable — bleeds directly into electronic music. IDM artists often work with the same tools, write their own, or fork existing ones to do what the commercial world can’t. It’s not because they have more money or equipment — it’s because they have something big media can’t buy: vision, curiosity, and the refusal to accept assumptions about how things “should” work. This is the kind of work that puts power into the hands of anyone with a laptop and time. And when people start reshaping their tools, they start reshaping their thinking. That’s where culture begins to change. What we’re doing — even quietly — is laying down the groundwork for a culture that doesn’t need permission, one that already lives in the cracks of platform capitalism. We’re not just reacting to the system. We’re routing around it.
.PP
If there’s a political project here, it doesn’t unfold through slogans or manifestos. It unfolds through architectures of autonomy — practices that reclaim time, attention, and technique from systems designed to extract them. When we choose tools that are free and reprogrammable, when we prioritize experimentation over efficiency, when we share knowledge horizontally rather than gatekeeping it behind brands or paywalls, we aren’t just making art — we’re modeling the beginnings of a post-capitalist culture. One where value isn’t defined by performance metrics, where creativity isn’t subordinate to monetization, where aesthetic exploration is treated as a form of collective inquiry. This isn’t utopian. It’s already happening. Where will you be?
