My desire to write new music is usually triggered by any of these stimuli:
A happy accident
A synesthetic experience
A mundane necessity
With Sarrasin, it was the second case. I was messing around with the arpeggiator of a virtual synthesizer when I stumbled across the first bars. It was like finding a golden coin on the sidewalk. From then on, the mainframe of the track was written almost in real time.
After having the harmony and the structure, what was left to do is what I jokingly call “fill in the blanks”: a sometimes thrilling and many times dreadful job of beat sequencing, synth programming, adding and subtracting, mixing, etc.
I don’t finish a track, I just leave it when I realise that, after a week or two, every new thing I do is erased to go back to the previous square. So I have to live with my current incompetence (or competence, to be positive) and hope for something better in the future; but, in the present day, I must admit that nothing more will be accomplished.
I feel uncomfortable with my music if it doesn’t have a title. It’s like having a newborn baby with no name! Usually the title will come to me quite easily, but this wasn’t the case. So I followed in the footsteps of one of my idols from the 80’s, The Durutti Column:
I looked in the French Revolutionary Calendar.
That day was october 9th. Sarrasin. I fell in love with the word and its resonances.
Nonetheless, I didn’t know how to end the track (to be continued).