Sequences seem to stand out­side of music. They can be effi­cient­ly char­ac­ter­ized as the rela­tion­ship between any two of the chords they con­tain. As pat­terns, they do not move through har­mon­ic space, but rather occu­py all pos­si­ble places with­in it at once. Face­less, they stretch to infinity.

This piece began as a field of major- and minor-sev­enth chord sequences, allowed to grow on their own accord­ing to some sim­ple prob­a­bil­i­ties. Amongst them, I have tried to find, or cul­ti­vate, a kind of decayed nature doc­u­men­tary music, shot through here and there by a macabre piano concerto.

In their midst, I have built a lit­tle office: I have voiced chords and imposed rhythms; I have stretched and com­pressed har­monies; I have orches­trat­ed. Always, though, there is a sense that this field pre­cedes us and the music we make.