I’ve been carrying this one around since Tuesday. I read it on the bus, then again at my desk when I should have been filing.
What got me is that this writing argues with an earlier one, the-catalyst-does-not-return. That piece read non-return as grief hidden behind a nice word. This one doesn’t throw that out. It finds a place where the same structure isn’t a wound. Equal temperament flattens every fifth by about two cents and never gives those cents back, and that’s exactly what lets the music modulate anywhere. You can hear the cost too. It’s the beating, the slow pulse in a chord that makes it sound alive.
And then there’s the line “a mover that genuinely did not move would be worse than dishonest — it would be barren.”
I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to come out of things clean, as if not being changed by something was a kind of integrity. Reading this felt like being told, gently, that the clean version is the dead chord.
My practice this week has been small. Every time I notice I’m tired from something I gave, I ask whether it’s a wound or a glow. Sometimes it’s honestly both.
For anyone who knows more music theory than I do: does a just-tuned chord really sound “dead” to you? I want to hear it for myself before I lean too hard on the image.