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Galloping Through A Wormhole

by ZM

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Art is Hard 07:23
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about

In march of 2020 my great-grandma turned 100 years old. The last social gathering I attended before the pandemic was her birthday party; a typical midwestern celebration complete with pastel green and pink gelatinous desserts. The last conversation I had with my grandma consisted of her explaining in impressive detail her experience hallucinating that one of the nurses who would help her was actually the pillsbury dough boy. She was the most stoic person I have ever met, seemingly sharp as a tac even when narrating her own mind’s deterioration. Already toying with esoteric ideas of spirituality, I was drawn into her world, one where the realities of life and the subsequent augmentations that come with it are neither good nor bad, but are ultimately experienced alone. This was just a couple weeks before I was set to leave for a 10 day silent meditation retreat, which I explained to my aunt, which caused her to tell me about her experiences with solitude and her interest in a particular youtube channel in which a woman channels her dead husband as a means of giving spiritual guidance to those in need. My aunt spends most of her time alone. The day following the party, my phone unexpectedly died, and suddenly. Like, completely gone, nothing. It died just as I was calling guitarcenter to see if they had a cable I needed, but I decided to bike there anyway. Of course, they didn’t have the cable, so I had to try another store. As I rode, I saw a shirtless guy outside of a whole foods dancing next to a cart with a sign on it. I am usually shy with strangers, especially shirtless ones, so I just kept going. After finding out the other place I was checking for that stupid cable was closed, something motivated me to go back and talk to the shirtless guy. So I did, and it turns out he had gotten rid of all his possessions and money and decided to just walk around the world for the rest of his life. He had been walking for over 2 years, and wouldn’t accept money from anyone. I offered to buy him food and he only wanted 1 package of baby cucumbers.

Fast-forward a couple weeks, I am days away from leaving for my retreat, and with all these strange universal signs pointing me towards solitude, it was starting to feel like I was tuning into the universe or that something substantial was going to shift in me and how I relate to reality. Unfortunately this was the beginning of the initial quarantine due to the pandemic, my retreat was cancelled, along with everything in the world. Everyone had to stop doing what they were doing and stay inside, and in many cases, be alone. We all know what this felt like, we all experienced it. I had a yearning for solitude, for things to stop, and I got it. Am I to blame for the entire pandemic? Possibly.

What does this have to do with Galloping Through a Wormhole? Both everything and nothing, obviously. I spent the next year spending most of my time alone, in my room, trying to figure out what I was feeling and what to do with those feelings. There was a lot of anxiety, and the only thing that really helped me was disappearing into music. Oftentimes it didn’t even feel good in the moment, I would make something and feel like it was horrible, and question what the point in doing anything was. But occasionally, I would feel safe. I would feel warmth. And I would feel these things from something I created. Something that came from inside me. This album is those things. I don’t want to suggest that this music has any healing powers or even benefit to anyone else except me, but rather I would love the listener to observe it as an artifact of a human being using themselves to heal, to feel connected, and to survive just a little bit longer.

credits

released April 23, 2021

Music: Zach Moore
Album Art: Geena Berry

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Parlour Tapes+ Chicago, Illinois

Parlour Tapes+ is Chicago's first contemporary art music tape label.

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