“He said that in the 19th century mankind had come to terms with space, and that the great question of the 20th was the coexistence of different concepts of time.”

— Sandor Krasna from Sans Soleil

Time, it seems, is a word used to describe a spectrum of phenomena both elliptical and linear: the rotations and orbits of planets, the passing of seasons, tidal cycles, the expansion of the universe, the finite durations of our own lives and those around us. Perhaps the concept of time is frequently misapplied and our perceptions suffer as a result. Our minds and senses are filters through which we separate signal from noise. Can these filters be trusted?

In this age of quarantine it is inevitable that we each find our ways into our own inner worlds, either by happenstance or intention. Time has become both like a static cube and a flowing river. Lack of novelty robs us of the signposts of memory. Seasons pass, but nothing happens. We are trapped in an infinite present where movement and stasis blur. The outer world is shut off to us, that particular band of experience narrowed. But the inner world, The Closed World, is still available, lest we forget. The door is ajar, it beckons. We must open it, and breathe that sweet air again, at last.

This music is an attempt to both reconnect with that inner world, The Closed World, and to create something that points beyond it.