Tungsten74 | Aleatory Element

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Rock: Instrumental Rock Rock: Psychedelic Moods: Type: Improvisational
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Aleatory Element

by Tungsten74

Missive #3 (2xCD): two hours of deep space exploration, tribal ritualism, superliminal ambience, riff-rock brutality, all leading up to the conclusive face-to-face encounter; and then some.
Genre: Rock: Instrumental Rock
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
1. Trojan Carjacker
2:06 $0.99
2. Didjetaldroo
6:17 $0.99
3. Grab the Slider
2:27 $0.99
4. Blurry Trees: the Song
8:46 $0.99
5. The Revolution Will Begin Next Semester
5:39 $0.99
6. Slide the Grabber
3:12 $0.99
7. Guyzilla
6:24 $0.99
8. Drum Solo
3:16 $0.99
9. Sample Robot Argument
13:39 $0.99
10. Guitar Solo
2:17 $0.99
11. The Third Song the Aliens Gave Us
6:18 $0.99
12. N.G.
1:53 $0.99
13. A Natural Tendency Against Mixing
4:35 $0.99
14. Bass Solo
3:52 $0.99
15. Tradin' Paint
8:13 $0.99
16. Mating Habits of the North American Finless Brown Trout
7:19 $0.99
17. Get Awesome!
1:43 $0.99
18. We Didn't Know It Was a Mutiny Until It Failed
10:34 $0.99
19. Live at the Greenhouse
5:59 $0.99
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.


Album Notes

Long time! How are you? I think the last time I had the pleasure was at that sordid soiree at the after hours club following the Xmas party where S-- got arrested. We were young then, weren't we Richie? Young and bulletproof.

Enough frivolty. I think you know why I'm writing. SOF put me on this Tungsten74 story and I think I've stumbled on something serious. I don't think SOF realized what he was getting into, either, he thought it was to be your basic profile piece, favourite colours and such. It's still growing, like that weed that swallows abandoned railway stations deep in the Auld South. I think SOF's on his way to a nervous breakdown; he knows he can't take me off this thing, and he keeps telling me to wrap it up, though he knows there's no chance that's going to happen. Plus you know how he feels about expenses-I'm flying out to New Mexico tonight for the second time in a fortnight after the first trip proved fruitless.

I've dug up a lot of pieces, but none of them seems to fit together-and that, my dear Richard, is where you come in. I need you to tell me whatever you're allowed to about THE DEVICE. Hopefully, I'll be able to make a few connections with whatever information you can provide. Other than that, well, I'm beginning to accept the idea that we may never fully understand the scope of this thing, and when I say "we" I mean all involved, including the latest characters in this inscrutable tale: the members and management of Tungsten74.

Before we get to what I know, let me interject something here: do NOT insult my widely-renowned intelligence by telling me that you do not know of what I write. We've known each other too long for that, Rich. If you can't talk about it, tell me you can't talk about it, maybe even tell me why, but don't tell me you don't know about it. And keep in mind that whomever or whatever you may be protecting wouldn't return the favour if the sky turned green, particularly M--, the first candidate for such discretionary courtesy who comes to mind. You know damn well he wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire.

So here's how we'll do this: I'll tell you everything I know, starting with the origin of THE DEVICE, you'll tell me whatever you can about its purpose, origin, capabilities and current location. Who knows, you may even learn a tidbit or two from the facts I've collected.

This much is known about THE DEVICE: it was originally intended for musical purposes, before the full extent its sonic capabilities became known and seem to have inspired diabolical schemes in the minds of more than a few; it was designed and built by an eleven-year-old boy; it may or may not have made its way to the vicinity of Amarillo, TX (where one imagines the locals being relatively unfazed by such a thing in their midst, considering the nature of the predominant local industry in the latter half of the previous century). Everything else is speculation, some of which I'm hoping either you or Watt can confirm or dispell (and yes, I am quite aware of his involvement, and no, I wasn't surprised; you know the ins and outs of his questionable moral system as well as I, perhaps better).

To wit:

Around July 1998 a boy known at this point only as Noah begins experimenting with audio electronics, primarily for musical pursuits. He quickly discovers an aptitude for it, an almost inborn proficiency, and the scope of his designs broadens exponentially. As it passes the boundaries of what would, in the field, be considered "radical", he moves from music to audio art to the pure science of sound, a dangerous and remarkably underexplored territory. His father, while at first encouraging his progeny's intellectually promising pursuits, soon grows apprehensive toward the direction in which the boy's work appears to be moving. A religious man, he turns to a higher force for guidance: encourage the budding genius; or try to steer him toward other pursuits, Little League perhaps, forcibly if necessary, before it's too late?

One night, late 1999, he wanders into the boy's workshop for a look around, to provide context for his contemplations, as he is wont to do (for the boy's potential plight now consumes him), and finds one of the devices quietly chattering in the corner. Some accounts have this device as THE DEVICE, others as simply one of the boy's many half-finished experiments. A seemingly unimportant detail, but could give some clues as to the range of capabilities built into THE DEVICE. Accounts vary as to whether the object making these edge-of-audibility sounds was actually designed to receive and amplify radio waves (and in turn, whether THE DEVICE itself is designed to do same), and I'm willing to accept either possibility. At first glance, the image of sounds emenating from a mechanism designed for tasks unrelated to making them appears to carry uncomfortably heavy-handed overtones of divine inspiration, especially considering the details that follow, but it's not an unheard of phenomenon, as anyone who's ever heard disjointed voices erupt suddenly from, say, a guitar amplifier can attest.

What's important at this point is the content of the broadcast. Pere Noah, drawn by... curiosity? dread? panic? immaculate impulse? No matter, really, what matters is that he investigates further and is treated to a broadcast, religious in nature, which penetrates a weak point in his already brittle psyche. Believing that some mysterious radio preacher railing against the evils of music and musicians is in fact a message from the beyond, the man violently disassembles his son's workshop.

One can only imagine the sense of loss felt by young Noah when he arrives home to find his work destroyed. Perhaps he begins by sobbing upon the cluttered floor, continues by quietly cursing the overbearing patriarch responsible for the scene before him (for there can be no doubt as to the culprit, the man's disapproval having been adequately expressed on more than one occasion), and finally hunts about for a piece to salvage from his work.

THE DEVICE is spared. Whether it survives intact or is repaired by the boy is, again, unimportant. What is important is that the man moves his family to southern New Mexico, where they reside to this day. The boy retains a clandestine interest in electronics, and spends his nights broadcasting pleas for contact from intelligent life on a ham radio, a lonely voice reciting a mailing address over and over.

Perhaps his transmission is heard, for he somehow comes in contact with a professor of electrical engineering at nearby New Mexico State University. How the two actually met is unknown, but the professor senses a potential prodigy in the works, and engages the boy in a discussion of his electronic designs. At some point in their relationship, the professor comes into possession of THE DEVICE, perhaps requesting an opportunity to study it further. What does he discover? I would ask him, but I cannot, for he has disappeared. Vanished, Richard, without so much as a vapour trail behind him. He will not be the last of those who come into contact with THE DEVICE to go astray.

As the professor is concurrently involved in a project of a time-sensitive nature, it is decided that some of his works in progress will be taken up by his frequent research partner, a fellow professor at a university somewhere in the southeastern United States, while the missing man of science is located. Several dozen boxes of materials from his lab are loaded into a truck and driven off into the night. Among them is THE DEVICE.

Approximately seven hours after the truck departs, several truck drivers report receiving a frighteningly incoherent transmission through their citizen band radios. A crazed voice whoops, hollers and speaks in tongues. It seems that a fellow driver is going mad before their very ears. It is now believed that this voice was that of the driver of the professor's truck, and that he was somewhere on Interstate 40, in either northern Texas or Oklahoma, when he began broadcasting his rapidly deteriorating thoughts. Neither he nor the truck have been seen since.

The end of the trail? Not quite. Here's where your boys come in. Around the end of the year, having explored every dead end available, investigators on another case "accidentally" (their term, presumably because they do not wish to reveal details of their own case, but you and I are well aware of the Bureau's methods and attendant ethics) intercept a wireless phone call from a recording engineer in Amarillo, TX. In a voice filled with awe, the engineer describes a new piece of equipment at his studio which seems to bear an uncanny resemblance to THE DEVICE. He has been experimenting with it, and, thankfully, his description greatly augments our understanding of THE DEVICE's capabilities. Perhaps we could ask him to elaborate, or to simply hand over THE DEVICE.

Alas, the engineer has vanished.

As you have no doubt surmised, Richie, the engineer in question is RD, which brings us to you and Tungsten74. The boy has been catatonic since the disappearance of the professor, perhaps wracked with guilt, blaming himself, perhaps suffering from the aftereffects of an unpleasant session in the presence of THE DEVICE. His father refuses to cooperate either with investigative authorities or with any of those attempting to proffer medical treatment unto his son. The professor, the driver and the engineer are nowhere to be found. This leaves the band, and you.

I realise that RD's disappearance has been hard on everyone involved, which is why it is of the utmost importance that you tell me everything. Your unsuspecting musician friends may be in danger. Call me as soon as you get this. If I haven't heard from you in 48 hours, I will assume that you have, in fact gotten your hands on the THE DEVICE and are, as is the fashion, inexplicably unavailable. I can only hope we are not too late.




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