• soundcloud link

• tracks: 36

• length: 1 hour, 24 minutes and 33 seconds

• mixing style: harmonic

• Claude Artifact

Although this mix seemingly affirms the "going out" lifestyle, a certain event in my recent past—literally, less than 3 weeks ago!—has impelled me to firmly close that chapter of my life. For example: despite what the "Naughty Water" song suggests, i do NOT need to go to a club to get a hug 😅 Nevertheless, i still wanted to produce Jort Peff for the sake of the art and what it could teach me. In some ways, this proves to me that i can enjoy going out vibes without actually stepping outside.

Additionally, i tried my very best to be mindful of the content and its themes; but, frankly speaking, suggestive vibes come with the territory LOL

Finally, most of the songs in Jort Peff fall on the tamer side of my musical preference's current form. Should your curiosity conquer you, check out "Fading to Black (Bart Skils Remix)" for taste of my taste hehe 😋

Observe what you feel in regard to art and why. Select particular novels, paintings and, perhaps, sculptures because those are easiest to identify conceptually. (Music is very important but very difficult to translate into firm concepts.) Observe yourself as honestly as you can. You are the only judge, jury, prosecutor and defender of your aesthetic reactions. When you feel a strong emotion about some work of art, ask yourself:

What do i like about it, and why?

That might give you some idea of your basic metaphysical convictions because a sense of life presents your metaphysics but in the form of emotions not conscious convictions.

~ Ayn Rand, Answers (page 173)

Creative acts consist of peculiar transmutations in which seemingly trivial entities reveal themselves as profound gateways. When i first encountered Rand's words (c.f. epigraph), a calling crystallized within me. Despite the challenge of translating music into firm concepts as she notes: perhaps, that difficulty itself holds the key.

Beyond the technical challenge or the evident social currency of DJ culture, something more primordial and more essential draws me to the art of mixing. Upon reflection, i discovered a deep affinity for art that organically stands as an integrated whole in which each element exists because of, through and for the others. Naturally, this love tangibly manifests as a keen—but admittedly untrained!—eye for sculpture, but dance mix represents an equally pure yet clearly more intangible means of satiating this aesthetic hunger.

in Jort Peff, 36 songs must surrender their individual sovereignty to become something greater: a vibrational organism that breathes with its of own unified life force

This expository essay emerges from a rather extended experiment in philosophical archaeology—excavating universal meaning from the rubble of failures and discovering wisdom in the silent spaces between beats. Through this inquiry, i learned: my body certainly knows things that my mind cannot articulate (c.f. archés mēns for my first thoughts on minds). The embodied anxiety of an approaching difficult transition clearly evidences the existence of a species of knowledge that precedes language.

{pic}

I shall reconsider human knowledge by starting from the fact: we can know more than we can tell.

~ Michael Polanyi, The Tacit Dimension (page 4)

What Polanyi refers to as "tacit knowledge"—that vast yet ineffable reservoir of understanding through which we navigate the world—manifests when my fingers start orchestrating the transition into next track. Then, i certainly feel as if i'm engaging with reality at a level deeper than mere conscious thought. Thus, let Jort Peff serve as a meditation; and, each transition, a koan resolving only through embodied experience.

Producing albums and crafting house mixes are fundamentally different beasts posing unique challenges. In my 2 prior album projects (c.f. tempus ousía and archés mēns), each song could stand on its own like individual paintings in a gallery. However, Jort Peff is more like a single tapestry, woven such that each thread necessarily depends on the those preceding it and influences those following it. Thus, the whole becomes an organic entity that substantially transcends mere songs play back-to-back.

For me, the musical workflow breaks down into 3 main phases: planning, mixing and mastering. Depending on whether i'm building an album or sculpting a mix, each phase demands different approaches.

In the planning phase, the magic starts brewing. Basically playing musical Tetris, i test tempos, match keys and experiment with transitions here. Ideally, i create visual cues for my preferred transitions. Each cue serves as breadcrumb for future-me to follow when things get intense.

Planning albums has a more forgiving nature. I only worry about about internal transitions (i.e., for trimming the a song's length without substantially altering it) within each song. External transitions matter less because listeners might skip around anyway. Moreover, it offers me the beautiful flexibility of rearranging the tracks after i record everything. For example: if i deem that a banger fits better as track 3 instead of track 7, i can simply shuffle the deck.

However, mixes represent a completely different game. Every transition matters because each song flows directly into the next. Since this journey lacks a pause button, i thoroughly test both internal and external transitions to make sure everything flows like water because i cannot go back and rearrange things after i start recording the mix. Honestly, the precision and care required for planning mixes makes that of albums seem like child's play.

In the mixing phase, the rubber finally meets the road. I begin recording high-quality versions of everything, while integrating all of the notes and cues that i made during the planning phase. With live wires comes real pressure.

I can work in batches with albums. For example: i can record 5 songs, take a break and record 5 more. Even, if i mess up a song, i can simply restart it during the batch that i'm recording. Pro tip: i leave gaps of silence between takes so that i can efficiently identify new recordings during the mastering phase. Between songs, i can breathe, reset and grab water. As long as i properly name files—believe me: clear naming conventions will save your life—i can easily find what i need later. Additionally, i can always return to the mixing phase if something's not quite right, even, after attempting to master songs.

Yet, mixes require a radically different mindset. I had to record the entire 85-minute journey of Jort Peff in 1 continuous take. The whole thing's toast if i make a critical error on song 35 out of 36. I experienced this first-hand—soul crushing doesn't begin to describe being two-thirds of the way through a perfect mix and botching a transition, but i try in the 'Mistakes and Recovery' chapter. Therefore, throughout the entire mix, i exist in a heightened state of vigilance. I know exactly what comes next, the planned transition and the existence of internal transitions. The stakes are logarithmically higher than those during the same phase for albums. Were the latter like memorizing an individual speech, the former would be like performing a 1-person broadway show.

In the mastering phase, everything gets the final polish. Personally, i feel sonically assaulted when songs hit me with full volume from it very first millisecond. Therefore, i apply subtle crescendos at beginnings and decrescendos at endings to give the listener's ear a gentle handshake instead of a slap.

For albums: mastering involves extracting final recordings from batches, trimming unnecessary silences and applying those volume curves where needed. I export each song in the highest quality format available (currently, .wav or .aiff) and label them with numeric prefixes to maintain chronological order. It's methodical, almost meditative work.

On the other hand, mixes simplify this process but demand different considerations. After trimming non-essential silences from there, i only apply a crescendo at the beginning to ease listeners into the journey and a decrescendo at the end of the mix to gently lower them back to earth. Finally, i export the entire mix as 1 massive file, which i label with the mix's name.

1 file, 1 journey, 1 chance to get it right

Much to my joy, mixing EDM is surprisingly mathematical. However, one only needs an elementary apprehension of arithmetic because 4 beats make a bar, and 4 bars make a phrase. This understanding transforms chaos into structure like how learning the ratios of recipes makes cooking easier.

I learned: 2 songs with vocal elements playing simultaneously almost guarantees discord because the human ear cannot process competing lyrics without wincing. Consequently, i started experiment with looping—huge shoutout to DJ Joshy Josh 🤣 for the initial inspiration! For example: in the transition from "Vertigo" into "Dance Pe Chance", i looped the synth melody for 16 bars solely because the following bars in "Dance Pe Chance" contained vocals. Thus, i can create breathing room needed to let one song gracefully bow out as the other takes center stage.

Understanding song structure differentiates professional mixes from those of the amateur variety—i'll let you judge where i fall, but i am certain that Jort Peff ought to be counted among the latter. Each track anatomically consists of beats (that the kick drum usually defines to set the tempo), bars (groups of 4 beats) and phrases (groups of 4 bars or 16 beats where the real change happens). Start counting along your favorite songs, and you'll begin noticing their predictable evolution: invisible complexity and pared down sections, all following this invisible mathematical framework.

Furthermore, major elements like melodies and vocals have their own phrase lengths, which you can usually divide by 4—magic number alert! For example: a vocal might run for 8 beats within a 16-beat phrase and either repeat twice during the phrase or return at the beginning of the next phrase. After internalizing these patterns, you can start conducting an orchestra of structured sound.

Recognizing the different purposes of different phrases radically transforms your mixes. Intro offer drum-heavy sections built for beatmatching. Verse establish the track's soul and build towards something bigger. The chorus—often called "the drop" in dance music—makes memories, and crowds lose their minds here. Breaks and bridges strip things back, creating tension before the next explosion. Risers build anticipation with arpeggiating sounds, making your heart racing. Finally, outros give you the exit ramp necessary for smoothly blending into the next track's intro.

After understanding this structure, waveforms become your roadmap. These visual representations are information-dense guides that show you exactly where the kick drums live (i.e., in the high sections) and where they down (i.e., in the low sections). They help you instantly identify key moments, efficiently place cue points and effectively deem whether tracks will play nicely together.

The human mind recognizes patterns incredibly well; so, even, casual listeners will notices mixes outside the phrases. Even, if they can't articulate why, something will feel wrong. But, pure magic flows when you nail phrase-matched transitions, the kind that makes people go 😮‍💨

Creating this mix became an exercise in avoiding disharmony at all costs. Earlier versions included transitions that made me physically cringe. After identifying exactly why certain transitions felt off, i started strategically leaving cues for myself: little reminders of what to avoid and how to blend better.

Good mixing effectively amounts to audible architecture because you must balance high, mids and lows like you're constructing a building. For example: if you isolate the high frequencies of two songs while muting everything else, you create a awkwardly thin sound. Since each range of frequency serves a purpose, the absence of one creates a vacuum that listeners can physically experience. Thus, build-ups typically drop the low end—that missing bass creates tension in your chest, which results in the sweet release of the eventual beat drop.

The best DJ's are masters of tensions who wield this push-pull dynamic like legerdemains. Too much consistency breeds boredom—imagine: 90 minutes of the same note, the same energy level, the same sonic texture. Even, with more variety, playing 1 style of high, mid and low throughout creates a similar—if subtler—fatigue. More than life's spice, variety is the secret ingredient that keeps mixes alive and breathing.

Like discovering the temperatures of colors, harmonic mixing helped me completely evolve my DJ dynamic. With The Camelot Wheel (i.e., a DJ-friendly version of The Circle of Fifths), i started mixing songs according to their musical keys. Sometimes, i'd move up, down or across 1 position to create naturally smooth transitions. Other times, i move up 2 or 7 positions to change the energy. And, occasionally: i'd deliberately jump around just to break the patterns and keep things interesting.

{pic}

The Camelot Wheel simplifies complex music theory into something you can use in real-time while thinking on your feet. For example: instead of remembering that B-flat major harmonizes with F major, you only need to know that 6B works with 7B. What simple elegance!

Although certainly not infallible, the DJay Pro software helped me tremendously. Still, you must remember: everyone hears music differently. Even, if you brought 2 musicians into the same room, they'll surely disagree about the keys of particular songs. Trust the tools, but trust your ears more.

If you would spare me a moment to express a wee bit of pride, i am delighted that i could blend Indian songs with house music (aka വീട്ടിലെ സംഗീതം 🤣🤣). I can confidently say: very few—if any!!—mixes like this exist. It pushes boundaries to create something that shouldn't work on paper but absolutely works in practice.

Instead of rigidly adhering to its rules, effectively using harmonic mixing necessitates understanding when to follow them and when to break them. Smooth mixing using adjacent keys creates those long, organic blends that feel like one song morphing into another. Energy boost mixing (i.e., jumping 2 or 7 position) suddenly elevates moments, so it's perfect for peak-time sets. Strategically combining both techniques lets you craft journey that naturally ebb and flow but maintain harmonic coherence.

The final recording that i published is version 4. Although versions 1 and 3 had relatively minor infractions early in the mix (the kind of mistakes for which restarting feels justified instead of painful), version 2 nearly broke me. Naturally, allow me to take you inside that spectacular failure 🫠 because it taught me about time, memory and the weight of accumulated investment.

Picture this: i'm 62 minutes into—what feels like—the best mix i've ever created: every transition has landed perfectly, every energy shift has evolved organically, every risky harmonic jump resolved beautifully. In that rare alignment where technical execution and creative flow merge into something transcendent, my body knows that this is the one. The imaginary crowd in my mind is losing their minds, and i'm shepherding them to the climactic final act.

"So Baby"—a rather modern Tamil song that blends classical sounds with a relaxed yet up tempo beat—winds down, while "Push The Tempo (Remix)"—a rising song that follows its name that leads into "Aaj Ki Raat", which is the highest bpm song of the entire mix—waits cued up. The entire final third of the mix pivotally hinges upon this transition. I start to bring in the new track, and then—

The new vocals lay right on top of the old vocals. Complete discord. Utter Disharmony. Everything's wrong.

As the 2 songs clash, my chest physically contract. 2 incompatible realities try to occupy the same space, yet they only created dissonance. I scramble to correct it, but nothing can fix it. I couldn't just restart from "So Baby" because, inseparable from this failure, those 62 minutes of perfection were locked in the past now. The mix exists as a temporal whole, so this collision retroactively tainted every beautiful moment that inexorably led up to it.

This particular species of failure uniquely afflicts time-based creative works. While writers can delete and rewrite wayward paragraphs, DJ's who are mixing live create art this exists in time and as time. This failure extends beyond the moment in which occurs to reach backward and poisons everything that came before it.

Yet, like gold hidden in a wreckage, this complete failure taught me about resilience and grit. When i started version 3 the next day, i wasn't just repeating the same 62 minutes. Rather, i created them anew. Failure informed the final product, but it neither determines nor defines it. The memory of how these songs could go wrong imbued each of them with new meanings. I intimately knew the fragility of the whole mix, so it all became richer and more precious.

Resilience compounds. Each mistake can instructively lead you to your vulnerabilities. After each failure: i'd immediately analyze what went wrong, strategize how to avoid it next time and execute that strategy with increasing precision. Each mistake became a data point on my map to success.

As the mix approaches its conclusion, the pressure intensifies exponentially. You carry the weight of every successful transition thus far because one slip could invalidate all of it. Nevertheless, you cannot relax your manual dexterity or mental acuity.

Real growth happened when i learned how to consciously stay composed as the finish line approached—as "Let Go" becomes "Love Like This (Remix)", then "Away From You", then "That Groove"—without arriving yet. Maintaining motivation without stumbling requires a particular kind of mental fortitude. You can't get cocky because you're almost done, but you also can't let anxiety about potential failure cause the very mistake you must avoid.

meditation in motion, presence under pressure, zen in the zone

Allow me to be transparent about AI's role in this project. I used Anthropic's Claude during the planning phase to determine setlist order of Jort Peff, and the conversation artifact (c.f., referential metadata) from that initial brainstorming session testifies to that collaboration. Together, we eliminated 9 songs from my initial shortlist and focused the mix into something more cohesive.

Claude helped me initially brainstorm transitions, but i ultimately chose each one according to my own taste and what felt right in the moment. It explored the styles of different DJ's i admire so that i could draw inspiration from various sources but maintain my unique voice. Perhaps, most brilliantly, it helped me work within specific constraints—i desired to design a mix for yacht party with my Port Jeff friends, which influence the song selection along with the mix's very name :)

However, to be painfully explicit: AI gave me leverage, but i did not give it the autopilot. It helped me explore possibilities, validate ideas and spot missed patterns than i otherwise could have done so. But, all of the creative risk-taking fell on my shoulders.

Jort Peff proves: AI offers more than mere essay writing and question answering. (Though, to be honest, you could easily summarize my life's work as: writing essays about useful answer discovered after asking useless questions 🤣). AI is an exponential force multiplier unlike anything we've seen before.

Philosophically, tool use probes the nature of creativity, authorship and human agency—especially, during the age of artificial intelligence. Strictly speaking, i strive to take the anti-Luddite position on all such matters (shoutout to all of my David Deutsch-inspired, Beginning of Infinity boys!). Thus, when i claim that Claude helped me transform this project from impossible to possible, i am documenting a fundamental shift in how human creativity manifests in the 21st century.

Paradoxically, rather than boosting returns, leverage amplifies them in both directions: thus, the bad becomes worse; and, the good, better. Every tool throughout history extended human capability. For example: the hammer extends the fist, and the telescope extends the eye. But, AI offers us the ability to extend cognition itself.

When i fed Claude my chaotic list of potential songs, it reflected back my own aesthetic sense with a clarified coherence that would take me significantly longer to achieve it—if i could achieve at all! Showing me what could be, it helped me see what i reached towards yet couldn't quite yet grasp.

If Michelangelo used assistants to help carve his sculptures, we'd still refer to them as Michelangelo's. If a conductor doesn't play a single instrument, we'd still credit him with the symphony's performance. If a writer types out each word with his keyboard—as i am doing right now lol—instead of scratching out each word with his bare finger, we'd still say that he wrote the poem. However, something feels different about AI collaboration—perhaps because it touches on ideation as well as execution? When Claude clued me that certain transitions would create harmonic dissonance, was that its insight or mine latent—waiting to be resurfaced?

I currently conceive of AI as a conversational partner that never tires, judges or forgets. Furthermore, it reflects my own voice through a prism to speak, showing me facets of my own thinking that i couldn't perceive directly. More than data quality, the GIGO principle (i.e., garbage in, garbage out) necessitates a clear vision pursued intentionally along with the courage to engage with one's own aesthetic convictions.

The Ancient Greeks had term called technē, which expresses the concept of craftsmanship combining technical skill with creative knowledge. What's playing out in front our eyes isn't the replacement of human technē with AI but its evolution. Now, the skill includes knowing how to dance with artificial intelligence—when to lead and when to follow—along with how to maintain creative sovereignty while embracing collaborative amplification. AI doesn't necessarily make us lazy, but it demands us to become clearer about our intentions, more precise about our visions and more honest about what we're trying to create.

If your curiosity draws you to improving your skill with AI or any tool, you must play with it. Don't just read or watch tutorials about it—play! Identify your natural modes of learning and creation; and, then: work within those constraints. In my current form, mixing music represents one of the ways that i play. And, my thinking style tends toward convergent and initially fragile thinking patterns (i measured these back during the spring of 2022, so i'd bet that they've evolved to more balanced and anti-fragile tendencies since then; however, an exposition of thinking styles rests firmly outside of the bounds of this essay 🤠). All of which prove that anyone can develop these skills.

You live like royalty in an age of unprecedented abundance—tools everywhere, knowledge at your fingertips, communities ready to help. You have no excuse if you can't pick this up. To be blunt: if you don't move while someone like me lap you, that's on you. Acknowledge your skill issue, and figure it out.

None of Jort Peff happened in isolation; however, although true, that statement doesn't fully capture the radical reality of distributed creativity that this project demonstrated to me. The mix you hear doesn't exist in my actions alone, but it emerges from the entire network of relationships, influences and energy exchanges that reified it. It acknowledges the true nature of how creativity works and challenges our mythology of the isolated genius producing ex nihilo.

When the Nova Fam gave me my first opportunity to touch the decks—and "touch" is doing a lot of work here 🤣—they participated in a creative act that wouldn't fully manifest for 2 years! In fact, "That Groove" (the mix's penultimate song) was one of the many tracks that i spun for them that night! You can find their permission embedded in the mix's DNA. Each time i confidently approach the controller, i draw on the reservoir of belief that they deposited in me that night.

Simren trusted me enough to ask me to play at her 21st birthday before i had any business playing at anyone's anything—not metaphorically but literally. The pressure of that gig taught me how to steady my fingers when the stakes were real, and that muscle memory lives in every transition of this mix. Her faith mysteriously transubstantiated my interests into my competence, and i am only scratching the surface of understanding how!

Mikhail asked me to make "Mick's Tapes" for him, and that desire activated a version of me that could deliver. On a whim, Nathan and i went to the John Summit concert at Soundchek in July 2021. Then, at the end of 2022: the Nova Fam (sans Doug who was on a Japanese excursion at the time 🙃) went to the Chris Lake concert at Echostage. Each of us noticed different things and compared notes afterward. Throughout these collective experiences, i started building a shared vocabulary of what moves us.

also also also—shoutout my lil ones: DJ Brickabella and DJ Brickariah 🥰

However, i got that response from family that i've known for many years—what about those with whom i only recently became homies? Surely, that must be a truer gauge of aptitude!

Among my Port Jeff friends to whom i entirely dedicate this mix (the name alone should confirm that fact) because i am mere days and hours from closing my Long Island chapter, a few deserve special mention. I can always count on RJ to come to the decks and twist the knobs. He fundamentally affected how i think about the knobs and the deck entirely: rather than a barrier to intention, the interface extends it. Then, Tsunis was the first person to suggest that i purchase really good DJ speakers for the next "Rise Above extravaganza", effectively telling me:

Only self-imposed limitation stands between you and realizing greater versions of this dream.

Marco, Bianca, Phil and Lauren—my vibe verifiers :)—through graciously offering their events as pseudo-stages, participated in the creation itself because art without witness remains unactualized potential. Moreover, Daniel and Laura's unsolicited hyping has been integral to the creative process—the former of whom alone put the term jort into my personal lexicon. Their enthusiasm reflected and amplified my enthusiasm, creating a feedback loop that pushed me past my own resistance. When they celebrated my small victories, they called forth what didn't exist yet; and, through present acknowledgment, spoke future achievements into being.

i am because we are.

~ Ubuntu philosophy

To me, distributed creativity means more than the couch of 707 Coventry on which i mixed Jort Peff and more than the empty floor of my bedroom in 1201 Alston on which i planned it. Rather, it refers to the entire field of relationships upholding the mix. As a specific extension of the Ubuntu philosophy, it effectively says:

i create because we create together

The individual artistic genius is a myth, a fictitious figment of your imagination. The seen and the unseen, the credited and the uncredited, the present and the absent—all collaborate in every creative act. Even, you who reads this sentence right now participates in this creation. Your attention completes the circuit. Without witness, the mix never transcends Schrödinger's art: simultaneously successful and failed until observed. Through engaging with these words and ideas, you add your consciousness to the distributed network that brought this work into being.

a fun detail: the length of each song (incl. transition time) roughly averages out to 2 minutes and 21 seconds, which perfectly lands in my preferred sweet spot of 2:15 to 2:30 per track 🤌🏾

Jort Peff operates at multiple levels of understanding like Magic Eye pictures that reveal different images depending on your focus. At the forest level, the takeaway is simple: you can extract profound insights, even, from side quests. At the tree level, immediate lessons about persistence, technical skill and creative expression. If you look closer at the leaf level, you'll notice nuggets about workflow optimization, musical mathematics and the philosophy of tool use.

However, deeper than all of those, there exists the void level in which the deepest takeaways bubble up from the nothingness directly adjacent to what simply is. Let's linger a bit here in this space that's equal parts terrifying and liberating. The Koine Greek term kenosis (κένωσις) often translates to empyting; and, the Sanskrit term śūnyatā (शून्यता), emptiness. However, English unsurprisingly fails to fully capture that concept. Perhaps, instead of the absence of anything, such an empty void refers to the pregnant possibility that precedes all manifestation.

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

~ Michelangelo, a general reflection of artistic process as a sculptor

While mixing, i discovered this void in the most unexpected places—the half-second silence before a drop and the breath between transitional kicks. Full of potential, these voids vibrate with every possible future. As my fingers approach the controller before the first track starts playing, i stand at the precipice of pure possibility. In the playlist of unmixed songs, the entire journey exists as potential. Some songs got mixed and moved, while others got excluded left off the mixtape altogether. Every possible transition, every conceivable emotional arc, every way those 36 final songs could commune with each other—they all wait in the void of potential.

When version 2 crashed and burned, i lost more than an hour's worth of recording. I lost 1 specific actualization, while simultaneously returning to the void where every other actualization still waited for me. The emptiness doesn't judge; it neither mourns the lost version nor celebrates the successful version. Rather, it simply holds the space for what might emerge. When i returned to silence after making a blunder, the void simply whispered:

All possibilities remain. Begin again.

In that starting anew, that willingness to re-enter pure potential, lies the treasure of Jort Peff.

If i flippantly apply what i learned to my unending pursuit of tranquilly living a good life (i.e., the T, the B and the V), i could consider each minute of the 85-minute mix as a year of life—charitably giving me 15 more years than The Psalmist LOL. Like the truly beautiful mix, the examined life well-lived—the only one worth living—consists of highs, mids and lows. It's sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Sometimes, the energy goes up; and, sometimes, down. Sometimes, you swim in an ocean of smiles; and, sometimes: you only look at a sea of frowns.

But, do you want it any other way? Would you really only want the ups? Don't you—like me!—get bored of listening to the same song over and over again, regardless of the height from which it descended to your earbuds?

i genuinely wonder if Jort Peff in its entirety represents another one of the universe's elaborate plans for me to experience voids like these—these moments where the ego dissolves, where the boundary between self and sound becomes permeable, where i transcend being someone making a mix to become the space through which the mix makes itself

After i develop a sustainable competitive advantage in any technē, reaching the world-class level becomes a matter of when not if. My current approach to mastery can be expressed in the following creed:

lest a clear and present need, there's no lead that i'll cede

If i can achieve all of this for a silly side project about mixing house music, imagine the possibilities of applying myself to truly meaningful and worthy endeavors?

[Whatever] is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious—if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise: think about these things.

~ Philippians 4:8 (RSV)

May all glory and honor be to The Blessed Trinity—to The Father from Whom i beg for our forgiveness; to The Son from Whom i beg for our mercy; and, to The Holy Spirit from Whom i beg for our enlightenment—now and always, forever and ever. amin. ☦️

first time reading? please check out the sailing manual for helpful guidance!

• soundcloud link

• tracks: 36

• length: 1 hour, 24 minutes and 33 seconds

• mixing style: harmonic

• Claude Artifact

Although this mix seemingly affirms the "going out" lifestyle, a certain event in my recent past—literally, less than 3 weeks ago!—has impelled me to firmly close that chapter of my life. For example: despite what the "Naughty Water" song suggests, i do NOT need to go to a club to get a hug 😅 Nevertheless, i still wanted to produce Jort Peff for the sake of the art and what it could teach me. In some ways, this proves to me that i can enjoy going out vibes without actually stepping outside.

Additionally, i tried my very best to be mindful of the content and its themes; but, frankly speaking, suggestive vibes come with the territory LOL

Finally, most of the songs in Jort Peff fall on the tamer side of my musical preference's current form. Should your curiosity conquer you, check out "Fading to Black (Bart Skils Remix)" for taste of my taste hehe 😋

Observe what you feel in regard to art and why. Select particular novels, paintings and, perhaps, sculptures because those are easiest to identify conceptually. (Music is very important but very difficult to translate into firm concepts.) Observe yourself as honestly as you can. You are the only judge, jury, prosecutor and defender of your aesthetic reactions. When you feel a strong emotion about some work of art, ask yourself:

What do i like about it, and why?

That might give you some idea of your basic metaphysical convictions because a sense of life presents your metaphysics but in the form of emotions not conscious convictions.

~ Ayn Rand, Answers (page 173)

Creative acts consist of peculiar transmutations in which seemingly trivial entities reveal themselves as profound gateways. When i first encountered Rand's words (c.f. epigraph), a calling crystallized within me. Despite the challenge of translating music into firm concepts as she notes: perhaps, that difficulty itself holds the key.

Beyond the technical challenge or the evident social currency of DJ culture, something more primordial and more essential draws me to the art of mixing. Upon reflection, i discovered a deep affinity for art that organically stands as an integrated whole in which each element exists because of, through and for the others. Naturally, this love tangibly manifests as a keen—but admittedly untrained!—eye for sculpture, but dance mix represents an equally pure yet clearly more intangible means of satiating this aesthetic hunger.

in Jort Peff, 36 songs must surrender their individual sovereignty to become something greater: a vibrational organism that breathes with its of own unified life force

This expository essay emerges from a rather extended experiment in philosophical archaeology—excavating universal meaning from the rubble of failures and discovering wisdom in the silent spaces between beats. Through this inquiry, i learned: my body certainly knows things that my mind cannot articulate (c.f. archés mēns for my first thoughts on minds). The embodied anxiety of an approaching difficult transition clearly evidences the existence of a species of knowledge that precedes language.

{pic}

I shall reconsider human knowledge by starting from the fact: we can know more than we can tell.

~ Michael Polanyi, The Tacit Dimension (page 4)

What Polanyi refers to as "tacit knowledge"—that vast yet ineffable reservoir of understanding through which we navigate the world—manifests when my fingers start orchestrating the transition into next track. Then, i certainly feel as if i'm engaging with reality at a level deeper than mere conscious thought. Thus, let Jort Peff serve as a meditation; and, each transition, a koan resolving only through embodied experience.

Producing albums and crafting house mixes are fundamentally different beasts posing unique challenges. In my 2 prior album projects (c.f. tempus ousía and archés mēns), each song could stand on its own like individual paintings in a gallery. However, Jort Peff is more like a single tapestry, woven such that each thread necessarily depends on the those preceding it and influences those following it. Thus, the whole becomes an organic entity that substantially transcends mere songs play back-to-back.

For me, the musical workflow breaks down into 3 main phases: planning, mixing and mastering. Depending on whether i'm building an album or sculpting a mix, each phase demands different approaches.

In the planning phase, the magic starts brewing. Basically playing musical Tetris, i test tempos, match keys and experiment with transitions here. Ideally, i create visual cues for my preferred transitions. Each cue serves as breadcrumb for future-me to follow when things get intense.

Planning albums has a more forgiving nature. I only worry about about internal transitions (i.e., for trimming the a song's length without substantially altering it) within each song. External transitions matter less because listeners might skip around anyway. Moreover, it offers me the beautiful flexibility of rearranging the tracks after i record everything. For example: if i deem that a banger fits better as track 3 instead of track 7, i can simply shuffle the deck.

However, mixes represent a completely different game. Every transition matters because each song flows directly into the next. Since this journey lacks a pause button, i thoroughly test both internal and external transitions to make sure everything flows like water because i cannot go back and rearrange things after i start recording the mix. Honestly, the precision and care required for planning mixes makes that of albums seem like child's play.

In the mixing phase, the rubber finally meets the road. I begin recording high-quality versions of everything, while integrating all of the notes and cues that i made during the planning phase. With live wires comes real pressure.

I can work in batches with albums. For example: i can record 5 songs, take a break and record 5 more. Even, if i mess up a song, i can simply restart it during the batch that i'm recording. Pro tip: i leave gaps of silence between takes so that i can efficiently identify new recordings during the mastering phase. Between songs, i can breathe, reset and grab water. As long as i properly name files—believe me: clear naming conventions will save your life—i can easily find what i need later. Additionally, i can always return to the mixing phase if something's not quite right, even, after attempting to master songs.

Yet, mixes require a radically different mindset. I had to record the entire 85-minute journey of Jort Peff in 1 continuous take. The whole thing's toast if i make a critical error on song 35 out of 36. I experienced this first-hand—soul crushing doesn't begin to describe being two-thirds of the way through a perfect mix and botching a transition, but i try in the 'Mistakes and Recovery' chapter. Therefore, throughout the entire mix, i exist in a heightened state of vigilance. I know exactly what comes next, the planned transition and the existence of internal transitions. The stakes are logarithmically higher than those during the same phase for albums. Were the latter like memorizing an individual speech, the former would be like performing a 1-person broadway show.

In the mastering phase, everything gets the final polish. Personally, i feel sonically assaulted when songs hit me with full volume from it very first millisecond. Therefore, i apply subtle crescendos at beginnings and decrescendos at endings to give the listener's ear a gentle handshake instead of a slap.

For albums: mastering involves extracting final recordings from batches, trimming unnecessary silences and applying those volume curves where needed. I export each song in the highest quality format available (currently, .wav or .aiff) and label them with numeric prefixes to maintain chronological order. It's methodical, almost meditative work.

On the other hand, mixes simplify this process but demand different considerations. After trimming non-essential silences from there, i only apply a crescendo at the beginning to ease listeners into the journey and a decrescendo at the end of the mix to gently lower them back to earth. Finally, i export the entire mix as 1 massive file, which i label with the mix's name.

1 file, 1 journey, 1 chance to get it right

Much to my joy, mixing EDM is surprisingly mathematical. However, one only needs an elementary apprehension of arithmetic because 4 beats make a bar, and 4 bars make a phrase. This understanding transforms chaos into structure like how learning the ratios of recipes makes cooking easier.

I learned: 2 songs with vocal elements playing simultaneously almost guarantees discord because the human ear cannot process competing lyrics without wincing. Consequently, i started experiment with looping—huge shoutout to DJ Joshy Josh 🤣 for the initial inspiration! For example: in the transition from "Vertigo" into "Dance Pe Chance", i looped the synth melody for 16 bars solely because the following bars in "Dance Pe Chance" contained vocals. Thus, i can create breathing room needed to let one song gracefully bow out as the other takes center stage.

Understanding song structure differentiates professional mixes from those of the amateur variety—i'll let you judge where i fall, but i am certain that Jort Peff ought to be counted among the latter. Each track anatomically consists of beats (that the kick drum usually defines to set the tempo), bars (groups of 4 beats) and phrases (groups of 4 bars or 16 beats where the real change happens). Start counting along your favorite songs, and you'll begin noticing their predictable evolution: invisible complexity and pared down sections, all following this invisible mathematical framework.

Furthermore, major elements like melodies and vocals have their own phrase lengths, which you can usually divide by 4—magic number alert! For example: a vocal might run for 8 beats within a 16-beat phrase and either repeat twice during the phrase or return at the beginning of the next phrase. After internalizing these patterns, you can start conducting an orchestra of structured sound.

Recognizing the different purposes of different phrases radically transforms your mixes. Intro offer drum-heavy sections built for beatmatching. Verse establish the track's soul and build towards something bigger. The chorus—often called "the drop" in dance music—makes memories, and crowds lose their minds here. Breaks and bridges strip things back, creating tension before the next explosion. Risers build anticipation with arpeggiating sounds, making your heart racing. Finally, outros give you the exit ramp necessary for smoothly blending into the next track's intro.

After understanding this structure, waveforms become your roadmap. These visual representations are information-dense guides that show you exactly where the kick drums live (i.e., in the high sections) and where they down (i.e., in the low sections). They help you instantly identify key moments, efficiently place cue points and effectively deem whether tracks will play nicely together.

The human mind recognizes patterns incredibly well; so, even, casual listeners will notices mixes outside the phrases. Even, if they can't articulate why, something will feel wrong. But, pure magic flows when you nail phrase-matched transitions, the kind that makes people go 😮‍💨

Creating this mix became an exercise in avoiding disharmony at all costs. Earlier versions included transitions that made me physically cringe. After identifying exactly why certain transitions felt off, i started strategically leaving cues for myself: little reminders of what to avoid and how to blend better.

Good mixing effectively amounts to audible architecture because you must balance high, mids and lows like you're constructing a building. For example: if you isolate the high frequencies of two songs while muting everything else, you create a awkwardly thin sound. Since each range of frequency serves a purpose, the absence of one creates a vacuum that listeners can physically experience. Thus, build-ups typically drop the low end—that missing bass creates tension in your chest, which results in the sweet release of the eventual beat drop.

The best DJ's are masters of tensions who wield this push-pull dynamic like legerdemains. Too much consistency breeds boredom—imagine: 90 minutes of the same note, the same energy level, the same sonic texture. Even, with more variety, playing 1 style of high, mid and low throughout creates a similar—if subtler—fatigue. More than life's spice, variety is the secret ingredient that keeps mixes alive and breathing.

Like discovering the temperatures of colors, harmonic mixing helped me completely evolve my DJ dynamic. With The Camelot Wheel (i.e., a DJ-friendly version of The Circle of Fifths), i started mixing songs according to their musical keys. Sometimes, i'd move up, down or across 1 position to create naturally smooth transitions. Other times, i move up 2 or 7 positions to change the energy. And, occasionally: i'd deliberately jump around just to break the patterns and keep things interesting.

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The Camelot Wheel simplifies complex music theory into something you can use in real-time while thinking on your feet. For example: instead of remembering that B-flat major harmonizes with F major, you only need to know that 6B works with 7B. What simple elegance!

Although certainly not infallible, the DJay Pro software helped me tremendously. Still, you must remember: everyone hears music differently. Even, if you brought 2 musicians into the same room, they'll surely disagree about the keys of particular songs. Trust the tools, but trust your ears more.

If you would spare me a moment to express a wee bit of pride, i am delighted that i could blend Indian songs with house music (aka വീട്ടിലെ സംഗീതം 🤣🤣). I can confidently say: very few—if any!!—mixes like this exist. It pushes boundaries to create something that shouldn't work on paper but absolutely works in practice.

Instead of rigidly adhering to its rules, effectively using harmonic mixing necessitates understanding when to follow them and when to break them. Smooth mixing using adjacent keys creates those long, organic blends that feel like one song morphing into another. Energy boost mixing (i.e., jumping 2 or 7 position) suddenly elevates moments, so it's perfect for peak-time sets. Strategically combining both techniques lets you craft journey that naturally ebb and flow but maintain harmonic coherence.

The final recording that i published is version 4. Although versions 1 and 3 had relatively minor infractions early in the mix (the kind of mistakes for which restarting feels justified instead of painful), version 2 nearly broke me. Naturally, allow me to take you inside that spectacular failure 🫠 because it taught me about time, memory and the weight of accumulated investment.

Picture this: i'm 62 minutes into—what feels like—the best mix i've ever created: every transition has landed perfectly, every energy shift has evolved organically, every risky harmonic jump resolved beautifully. In that rare alignment where technical execution and creative flow merge into something transcendent, my body knows that this is the one. The imaginary crowd in my mind is losing their minds, and i'm shepherding them to the climactic final act.

"So Baby"—a rather modern Tamil song that blends classical sounds with a relaxed yet up tempo beat—winds down, while "Push The Tempo (Remix)"—a rising song that follows its name that leads into "Aaj Ki Raat", which is the highest bpm song of the entire mix—waits cued up. The entire final third of the mix pivotally hinges upon this transition. I start to bring in the new track, and then—

The new vocals lay right on top of the old vocals. Complete discord. Utter Disharmony. Everything's wrong.

As the 2 songs clash, my chest physically contract. 2 incompatible realities try to occupy the same space, yet they only created dissonance. I scramble to correct it, but nothing can fix it. I couldn't just restart from "So Baby" because, inseparable from this failure, those 62 minutes of perfection were locked in the past now. The mix exists as a temporal whole, so this collision retroactively tainted every beautiful moment that inexorably led up to it.

This particular species of failure uniquely afflicts time-based creative works. While writers can delete and rewrite wayward paragraphs, DJ's who are mixing live create art this exists in time and as time. This failure extends beyond the moment in which occurs to reach backward and poisons everything that came before it.

Yet, like gold hidden in a wreckage, this complete failure taught me about resilience and grit. When i started version 3 the next day, i wasn't just repeating the same 62 minutes. Rather, i created them anew. Failure informed the final product, but it neither determines nor defines it. The memory of how these songs could go wrong imbued each of them with new meanings. I intimately knew the fragility of the whole mix, so it all became richer and more precious.

Resilience compounds. Each mistake can instructively lead you to your vulnerabilities. After each failure: i'd immediately analyze what went wrong, strategize how to avoid it next time and execute that strategy with increasing precision. Each mistake became a data point on my map to success.

As the mix approaches its conclusion, the pressure intensifies exponentially. You carry the weight of every successful transition thus far because one slip could invalidate all of it. Nevertheless, you cannot relax your manual dexterity or mental acuity.

Real growth happened when i learned how to consciously stay composed as the finish line approached—as "Let Go" becomes "Love Like This (Remix)", then "Away From You", then "That Groove"—without arriving yet. Maintaining motivation without stumbling requires a particular kind of mental fortitude. You can't get cocky because you're almost done, but you also can't let anxiety about potential failure cause the very mistake you must avoid.

meditation in motion, presence under pressure, zen in the zone

Allow me to be transparent about AI's role in this project. I used Anthropic's Claude during the planning phase to determine setlist order of Jort Peff, and the conversation artifact (c.f., referential metadata) from that initial brainstorming session testifies to that collaboration. Together, we eliminated 9 songs from my initial shortlist and focused the mix into something more cohesive.

Claude helped me initially brainstorm transitions, but i ultimately chose each one according to my own taste and what felt right in the moment. It explored the styles of different DJ's i admire so that i could draw inspiration from various sources but maintain my unique voice. Perhaps, most brilliantly, it helped me work within specific constraints—i desired to design a mix for yacht party with my Port Jeff friends, which influence the song selection along with the mix's very name :)

However, to be painfully explicit: AI gave me leverage, but i did not give it the autopilot. It helped me explore possibilities, validate ideas and spot missed patterns than i otherwise could have done so. But, all of the creative risk-taking fell on my shoulders.

Jort Peff proves: AI offers more than mere essay writing and question answering. (Though, to be honest, you could easily summarize my life's work as: writing essays about useful answer discovered after asking useless questions 🤣). AI is an exponential force multiplier unlike anything we've seen before.

Philosophically, tool use probes the nature of creativity, authorship and human agency—especially, during the age of artificial intelligence. Strictly speaking, i strive to take the anti-Luddite position on all such matters (shoutout to all of my David Deutsch-inspired, Beginning of Infinity boys!). Thus, when i claim that Claude helped me transform this project from impossible to possible, i am documenting a fundamental shift in how human creativity manifests in the 21st century.

Paradoxically, rather than boosting returns, leverage amplifies them in both directions: thus, the bad becomes worse; and, the good, better. Every tool throughout history extended human capability. For example: the hammer extends the fist, and the telescope extends the eye. But, AI offers us the ability to extend cognition itself.

When i fed Claude my chaotic list of potential songs, it reflected back my own aesthetic sense with a clarified coherence that would take me significantly longer to achieve it—if i could achieve at all! Showing me what could be, it helped me see what i reached towards yet couldn't quite yet grasp.

If Michelangelo used assistants to help carve his sculptures, we'd still refer to them as Michelangelo's. If a conductor doesn't play a single instrument, we'd still credit him with the symphony's performance. If a writer types out each word with his keyboard—as i am doing right now lol—instead of scratching out each word with his bare finger, we'd still say that he wrote the poem. However, something feels different about AI collaboration—perhaps because it touches on ideation as well as execution? When Claude clued me that certain transitions would create harmonic dissonance, was that its insight or mine latent—waiting to be resurfaced?

I currently conceive of AI as a conversational partner that never tires, judges or forgets. Furthermore, it reflects my own voice through a prism to speak, showing me facets of my own thinking that i couldn't perceive directly. More than data quality, the GIGO principle (i.e., garbage in, garbage out) necessitates a clear vision pursued intentionally along with the courage to engage with one's own aesthetic convictions.

The Ancient Greeks had term called technē, which expresses the concept of craftsmanship combining technical skill with creative knowledge. What's playing out in front our eyes isn't the replacement of human technē with AI but its evolution. Now, the skill includes knowing how to dance with artificial intelligence—when to lead and when to follow—along with how to maintain creative sovereignty while embracing collaborative amplification. AI doesn't necessarily make us lazy, but it demands us to become clearer about our intentions, more precise about our visions and more honest about what we're trying to create.

If your curiosity draws you to improving your skill with AI or any tool, you must play with it. Don't just read or watch tutorials about it—play! Identify your natural modes of learning and creation; and, then: work within those constraints. In my current form, mixing music represents one of the ways that i play. And, my thinking style tends toward convergent and initially fragile thinking patterns (i measured these back during the spring of 2022, so i'd bet that they've evolved to more balanced and anti-fragile tendencies since then; however, an exposition of thinking styles rests firmly outside of the bounds of this essay 🤠). All of which prove that anyone can develop these skills.

You live like royalty in an age of unprecedented abundance—tools everywhere, knowledge at your fingertips, communities ready to help. You have no excuse if you can't pick this up. To be blunt: if you don't move while someone like me lap you, that's on you. Acknowledge your skill issue, and figure it out.

None of Jort Peff happened in isolation; however, although true, that statement doesn't fully capture the radical reality of distributed creativity that this project demonstrated to me. The mix you hear doesn't exist in my actions alone, but it emerges from the entire network of relationships, influences and energy exchanges that reified it. It acknowledges the true nature of how creativity works and challenges our mythology of the isolated genius producing ex nihilo.

When the Nova Fam gave me my first opportunity to touch the decks—and "touch" is doing a lot of work here 🤣—they participated in a creative act that wouldn't fully manifest for 2 years! In fact, "That Groove" (the mix's penultimate song) was one of the many tracks that i spun for them that night! You can find their permission embedded in the mix's DNA. Each time i confidently approach the controller, i draw on the reservoir of belief that they deposited in me that night.

Simren trusted me enough to ask me to play at her 21st birthday before i had any business playing at anyone's anything—not metaphorically but literally. The pressure of that gig taught me how to steady my fingers when the stakes were real, and that muscle memory lives in every transition of this mix. Her faith mysteriously transubstantiated my interests into my competence, and i am only scratching the surface of understanding how!

Mikhail asked me to make "Mick's Tapes" for him, and that desire activated a version of me that could deliver. On a whim, Nathan and i went to the John Summit concert at Soundchek in July 2021. Then, at the end of 2022: the Nova Fam (sans Doug who was on a Japanese excursion at the time 🙃) went to the Chris Lake concert at Echostage. Each of us noticed different things and compared notes afterward. Throughout these collective experiences, i started building a shared vocabulary of what moves us.

also also also—shoutout my lil ones: DJ Brickabella and DJ Brickariah 🥰

However, i got that response from family that i've known for many years—what about those with whom i only recently became homies? Surely, that must be a truer gauge of aptitude!

Among my Port Jeff friends to whom i entirely dedicate this mix (the name alone should confirm that fact) because i am mere days and hours from closing my Long Island chapter, a few deserve special mention. I can always count on RJ to come to the decks and twist the knobs. He fundamentally affected how i think about the knobs and the deck entirely: rather than a barrier to intention, the interface extends it. Then, Tsunis was the first person to suggest that i purchase really good DJ speakers for the next "Rise Above extravaganza", effectively telling me:

Only self-imposed limitation stands between you and realizing greater versions of this dream.

Marco, Bianca, Phil and Lauren—my vibe verifiers :)—through graciously offering their events as pseudo-stages, participated in the creation itself because art without witness remains unactualized potential. Moreover, Daniel and Laura's unsolicited hyping has been integral to the creative process—the former of whom alone put the term jort into my personal lexicon. Their enthusiasm reflected and amplified my enthusiasm, creating a feedback loop that pushed me past my own resistance. When they celebrated my small victories, they called forth what didn't exist yet; and, through present acknowledgment, spoke future achievements into being.

i am because we are.

~ Ubuntu philosophy

To me, distributed creativity means more than the couch of 707 Coventry on which i mixed Jort Peff and more than the empty floor of my bedroom in 1201 Alston on which i planned it. Rather, it refers to the entire field of relationships upholding the mix. As a specific extension of the Ubuntu philosophy, it effectively says:

i create because we create together

The individual artistic genius is a myth, a fictitious figment of your imagination. The seen and the unseen, the credited and the uncredited, the present and the absent—all collaborate in every creative act. Even, you who reads this sentence right now participates in this creation. Your attention completes the circuit. Without witness, the mix never transcends Schrödinger's art: simultaneously successful and failed until observed. Through engaging with these words and ideas, you add your consciousness to the distributed network that brought this work into being.

a fun detail: the length of each song (incl. transition time) roughly averages out to 2 minutes and 21 seconds, which perfectly lands in my preferred sweet spot of 2:15 to 2:30 per track 🤌🏾

Jort Peff operates at multiple levels of understanding like Magic Eye pictures that reveal different images depending on your focus. At the forest level, the takeaway is simple: you can extract profound insights, even, from side quests. At the tree level, immediate lessons about persistence, technical skill and creative expression. If you look closer at the leaf level, you'll notice nuggets about workflow optimization, musical mathematics and the philosophy of tool use.

However, deeper than all of those, there exists the void level in which the deepest takeaways bubble up from the nothingness directly adjacent to what simply is. Let's linger a bit here in this space that's equal parts terrifying and liberating. The Koine Greek term kenosis (κένωσις) often translates to empyting; and, the Sanskrit term śūnyatā (शून्यता), emptiness. However, English unsurprisingly fails to fully capture that concept. Perhaps, instead of the absence of anything, such an empty void refers to the pregnant possibility that precedes all manifestation.

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

~ Michelangelo, a general reflection of artistic process as a sculptor

While mixing, i discovered this void in the most unexpected places—the half-second silence before a drop and the breath between transitional kicks. Full of potential, these voids vibrate with every possible future. As my fingers approach the controller before the first track starts playing, i stand at the precipice of pure possibility. In the playlist of unmixed songs, the entire journey exists as potential. Some songs got mixed and moved, while others got excluded left off the mixtape altogether. Every possible transition, every conceivable emotional arc, every way those 36 final songs could commune with each other—they all wait in the void of potential.

When version 2 crashed and burned, i lost more than an hour's worth of recording. I lost 1 specific actualization, while simultaneously returning to the void where every other actualization still waited for me. The emptiness doesn't judge; it neither mourns the lost version nor celebrates the successful version. Rather, it simply holds the space for what might emerge. When i returned to silence after making a blunder, the void simply whispered:

All possibilities remain. Begin again.

In that starting anew, that willingness to re-enter pure potential, lies the treasure of Jort Peff.

If i flippantly apply what i learned to my unending pursuit of tranquilly living a good life (i.e., the T, the B and the V), i could consider each minute of the 85-minute mix as a year of life—charitably giving me 15 more years than The Psalmist LOL. Like the truly beautiful mix, the examined life well-lived—the only one worth living—consists of highs, mids and lows. It's sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Sometimes, the energy goes up; and, sometimes, down. Sometimes, you swim in an ocean of smiles; and, sometimes: you only look at a sea of frowns.

But, do you want it any other way? Would you really only want the ups? Don't you—like me!—get bored of listening to the same song over and over again, regardless of the height from which it descended to your earbuds?

i genuinely wonder if Jort Peff in its entirety represents another one of the universe's elaborate plans for me to experience voids like these—these moments where the ego dissolves, where the boundary between self and sound becomes permeable, where i transcend being someone making a mix to become the space through which the mix makes itself

After i develop a sustainable competitive advantage in any technē, reaching the world-class level becomes a matter of when not if. My current approach to mastery can be expressed in the following creed:

lest a clear and present need, there's no lead that i'll cede

If i can achieve all of this for a silly side project about mixing house music, imagine the possibilities of applying myself to truly meaningful and worthy endeavors?

[Whatever] is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious—if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise: think about these things.

~ Philippians 4:8 (RSV)

May all glory and honor be to The Blessed Trinity—to The Father from Whom i beg for our forgiveness; to The Son from Whom i beg for our mercy; and, to The Holy Spirit from Whom i beg for our enlightenment—now and always, forever and ever. amin. ☦️

first time reading? please check out the sailing manual for helpful guidance!