Out of sheer curiousity I set a sound activated recorder on the flank of a road-killed deer on the Monida pass - directly in between Idaho and Montana on I-15. I was fully engaged in my summer work of road construction, the year was 1999. I saw a murder of crows assembled, making plans to have this poor deceased deer for dinner. I was curious to hear if crows spoke differently between themselves from the regular crowspeak between us and them. Though this may not be 'music', I found it to be one of the most surreal and interesting things I'd put to tape. The sounds of slow-motion bullets you hear are heavy trucks passing. The crows speak for themselves.
An ambient electronic piece I put together a long while back. This is a tonal explication of a Frost poem I love. I felt that his words were perfectly descriptive of my own dissociated days spent in a haze of necessarily indulgent coma, when I should have been out doing other things. I built it on a framework of 32 bar phrases. There was something significant about the numerology of it, but I have since forgotten why. Maybe because it was 2002 and I was born in 1970, or something like that.