it goes a little something like this....

4 CDs, 4 ghetto blasters, 4 corners of a room, and a pair of ears is all that is needed to experience the Zaireeka sensation. Drums, base, voices, alien sounds, flowing echoes, pauses, waves radiate from each ghetto blaster speaker—each CD. Voices come from one source, base from another, soon cymbal rolls, eerie screams, and music circle the room from all directions. Next, a chorus of voices and the simple and steady piano keys pull the circling sounds together. The sounds are collected into a song. All the different parts are interconnected. They may not necessarily sound good together or be uniform throughout, but each part is vital for the overall desired effect. It is like scattered beads on the floor, each with their own destination as they roll, are gathered and strung on a piece of yarn, making a necklace.

Track number two sounds like the music is being played underwater. The sound waves ripple, the music crescendos in waves, and the notes drip. The sounds are traveling together—darting and swimming like a nervous school of fish or like a scarf of birds. The music ends with a suspended fade and drains out.



The familiar, crisp guitar chords begin track number four. Soon flute notes beat and pulsate. Other sounds emerge. They create chaos and static—a collage of broken instruments. The flute is still beating. It beats off key, eerie like. Voices come in oblivious to the chaos and static beneath its sound. The sound becomes spherical—it builds and the ears get dizzy. It continues to crescendo and almost becomes unbearable. Then it breaks off. The crisp guitar returns and crickets chirp similar to the sensation of ice tea after a hard day’s work.

Track number seven: cheerful beeps and a piano that plays along like a dog catching a Frisbee. The song is propelling, steady, and factory like or machine driven. The methodical sounds build and congregate, forming a wall cloud. The sounds turn to a scattered thunderstorm. The piano notes are lightning, the cymbals are wind, the mesh of guitar is the thunder. There is a downpour of mixed sounds. Wind and hissing air becomes angry snakes. The hiss slowly softens and weakens.

Each sound is a bead on a necklace. Each contributes to the whole. Each sound, each noise, and each instrument weave in and out together to compose a song—Zaireeka! as the Flaming Lips would say.