Fragments of silent music. Future LP inserts.
Picked up the pianola rolls again today and laid them beside the dot-matrix caption scroll. Something clicked.
Both systems were designed for mechanical speech: • one punched in breath and rhythm • one printed in fragments and dropouts — both now sitting in silence.
The misaligned ----- lines on the scroll echo the perforations of the roll almost too neatly. Two obsolete languages recognising each other.
So: for the 2×LP edition of signal // NOISE, each copy will ship with a fragment of a vintage pianola roll—cut, guillotined, folded into 4pp, the same 11" width as the LP format. No interventions, no printing over the top. Just the material as-is. A sheet torn from a mechanism that no longer plays.
The idea feels right for this project: • A score designed to become sound, now permanently mute. • Music that exists only as structure—holes, spacing, breath. • A medium dependent on a machine you don’t own, can’t access, can’t resurrect. • A reminder that signal can remain forever latent.
The caption scroll (APD-broken text, dropped characters, misfires) sits inside it perfectly. Two kinds of unreadable notation layered together. Human error + mechanical memory.
Breaking the roll across many LPs ensures it can never be restored or heard again. A deliberate act of misinterpretation. A literal distribution of lost sound.
Fragments of song without sound. A physical metaphor for the album’s whole thesis: signal gets separated from meaning; meaning never quite aligns with what was sent.
Expect these to appear in the vinyl edition—each LP containing a unique slice of silence.