#xyr

[sweetpeauserboxes]

[id: a light yellow userbox with a pastel blue border, and pastel blue text thta reads “this user likes it when you cycle through xyr pronouns, but doesn’t mind if u don’t. /end id]

[themogaidragon]

Xe/xem/xyr/xyrs/xemself

PT: Xe/xem/xyr/xyrs/xemself /end PT

ID: a flag with five horizontal lines, being from top to bottom, dark green, green, black, green and dark green. End ID

Nominative: Xe (Xe is my friend.)

Accusative: Xem (I like to hug xem.)

Pronominal possessive: Xyr (Xyr name is…)

Predicative possessive: Xyrs (That is xyrs.)

Reflexive: Xemself (Xe thinks to xemself.)

Example usage in sentences:

I think xe is very nice.

I asked xem if I can borrow xyr pencil.

Xe told me that the house is xyrs.

Xe said xe would rather do it xemself.

Flag designed by @pronoun_flags (link) on Instagram.

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 376: X.Y.R.

A few months ago, I finally had chance to write about the music of X.Y.R. when I covered Tourist, which was released on both tape and vinyl by Ingrown Records. In the introduction to that piece, I alluded to an upcoming review for X.Y.R.’s Pilgrimage, and though it has taken longer than anticipated, I would at last like to discuss the esoteric side-long excursions that comprise this release. X.Y.R. main man Vladimir Karpov tends to drop his most psychedelic and journeying compositions on Not Not Fun Records (with particular mention given to the spellbinding trips of Mental Journey to B.C.), and happily, this trend continues with his newest Not Not Fun LP Pilgrimage, which contains two extended pieces that sit amongst the deepest and most zoned out material Karpov has yet produced. Indeed, as on his Quite Time release, Karpov is here exploring longform development, which allows the artist and his collaborator Alexey Krjuk (on Octatrack and Modular Hairud) to craft expansive sonic landscapes and mysterious tonal drone dreamworlds that take in many of the sounds and styles present in earlier X.Y.R. works, but that also push outwards into ever more experimental and immersive zones of musical mysticism. Beds of complex percussion build from simplistic beginnings as rhythm boxes and hand percussions unite amidst panoramas of clicks, cuts, and glitches, with the patterns and progressions seeming to owe as much to IDM as they do to tribal ambient and psychotropic new age. Basslines and bass clouds flow in and out, bringing with them ecstatic stretches of fourth world groove, or elsewhere disturbing the flow with demented subsonic screams. Karpov’s characteristic sample tapestries are heavily effected, with modulating fluids, flora, and fauna transforming the settings into alien ecosystems…as if the sounds of oceans, deserts, and rainforests on faraway planets have somehow been captured and beamed back to Earth. Seed shakers, tambourines, and temple bells move through cascades of static and the breaths of malfunctioning machines, while mermaids and angels sing from sea to sky. And wood flutes and pan-pipes float in delirium hazes as mallet patterns glimmer and glow, with pads wafting like sickly smoke, or elsewhere scoring the motions of a setting sun.

X.Y.R - Pilgrimage (Not Not Fun, 2020) Transmuting nature sounds merge with granular wavefronts at the outset of “Black Monk in the Dunes,” with everything seeming to transform into demonic breath. Phasers whoosh in slow motion and glitching click and cut patterns suffuse the spectrum as synthetic woodwinds drone in the distance, before resolving into an ancient melodic incantation. Strands of crystal blow in a wind with no source, though their geometric structures are covered in dust, with luster and shimmer lost to the sands of time. Chime trees are mimicked by spectral sequencing as they create blankets of starlight in the background and mysterious machines continue exhaling alongside the hiss of alien serpents. Percussive synth sequences like insects made of glass crawl across the surface of the mind, desolate melodies evoke desert guitar psychedelia, and chanted spells introduce a hypnotizing beat, one that sees mystical caravan rhythms repurposed as a post-technoid pulse. Psychoactive panning effects and dub echo bursts reach out of the stereo field while below, a subtle melodic theme develops, comprised of cold crystalline tone descents and wood flutes blowing like a cosmic wind. Crackles of static interrupt the flow and the hypnotizing rhythms begin moving in and out of focus while delay cascades trip over themselves. A synthesizer tuned like an Arabian organ executes deliriums circulations and opium den fever fantasias as the beats continue devolving…remaining present, but fracturing continuously through futuristic fx chains and abandoning entirely all sense of groove, which leaves the melodic phrases to float untethered amidst soft screams of feedback. Returning to a semblance of hypnotic body motion, drum echoes spread outwards amidst clusters of modular-sourced gemstone detritus and at some unreachable remove, Karpov continues alternating between entrancing synth descents and minimalist organ dreamscapes. Far into the trip, the groove takes on more strength, with shakers giving a further sense of propulsion and helping to create an ever-shifting wall of rhythmic intoxication. This sets the stage of the emergence of energized kosmische basslines…as if the ritual of the titular monk has now taken on a sinister urgency, with clouds swirling against a blood red sky behind a sorcerous silhouette. The sampled hand drums beat ecstatically and the stereo field overflows with metallic wing rustles until the rhythms and kinetic bass grooves disperse, leaving shakers to pan amidst lonely guitar ambulations. The basslines unexpectedly returns as everything else vaporizes, until all that remains is a throbbing pulse surrounded by morphing crystal sequences, crawling clouds of space noise, and whooshing vortices. Then, in the final moments, we return to the introductory world of phaser gusts and synthesized forest flute mimicry.

The introduction of “Echoes of Time” features what could be the sound of a train, though panned and heavily manipulated. Gently dripping and lapping liquids support cyborg bird chirps and puffs of static move constantly in and out of the mix. Hand drum echoes decay over calming pads and as on the A-side, phasers are ever-present to wash clean the spirit. Kick drums, synths strands, and choral flourishes alike billow outward through delay machines—with the drums in particular surfacing like some tribal abstraction—and down low, pan pipes purr out melodies of balearic mystery. Mermaid and fairy voices intertwine, waves of sub bass synthesis swell in, and idiophones glow in enigmatic colorations as they move side-to-side…all while space age squiggles periodically rise from cracks in the ground. It’s a slow steady build, wherein melodic phrases and rhythmic motions resolve at the speed of evolution, and where the various elements thus described alternate, appear, and disperse according to Karpov’s own unique dream logic. Angels of the abyss sing songs of new age majesty and further percussion layers emerge in the form of bubbling drum machines and ceremonial hand drum loops, with tambourines beating out patterns of desert dance enchantment. The mix is alive with constant motion, as panning fx keep the mind ensnared and clouds of alchemical ambiance push the body into a somnambulant trance. The main melodic theme finally reveals itself deep into the journey—comprised of a dance of mallet instruments, droning woodwinds, and descending currents of child choir psychedelic—and the continual presence of morphing fluids and avian chatter evokes some otherworldly jungle of mystery, wherein shamanic beings composed of crystal, carbon, and threaded light lead forbidden rituals down a river of glowing ether. Further synthetic melodies sooth the procession, reverb-shrouded metals pop and decay through ping-pong slapback, and tremolo picked strings flow in the distance…as if seeking the sky through majestic melodic arcs of post-rock wonderment. Throughout, the rhythmic webs continue increasing in magnitude and complexity, as myriad layers of world and drum machine hypnotism merge and morph through evolving dub echo environments, or otherwise lock into extended stretches of meditative magic. Big washes of bass dissonance overtake the track near the end…these angry growls that seem to emanate from planetary depths…and the percussion layers very slowly pull away, leaving just the delay-splattered kick drums to repeat amidst sickly synths, golden idiophonics, and a space age panorama of rainforest emulations. And coming to a close, phase-shifters progress towards audial psychosis and tribal drums pitter-patter against a disappearing storm of laser liquid and birdsong.

(images from my personal copy)

[starcolle-archive]

Tried to post this last night, but it's even more appropriate today since its Trans Day of Visibility:

One of the upsides to being in quarantine is that, if you don't include my parents, I haven't been misgendered in forever!

Not having to constantly hear myself being referred to as "he" or "him" or "she or "her" is ... freeing!? Specifically, being nonconsensually referred to as such!

I once had a coworker introduce me by saying "Ry'n identifies as they/them" ... yeah ... no, my identity is extremely complex, but let's just leave it at nonbinary; people can message me and maybe I'll explain it depending on how comfortable I am with you.

There are five tiers of my pronouns; each applicable tier may use that pronoun and all before it.

they/them/their are my mandatory pronouns; if you don't know me, you may only use these.

xe/xym/xir is for anyone that knows me.

she/her/hers is for anyone I'm actually close with. (I once very-briefly went off on a coworker because she was exclusively using she/her; even though I know she meant well by it, she didn't have my consent)

any other non-cis's, preferably those I know, may refer to me as it/its/itz.

And finally, when it comes to he/him/his, as of now only one person has earned my explicit permission to use these pronouns.

Anyways, this was just a silver lining to quarantine I realized, and I figured I'd add onto it with an explanation I can point to for whenever the need will arise.

I am a concept & an experience, and the tier people fall under really do depend on how much experience they have with me. And honestly, it's pretty simple. You put in the effort? You earn the experience.

[super-magical-wizard]

Pronouns \(^-^)/

So if you noticed I added some more pronouns to my bio! If you didn’t notice it’s okay I just wanted to tell you guys :) And they’re not the most used or well known pronouns, so here are some examples of how to use them if you ever want to ^-^

First of all xe is pronounced as ze :)

Xe likes kitties!

These amazing poka dots belong to xem.

I like xyr socks.

These chicken nuggets are xyrs.

This is xe’s room where xe likes to be all by xemself.

I dunno if this helped much, but I hope it maybe did a little ^-^ I still go by she/her and they/them though so it’s okay if you don’t use xe/xem for me. Thank you very much if you read this!! I know it’s not super important for anyone but I just wanted to let you know :)

[themogaidragon]

Is there a flag related to pronouns with the later x? /genq

like shx/hxr, hx/hxm, thxy/thxm, and/or xe/xem, xe/xer, etc. pronouns.

if not, could u possibly make a flag for x related pronouns? /genq

I based the flag on the hx/hxm and shx/hxr pronoun flags found here and here!

[themogaidragon]

He/Xe/Ve/Xy/Dino/Grawr/Bee/Star Pronoun Flag

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 364: X.Y.R.

X.Y.R. is among my absolute favorite purveyors of transportive balearica, soothing synth ambient, and mysterious fourth world, and ahead of writing about his epic, mystical, and deeply zoned out Pilgrimage LP on Not Not Fun, I’d like to take some time to write about the artist’s Tourist, which saw a cassette repress by Ingrown Records a few months ago, after originally being released by the label on vinyl back in 2017. X.Y.R.–real name Vladimir Karpov–has explored a range of fantastical and otherworldly textures across his discography, whether through his increasingly psychedelic collaborations with Not Not Fun, or through releases such Robinson Crusoe (Lost Soundtrack), El Dorado, and Artika, all of which explore sonic narratives both mythical and imagined. But amongst all the shades and styles he has worked with, I am perhaps most fascinated by his journeys into tropical dreamworlds and horizontal paradises, such as those found on the Big Calm cassette. And in many ways, Tourist was a spiritual successor to that album, as both releases perfectly soundtrack lazy days spent at seaside, with music that is seemingly meant to evoke the feeling of swaying in a hammock strung between two palm trees, as warm salt-air, rhythmic waves, and perfumes from exotic flowers lull the mind into a meditative state of bliss. As always, X.Y.R. colors over his beloved Formanta-Mini and Alisa1387 analog synthesizers with pedal fx, an RC-20 loop station, and field recordings, while also giving space to the guitar of Dmitriy Borodin on album opener “Celler Florida Fiesta.” And just as on the vinyl release, Alexandr Dimov’s evocative artwork graces the cover, with his visage of a fisherman gazing at some glorious sunset perfectly encapsulating the album’s paradisiacal evocations of a relaxing island escape.

X.Y.R. - Tourist (Ingrown Records, 2017 / 2020) In opener “Celler Florida Fiesta”, percolating synthesizers shimmer like Carribean crystals, only as if seen through a mirage of seafoam. Vocalized bass textures fade in and mechanical loops click, pulse, and breath while bird whistles flutter at the edge of the mix. Reverb-soaked field recordings move around the periphery as the synths occasionally lock into playful tropicalisms that pull my mind the work of Hosono…these bleary and blurry themes of child-like wonderment and equatorial ecstasy. Everything is held together by hushed rhythms of reverberating click and clack, while fourth world hooks whoosh back and forth between pan-pipes and whistles. And by the end, the abstracted tropical loops and drunken themes of seaside mirth begin to suggest an android’s approximation of an island lullaby. The swirling warmth of “Bon Voyage” follows, with organic bass thumps and hissing cymbals flowing through dub delay chains. New age synthetics smear and smoldering subsonic waves work through melodies of equatorial splendor, with looping phrases bathing the mind in a summer sunshine glow. Reggae-hued textures spread outwards amongst echoing chord bursts, hazy heatwave pads diffuse in from distant horizons, and as the basslines recede, white noise whispers and sighing seed shakers add polyrhythmic movement. Soviet-era synths cycle through mermaid melodies that dance across the stereo field, and bass notes swim dreamily in one ear, only to have starscape leads resume their phrase on the other side of the spectrum. 

Pads hover amidst bubbling liquids at the outset of “Bathyscape Journey,” and dreamspace synth circulations merge with white noise shaker patterns. ASMR clicks and electroacoustic whispers flutter as those hovering pads reach towards an impossibly beautiful horizon, and faded whistles emerge to lead a relaxing island sway. The mix overflows with texture and movement as underwater gemstones generate sparkles that trail off to the far reaches of the stereo field, and lush layers of reverb create an otherworldly effervescence…as if the entire mix is bathed in softened layers of pearlescent fizz. Deep chords evoke a choir of masculine sea sprites, and something in the melodies recalls the folk music of the southeastern Pacific. Tapped cymbals evoke drumsticks splashing into metalloid pools of static and further folksy whistles melt over the mix, which increasingly evokes a psychedelic paradise of tropical wonderment, wherein colorful creatures of the seafloor play strange woodwinds of shell and coral while analog cloudforms swirl all around. Next comes “Mountain Drift” and the sounds of breath, children, and bubbling synth pulsations that increasingly grow in magnitude. Insectoid rattles are heard far away and blurring layers of squarewave synthesizer intermingle, as dazzling phrases and interlocking echo patterns flow in from all directions. Mystical temple melodies evoke an ancient forest shrouded in fog, but the sounds of humanity are never far from reach, as snippets of childlike chatter coalesce with birdsong and industrial factory detritus. I’m reminded at times of the distinctive new age and environmental ambient of Inoyama Land, as well as of minimalism, due to the increasing presence of bouncing curlicues. kinetic echo cycles, and psychoactive sound loops.

In “Captain’s Pipe,” avian conversations surround soft focus synth melodies that move through longform ascents and descents. Harmonious wavefronts of organ-esque tonality bath the body in ecclesiastical light and sequencers constructed from ocean crystals dazzle the mind, with time signatures not quite aligning, and thus creating a vibe of daydream intoxication. Keys buzz in the left ear and voices speak in the distance, and though I know not the title’s origin, I like to imagine it as the name of some café deep in the jungle…a sort of harmonious glow of life and culture in the heart of a rainforest, with people basking in tropical melodics and conversing about nothing at all while birds paradise flit from tree to tree. Flowing seamlessly into “Euphoria,” heavenly tones quiver like Spacemen 3, only as if heard underwater and surrounded by bubble clouds that erupt from seafloor vents. Space age whistles and meditative pads whisper together until suddenly, the track develops into a fully formed island groove, one that sees equatorial basslines thumping, shakers sketching out rhythms of seaside mesmerism, and synthesizers harmonizing together, with tones ghostly, otherworldly, and again recalling the worlds of City Pop (think Wonder City Orchestra and Jun Fukamachi’s ambient work). Wavering leads dance around the spectrum while being tracked by percussive sparkles and elsewhere, bubbling currents flow upwards before dispersing into shards of light. Eventually, those groovy basslines recede as seasick synth work diffuses into the mix, but it’s a false ending into whirlpool of angelic shimmers and metallic wisps, for soon enough, the thumping bass jam returns, bringing with it atmospheres of a thrilling seaside sashay.

Reverberating voices sit above a drunken bass gallop in “Cocktail Party,” as if meant to suggest a futuristic saloon town by the sea. Thudding percussions underly the bass motions while tropical hazes flutter in and out of focus…all while vibrato atmospheres cycle through strange patterns. Percussive pads mimic steel drums, smears of feedback arc in the distance, and the beats cut momentarily before dropping back in, with the body falling ever further into the loping sway. There’s a touch of Ethiopian music intermingling with spaghetti western soundtrack work, and at times the vibe presages the more blissful and balearic moments from SiP’s Leos Naturals. And later, further melodic layers descend to create harmonizing polyrhythms as the titular cocktail party precedes somewhere deep in the mix. The glimmering synthesizer wavefronts of “Coconut Haze” emerge from crowd chatter, while slow motion loops whirl around bass pulses that are felt more than heard. Strings synths diffuse into clouds of gas and heatwave leads flutter upwards while lullaby arpeggiations sit deep in the background ether…their subdued rhythms eventually enhanced by ceremonial drums and tambourine jangles. Electronics evoke the feeling of being surrounded by a summer storm, with gentle layers of resonance joining together and generating soft spiritual howls. The body sways back and forth on the paradise rhythms, and hissing textures of pink noise and serene static surround the spirit, again evoking a cleansing bath of rainfall. Closer “Vanishing Point” begins with garbled electronics and reversing streaks of angelic radiance–the vibe gentle at first–but growing increasingly strange was the track progresses. Tapped cymbals and tambourines flow in as arps made of glowing glass fire across the spectrum, generating dazzling light patterns that seem to emanate from some unseen center. Berlin school textures are filtered into vaporwave crystals before ascending on currents of rainbow energy, and the melodies are enhanced with a sense of wistful nostalgia akin to 50s pop…like a paradise remembered, or perhaps only dreamed.

(images from my personal copy)