A field recording from the kitchen.

Brief notes on a thirty-minute recording of nothing happening in particular, and why I keep going back to it.

I left a recorder on the kitchen counter one evening and forgot about it. When I came back, I had thirty minutes of the fridge cycling on and off, a neighbour's TV through the ceiling, and what might have been rain on the window. I've listened to it more than any music I made that month.

There's something about the recording that feels like a document of something real — not performed, not curated, just captured. I've started doing it more deliberately since.