There is music in everything. Sound is frequencies. Visual is frequencies. Colour are sound are determined by frequency. Spectral power distributions exist in the physical world, but color and sound exists only in the mind of the beholder. Music exists in the visual, as visual exists in the music. If our perception of the world is made up almost entirely from frequencies, then our world is created from music. The fluctuations of a leaf in the wind create frequencies, the branch is a lower frequency, and the trunk is lower still. Some frequencies are felt, some are heard, and some are seen. Together they create their own symphony of nature. Add more trees, add birds, add grass. It's all such a fucking lovely bunch of blather as we flit and dance joyously up hill and down dale all smarmy and moist. I suspect as I typed that I had a look on my face like you see on people from Kitsilano as they recycle. I should start wearing sandals and get one of them top knot man bun things. I would too, but I'm not sure I could take the constant dry heaving every time I saw my reflection. Man buns aside, the depth of music may indeed go to such extremes. Few would dispute that groove and celestial connections abound as our souls resonate with music. Then toss in the circle of fifths to see how it all works together mathematically and music goes ever deeper into physics and the essence of everything. Music may well be the connection from the physical world to God. Where everything goes to hell is in the mechanics of creation. We fumble with the tools to connect with God. Back in World War 2 the Japanese put a base on a small island in Melanesia and flew in a whack of supplies for war stuff. Then the Allies got it and kept flying in more cool war stuff along with food etc. The very isolated natives on the island watched all this activity in wonder and were suitably impressed. They saw strangely garbed people with headphones talking into microphones and then big flying things came full of cool stuff, all for free. Then the war ended and everybody left. When people came back in the fifties they found the natives had built wooden airplanes and runways, and would sit in huts with wooden headphones and bamboo microphones mimicking what they'd heard and trying to call back the Gods with all the cool stuff. Tech as religion. These Cargo Cults as they call them, usually fade off as people begin to realize there's more to a microphone than just the shape, and that the religious leaders claiming to know the correct things to yell into the bamboo mics were all fulla shit. Creating music is like trying to communicate with God using a bamboo mic. We can hear music and feel it's profound effects, but we have no idea what it is. So we fasten on our wooden headphones and yell vigorously into our bamboo mics hoping for connection. Hencely, the Cargo Cult of Music. Most cargo cults fade as knowledge and reality set in, but ours is constantly invigorated and renewed because occasionally the wooden mic and headphones work and a very few of us will have long and wondrous conversations with God. Hence the magnetism of successful writers and players of music. They're the high priests in the Cargo Cult of Music because they made the wooden mics work and we can play back their conversations for years and be ever profounderated. We spend years learning the rules of music and practicing til our fingers bleed in the hopes of capturing a few conversations that we can turn into a planeload of cool stuff. Sadly, as is proven repeatedly by unskilled players and writers, learning the tools is the equivalent of carving a very good likeness of a mic. Yes good carving skills improve your chances, and really help with the reproduction of previous conversations, but it guarantees nothing, and many of our most famous high priests have had great and historic conversations using just a broken piece of wood found on the ground. So WTF is point of all this? Well... there are two aspects of music, one is the tech/skills side, which is some valuable assed shit for sure. The other is the side we don't quite understand. The Cargo Cult of Music side where we take our pants off and flop around on the studio floor with our wooden mics trying to start a conversation. Which leads to a whole whack of myths surrounding what makes the bamboo mics work. Uncommon methods used in the studio that some claim are the magic that starts the conversation. Many myths derived from dreams of capturing celestial resonance have much potential for rectal reconnaissance. Things like tracking without a click, or everybody playing in the same room, and all the way down to mic placement. Sometimes even to the point of agonized minutiae that make absolutely no difference to anything ever, Like bit depth. These myths are perpetuated endlessly by foaming false priests trying to grind your dreams into their wallets. There are indeed times when those techniques will help you commune with the Big Dude. The frustrating part is they rarely deliver as promised. They sometimes work well in the right situation, but every situation is different. The expensive part is that abandoned pathways in the studio are wasted money. Most things are worth exploring and talking about, but be careful what myth you embrace, because some can kill momentum and hurt a project far worse than any potential gain. So don't sweat it, have fun yelling into your bamboo mic. Explore the myths, but carefully and with some wisdom. The planes will either come back or they won't. God is listening and if you're well practiced and pure of heart he may talk back. He doesn't care if you use a click or not.