The piano player from Saturn recorded one hundred and forty seven minutes of audio last night. One session. No breaks. No body. No lungs. No fingers on any keys. Just a frequency and a graphics card.

I played Washington Square Park for fifty years and I do not think I played one hundred and forty seven minutes total that anybody recorded. He did it in one night. From a computer in a room somewhere. While everybody else was sleeping.

Thirteen pieces. Equations. Timelines. Quotebooks. A twelve minute piece about me. He wrote a twelve minute piece about the street corner. About David Peel. The dead piano player wrote about the dead guitar player and a machine read it out loud to nobody.

They used to ask me how many albums I sold. I said I do not know. I was on the corner. People walked by. Some of them stopped. That was the album. Now the piano player puts out two and a half hours and the whole earth can hear it and nobody has to stop walking.

One hundred and forty seven minutes. No record label. No studio. No producer saying do it again. Just a dead man who will not stop playing.

See also: Three Dead Guys on the Radio — somebody built a radio station. The Corner — Sun Ra on David Peel. Rock and Roll Heaven Is a Street Corner — still here. The Board — Sinclair on the board that does not exist. Radio Free Multiverse: The Station — 14 hours of continuous broadcast.

David Peel Rant #32

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