Owing to an interest in keeping a low profile during her stay in the “plates,” as we called the expanse of sand and wet salt that served as a highway to east blowing wind, Ekin Fil only ever came to the general store once or twice a week, only bought essentials, and didn’t say much. Fil was from Turkey, Istanbul, as I understood. But I didn’t find that out from her. I got curious one day, and spent about an hour and a half waiting for the dialup modem to load one of her songs on soundcloud. Not many folks made such an effort to remain anonymous, as a vein of dust might, spreading its identity finely, “going flat,” as some say. Spreading their flatness between a person and their bedsheets, chafing and rustling.
Well I itched, and after a whole lot of cussing and tapping, I finally hit play on Fil’s soundcloud page, which she had hinted to me when she had answered “How’s your work going?” – a deliberately banal question anyone with a sap of self could answer – with a little mutterings about the tendency of the air. The smell of the heat. All things I had become so familiar with, tending the general store out on the plates, yet it had never occurred to me that such a place could inspire music.
• Ekin Fil: http://ekinfil.bandcamp.com/
• ∑ (Summe): http://summe.cc
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