Frequencies strive toward consonance against waves of dissonance. The struggle toward purity of interval is undermined, and the seeds of dissonance lead to corrosion. The entity erodes; however, a new beauty is found in its passing.
Fall was written using intuitive an selection of frequency content. It nears equal temperament, but isn't quite that. It was written in response to my father's confrontation with what was believed to be terminal cancer at that time. It turns out that this wasn't exactly the case, so that is a happy ending.
