Sometimes, repetitiveness is alright. No. Really. It’s all right. Really. All good. No need to question whether your ears deserve to hear less, alright? Just let the record spin. Close your eyes—unless you’re driving, of course—and let the rhythms knock you around, crashing against the walls of your subconscious and gradually smoothing away the edges of your anxiety.
The repetitive, washed-out synths and metronomic drums rumble and tap against the noisy sounds on Yyyyyyyyy. It sounds like an exercise tape on VHS that was watched too many times by your mother, who herself borrowed the tape from grandma, who had religiously taught her daughter to follow the instructor’s lesson line by line, squat by squat. The dialogue is too frazzled to make out, but the insistent rhythms still motivate you to dance. You fill in the blanks between each note with your own impression of the space, celebrating each brief intermission, and giving your thighs a break.
Raise your arms while you dance to Picture’s tunes. Let the subtle melodies that hover around the rhythms stand out more; they whisper in your ear while the other drones fade out. Breathe deeply, and experience, with each exhale, how the music lets go with you. That anxiety, the roughness surrounding your soul, is no more—even if just for a bit. So, repeat away. I’m here for it.