I think what I felt most while reading this was a quiet sense of awe. The description of Kurokawa’s Berlin studio immediately pulled me in. Black felt carpet, no internet and a doorbell that doesn’t work. It felt like reading about someone who has built a world specifically designed for focus. I could almost feel the muffled silence of that space.
I was especially struck by how patiently he works. He said, “Nature doesn’t change overnight; it evolves gradually over time. I like this approach and try to do the same.” Reading that, I felt a deep admiration for his dedication. In a world that pushes for speed and constant output, here is someone who lets projects take five years if they need to. He doesn’t chase new technology or cling to old media. He just stays inside his process.
The image of him standing alone on that taped X on the floor, the sweet spot where he tests everything, stayed with me. It felt like a portrait of someone completely surrendered to their craft. I think that’s what moved me most. Not the awards or the prestigious venues, but the sense that he has arranged his entire life around his work itself.
Alda is a text-based, open-source programming language designed for musicians to compose music in a text editor without needing complex graphical user interface (GUI) software.
The Alda music programming language was created by Dave Yarwood in 2012. Interestingly, he was a classically trained musician long before he was a competent programmer
Why Alda?
In contrast to working with complex GUI applications available at the time, Dave Yarwood found that programming pieces of music in a text editor is a pleasantly distraction-free experience.
How it Works
The process is beautifully simple:
Write the notes in a text file using Alda’s syntax
Run the file through the Alda interpreter
Hear the music come to life
Key Features
Alda uses the General MIDI sound set — giving you access to over 100 instruments.
Basic Syntax
Pitch: The letter represents the pitch. c is C, d is D, e is E, and so on.
Duration: The number indicates how long it lasts in beats. In Alda, smaller numbers mean longer notes—it’s backwards from how we normally think!
Octave: The octave number tells Alda how high or low to play. c4 is middle C, c5 is one octave higher, c3 is one octave lower.
Handy Shortcuts
> moves you up one octave
< moves you down one octave
Chords and Rests
The forward slash / is your chord maker. It tells Alda to play notes at the exact same time.
Rests use r instead of a note name. The same duration rules apply.
Visual Aid
The vertical bar | does absolutely nothing to the sound. It’s just there to help you read the music more easily.
Alda represents a beautiful intersection between programming and musicianship—proof that sometimes the simplest tools can inspire the most creative work.
When I think about what music is saying, this passage makes it clear: it is not about words. I realized I have been looking for a hidden message when the real conversation is in how it makes you feel. The call and response in a song is not sharing information. It is sharing a moment.
The idea that this happens through microtiming was interesting to learn. Musicians are not just playing notes to each other. They are listening and answering in real time with their timing. That is the communication.
Music’s meaning is not something you decode. It is something you experience together, a connection built note by note. The conversation is the feelings that it invokes in those who hear it.
I was really struck by the idea of live coding as a “technique of making strange.” The text mentions it in a creative sense, but what I noticed is how deep this simple act feels to me. When I use apps or websites, everything is designed to be smooth and invisible like the code is hidden and the choices are pre made. I just click and things happen. It feels easy, but also a little like I am being led.
Live coding by putting the raw code on screen for everyone to see, does the opposite. It makes the machine visible again. For me, that seems powerful. It turns coding from a private and technical task into a public conversation. That act of showing feels like a small act of resistance in a world that wants technology to feel natural and unchallengeable. It reminds me that I am a user, not just a consumer and there is a big difference.
