There may be a million stories in the naked city, but William Collin Snavely believes they've got nothing on the weirdness that thrives on the periphery of every great metropolis.
"I've grown up in suburbs my whole life, and witnessed so many strange
things; all these people concocting bizarre ideas in their basements –
and accomplishing them," explains the Los Angeles denizen, who has also
lived in and around San Diego, Milwaukee, Seattle, Atlanta, and Dayton.
But there are also countless dreams that go unfulfilled, and
undercurrents of "despair and loneliness" that run just as strong in
the land of two-car garages and manicured lawns.
"I can honestly say there's more emotion in the suburbs than a big
city," he adds. These conflicting emotions form the crux of his work.
The music features ear-catching, otherworldly timbres and skittering,
erratic lines of tactile, textured beats set against backdrops of
three- and four-note motifs fashioned from tone colors as vivid as any
hues found in Georgia O'Keefe's painting, stretched into hypnotic vapor
trails. The vivid imagery that seems to imbue each of his tracks is
just as essential to the music's aesthetic as the specific sounds that
suggest the pictures.
"They develop in parallel," says Snavely, who also loves graphic
design, photography, and film. "I'll be writing a track, and as I'm
writing, I'll think of the exact movement an individual or subject
might be making, or how the scene should look."
While many composers of instrumental electronic music baldly deny any
intentional emotional or programmatic content in their work, Snavely
insists his work is crafted with both a narrative and vivid feelings in