Published: August 4th, 2025
By: Graham Casey
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Introduction: A Month of Musical Miniatures
This July, I set myself a challenge: to write and release one short piece of music—just sixty seconds—every day. But there was a twist: each track had to be based on a different Pitch Class Set (PCS). These abstract structures weren’t part of my training back in music college, but they’ve opened up a whole new world of sound for me.
What followed was a month-long journey through creativity, chaos, technology failures, and unexpected inspiration. Here’s what I discovered.
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Week 1: Surprises, Chickens, and Creative Sparks
I kicked off with a piece based on PCS 6-31—one I hadn’t even heard of before. It felt like entering a new sonic dimension. By the second day, Playful Canon had me working with clarinet and pizzicato strings, already hinting at the melodic potential in atonal structures.
By midweek, the PCS 6-z17 set gave me a sense of mystery and tension. Then came Playful Fireworks, which brought tech issues—unexplained latency and all—into the mix. Complex Folk on the 5th started off with the idea of simplicity, but my musical instincts responded, “Folk are not simple,” and the result was a quirky track that made me think of chickens. Yes, chickens.
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Week 2: Strange Worlds and Sonic Experiments
This week, I dove into unfamiliar territories: Strange Shimmer set the tone. But with blocked ears (literally), mixing became guesswork. Still, I pressed on. A whole-tone shimmer, a Dissonant Heatwave Surge, and even a Sparkling Metal track for tuned percussion—all built from new harmonic languages.
Technology continued to rebel. By Brewing Storm on the 13th, I wasn’t even sure which PCS I was using anymore. But I kept writing. After all, this was a “magical mystery tour” of sound.
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Week 3: Discovery, Doubt, and Depth
Another World on the 14th marked a breakthrough: I confidently identified PCS 6-33, and it felt like I’d crossed into new creative terrain. I started reusing motifs to unify the AudioReel. There was a method to the madness.
With Fascinating Numbers and Concealed Myst, randomness began to feel like order. Complex Dream was my ode to mental fatigue—like imagining billions of hippocampi trying to make sense of the world. These weren’t just sketches anymore; they were reflections on consciousness, emotion, and complexity.
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Week 4: Chaos, Loss, and Late-Night Light
Disaster struck. Hard drives began to fail. Libraries disappeared. Pieces like Distant Twilight and Something’s Missing weren’t just titles—they described the reality of my workflow. Still, I composed with what I had. I even asked: what happens when everything digital fails? What’s left of creativity?
With Insect Boogie, I leaned into the chaos—dancing night bugs made of broken samples and backups. Somehow, music still emerged.
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Final Days: Bittersweet Closure
Miraculously, a 2014 backup saved the day. Still Night helped me find some inner calm again, and Pareto’s Sparkle led me to reflect on how PCS can be part of my regular process—not just a quirky experiment.
Ethereal Cosmos reminded me that music evokes worlds that exist only in the imagination. By the time I reached Bittersweet Farewell, I was confronting one final question: how do we make sense of randomness, disorder, and the passage of time?
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Looking Back: Why I’ll Keep Going
This month was about more than music. It was about perseverance, vulnerability, and the creative process under pressure. I started with a “cunning plan”—I ended with 31 unique snapshots of a very personal journey.
And every day, I asked the same thing:
What do you think?
