ANDY DEVINE’S ORIGINAL:

PLOTS

A, a, and, and, and, and, and, anything, at, aunt’s, away, backseat, brother, brother, burial, but, buy, California, cemetery, did, didn’t, dining, drove, each, else, family, family, father, father, father, for, four, from, front, got, her, him his, house, house, house, huge, hung, I, in, in, in, in, in, in, included, it, its, keep, know, laid, let, lived, make, me, me, might, mother, mother, mother, mother, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, of, of, of, of, of, Ohio, old, on, one, or, or, our, outside, pack, plots, portrait, response, room, sat, seat, separated, side, suitcase, summer, that, that, that, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, then, there, think, this, three, to, to, to, together, took, until, up, us, was, was, was, way, we, we, we, we, we, were, what, when, where, with, years, ,, ., ., ., ., ., ., ., ..

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THE REMIX:

Plots

A, a, and, and, and, and, and, anything, at, aunt’s, away, backseat, bbb   brother, brother, burial, but, buy, California, cemetery, did, didn’t, dining, drove, each, else, family, family    father, father  father for, four  from, front, got, her, him his, house, house, house, huge, hung, I, in, in, in, in, in, in, included, it, its, keep, know, laid, let, lived, make, me, me, might, mother, mother, mother, mother, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, of, of, of, of, of, Ohio, old, on, one, or, or, our, outside, pack, plots, portrait, response, room, sat, seat, separated, side, suitcase, summer, that, that, that, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, then, there, think, this, three, to, to, to, together, took, until, up, us, was, was, was, way, we, we, we, we, we, were, what, when, where, with, years, ,,., ., ., ., ., ., .,. .

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Remixer’s process: What partly attracts me to Mr. Devine’s work is that his original pieces seem like remixes, the language already spun out, and the process gone as far as the process can possibly go. Thus, to me, the natural way to proceed was to make the avant garde more classical, to arrange “Plots” into a traditional narrative. And, so, initially this was how I proceeded. I set aside a few afternoons and began composing. However, in my waking dreams I saw my (by now) dog earred page of “Plots” gagged and bound, electrical tape stretched over all but a few words, those famous lists now mostly blotted out. These visions made the process a sort of act of terrorism, of violence. I don’t know why, but this seemed significant. And this is how I arrived at this particular mix.