This Window

Homeless Under a Bridge  forms part of III Convocatoria Internacional Morada Sónica 2026: Escuchas para una Ciudad Mecánica , a wide‑ranging international project that invites artists to rethink the modern city as a living, grinding, malfunctioning machine. Within this framework, This Window’s contribution becomes more than a standalone track — it becomes a sonic document of urban neglect, a dispatch from the underside of the mechanical metropolis. The piece channels an observational intensity born from a hurricane‑struck trip to Miami: the way infrastructure groans under pressure, the way the most vulnerable are pushed into the literal gaps of the city, the way a bridge becomes both shelter and indictment. In the context of Morada Sónica’s call for listening practices that expose the hidden rhythms of urban life, This Window’s work stands as a stark reminder that the city’s machinery is not just steel and concrete — it is also the bodies it forgets. La semilla de la pieza proviene...

The Roland SH-101 is an analogue synthesiser made by Roland between 1982 and 1986. It became widely used in the 1990s, especially in electronic and house music. The SH-101 is monophonic, meaning it plays one note at a time. It features a single oscillator, sub‑oscillator, low‑pass filter, mixer for blending waveforms, noise generator, arpeggiator, and sequencer. An ADSR envelope controls the filter and VCA, while an LFO can modulate the filter, VCA, pitch, and pulse width. Its sound is often described as “snappy and razor‑sharp” bass, “squelchy and expressive” leads, and a “piercing yet smooth” filter. The SH-101 appears on many Finish The Story songs and is frequently used on This Window tracks. At launch, it cost $495 in the US and £249 in the UK, making it relatively affordable compared to other analogue synthesisers of the time. Their Gods – Limited Free Mix – Homage to the SH-101 Pre-release mix · 5 minutes · Instrumental version Their Gods appear...

Making Music When It Feels Like a Chore Sometimes making music feels less like fun and more like a chore. The process should be satisfying—something that pulls you forward and leaves you lighter but instead, it can feel heavy, like effort without the reward. I hate music. I hate making music. I’d rather sleep. I’d rather disappear into quiet, into rest, into the kind of peace that doesn’t ask me to be creative on command. And yet I can’t stop. It’s strange how the mind can complain loudly. I sit down, tell myself this is pointless—somewhere underneath the complaining—there’s a rhythm that won’t let me stop— press play . I open the project. I stare at the empty space where sound is supposed to be and then it happens. Maybe it isn’t enjoyment. Maybe it’s survival. Maybe it’s my oxygen— press play again . Boundaries, Breath, and Survival Strategies Art dissolves when you stop treating it like a category. Ducha...

Their Gods This track, available as a (pre‑release) free limited edition mix , is an early preview of a forthcoming album planned for late autumn or early winter—a collection of new tracks shaped around memory, place, and the small moments that stay with you long after they’ve passed. It’s the kind of record that feels less like a statement and more like a return: to streets you used to know, to rooms where a certain light still lingers, to the quiet turns of life that don’t announce themselves as important in the moment, yet keep echoing anyway. Forthcoming Album: Introducing This Window At its core, the collection gathers ideas and half‑finished projects that were never resolved, set down, and in some cases nearly forgotten across the decades. These are fragments without spectacle—never dramatic or life‑altering, but quietly significant. The songs move through photographs that held more than what was captured, walks that changed nothing on paper but shifted so...

‘Walk Away or Jump’ – 55" × 55" oil on canvas (2010) The painting above is rooted in a specific moment from 1978: a walk along a cliff path with one of Robert Rauschenberg ’s assistants. During that walk, he told me he was in love with me. I remember the conversation as a turning point—not because of the words alone, but because it forced a decision. At that height, with that kind of uncertainty, the question felt immediate: step toward a completely different life or step away from it. I’ve often wondered what I turned down: a different creative path, a different level of visibility, a better life or simply a relationship that wasn’t possible. Rauschenberg himself had a history of absorbing major events into his work. In 1969 — less than ten years before that encounter — he was invited by NASA to witness the Apollo 11 launch at Kennedy Space Center and incorporate the experience into his art. He produced the Stoned Moon lithograph series, named both for the litho...

Are This Window a wordcloud? Extract From The Goat — A Fragment of Tape Culture Revisited “Extract From The Goat” is more than a reissue, a nostalgic glance backward. It returns to a very specific moment in the early 1990s cassette underground — a moment when DIY culture thrived on tape hiss, hand‑spliced edits, and the stubborn belief that sound could be shaped with whatever tools were at hand. Download Here The track originates from the 1991 compilation The Goat , released by the UK label M4TR Productions , a home for outsider, experimental, and mail‑art‑aligned soundwork. On that cassette, This Window contributed “A Collection Of Pieces Of Tape Edited Together” — a title that was both literal and perfectly aligned with the era’s aesthetic. Tape wasn’t just a medium; it was a material to be cut, rearranged, reversed, and reassembled into new forms. This Window moves through an emotional landscape shaped by isolation and entrapment...