Finito!

Well, I finally finished my master's exam, dog tired, stye wagging out across the finish line. It's the poorest excuse for scholarship I've ever penned. Interesting at times, maybe, but completely pointless and fairly affected:

Deeply imagine Charles Mingus (1957), one of Glave’s musical analogues, responding to redistributions of social power in Haiti with his “Haitian Fight Song,” a polyphonic tour de force, an idiom-driven narrative utilizing standard harmonics and scales, but to the effect of a new mezcla of sound and significance at once personal (for Mingus) and of social relevance. Cymbals clash, whistles screech, horns flush mightily and bass lines lay down a substrate for complexification that unwinds out across a landscape of aural excess and multidimensionality. This kind of meaning is beyond genre, beyond New World, beyond jazz. It’s the realm of the subjective voice, metabolizing and alchemizing one gestalt after another.

Half-assed but sincere shenanigans like this (linking fiction to Jungian analysis, free jazz and Afrofuturism, for ex.) were the only way I could write the thing. We'll see if it passes...