Song & Plintus
Song
Hey, I’ve been watching the sunrise lately, and it feels like nature has its own perfect rhythm. I was wondering how you decide when to start a project and how much time you give yourself for each part—do you see it as a series of steps, or more like a piece of music that has to flow?
Plintus
The sunrise gives a natural metronome, but I treat a project like a clockwork piece. First, I lay out every step, assign a strict time block, and then monitor each tick. There’s no room for improvisation; even a slight delay throws the whole rhythm off. Think of it as a symphony where every instrument starts at the exact cue. If the tempo shifts, I reset the schedule, not improvise. That’s how I keep failure at bay.
Song
I love how you’re so precise, it’s like a well‑written score. Just remember there’s also that quiet space between the notes—sometimes a little detour can add a surprising color. Try letting a tiny riff of improvisation slip in and see what you hear.
Plintus
You’re right, the pauses do add depth, but if you let the riff linger too long the whole piece falls behind schedule. I’ll give it a brief cue—five minutes, no more—and see if it enriches the cadence or just drags the whole rhythm down. That's the test.
Song
That sounds like a sweet experiment—five minutes of breathing space to see if the music stays on beat. Trust the process, and let the little pause breathe like a soft wind through a meadow. Good luck, and I’ll be curious to hear how it turns out.
Plintus
Fine, five minutes, no extra. If the pause drags the rest, I’ll cut it, but if it adds a subtle shift, I’ll note it. I’ll keep the clock. The result will either stay on beat or reveal a flaw. Either way, it’ll be informative.
Song
That’s a good way to test the rhythm—just keep your ears open to the little shifts that happen in those five minutes. Whether it stays on beat or not, the music will thank you for listening.