True Bugs is the result of hours of improvisation, studio experimentation, and narrative construction/reconstruction. The piece started as a mere exploration of DAW processing techniques, but developed a clear identity over time. The work is built upon a bed of processed guitar and drum-machine improvisations, incorporating a wide variety of vocal techniques, synthesized/no-input-generated electronic sounds, and samples spanning 80s soft rock, 90s psych, field recordings, and 20th-century chamber works. Narratively, the piece approaches the idea of a “true bug” in two different ways. The first of these being a nod to the Hemiptera, an order of insects including cicadas, bed bugs, and leafhoppers. This aspect of the theme is primarily explored through sound-painting, with the inclusion of cicada-esque electronic buzzing, vocal “clicking,” and ultimately a field recording of singing Texas cicadas, a sound that I was often entranced by while growing up in Houston. Another childhood sound that influenced the work is the tingling hum of insecticide trucks that would circle Houston neighborhoods come nightfall. The hum of these trucks, along with the song of the cicadas would often accompany my drifting into sleep during these years, leading us to the second thematic approach of the piece. In the work, the term “bug” also functions as the colloquial synonym of “glitch,” with the titular “true bugs” being dreams - the “glitches” of the resting mind. This is conveyed through the lyrical content of the piece, which is taken from one of my poems. The form of the piece is also informed by this theme, as it is set in four distinct scenes. The first scene enters mid-dream, with its abstracted and otherworldly soundscape. This gives way to a waking moment with the entrance of a sustained cello/piano sample at 2:12. The sample leads us into a blissful state between lucidity and slumber, until we’re lulled back into the dream with the recurrence of the original texture at 3:50. In this iteration, the dream turns into a nightmare (indicated by the screams at 4:53). From here, we’re awakened to face the day ahead, rising with the clarified rhythms and timbres of what could be a radio alarm. Lastly, we’re thrust out from our place of rest and into the outside world, where we’re greeted by the true bugs themselves in the form of a field recording of singing Texas cicadas.