the graveyard

she was the face of this whole thing: a kid in headphones holding a Di Sarli record, yelling come mess around in my tango playground. and tucked behind her was the best trick i had, a real vinyl you could tap to launch a real tanda into the player.

the girl was never the problem. the vinyl glued behind her was. keeping that disc poking out from exactly the right spot behind her, at every screen size, with the player open or closed, turned into a tuning map i kept fighting. so the crate took the home page, and she gets to rest here, still yelling, no disc to babysit.

i built this because i thought it was cool, and then i got into a rabbit hole where i decided to make a true history player: all the recordings, discs with a real side A and side B, and you could flip the record over to hear the other side.

it's lovely. it spins. the needle drops. but once the class recap showed me that just clicking a dot to play it in the normal player was all anyone actually needed, the whole spinning contraption became a beautiful, redundant thing i couldn't bring myself to delete. so it's resting here instead.

i was trying out ways the explore section could look and this one fell out: the cards as record sleeves leaning in a bin, and you flip through and pull one out. i loved it on sight, which is exactly why it's not going on the home page.

it's too good to be a menu. so it's resting here until it grows up into the thing it's actually for.

a spinning row of record sleeves at the top of the sets page: flip through, land on one, hear what's inside. lovely to look at, except it was pointing at test data, so every sleeve was a placeholder. it's resting here until there are real featured sets worth putting on a pedestal.

each explore row had its own animated mark beside it: a whole turntable that dropped its needle and spun, pulsing compare dots, composer bars that grew, a tanda stacking up, a little game controller. i loved them, but six of them fighting the words made the index noisy. so it's just the list now, and the marks rest here, still hoverable.