If Last Days is a vision of a collective creative cul-de-sac, the music-room shot of Blake’s guitar-loop creative outpouring is the terminus—to appropriate a phrase from David Foster Wallace, “some kind of line’s end’s end.” Even Boyz II Men had modulations, climactic key shifts reaching ever upward, changing the melody. Blake in his room has only accumulation, no history or context, and he can’t change the key because it’s locked in. His improvisation is riveting because it’s nothing but present tense, a series of hermetically and emotionally “pure” (though technically sloppy) nows layered on each other to the point of eventual overload. The pattern does not hold, and Blake’s shift to the drum kit, a futilely aggressive attempt to restore order, is soon abandoned for destruction. This offers a new perspective on old-fashioned guitar smashing: not youthful exuberance but desperation at having locked oneself alone in a room with one’s own looping noise.