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Karmic Excuse

Karmic Excuse is set in F Dorian, which is what happens when minor tonality attends a motivational seminar and comes back slightly uplifted but still fundamentally gloomy. The progression — Fm, a polite rest, then Cm–Bb–Ab–Bb with mild oscillatory guilt — behaves like a man explaining why destiny owes him an apology. Notice there is no grand dominant resolution, no Wagnerian thunderbolt of accountability. Just cyclical, modal shrugging. He declares, with admirable administrative confidence: “It’s not my fault, I can’t succeed, hence the reason I never try.” A marvellous logical loop, harmonised by a mode that refuses tragic collapse and instead offers respectable melancholy. She responds: “The universe’s looking at us, booing us for each of our fails.” Here the Bb–Ab alternation acquires cosmic theatricality. One imagines a celestial amphitheatre populated by disappointed minor deities holding scorecards. The rests are crucial. They are not silence; they are judgmental pauses from the Department of Karma. F Dorian’s natural sixth (D) ensures this is not damnation — merely public embarrassment. In summary: destiny is not conspiring against you. It is mildly unimpressed.