A Love Supreme

Ecchi (エッチ) is a Japanese pop-culture music tag that foregrounds playful erotic fantasy, cheeky wordplay, and suggestive innuendo rather than explicit content. The tone is flirtatious and comedic, often leaning on “fanservice” tropes familiar from anime and visual novels. Musically, it overlaps heavily with otaku-leaning J‑pop and denpa: hyper-bright synths, bubbly hooks, cute (moe) vocals, call-and-response chants, and cartoonish sound effects. Lyrics frequently pun on double meanings, reference character archetypes, and dramatize blushing, teasing, and comedic embarrassment. Ecchi tracks appear as anime OP/EDs, character songs, and eroge/visual novel themes, as well as doujin and Vocaloid works made for conventions and video platforms. The result is a tongue‑in‑cheek, high‑energy pop aesthetic that is knowingly “pervy” in a light, mischievous way.

Bullet hell (danmaku) refers to a subgenre of shoot ’em up video games defined by screen‑filling patterns of enemy projectiles that demand precise movement and pattern recognition. In music tagging and discourse, “bullet hell” commonly denotes the high‑energy soundtrack aesthetic associated with these games. Musically, bullet hell soundtracks emphasize very fast tempos, assertive and memorable melodies, bright synth leads, driving ostinatos, and dense but readable arrangements that sustain focus under extreme visual pressure. They mix arcade and PC‑98/console timbres (FM, PSG, and early PCM) with later trance, J‑core, and drum & bass production, yielding music that is simultaneously melodic, urgent, and loop‑friendly for stage and boss encounters.

Harem is primarily an anime/manga narrative genre in which multiple girls develop romantic interest in the same male lead (and, in gender-flipped “reverse harem,” multiple boys gather around a female lead). In music discourse, “harem” most often refers to the sound world that accompanies harem anime: bright, hook-driven J‑pop/J‑rock opening themes, tender or wistful ending ballads, and character songs performed by voice actors (seiyu). These tracks emphasize youthful infatuation, comedic misunderstandings, and ensemble chemistry, using glossy pop production, catchy refrains, and sometimes choral “group of friends” textures to mirror the multi‑love‑interest setup. Thus, while harem itself is a story genre, it has a recognizable musical profile within the broader sphere of Japanese anime music (anisong).

Machinima is a form of animation that uses the real‑time graphics engines of video games to create scripted or improvised films. Creators stage performances inside a game or engine, capture the action from virtual cameras, and assemble the footage with traditional post‑production—much like live‑action filmmaking, but inside a simulated world. The technique ranges from quick, voice‑over comedy skits to fully storyboarded cinematic narratives with custom assets, motion paths, and multi‑actor choreography. Early machinima emerged from first‑person shooter demo recordings and quickly evolved into serial storytelling and internet video, helping pioneer real‑time virtual production long before modern game‑engine filmmaking became common.

Magical realism (in music) is an aesthetic where everyday, grounded songwriting is interwoven with subtly wondrous or uncanny sonic details. The fantastical is presented as ordinary: field‑recorded sounds feel like characters, folklore instruments sit next to synths, and surreal lyrics are narrated in a matter‑of‑fact voice. Rather than aiming for pure fantasy or psychedelia, the style keeps one foot in reality—acoustic timbres, intimate vocals, and story‑like verses—while the other foot introduces inexplicable textures, mythic motifs, or dream logic. The effect mirrors literary magical realism: magical elements are blended seamlessly with a realistic atmosphere to reveal a deeper sense of reality, culture, memory, and place.

Buddy cop (as a soundtrack/style) refers to the sleek, urban action-music language that grew around 1980s and 1990s buddy-cop films: glossy analog and early-digital synths, punchy drum machines, bluesy electric guitar licks, and expressive saxophone leads. It typically balances propulsive action cues (for chases and shootouts) with cool, nocturnal grooves (for stakeouts and street-lit cityscapes), reflecting the contrast between the two protagonists: one volatile, one restrained. Harmonies often lean on minor-key progressions with modal color (Aeolian/Dorian), while hooks are delivered as memorable synth riffs or guitar/sax motifs. Production is characteristically “big 80s”: gated-reverb snares, chorus-laden guitars, and bright, FM/analog synth timbres—occasionally folding in funk-rock, jazz fusion, and, by the mid‑90s, touches of hip‑hop and new jack swing for swagger.

Found footage horror is a horror subgenre built around the conceit that what the audience is seeing (and hearing) was recorded by the characters themselves on consumer equipment. Musically, this yields a distinctive "anti-score": long stretches of room tone, mic clipping, tape hiss, HVAC hums, and environmental noises replace traditional cues. When non‑diegetic music appears at all, it is sparse—often low drones, sub‑bass rumbles, metallic scrapes, or degraded cassette/VHS textures that feel like artifacts inside the fiction rather than an external soundtrack. Because the camera is usually handheld and the audio is captured "on the mic," the sonic language overlaps with dark ambient and electroacoustic practice: reality-based sound, abrupt dynamic jumps, silence-as-tension, and found sounds processed into dread. Iconic examples (from Cannibal Holocaust to The Blair Witch Project, Paranormal Activity, REC, Cloverfield, and Host) codified a palette where sound design carries the horror as much as music does.

Gothic horror (in music) is an atmospherically driven dark style that draws on the imagery and sensibilities of Gothic art and literature—cathedrals, ruins, nocturnal rituals, funereal dress—to evoke a bleak, uneasy, and dreamlike mood. Musically it blends the brooding pulse of post‑punk and dark wave with church‑like organs, choirs, tolling bells, and orchestral colors inherited from Baroque and Romantic concert music. Expect minor keys, chant‑like melodies, chromatic harmonies, deep reverbs, and slow to mid‑tempo beats that suggest ritual procession as much as rock or electronic dance. Whether produced by rock bands, dark‑ambient projects, or soundtrack‑oriented composers, the result is cinematic, somber, and slightly otherworldly—like stepping into a candlelit nave at midnight.

High fantasy music evokes worlds that are fully invented and governed by their own laws, pantheons, and mythic histories. It is commonly associated with epic quests, ancient kingdoms, and magical forces. In practice, it blends orchestral film/game scoring with folk and medieval colors, choral writing, and at times symphonic or power metal. Textures range from pastoral (harp, whistles, soft strings) to martial (taiko/low drums, brass fanfares), with leitmotifs that represent characters, places, and factions. Set in a fictional world run by its own laws separate from the real world, the style prioritizes world‑building through timbre, modality, and recurring themes.

Narco película is a Mexican film subgenre whose stories center on fictionalized depictions of drug trafficking, cartel life, and the social worlds that surround them. Emerging in the late 1980s and booming through the 1990s direct‑to‑video market, these movies are fast‑paced crime dramas that blend action, melodrama, and moral fables about ambition, loyalty, and betrayal. Although narco película is fundamentally a cinematic category, music is essential to its identity. Soundtracks and diegetic songs commonly feature corridos (especially narcocorridos), norteño and banda ensembles, and ranchera balladry. Accordion, bajo sexto or requinto, tuba, brass, and snare‑driven two‑step rhythms frame narrative songs that name places, protagonists, and exploits—mirroring the films’ plotlines and giving the genre a distinctive musical signature tied to regional Mexican traditions.

Body horror (as a soundtrack style) is music crafted to evoke visceral transformations of the human body—mutilation, mutation, decay, degeneration, and grotesque metamorphosis—typically associated with the body‑horror film subgenre. Instead of traditional "themes and scares," it leans on disturbing timbres, invasive textures, and physiological pacing that mirror on‑screen flesh becoming other. Composers achieve this through atonal clusters, extended instrumental techniques, distorted electroacoustic processing, and industrial/noise sound design, often intercut with pulse-like rhythms (heartbeats, spasms, labored breathing) and wet, organic Foley. The result is an unsettling, tactile sound world that feels invasive, medicalized, and transformative—consistent with the body-horror focus on graphic bodily change.

Jitsuroku eiga ("true record films") is a gritty strain of Japanese crime cinema that blossomed in the early–mid 1970s. Although fundamentally a film subgenre, it carries a distinct musical identity in its scores: lean, documentary‑like underscore punctuated by tough, streetwise cues. Musically, jitsuroku eiga soundtracks fuse jazz and funk rhythm sections (dry drums, prominent bass, wah‑wah guitar) with sharp brass stabs, suspense strings, and occasional traditional colors (shakuhachi, taiko). Themes tend to be terse and motif‑driven rather than lushly melodic, reinforcing the genre’s semi‑documentary realism and moral ambiguity. The overall sound is tense, hard‑edged, and urban—ideal for chronicles of clan conflicts, police corruption, and post‑war social fracture.

Low fantasy (as a musical style tag) refers to scores and soundworlds that evoke grounded, real‑world settings into which subtle, anomalous magical elements intrude. Rather than the sweeping, high‑romance orchestration of epic or high fantasy, low‑fantasy music is typically intimate, textural, and restrained. Expect chamber‑scale orchestration, earthen percussion, drones and pads, folk timbres (plucked strings, wooden flutes), and minimal harmonic motion. The mood generally favors ambiguity and wonder mixed with unease—music that keeps one foot in a rational, lived reality while hinting at something otherworldly just beneath the surface.

Poliziotteschi (often called poliziottesco in Italian) refers to Italy’s gritty cycle of police and crime films made chiefly in the 1970s. Musically, these films were scored with a hard‑hitting blend of jazz‑funk, electric rock, and cinematic orchestration that mirrored the genre’s urban violence, high‑speed chases, and moral ambiguity. Typical scores feature wah‑wah guitars, driving breakbeats, muscular electric bass ostinati, biting brass sections, Rhodes/Clavinet keyboards, analog synth colors, and tense string figures. While firmly Italian in melody and arrangement, the sound was heavily influenced by contemporaneous French and American crime cinema and the funk/blaxploitation idiom, yielding a stylish, propulsive, and menacing musical language that has become a crate‑digging staple and a touchstone for modern “cinematic soul.”

Snuff film refers to the alleged production and distribution of motion pictures that depict real, non-staged homicide for commercial gain. While the term entered public discourse in the early 1970s and inspired sensational media coverage and moral panics, scholars generally agree that commercially circulated, studio-made snuff films—strictly defined—have not been verified. Instead, the label became a cultural myth that bled into exploitation cinema, pseudo-documentary horror, and later internet shock media. As an aesthetic, the idea of “snuff” profoundly influenced music and audiovisual subcultures that trade in extremity, transgression, and visceral affect. Industrial, noise, power electronics, harsh noise wall, dark ambient, witch house, and horrorcore often borrow the grainy textures, degraded fidelity, voyeuristic framing, and claustrophobic tension associated with snuff myths—strictly in fictional or symbolic form. Any actual depiction or facilitation of real harm is illegal and unethical; contemporary artists instead explore the trope as critique, simulation, or metaphor for media violence and desensitization.

Triad film is a crime‑cinema genre centered on Chinese Triad organizations and their subculture of brotherhood, loyalty, and violent entrepreneurship. It typically follows gang hierarchies, internal power struggles, and uneasy relationships with law enforcement. Stylistically, triad films mix gritty realism with stylized action, favoring moody lighting, nocturnal cityscapes, and a moral universe where friendship and honor clash with betrayal and corruption. While action and suspense are prominent, the genre also leans on melodrama and tragic arcs that humanize criminals and undercover cops alike. Although triad activity is transnational, the genre as codified in popular culture grew out of Hong Kong cinema and focuses on the China‑based crime syndicate of the same name, later expanding through co‑productions and remakes that carried its imagery and narrative tropes worldwide.

Video game music (VGM) is the soundtrack or background music composed specifically to accompany and enhance interactive gameplay. In its earliest decades, VGM was bound by severe hardware constraints: simple programmable sound generators (PSG) and later FM-synthesis chips limited composers to a handful of monophonic channels, basic waveforms, and tiny memory footprints. Those constraints forged a distinctive, catchy, loop-based idiom—often called “chip music” or “8‑bit”—that became the emblematic sound of early games. As technology advanced, VGM expanded into rich orchestral, rock, electronic, and hybrid palettes and adopted adaptive/interactive scoring techniques so the music could change with the player’s actions. Today it spans everything from intimate, textural ambience to full symphonic epics, while still celebrating its retro chip heritage.

Vigilante is a film subgenre centered on a lone protagonist who, driven by personal loss or outrage, abandons formal law and order to pursue extra‑legal justice—often through escalating violence. Stories emphasize moral ambiguity, urban decay, and the perceived inadequacy of institutions to protect citizens. Its signature tone is gritty and uncompromising: night streets slick with rain, sirens and subways in the distance, and protagonists (sometimes cops, sometimes ordinary people) pushed past their limits. The musical language that came to define classic vigilante cinema mixes late‑noir "crime jazz" with 1970s urban funk and, later, analog synth menace—wah‑wah guitars, Rhodes electric piano, brass stabs, ostinato bass lines, and minor‑key, chromatic harmonies that heighten dread and determination.

Spiritual jazz is a strand of modern jazz that seeks transcendence through sound, blending free improvisation, modal frameworks, and non‑Western musical concepts to evoke the sacred, the cosmic, and the ecstatic. It often features long, open forms; drones and pedal points; polyrhythmic percussion; and timbres associated with ritual or meditation (harp, flutes, bells, tanpura). Melodic language leans toward modes and scales from African, Middle Eastern, and South Asian traditions alongside blues inflection. The mood can shift from contemplative prayer to cathartic release, and vocal elements may include chants, mantras, spoken word, or invocations aligned with spiritual or philosophical themes.

Computer animation is animation created with digital software. It encompasses both 2D (vector and raster) and 3D (CGI) techniques, where movement is generated by keyframing, interpolation, procedural systems, physics simulation, and motion capture. The medium emerged from early computer graphics research and matured into a full production pipeline used for films, television, games, web series, and scientific visualization. Modern computer animation integrates modeling, rigging, texturing, lighting, rendering, and compositing, supported by powerful rendering engines and real‑time game technologies.

Computer graphics (as a visual style used with music and audiovisual culture) consists of images and motion built entirely through computation—mathematical functions, procedural rules, and code rather than lenses or physical drawing. Its hallmark is the generation of geometric forms, algorithmic textures, particle systems, fractals, point/line/mesh abstractions, and shader-based effects that evolve over time. In music contexts, these visuals are often synchronized to sound, yielding reactive patterns, beat-synced transformations, and spectrum-driven animations.

Ink-wash animation (as a music-tagged genre) refers to the soundtrack and scoring approach associated with Chinese ink-wash (shuimo) animated films. It aims to translate the aesthetics of traditional Chinese ink painting into sound: sparse, brush-like gestures; large amounts of “negative space” (silence); and timbres drawn from Chinese classical and folk instruments. Rather than Western cartoon scoring with constant mickey-mousing, ink-wash animation music typically supports atmosphere, poetic pacing, and visual breath, often leaning toward guqin- and dizi-centered chamber textures.

In French usage, “polar” refers to crime fiction; by extension, musique de polar denotes the distinctive sound of French crime-film scores from the 1960s–70s and their modern continuations. Musically it blends cool-jazz harmonies, noir-ish vibraphone and brushed drums with tense ostinatos for double bass, tremolo electric guitar, Hammond/Clavinet riffs and small string sections. Composers often alternate sparse, minor‑key cues for surveillance and dread with funkier chase cues and melancholic themes, creating a palette that is both urban and intimate. Notable early exemplars include Michel Magne’s 1965–67 crime scores later compiled as “Polars,” and François de Roubaix’s airy, modernist crime themes; recent French crime films keep the tradition alive with updated orchestration and electronics.

Sadistic horror is a horror film subgenre whose narratives and imagery center on captivity, cruelty, and the spectacle of bodily threat. In music terms, it favors cues that amplify dread and pain through abrasive textures, infrasonic pressure, and sudden shock stingers. Prominently featuring scenes of torture and degradation, its scoring language leans on extended techniques for strings and winds, metallic percussion and foley, granular and spectral processing, and atonal or microtonal harmonies. The result is a claustrophobic, oppressive sound world designed to make the audience feel trapped alongside the on‑screen victims.

Sand animation is a frame-by-frame and live performance animation technique in which artists manipulate sand on a backlit or frontlit pane of glass while a camera captures the evolving images from above. By pushing, brushing, pouring, and erasing sand, the animator creates high-contrast silhouettes, gradients, and textures that transform fluidly from one scene to another. Because it is drawn with granular material in continuous motion, sand animation naturally favors metamorphosis, dissolves, and crossfades rather than hard scene cuts. The look ranges from bold, graphic silhouettes to painterly, smoky tones, and the process lends itself both to studio-made films (shot one frame at a time) and to live stage performances synchronized with music.

Avant-garde jazz is a boundary-pushing current of jazz that privileges experimentation, collective improvisation, and timbral exploration over conventional song forms and chord progressions. It often uses atonality or loose tonality, extended instrumental techniques, shifting or absent meters, and open forms. Ensembles may emphasize texture and density as much as melody and harmony, drawing as readily from modern classical music and non-Western traditions as from blues and bebop. While sometimes intense or noisy, avant-garde jazz also embraces spaciousness and silence, allowing players to interact in real time without predetermined roles. The result is music that questions the limits of jazz itself, foregrounding sound, spontaneity, and social expression.

Dacoit film is an Indian cinema subgenre centered on the lives and outlaw activities of rural bandits (“dacoits”) in the Indian subcontinent. Musically, these films blend the idioms of Hindi film songwriting with rustic North Indian folk colors and the dramatic, twangy orchestration of Westerns. Expect keening flutes (bansuri), sarangi and harmonium for pathos; dholak, nagara, and khartal for earthy drive; plus trumpets, whistling, and electric guitars that echo spaghetti‑western tension. Songs often alternate between village festivities and ballads of honor, vendetta, and fate, while the background score leans on galloping rhythms and stark modal motifs to power chases and standoffs.

Police procedural is a screen-driven genre whose stories follow the investigative work of law enforcement and/or forensics teams in their attempts to solve a crime and/or have criminals arrested. As a musical style associated with these films and series, it blends noir-influenced jazz, propulsive funk and rock rhythms, and later electronic/synth textures with suspenseful orchestral writing. The resulting sound world supports surveillance, interrogation, pursuit, and revelation: terse motifs for clues, anxious ostinatos for tailing suspects, stingers for jump-cuts, and cathartic cadences when cases close.

A cinematic musical tradition developed to accompany narratives about criminal activities, the lives of criminals, and their effects on the people around them. Musically, it is characterized by a tense, atmospheric, and often gritty sound palette that evolved from the 'Crime Jazz' of film noir—featuring walking basslines, dissonant brass, and smoky saxophones—into the 'Crime Funk' of 1970s cop shows, defined by wah-wah guitars and breakbeats. It serves to underscore suspense, danger, and the moral ambiguity of the urban underworld.

Film gris is a postwar American variant of film noir defined by its even harsher cynicism, systemic social critique, and a relentless blurring of the moral line between good and bad. Where classic noir often pits a doomed individual against fate, film gris widens the frame to implicate institutions—business, law, media, and politics—suggesting that corruption is structural rather than accidental. Stylistically, it keeps noir’s shadow-rich photography and fatalistic tone, but leans more into semi-documentary realism: greater use of location shooting, working‑class settings, and socially topical plots. Protagonists are morally compromised strivers (lawyers, truckers, sportsmen, cops, small-time crooks) ensnared in rigged systems. Endings tend to be bleak or inconclusive, emphasizing the costs of complicity and the difficulty of reform.

Psychological horror (as a music/style of scoring) uses sound to destabilize the listener’s sense of safety and to suggest inner turmoil rather than external, monster-on-screen threat. Instead of relying on loud "stingers" alone, it leans on ambiguity, silence, uneasy timbres, and subtly shifting textures to evoke dread, paranoia, and obsession. Common devices include lullabies made uncanny, breath-like drones, dissonant clusters, and noises that blur the line between diegetic sound and score. Classic examples range from Krzysztof Komeda’s nursery‑rhyme theme for Rosemary’s Baby—sweet on the surface, sinister in context—to game scores that weaponize quiet, space, and industrial ambience to mirror characters’ fractured psyches.

A gangster film is a crime‑cinema genre centered on gangs and organized crime syndicates—most iconically the Italian‑American Mafia, but also Japanese Yakuza and Chinese Triads—charting the rise and fall of criminals, their codes of loyalty, and the social worlds that enable them. In American usage, the American Film Institute defines the genre as stories about organized crime or maverick criminals in a twentieth‑century setting; the template coalesced in early‑sound Hollywood and later diversified globally. Typical narratives explore power, family, migration, and moral ambiguity, often balancing critique with a stylized allure.

Horror (as a musical style) is music deliberately crafted to elicit fear, dread, and anxiety. It emphasizes tension, surprise, and the uncanny through dissonant harmony, destabilized rhythm, and disturbing timbres. Whether in film, television, games, theater, or concert works, horror music often uses clusters, tritones, micro-intervals, extended instrumental techniques, and sudden loud/quiet contrasts. Sound design is integral: tape manipulations, low-frequency rumbles, unsettling field recordings, and analog or modular synth textures blur the line between score and sonic environment. Above all, the aim is psychological—guiding the audience’s anticipation and startle responses to produce a sustained sense of terror.

Animation is a moving-image medium that rapidly displays static imagery to create the illusion of motion and change. Music written for animation is crafted to support this hyper-expressive visual grammar—accenting motion, enhancing character, and articulating comedic timing. Unlike many live‑action scores, animation scoring often embraces tightly synchronized "hit points" (sometimes called Mickey‑Mousing), brisk thematic development, and kaleidoscopic changes of mood to mirror frequent cuts and rapid action. Its stylistic palette ranges from orchestral light music and jazz/big band swing to modern electronic textures and pop songs (especially in anime OP/ED formats).

Cartoon music is the fast‑cut, highly synchronized orchestral and jazz‑inflected scoring style written for light‑hearted, hand‑drawn animation—especially short, family‑aimed theatrical or television cartoons. Its signature sound blends classical orchestration with big‑band swing, ragtime, Tin Pan Alley tunes, circus flourishes, and musical "stingers" that track every action on screen (a technique often called "Mickey‑Mousing"). Expect rapid key changes, sudden tempo shifts, witty musical quotations, and colorful percussion and woodwind effects that turn the orchestra into a sound‑effects machine. Although the medium is visual, the musical language of classic cartoons became a genre in its own right, shaping how generations hear comedy, chase sequences, gags, and on‑screen antics.

Silhouette animation is a frame‑by‑frame animation technique in which characters and objects appear as flat, black paper cutouts (or their digital equivalents) seen in profile against illuminated backgrounds. Technique inspired by European shadow play and silhouette cutting. Pioneered most famously by German animator Lotte Reiniger, the style uses jointed puppets cut from black card, hinged with wire or rivets, and animated on a backlit glass table or multiplane rig. Its stark contrast, flowing cut‑paper articulation, and ornate backdrops lend themselves to fairy‑tale, mythic, and dreamlike narratives. Modern variants can be fully digital, but the core aesthetics—crisp contours, expressive profiles, filigreed scenery, and light‑through‑shadow staging—remain central.

Jazz is an improvisation-centered music tradition that emerged from African American communities in the early 20th century. It blends blues feeling, ragtime syncopation, European harmonic practice, and brass band instrumentation into a flexible, conversational art. Defining features include swing rhythm (a triplet-based pulse), call-and-response phrasing, blue notes, and extended harmonies built on 7ths, 9ths, 11ths, and 13ths. Jazz is as much a way of making music—spontaneous interaction, variation, and personal sound—as it is a set of forms and tunes. Across its history, jazz has continually hybridized, from New Orleans ensembles and big-band swing to bebop, cool and hard bop, modal and free jazz, fusion, and contemporary cross-genre experiments. Its influence permeates global popular and art music.

Cutout animation is a 2D stop‑motion technique in which characters, props, and backgrounds are physically cut from flat materials—typically paper, card, fabric, or photographs—and animated frame by frame on a tabletop or multiplane stand. The method relies on hinged or replaceable parts (arms, legs, mouths) that are repositioned between exposures, producing motion without redrawing each frame. Its look ranges from delicate silhouette fairy‑tales to irreverent collage comedy, and in the digital era the same principles are emulated with rigged “cutout” puppets in software. In short: it is animation built from cut materials—paper, card, or photos—moved incrementally under the camera.

A cappella is vocal music performed without instrumental accompaniment, by soloists or ensembles. The term, Italian for “in the manner of the chapel,” originally distinguished Renaissance polyphonic practice from Baroque concertato styles where instruments often doubled voices. Over the 19th century—amid a revival of Renaissance polyphony and a mistaken assumption that such music was always sung unaccompanied—the term solidified to mean any unaccompanied vocal performance. Today a cappella spans sacred and secular idioms, from chant and polyphony to doo‑wop, vocal jazz, collegiate and professional pop groups, and contemporary styles featuring vocal percussion and microphone technique. Very rarely, the term has also been used as a synonym for alla breve (cut time), though this usage is uncommon in modern practice.