Here is a very different one, also from ten years ago. The title comes from a persistent image I have of Crowley playing the Amiga game of the eighties, "Ports of Call", in which the player chose between paying to berth the ship with a tugboat or steering by hand. The programmers had made this latter option so difficult that most players invariably crashed into the wharf or sank. Nonetheless, had Crowley, whose autobiography I was reading at the time, played, I am sure he would have steered by hand.
Of course, Crowley was actually a revolting madman, and the Amiga is dead and gone, but the association persists to the extent that cells of a certain "not quite square" motoric rhythm, spiced with harmonic contention, I still term "Crowley cells". The piece lasted forty-five minutes until the tape ran out, the joystick broke and the ship sank; here is the first third.