compo(-ser)(-siteur)(-nist) in/à/uit Bru(ss/x)el(le)(s).
In the pipeline:
5 to 15 minutes of the instant for soundinitiative
Notes made in preparation:
Gwenaelle Rouger at the keys
the iconic, the story telling,
the photo versus the caption,
the material and the immaterial.
Shopping malls, belvederes -
places to go to see,
or rather to be shown:
to gaze - to scour - to regard - to look - to see - to glance - to spot something -
music useful as a tool to hear itself
or maybe to look elsewhere.
Deborah Birch and I,
and instruments, voices (singing or speaking), loudspeakers,
televisions (silent or not) and teleprompters,
prose, verse (hers), lyrics (not hers) - sound, music (mine), tunes (not mine),
show you things.
Apathy, architecture, conspiracy, document,
people and their spaces, and public spaces,
the state of things, research and telling the story.
Something we'll keep working at.
some for Emma Lloyd
some for Winnie Huang
(Hito Steyerl: 'these effects cause interesting meanings')
Something for Gabriel Dharmoo+1
his +1 makes the music, Gabby mouths the words.
Stevie Wonder teaches us the fundamentals.
Something in the same room as Menno Harder,
Double bass music with Jonathan Heilbron for early Paris 2017
Imagine that I had made:
Acoustic tents. We suspended them from high-up rafters in a in a tall space.
Materials: acetate, foam, latex, linen, PVC, rubber, wool.
Each would have housed small ensembles and have changed size (=acoustic) throughout the performance.
The audience could have rambled around outside.
Imagine that I’d hand copied and played back the waveforms of the works of various composers in different fidelities:
1 second per mm,
1 second per cm,
1 second per 10cm,
1 second per metre.
That Michael and I had made a night long survey of 1980s political Britain, in the model of 'le fond de l'air est rouge' (Chris Marker) for a big long room. Between two pianos there'd have been a screen, projectors either side; fans and halogen lamps upset the image (David Riff: 'crisis is never sudden, it simmers forever and boils over one day') whilst the actor filled in the gaps and the singers reminded us of the context of it all.
If I’d written instrumental music to nestle in the sound of the newly-restored waterfalls of the Buttes Chaumont park in north-east Paris.
It would have been performed at the same time as:
A piece for outdoor, roaming musicians with push-trolley amps like those used by Paris metro crooners. Spoken and sung texts by Mmmmmmm Nnnnnnn.
A piece for cymbalom, qānūn, saz and 4 low wooden flutes.
That piece for soloists and ensembles of plastic instruments standing in the dense greenery of tropical greenhouse gardens.
Not a piece ‘about’ forests or gardens or nature, but loud music hidden in the flora and fauna of the room.
The extreme humidity, that acoustic, the hum of the irrigation and insects,
the wide green distance.
A piece for chalumeau, 3 low flutes, and all the others.
And a stage version of Sans Soleil (Chris Marker)
(could that work? how could that work?).
A l a r g e scale orchestral piece for a l a r g e place.
Orchestral music doesn't always have to be glory and brilliance;
something went wrong somewhere along the line.
The film shot in the Syrian desert where a motorbike drives from left to right, from far away to over the horizon. Five minutes later, a zurna player walks down the same road playing the notes of the motorbike’s doppler engine purr.
Not a piece about motorbikes but about terroir - the casting of a things to its place.
Something with Tacita Dean, one day (dream).
A one-hour music theatre work, The Sand Tract, based on Harold St.John Philby's 1933 journal of his crossing of the Empty Quarter .
A chamber organ concerto, for some Bach cantata period instrument setup.
Something for any intimate chamber music scenario imaginable.
Get in touch if you'd like to play.