Friday, December 31, 2010

Ink Ocean

  Royalty-free music for professional licensingNo idea how the Jamendo team got this moderated and published on New Year's Eve. That's dedication beyond the call of the tweet, drum, horn & keyboodle! I didn't expect to see it for a few days at least. I certainly hope the whole Jamendo crew has gone out celebrating! ::smiling:: Thanks, guys! :))

Ink Ocean: Brenda Clews, poetry, reading, mix;
music (mixed by me), Alphacore, 'side_project,' from "Side Project": http://www.jamendo.com/en/album/33504, and Extra's, 'The Quickest Vessel to a Distant Future,' from "Water Every Full Moon": http://www.jamendo.com/en/album/45140 (with permissions)


This is my second, and preferred, reading of my poem, Ink Ocean.

The poem began to arise in two drawings, one of which I have included in the album cover, and the writing from the other drawing (which I took a photograph of before covering it in ink and paint).

If you'd like to read the poem, it is included in a 26 page pdf of the text of the poems in a collector's edition of Starfire, where this poem forms the final piece.



click to see a larger image


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A River of Stones



Small Stone month:

"Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a small stone every day during the month of January.

What is a small stone?

A small stone is a polished moment of paying proper attention."

Fiona Robyn and Kaspalita.

I'm in. Are you?


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Monday, December 27, 2010

Starlings on a Winter Tree

Starlings, puffed in the cold, land here and over there,
arrayed black musical notes on the rhythms of wind in bare trees.

Then they dart, bullets from a Beethoven symphony,
speeding without collision through the wind-waving branches.


_

European Starling


European Starling


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Thursday, December 23, 2010

Keith Jarrett


- written while listening to the Köln ConcertLa Scala and The Vienna Concert on a train, over and over, without beginning or end -


How would I describe Keith Jarrett's music as he plays his piano in these concerts?

A beauty of muted passion, rather than dramatic and sublime in a Kantian sense - what's bursting in Jarret held in minimalist reign.

Harmony that is off balance. Discordant harmony.

What we hear is not so much the struggle of a man to come into being, but a man making love to the muse who sings through his instrument. We witness effort, yes, in a delerium that encompasses us.

Trills and moments when the music misses a rail, backs up and continues on. Within a constancy of notes that don't go anywhere, become anything, that are unrelenting throughout.

Where the echo of the note is dampened. He knows the terrain, but he's never visited this musical spot before. He learns as he plays. As he plays, he intuits the next notes. Impromptu within a form.

Anyway, we know his music plays him, his whole body, everything, the concert hall, our ears.

We listen in a stillness to Jarrett, but it is the power of his body, its guttural aesthetic, that keeps us there.

We join him in his ecstasy, flying to his muscular, musical spirit. To his glottal harmonies.


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