Saturday, November 27, 2021

Ode on the Experimental Muses. Reclaiming the Dignity of the Experimental in Music and Art.---- Opening Statement ;)

  

 Inspired by the convocation of George Christian's new podcast "Escutas Experimentais," 

I prepared a brief statement for him but then extended the idea into this short talk for my youtube channel.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDinnAGvFvw

The idea that art and music were akin to, concerned with the exploration of metaphoric "terras incognitas", a place where star trekkers had gone not before. This is what comes to mind when I think of experimental music. That and how experimental became disparaged as inconclusive or too open to be substantial and how very wrong this is. For it is the close-minded world of consumerism and conservatism alone that forces us into conformity and genre and empty concepts of quality. What I'd wanted to do in poetry and music was to catch up with the actual world. Experimental is not academic. Experimental is radical and can be calm and reassuring as a gentle rain in the forest during summer or a cyclone disrupting space and time. Experimental music engages chaos and natural forces. Experimental music improvises and invents. Experimental music is clear and propositional. Experimental music involves one, two, three or more players, orchestras, species and states of matter. Experimental music is without precedent quite often and appears to be alien and unruly but experimental music has a history and great traditions. Shamans were experimental musicians.

 The tape music of John Cage and Pauline Oliveros and the statistical modeling adopted by Xenakis to further dilate & explode serialism into pure sounds, the acousmatic works of Pierre Henry, Schaefer, orchestrating noise, blending energy fields of lysergic acoustic ecology, of deep listening strategies, the advent of field recording devices which allow almost anyone to make music concrete. Experimental music is you and your life. It belongs not to corporations, not to governments nor schools nor cliques nor elites. In the digital era or what is called the microsound aspect of granular synthesis, in glitch, one can view ever smaller fractal versions of the cosmos. Experimental space travel in sound. Thank you Sun Ra. Experimental means to experience. Thank you tape recorders and dictaphones: re-listen to experience and enter into the laminal planes of somatic and geological time. The fascination with ancient modes, archaic instruments, ethnic forgery, old skool, trap, Africa, polyrhytmia, Indonesia, microtones, aboriginal, experi-mental. Experiment is dream time, dream incarnate. 

Jeff Gburek 25/11/2021

 


 

 

 

 


Tuesday, November 23, 2021

Framework Radio Podcast #778 featuring works from my Bulgaria Sound Specific album.

   Framework Radio podcast #778, featuring some of the pieces from my Bulgaria Sound Specific album, is now online. Curated and produced by Patrick Tubin McGinly, amid some familiar phonographers such as Tomáš Senkyřík and sound artists whose works I will soon be getting to know. Especially happy to appear in a playlist with Eric La Casa whose work impacted my own so positively early on. Buon ascolto!

https://frameworkradio.net/2021/11/778-2021-11-21/ 

 photos from autumnal Poznan

 






 

Tuesday, October 5, 2021

Bulgaria Sound Specific: Four New Tracks

     I have just updated the album of field recordings and related soundscape compositions with 4 new tracks. One recorded on the Black Sea, Irakli in 2018: ney and drum music around a campfire tangling with gentle rage of waves. Two raw recordings of a villager in Belovo named Angelina as she sings an incantation for rain (some of us think) in Romany and or Turkish (we think), blended with the murmur of doves, other local birds, village life getting by in late August. Proceeds for these will go to Angelina and her people. Last is the piece I created for the Electro-Acoustical Poetical Society's podcast. "Permanent Arrival" contemplates the theme of being unable to go home and the arrival in music, song, art, the reconciliation with a home within one's own body, ancestry and self-creation of all of them in the course of one's life. It also bears witness to the life of the Roma who teach me to stay put traveling and go far while sitting in the middle of nowhere, whoever I am. 
 
  All tracks can be downloaded individually but the real winner is the complete album purchase with the streaming possibility and the you can select which tracks you like to hear the most out of the wide variety of sound tapestries created in Bulgaria over the last 3 trips.
   Each track has it's own detailed description in the notes section of each track so I remind you to check out the notes which tend to get over-looked or undiscovered.  
 
https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/bulgaria-sound-specific
 
 

 
 

Friday, July 2, 2021

"Still Between Worlds": poem cycle written december 29, 2020

 
Painting by Thibault Delferiere

 
 
still between worlds
  י
 
having become human
passing through the animal
as these words do
through your eyes
plant prism mineral,
seeking enlightenment (without bother)
I go and I stay
shifting from plane to plane...
nothing about us absolute
everything wild and tame, fearless
I don't really want to write anything.
just first become human,
then seek enlightenment
causes of firstness preceding
times and history
accumulate in the landscape
and inside the body.
I am layered, time crystal
brittle, soft, hard, smooth
my breasts stand out
rough in some regions
what more have you been holding back?
not writing to be final
just trying to live here
my failure for you is success
in another dimension
collapse is order in the making
 
+
 
ectoplasm on the run
ejectamenta of the sun
the hope you carried forth with that gleam in your smile
where ever it follows you forever without body
this volume borrowed, returned to nature's library, unread,
unfinished, waiting, filed, lunar
the envelope doesn't have any name on it
we have to teach you who you are
but we can't keep you tied to that
endless wave, endless summer,
endless winter, deeper
repopulation where I see you wander
and like the mallards
timing their exodus
through the uprights of the great oak & the gingko
shiva's horns, the Y, timed release
their simple airport pond
destiny: the next black-hole
where we will meet again
 
+
 
dropping out is what we do (best)
every once in a blue asteroid
the book is only something to display the quality of a mind
datafications, info-materia, algorithms
implant fibulation, theophanic mobbing
they will manufacture new immunology
we will grow apart, flung
bones reconfigured, new bouquets, crowns
rippling from under permafrost
our fadeless particles
our perfect water
 
+
 
the way the world sounds be like
"I don't like myself very much
so I can't relate to you directly"
(writing in the dark, scratch piano)
there is a miniscule daub of angel
scurrying light, dolphin sylph
pollywog wiggling through these words
like a stuttering yod replicant
carries the grain-bug of the truth
that bothers me honestly
until the light goes out
and the dark comes on
 
the tree inside the moon
sending tentacles
  or down the particle chain
electrical
 
+
the flowers somewhere and their buddy system
spring eternal, maybe not for me
but what does it depend on?
hare kare quite contrary
getting a beyond for this techno-crapitalist mindset
the king of things hung up like a sail
(mapped traditions, lore, decoded)
the mother of all wounds
(eating means to be eaten)
furbish the tree, praise
regard and upload fecundity
don't worry about form
happy endings are bad
bad endings are good beginnings
leave it incomplete
 
the world's weather
tethered together, not
it's knot a not
left the untangling
giving way

 

Writng & Literacy may not be the Measure of All Things: Africa Writes Back: The Libyc-Numidian Script

 

Africa writes back

European ideas of African illiteracy are persistent, prejudiced and, as the story of Libyc script shows, entirely wrong

 https://aeon.co/essays/africas-ancient-scripts-counter-european-ideas-of-literacy?fbclid=IwAR067SQYJv_HRWPWTFY3fuC8qJT1B1-HG1UAILPlCHnA9maVjvtDtyq9ezs

 "But Bourdieu’s observational mistake – the idea that the Kabyle weren’t literate – is actually not his most consequential misapprehension. That would be the idea that literacy is a supreme cognitive and cultural achievement. It’s one of the means by which universities shore up the value of their intellectual work – they police grammar, philology, literacy – in short, they define and champion rigour and ‘standards’. For those of us brought up within that system – even brought up, as I was, in a former colony (Kenya) – those standards might appear to be value-neutral. But they’re value-neutral only because they annihilate even the possibility of other values, of other modes of thinking or being. When Bourdieu went from the elite École Normale Supérieure to a Kabyle settlement, he saw, ultimately, the absence of what made the university, and his own mind, what it was. That supposed absence is the product of intellectual arrogance, yes, but it’s also part of a European cultural heritage"

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Songs Out of the Head of Papusza

 


Gili

 the little song, the diamond, a poem-song 
adapted from the Polish Romany of Papusza
with the assistance of Karolina Ossowska.
 Papusza's often improvised lyrics were transcribed 
during the final moments of the experience of the 
tabor culture and her name in Romany means "doll" 
& she speaks not of poems but of 
"songs out of the head of Papusza"
the locution used is familiar, often, that is,
"a person" is called "a gypsy" -- as if to say,
"one of our human family". 

the forest girls are going into
the forest, the Gypsy girls
young & pretty 
as blackberries
going into the forest, 
the forest girls, singing
we would like to wear earrings
golden ones,
all the while their eyes go shining
like true gold
the teeth white like pearls
little Gypsy girls singing
pretty as blackberries
where are those earrings?
have those earrings flown
into the forest?
& will none of the city-smiths
here forge
earrings of gold?
will no one make
earrings for them?

they run, calling
 "great golden earrings!
great golden earrings!
where are you today"?
my black eyes are looking for them
in the darkness now
 & the fires almost gone
ah, wind don't blow
so fiercely... please, don't blow...
and still the songs grow
 ever more silent
while the forest
more silent
took their songs
off into the world
& brought them back again

 & whenever the oak leaf falls
on the girls' knees
the Gypsy girls
 with eyes of true gold
fall upon the oak's leaves
on their knees & they run, crying:
we will make of golden
oak-leaves
our earrings
shining like diamonds
and she makes the oaken leaves
their golden earrings
which they sing about
in turns

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Reifications//Minimal Animal//Reanimations

 just published a new album of experiences. field recordings of the melting, weavings of the voice in search of selves in leaves under the receding snow, reflections on the practice of phonography, meditations on reification, reanimation and poems by Ilaria Boffa who I invited to respond to these themes. listen here. there is an abundance of textual trace below

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/reifications-minimal-animal-reanimations

 Reifications/Minimal Animal/Reanimations

When I don my headphones and turn up the volume of my recorder I enter two new worlds, both parallel yet distinct from the one that seemed to exist alone unto itself only moments before. One new world in which the audibly distant appears closer because amplified while paradoxically the nearer sounds seem suddenly far away because magnified, suddenly gigantic, details alien, shuddering proximity. This new dimension so immediately a "copy" or transmission of the actual outside, life within the doppelganger. But yet another world comes into my awareness: the cavern of my listening body as it descends into itself or becomes stretched to the horizon of the audible, a body lost in sensation. Connection & isolation.

This album is a sound-scape, or a few sound-scapes rather, composed from the field recordings made in Wilson's Park around the Palmiarnia Poznanska during two days of thaw Feb 18, 19, the harbinger of a still somewhat dubious Spring 2021, struggling with self-actualization. In January the sudden cold spell bequeathed us a miniature ice age, that left ponds and paths frozen completely for the first time in a few years. This thaw represented an opportunity to capture the sounds of a transitional weather environment. While recording I contemplated the process of "keeping it real" versus "making it real" and the title "Reifications" was born. When I discovered I'd had some microphone failures on the first day, I went back into the field to retrace what was melting and discovered yet another world, the disappearance and awakening of life forms from their hibernation and the next title "Reanimations" came to mind. The reflections I had about being in the field as an immersed listener versus being a recordist are given voice in the second track "Minimal Animal" -- the full text is to found below.

When I began giving voice to my reflections about the process in the field the general outlines of the composition unfolded as a virtual brain-cast, a projection of words onto the auditory field of the listener, a glimpse of a thought process in motion mirrored in the listener's apprehension, just as the world of sound dawns in scattered assemblage. Then poems came to the written and re-voiced. Extending the horizon, I had imagined inviting my poet friend Ilaria Boffa to create some interventions here and like the light of a distant planet, she came through. Perhaps this all would have been finished a bit earlier had we not gone into another Covid-inspired lockdown. In any case, the ice is all gone by now, the trees do indeed bud, while it's still quite chilly, life and all that, seems to go on.

April 12, 2021
Jeff Gburek

 Dereification
by #Ilaria Boffa

Dereifying things and their
relation to agency.
From entities to systems.
Dereify and reify oneself
to co-exist and glow like
synchronous fireflies.
They disappeared from
the countryside, overbuilt
and polluted.

What is a land if not
a vow that comfort one’s void.
What is a woman if not
her voice, a myriad of echoes
resonance and lament.
Dereification of matter
and reification of the human.
Existing in the Real
without Reality.


Minimal Animal
by Jeff Gburek

When I went out yesterday "into the field," I didn't record and I didn't even take gear. But since I'd had that exchange with you, I found myself reflecting on the act of recording. On the one hand, I said, into my dictaphone, field recording is a media that, unlike all the others, leads you deeper into the moment, into the now, the present. But paradoxically, the recording is made, being made, and the replay is taking place in another moment where, in some sense, it doesn't belong. It is an abstraction. As a recordist, I treasure the moment of contemplation and immersion into listening. If the recordings turn out to be not so useful, at least you can feel you had the experience. But another more haunting thought came to mind: that we are constantly recording a place that no longer exists. The place is never in the recording. The law of nature keeps the place sacred and sovereign. We are taking away some trace of acoustic phenomenon but the place perhaps remains unaffected. when the place is violated by developers or destroyed by fires, the place is made different. if we had recorded a place just before an intervention or environmental upheaval, we perhaps preserved some layer of acoustic properties. but that only underlines the fact that the place we recorded doesn't exist and that it's very likely it can never be brought back to being what it once was. So what is the scope of this activity, in fact? Certainly one's actual experience is important and involved. I came to the conclusion that what matters most is to combine reflection upon the experience with the presentation of recording.  Just as Steve Simpson , the marine biologist who was trying to record fish realized that the boats were changing the life of the fish. He never recorded the boats because that anthropogenic noise is not what he's interested in capturing and presenting to us. It's the secret conversational life of fish that is interesting, not the rumble of engines which we know so well because we created the machines. Yet his observation that we need to narrate the absence of the space where the animal lives naturally is important. It's more or at least equally as important as the abstraction of the sounds made by hydrophones, the latter being held up as sparkling gems of pure audio but not giving us a full picture of marine realities.

Matter, mater, madre
by Ilaria Boffa

Matter, mater, madre
the origin of things
and their substance.
The manner in which
molecules interact with
one another, bind to one another
break inhibitions and conceive
anew while ignoring
other choices.

Things and their substance
our substance.
To the eye the task and the peril
of matching what appears with
what it’s familiar, dispensing with
experience. The loss of the univocal
and unambiguous certainty
of proximity.

Your substance that I borrow
from the stream
when it steers its current and
enlaces my forearm
abandoned to its will.
My substance detrital and lithified
at the estuary.
Matter carrying matter.

Things and their substance
The unambiguous certainty of proximity
Le cose e la loro sostanza
L’inequivocabile certezza della prossimità


Cover art by Jeff Gburek. Images of Charlie Chaplin and Josephine Baker lifted from Kate Raworth's Doughnut Economics. "Economists need a metaphorical career change: from engineer to gardener".
 

 

 
 

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Toin, Spurl & Peducment.

 


new album link ist dar

 
  I decided that I had to do something about these miscellaneous acoustic guitar pieces that have gathered in the cracks between other albums, sessions, or which where recorded on a whim and lost for sometime. Not exactly homeless but locked safely in one among several pandora's boxes scattered about here. 
 
 Toin, Spurl & Puducment takes it's title from an obscure British television program about a man who invents a device to listen to unheard voices. Toin, Spurl & Peducment are the speculative words of trees he himself imagines they utter. The tracks were recorded sometime between 2019 and the present moment, the more recent ones being towards the end, including 3 recorded last week/month. I am accompanied by the great instrumentalist Eryk Nowacki on saz,tracks 2 & 3 (look our for an album from us sometime soon). The rhythm section (1, 2) was programmed by myself in Audiomulch. On tracks 7 & 8, I play the acoustic guitar and the zither, all improvised in real time. The cover art on the bandcamp album may be changing as soon as I get a better shot of the Five Stringer with the newly outfitted beaver thigh-bone bridge. But that never happened and insomma non fa niente al proposito al suono si trova li
 
-- Jeff Gburek, February 26, 2021

Saturday, March 13, 2021

Meet The System: Orphan Sound System. Archives of Williamsburg--based band, Volume One. With a commentary by John Elmanahi.

the music of the trio. free for download, name your price.

https://orphansoundsystem.bandcamp.com/releases

 Welcome to Meet The System by Orphan Sound System aka OSS. We are making a map from where we started out. Our sonogeography is diverse and this album recorded in the garage in Williamsburg just one of many artefacts from a very dense 2 years of creative activity. We pass the microphone to John El-Manahi, who recalls our formation in 1994 (years are often contested) in Firenze, Italia.

 "It’s my recollection that OSS was formed the moment John Palumbo knocked on the door of the flat I was sharing with Jeff Gburek, Florence Italy, 1993, and said “I heard the Monk and had to see where it was coming from.” From that moment we had music as the foundation of our interaction. Gburek and I had met the year before in similar fashion when I’d heard the sounds of an acoustic guitar in some alt tuning echoing in the stairway of a temporary student lodging...I eventually found him and said something dumb about Paco Del Lucia or John McLaughlin. Eventually that awkwardness gave way to cautious, suspicious friendship that solidified over travels, sharing music, philosophical discussions, art and poetics.

By the time Palumbo had come to Italy, we’d already been flatmates binging on Scelsi, Xenakis, Bartok, Ligeti, NanCarrow, Messian, Henze, Boulez, Stockhausen, Beethoven etc....Mingus, Monk, Miles, Coltrane, Sun Ra, Albert Ayler, Throbbing Gristle, Neubauten, Can, Sun City Girls...Umm Kalthoum, Gnawa Music, Nass El Ghiwane Turkish Pop, Balinese and Javanese Gamelan, Sundanese Pop, Tibetan Monks, African Music of Pygmy, Bantu, and Tanzanian Peoples, Nigerian Beat...to name a few. The point is that we were immersing ourselves into a sonic universe that was completely interconnected. We listened with the intent of tying music to our current state of being as a means of expressing all our creative and spiritual energy. Along with all the sound were books, poetry, mythology, film, art, philosophy and world religions. Everything was included in our understanding of sound as a means of expression and transformation. Palumbo came in from a primarily Jazz, punk background...but shared the improvisational sensibility that our listening was unconsciously developing. We were aligned with the sensibilities of Sun Ra, Cage, Kurt Schwitters, and other transcendental Jazz musicians. 


After Italy we met up in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in 1995. We were a cobbled together unit that had some pretty ramshackle instruments and amps...I believe we were very lucky to have landed in such musical poverty because it forced us to be inventive with what we had. Create instruments and sounds from tuning, preparing, found objects, and invention. I did not own or use a single pedal during my entire time with OSS. I simulated echo, and pitch shifts by adjusting my playing style to mimic the sound I wanted to make. I added shortwave radio and a hand held tape recorder that I would play through the guitar pickups.
 

The whole band only had one or 2 pedals that Gburek cooped to make the “Lancelot”. It was a microphone jammed into the horn of a discarded bugle, run through a pitch shifter, that had a looping setting. In addition to it being a feedback wand it was a listening instrument that took all the sounds we made and transformed them. The feedback sounds were completely unique. At times the Lancelot would just run on auto pilot while Jeff played another instrument. It’s in these moments that OSS produced more sound than seemed possible for 3 people.
*** see Jeff's note below 

 Palumbo was always an inventor. He tried to make a “drum machine” that would allow him to play far more drums than he would be able to by hand. It was a massive wood and cable contraption that was far too big to move and kinda dangerous if you got too close to it. As it was he had saw blades, metal pipes and plates, shards of cymbals, and assorted other pieces that could be used as percussion. They were hanging all around his drum kit within reach of Jeff and I. Our extensive metallic percussion was another facet of OSS’s texture. I’d found an old metal fireplace and attached a metal comb to it. That became the “4th Orphan”...an instrument that could sound like anything from a timpani to a toy piano. We would play any of these at will so we could shift textures seamlessly.

This is all to explain how the music of OSS began to form and evolve in the moment due to the sounds we had available. Playing bass or guitar or drums was a given, but we wanted to compose pieces, or create an ecstatic event like the folkloric music of indigenous people. We didn’t care if we were virtuosic on an instrument. It was more the sound and timing of it that made any difference. Palumbo using clarinet, or trombone on the moments he was inspired to, provided far more impact than an overly cerebral academic choice. Everything was drawn out of the ether and we were just along for the ride.

 We’d made attempts to be more purposeful even as an improvisation group. There’s a certain amount of snottiness and elitist mentality in the circles of avant-garde and experimental music. We were fully confronted by this, even though we had studied music composition in college and we had all been very experienced players. It didn’t matter. In those circles your pedigree has to pass the sniff test, like dogs smelling each other’s asses. In response we created improvisation maps and notation for scoring so we could be more deliberate in the process. We developed things like “non playing” where we would frenetically mimic playing as close to our instruments and hit by chance. What resulted was heavily textured quiet moments with percussive exclamations, which would emerge with greater frequency. Also, we would create shapes that had wave like forms with markings like crescendo, decrescendo, accelerando, ritardando, staccato, legato etc. and we could map out a flow based on visual information. We all had visual art backgrounds so we used these maps and waveforms to create loose scores that allowed us to adhere to a “composition”. Ultimately we internalized all these methods and used them in a seamless non verbal communication based solely on aligned intuition. Basically we stopped seeking approval from academics and followed our creative instincts. What we were producing was like nothing we’d ever heard so we felt we were on the right path.

The gigs were a mixed bag. The climate was accepting enough for noise and improvisation bands in NY at that time. Though there was still the arms folded audiences who were too uptight to go anywhere. The exception were loft parties and squats that had a more informal vibe. These people we’re looking for freakish acts that would give their events a legit art vibe. So we had some very good performances that were well received.

 The resurfacing of these recordings are a time capsule from that pre-internet period of experimentation and free thinking. Alternative methods of production and disseminating ideas. The tapes that have survived are almost entirely live and created in the moment. If one were to play them in order they would see a clear evolution of technique and complexity of idea."

 Note on The Lancelot by Jeff Gburek

The Lancelot was named so because once the microphone was inserted into the bell of the bugle it resembled a medieval lance. The canalization of the soundwaves lead to a peculiar effect: it would create a feedback pitch entirely dependent on what area of the speaker of the amplifier it was aimed at and the physics of this made it predictable and playable. It seems to be the fore-runner of microphone/saxophone feedback arrangements I would later see used by John Butcher & others. The Lancelot was also therefore a wind instrument, a kind of electro-acoustic kazoo and with the pitch-modulator and delay pedal it was capable of becoming a cybernetic system interactive with the entire sonic environment. Once I started working with Djalma Primordial Science, I started to call it the Orphan's Ear. The Lancelot was a device that both listened/received and transmitted/generated sounds.The search for automatons as John indicated would not stop there. As we continue to re-master and upload the surprises will continue.

Friday, February 26, 2021

the case of edward mordake (poem)


 

 

the case of edward mordake

 

impossible the people behind to see

who think i see the smile they smile

while i weep on ahead

into rush of slime wind

or when i laugh they rush

up behind offering kleenex

so concerned is the world

but i myself adjust to living

with the mirrors both out of date

to the image formed in lieu

in this age of terribly frustrated vanity

where all plastic surgery perjures

opposite effort & what said

uncobbles the mouth

 

unseen brother/sister mug

a moon-side facing forever away

from the front of me in flash-flood of consciousness

all would perhaps be well

were i not talking out the other side of my skull

out of ear shot, meeting people

the other half of me never know

 

Jeff Gburek

Dublin, 2017

Monday, February 22, 2021

ENSEMBLE PHUTURISTA (Brazil). Thoughts Upon Listening to a New Album on Mahorka netlabel

"A collective live improvisation planned, performed and recorded in the first edition of the event Onda Phuturista, at the Galeria Paciência (Patience Gallery) on January 12th, 2020. One year, one month and one day after that, on 13/02/2021, the album "12 de Janeiro, 2020 – Antesdurantedepois"

Musicians in Ensemble Phuturista are:
George Christian – acoustic-electric guitar, electric guitar
Heitor Dantas – live electronics, samplers
Maria Phuturista – vocals (track 3 and 4)
Talionpills – voice and electronics (tracks 3 and 4)
Fernando Fernandes – percussion and drums
Vítor Rios – banjo,
André Miranda Filho – cello, electric bass,
Paulo Roberto Pitta – tenor saxophone

 https://mahorka.bandcamp.com/album/12-de-janeiro-2020-antesdurantedepois

Reducing as translating. as exploding or scattering. describing a multi-media experience, portraying it in words, is almost as difficult as recording it. harrowing the illusion of any recording. bringing the real thing to you via the real-thing medium, the vibrating cone, the flashy image. no images here. only the vibrating speaker cones. brain decodes breath, people, tumult, a room, the guitar plays a figure, another guitar (or a loop of the same guitar -- one can't see --). the notes say there's banjo. is that a tinny banjo I hear? no way to be sure. drums: they weave under and crest up occasionally against the guitar, incessantly honking like a car-horn but perhaps guided by something the player is watching, the steps of a dancer perhaps. some moaning voices, a horn perhaps, a bowed simulacrum of a horn, the cello below the bridge. a reed enters very confident and off color from the rest, forcing the others into response, they bend up, or disappear. cricketty tapping of percussion. some voice. at the bar, on the street, in the cafe, in the mind. toy horns, bugles, samples according to my decoding apparatus. a guitar arpeggio. categorization and identification of sounds become mentally draining. but the dark and mellow figure played on the cello takes the mind away from left brain calculation. then it disappears in a wave pulling back. finally an image emerges: a harbor, vessels bobbing in the surf, waves, people shouting directions, wires clanking on poles, whining of wood against docks, barrels rolling down planks, birds, sirens. then the image vanishes. small percussion flourishes and samples.
 
I read the notes and see details concerning the event, a gallery, two rooms, visual art, performance, things I can only guess about and not experience here while listening. Does the absence of multi-dimensional things mean anything? At certain moments, no, at certain moments the sound carries something on it's own, even if it's quite lo-fi, in the second track, there is brooding cello, orchestral samples, sound chunks heave like wreckage of ships floating in storm winds, slashing guitar, purely elemental forces.

At other times one feels in the presence of a film set where the actors have not entered the frame yet, the illusion of the music creating a scenario for something that for them is there and for the listener something they must supply with fantasies.
Into the third track a desolate deserted blues wrangling hollers at the moon, guitar and saxophone as if two different canine  species howling for the lost pack, a bass figure moving in figures, notes, it takes some thinking to resolve, a drum pulse starts to pick up the pace and a lumbering pattern provides the support for the various solos, until they break down, the figure picked up by the banjo and the entry of pitch-shifted dwarfish voices until at moments it sounds a bit like a wild party jam to "while my guitar gently weeps" played by the voidoids and the vocals of a acid-drenched bootsy's rubberband had walked in off the street to manifest their funk. then there is a howling feedback break down with the drums trashing out metallic dirges and high pitches voices manifesting their funk and a general swamping swirl of noises for some time before new guiding vectors of glissandi appear and a sandstorm begins. impossible to see what's happening. a voice, apparently female, speaks, there's mumbling all around, pitch-shifted, chorus: a sudden reorganization, a drum-roll energy picks up the pace...then it fades out. reading the notes again one learns this was originally a 3-hour event. the recording has been edited. the build up again of whirlwinds of sound become oriented around a repeated pattern in bass and intensification by the drumming sending it to a peak, throbbing via very dramatic, dark, gothic psychedelic vibe the voice chanting and eventually it all retards into some arpeggiated banjo or perhaps electric keyboard until there comes, abruptly, but fittingly, the end, with applause.

what I haven't said already I won't be able to say again. what I heard seems to be the exciting search of a large ensemble for a mutual cooperative language of some kind. guided by some scripted frameworks. the notes describe it all more accurately from the point of view of one of the players. the phrase he uses is worth repeating "a great mutant sound enigma from the urban tropics". what I admire most is the collective energy and genuinely explorative nature of the players, all of whom seem to have skills and listening abilities. the recording points us to a social event, a happening, taking place before the pandemia displaced all such activities, if not dismantling their possibility for ever. something to think about for the moment as the world forces of control and conservative steering of the manufactured reality postpones acts of resistance and creative being togetherness. time to take back the stages. first step is to become immunologically sound.

-- Jeff Gburek, 2/15/2021

Friday, February 5, 2021

Trans Beskid Radio Volume II (Natural Complexity of Zombie Signifiers) new release on Mahorka

 We happily announce the official release of Trans-Beskid Radio Volume II by the Bulgarian netlabel Mahorka.

 "Many of the old signifiers have disappeared and neo-zombie signs become newly coined to describe the old or completely novel zombie-signifiers which proclaim meanings to exist which have not been acknowledged, accepted, recognized. I read in my own transformations here a future in which I am entangled and evolving with thoughtful moves. I paint in radiographical terms. I set out in my listening and remain contemplative, receptive, peering around the edges of the noise." 
 -- from the liner notes, Jeff Gburek, 2021
 

Previews with voice-over: https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek/trans-beskid-vol-ii-previews

Previews with video by Filippo Panichi:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=396VcIDjqf4&ab_channel=JeffGburek

 Trans Beskid Radio Volume II (Natural Complexity of Zombie Signifiers)

Live Set @ Paradigms Hub

Floating Cloud House, Wisła, Malinka

August 2020

1) Unmasked at Last (Light We Can't See)

2) Indian Ocean Aerials

3) Papal Boomerang Drone Attack

4) Every Sound a Singular Beacon

5) Anadadanta/Nadadanta

6) Biomechanical Sonority

7) Interactive Integrity

8) Natural Complexity of Zombie Signifiers

9) Hunting for Deeper Anamnesis

10) Not Happening Is Still Happening

11) Maritime Artefacts in Mountain Morain

 "New technology consumes the forms of the past, and in doing so, transforms them. The content of a medium is always another medium." -- Marshall Macluhan

 "It occurs to me that an eddy, a whirlpool effect is in the movement of the blue light energy round the globe of this planet earth. This is completely separate from earthling roots. Artificial Intelligence is driving and amplifying the speed of this whirling made up of fragments of incomplete storying's, facts, fiction, surmise, guessing, falsifying, and distortions too quick to catch, subliminal imagining, violent images, catastrophics..."

-- Carlyle Reedy, 12/12/2020 (via Facebook)

 While radio signaling may not be entirely separate from our earthling roots, the radio signaling sphere has certainly expanded in range and density. Like a loosely thatched roof or cyber-crown on top of the ionosphere, the 5G bubble expands. My radio and my own ears can receive now from further realms of accidental cooperation an unheard of propagation of waves and a new complex of commingling mass inter-references. Shortwave and medium wave radio captures recorded and mixed live in the Beskidy Mountains are the source and subject of my work here in this release on Mahorka. (Bulgaria) and continues the momentum kicked of by Antenna Non Grata label in Poland. With my radio captures I express the wish to re-inscribe my experience on the skies and an desire to transmit my own reception amid the virtual and real celestial beings merging with the creative forces of the universe. And to share and invite you to do the same.

 Radio was one of the ways I was getting to know the place where I was confined during the summer of plague year 2020, on the border between Poland & the Czech Republic. Culturally connection to humanity reduced to invisible waves. Naturally an admixture with foreign yet unalienable earthly experience was the continual communion. Stream, trees, berry bushes, birds, bees, wasps, snakes, deer, rain, fog, sun, moon. Humans off in distances, cutting, motors, megaphones of ceremony, sports? Mysteries of Lockdown.

 "The effort to know a place deeply is, ultimately, an expression of the human desire to belong, to fit somewhere, " writes naturalist Barry Lopez. "The determination to know a particular place, in my experience, is consistently rewarded. And every natural place, to my mind, is open to being known. And somewhere in this process a person begins to sense that they themselves are becoming known, so that when they are absent from that place they know that place misses them. And this reciprocity, to know and be known, reinforces a sense that one is necessary in the world."  When I would slip between two trees or ford the stream and brings my microphones through the thickets shyly, I often wondered who would take note of my passage. An owl's feather on the hill felt less like random molting and more a thoughtful gift. I did not feel necessary. Yet I felt somehow integrated. In stillness belongingness would follow in the space between abandoning too many thoughts and dwelling on the margins of the senses, alert & calm.

 The forest was filled with critters, anomalies, novelties and micro-process. Listening to the winds and then listening to the radio waves decode in the crucibles of the high mountain cabin, I felt a connection with a meta-language of polyvalent systems and the flux of cosmogonic coincidence inside my own fleeting construct of identity. Trees seemed electrically charged, the Perseid meteorites skimming overhead. We seemed part of an unfolding of both broad-scaled and miniscule gestures. When meteorites could be heard influencing the bounce of the radio signals I found myself thinking again of Umberto Eco, his semiotics "the ability to identify messages where it is supposed there are only gestures and read signs where there are only objects".

 While I was in the field I received notification of a commission for Radioprhrenia Glasgow and I began to imagined how some of these radio recordings might be used, happy that I would get another chance to transmit via radio what radio transmits to me.

 "Culture is brimming with relics in the form of zombie signifiers, " wrote Zygmunt Baumann in his "Sketches in the Theory of Culture".  Since the old meanings of cultural signs  are constantly shifting, there is an emptying of significance. If the Zen concept of the half-empty/half-full glass can be invoked here, I would say that whatever we are saying these days, one half is the old school sense, somewhat obsolete, while the other half is filled with the codifications of the new generations, ahead of us, somewhat unrealized and potential. With the realm of the radio, there is a ghost half always half empty and a ghost half always half full. Many of the old signifiers have disappeared and neo-zombie signs become newly coined to describe the old or completely novel zombie-signifiers which proclaim meanings to exist which have not been acknowledged, accepted, recognized. I read in my own transformations here a future in which I am entangled and evolving with thoughtful moves. I paint in radiographical terms.

  I do not speak only about the meaning of radio as a cultural manifestation or as mass media, as propaganda, spreader of cliches. Whereas we attach coded electronic pulses to the radio waves in an effort to communicate between ourselves and government enacts control thereby, I have always been as equally concerned with how radio waves, as cosmic forces per se, communicate themselves through us. I set out in my listening and remain contemplative, receptive, peering around the edges of the noise. 

 


 

 

 

 

Friday, January 8, 2021

"Re-Charting Time" & "Ebb Tidal Delta, Findings & Intercourse". Soundscapes by Jeff Gburek with Text and voice by Ilaria Boffa.

 

 

 Re-Charting Time

 https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek/recharting-time-927-dec-22

Featuring the voice of Ilaria Boffa reading her poem, "Charting Time" ("About Sounds About Us", Samuele Editore, 2019, page 38). Soundscape composed in live session by Jeff Gburek, December 22, 2020. Instrumentation: field recordings, synthesizer, prepared speaker elements, zither, ebow, wandering microphone, floorboards, cellophane foil, pumpkin seeds, glass jars, african shakers.

That window through which we look
it's your window.
A window with blinds banging
fiercely in the cold.
We chart territories, oaths,
peoples walking, mapping stillness.
Unexpectedness opens
and we face the crevasse, the vastness,
loneliness.
I've crossed time for you
past and future.
I'm here, immobile, a whiteness in me.
Leaning against this wall
I yearn for the calm.

 

Ebb Tidal Delta, Findings & Intercourse

 


https://soundcloud.com/ilaria_boffa/ebb-tidal-delta-findings-intercourse-in-venedig-czwartek-926

Venedig Czwartek 926 music by @jeff-gburek
Sonopoem by @ilaria_boffa
Pic by IB: view from Fusina ferry boat, Porto Marghera Petrochemical Plant

'Ebb Tidal Delta, Findings & Intercourse

Upon progression, stasis.
The planimetry of transgressive deposits
detects nonconforming incoming signals. Findings?
Maximum flooding and ebb tidal delta on our faces afterwards.
Our channels capped and monitored by safeguard norms. We’ve been
rounding down our drives. The exercise of replacing intercourse with course
although an inter-course is a course between. Shouldn’t we map an intercourse?

For the sake of science.'