Sunday, December 6, 2020

-- when you have seen 100 pomegranites fall within your own eyes and collected the seeds -- a blotter of mental wandering during confinement in pandemic 2020 -- poems, anti-poems, revelations, rants

   set out with the desire to create rather than inform
assuming the art of redemption consists in the idea every acre of dust leads somewhere, 
amounts to some thing or congregation
 
 if you start out with a crown of sonnets, 
don't pluck the readers nerves
more useful perhaps a list of beers
that require lime to make them drinkable
  and don't say it in tattered English either
but what else is there for me to think with?
after tone leading of vowels, we still have limes 
drying on the counter, rock hard by the morrow
after the tone leading of vowels
broken pavement all the the way through 
the new, not yet roaring twenties
  the days inside my stork's nest apartment 
start to get numbered
and spinoza reveals each agency in the peak of
some bullshit endured I'll have to reverse 
into coin and pay forward
 
*
    somewhere in cyberspace zombie nihilists are at work because they want to ban conspiracy theory videos from YouTube and this move troubles me, is utter madness. it will collapse the internet itself. the vacuum underlying the information age will lead to an implosion of all virtual social surfaces, the hollow earth will suck us inside. it will be the death of the left and the right. there is not one credible socialist theory that doesn't begin its sociological alphabet with a logically coherent narrative of conspiracy. 
who's in charge here?

 happy in my own cells plural happy in my cell division with my cellular self post celluloid tweaking dreams skipworthy gold buggy drone-borne in the chem trails. 
 
science always divides itself between obsessive self care and the spectre of social control dressing up naked emperors for parade. Carl Sagan likely meant well and even Novalis can make sense of the language virus of Doctor Seuss and Willy nilly Wonka and Bill Burroughs in Tangiers during the filming of Planet of the Apes the never-ending story directors cut of Mister Spock passing out in the mind-meld in the particle beamers, the geyser of anti-matter, the rush of entities past out psychic ears
 
where? type by type by type the font of nothingness configures from tiny squirming jiggers in the triggers the letters configuring the atoms snapped to the grid of time, half-time, between wars of the worlds one and two. 
 
the fish in the clear water suddenly have time to come up on the beach and think about their next step in evolution. let's make a plan, leap, squirm, flop and fly. a fish plan but a plan, understand?

 I hate to recommend drugs, violence or insanity to anyone but they always worked for me 
-- Hunter S. Thompson

 now that there seems to become evidence that world leaders are 99 percent rabid syphilitic goons with razed brain stems the poets and the radical artists dieticians and visionary engineers will come out of hiding perhaps and help salvage what's left of the century. let the count-down begin...

 dipping into twitter again and seeing it's the perfect medium for extremists and wise-asses, trolls and para-trolls... and I had the sudden realization, they all write with their thumbs. there must be a hidden meaning there.

some suppliers are more demanding than others, some demands higher in the chain of supply. make the masks obligatory 3 weeks into game punishable by fine only after you build up a supply of masks to sell. last night the mass celebrated the fact we die as we dream alone but keep your feet first distance march to the new drum a more perfect fear a new invisible force of control which lends resonance to antonin artaud's declaration that microbes are god but let's keep that between you and me babe

it's always struck me as important to be the book rather than the author. never as important to be a figure in culture like jean paul sartre but rather like spinoza: a line of writing that enters one's mind and as many minds that are open to reading that line and having the multiplicity of meanings and the unity of actions that do not have any awareness of each other's reactions. until much later. marveling over the miracle. shared and yet separate being.

the interview I and Marjorie Van Halteren conducted with Alice Notley in Paris has been published
http://thattuesday.libsyn.com/the-afternoon-we-spent-with-alice-notley?fbclid=IwAR1w_gPl7ZbaE1WvBscI7l7xN-iU9t3ByLotsgBakh8KzKFyXuw_vPLEwsw
 
*


 "Most people don't know and don't care who you are. You know, I think I'm kind of like pennies; you have them in your pocket but you don't remember they're there. Nobody knows who I am. Sometime if I tell someone who I am they'll say oh no you ain't. Or people just don't know, never did and don't care."
 -- Bill Withers (from a 2009 documentary)

*

this is the message you have been waiting for

they keep arriving out of nowhere

the poems cluster like hiveless bees on the fence between seasons

if you are an improvisor you just stay in the game
even when there's nothing to wager
and nothing to play for

*

 Finally composed and released Arpeggios of Silence

    An arpeggio, poetically speaking, is a chord that cannot keep itself together, which breaks up into notes chasing one another in an endless cycle; tones, following, repeating themselves in a samsaric search for lost origins across associative distancing. It is an intelligent dance organization, a melancholic gathering of a mobile of elements jiggled by invisible forces. As the broken chord staggers over the soundscape, the death knells of individual silences burst onto the shore and withdraw. There are so many sounds for the attentive listeners that it is actually the unsound or the silence that speaks, issues though the fissures, the speakers. Here we have a potential structure for bearing numerous iterations or migrations of voices in isolation carried on one wave. And in this particular journey, which I should have properly performed live in concert one month ago, we who listen can meet the poetry and voices of Susan Howe, Ilaria Boffa, myself and #KamauBrathwaite, although there may be voices in the pulsations and frequencies themselves and I don't know all their names just yet. Those who listen can perhaps help me to understand them. We finished the mix on Easter but awaited the cover art in response from Karolina Ossowska. The album of the same name is published on Bandcamp with an extended instrumental version and a splinter composition based on the main electric piano theme. Please support if possible. May we all succeed. 


been poetry riding shotgun for them 40
riders or so of the apocalypse
when it's been the apocalypse riding the drivers
burning the empty rubbers
but who told you that you can speak this way
or who told you that you can't
where is the dictionary coming from these days?
the streets but they are paved
the jungle but that's been razed
the river but theys been drained
divine reason but that's been bained
been the the slaveship turned spaceship
to get the wrong people out of the game...
wrong or right ? you know the game is tight
are you what you think? look at the flow
don't dare to speak low
go for the neck, keep loose
let the ghosts out of the bag.
say what the words say
say... are you a believable text?
walk while you may or take a few steps back
and run while you can
a new religious schism is on it's way
how to divide the worm from the state
leave the rose one thorn

*

 temperature outside 5 degrees, mostly sunny, windy as shit,
temperature feels like 5 below, feels like bullshit government,
calling pot-shots from the gated community of wrecks
some junk yard of dreams I'm supposed to salvage
& patch together into my own destiny, I'd rather sleep
looks like tsunami of bum rush capitalism gonna take down cities
actual mileage may vary according to how much cash you carry
wisdom in the pocket shakes a fake tail like davey crocket
the lady with the ermine didn't make herself the coat
but there's something in the way these keys jangle
that makes its seem something's gonna blow the prison
run with the jackals and fly with the crows
something with an opposable thumb will close
over the shoulder of the cabinet of sinister ministers
and administer the medicine that makes the mind, blow


*

air on my fingertips!?
what joy! ...
but how more aware?
can life be?
shadowed by the glove
muzzled by the mask
where does more awareness flicker
guess the smiles through
the eyes glow quicker
go out on the air and see
go on... go out...
escape the fire
escape the landscape
the soundscape
the dreamscape
escape the thought
of what everybody nobody
everybody wants
perfect ripped bod
perfect blown job
perfect vile of blood
escaping escapes us
ideologies wandering
free deserts, mown towns,
hacked trees
life's spices diced
into scapegoat traces
history fistory
uppity dock
slashed in a flash
in the pandemic memory
down the bio-clock
in an extinct ivory
horn born from
b or c movie
x rated post-truth
strip tease the metaphysics
down to...
whoever you wanna
get skeletal with

go to the good looks cook-book and fetch another recipe
 
stereo binaural
multichannel
scanners long distance
balloons over the river
radio krankenhaus
blixa's geshichte
over loaded lords of
money in the bank
slip lipstreams
moonbeams
loopholes
smells like your neighborhood
caught up with a nice
fire insurance policy agent
cinderd turn in leaps of faith
now every car will be a club
every van a bordello
church mobs imaginary
one man's ghetto, grotto
another's chemical urn
the ashes of the burning
man canisters rolling


*

 a few weeks ago when the parks were still open I sat on a bench with Karolina drawing words back and forth between one another as if drawn across and even weaving with the rays of the late day sun there came a woman cursing strangely but with humour into her black cell mirroring her black sun-glasses and black lipstick against the pallid flesh not unhealthy but decidedly off-white maybe and the long dress as you could imagine black maybe of felt I can admit to being distracted and imprecise but she pushed a black hearse-like baby-carriage with gold handle-bar, a pram, all in black, black, black, also with golden-trim and molded fleur-de-lis joint-fittings and hub-caps all gold (rubber tires: black) and this sumptuous death-limo richness, stately deathly pomp and gliding circumstance the wheels of the carriage being 4 wheels and the baby could not be seen because of the black screen drawn over the closed lid of this funereal float in the last parade before the quarantines and lockdowns would in earnest begin -- as it were a premonition of some sort -- what if she was selling dope? or vaccines?

*

 the meteor will hit
any minute
knocking arms
off the clock
although the system
bearing complexity
races to label
the off switch
unknown
other hexers
fill in the blanks
just check
who


afterthought title: 
let the scapegoating begin

 *


where do we go now?
what time is it really?
we used to run from the crowds
we used to run with some crowd
lonely but never alone
my drum beat me to the difference
on the isolate peaks the valleys
virtually folded greenly in the voice
of Maria Calas the grass
burnt too quickly
in this recording of Donizetti
one can hear the creak of floorboards
feet shuffling a choral strophe
or floral catastrophe
not a single word makes sense
melismatic throughout
an endless sentence
where did all the people go?
down the street on the corner
bottles without drinkers gather
Nothing new about that
flute mimics aria and airplane
over scores the Donizetti
now she sounds like a simple siren
operatic ambulance sans Doppler
where do we go to find supplies?
the feet fall like simple rain
what do we find essential?
is this purgatory or the ante room to Hades?
is there always opera here?
where can I find what I need?
where can I give what is mine to give?
can all these sounds of voices
act like tree leaves to filter
poison of political speech?
maybe life is too difficult after all
maybe our life is over-involved
but then again who's asking?
perhaps the quantic snap to new
time space manifold is enhancing
reception and you in the corner
turn to look at these words
stretching out of view


*


daft bourgeois
go to the cloak room
go to your closet
take the clothes
woven with grief
and rend them
walk in the rags
ten years at least
or until one tear
falls for something
other than what you
seem to own so well
you have forgotten
daft bourgeois
what rhymes with orange
unhanding us


*

pimples appear on the surface
and ruins of a face wander various selfhoods
from adult to adultery to adulteration
the past is being rewritten by the victor & victrola
the vector of identity learning cosmetics
and flotation from water fowl
who winter the siege of micro-mongols
foraging with tails upturned for
their food is of great concern
having no parliament of devils to haggle with
about the meaning of the worm for control


*


time sleeps
pulls the blanket over space
it is your birthday
in terms of years
your birth minute
in terms of weeks
your birth second
in terms of centuries
incalculable your days
and nights inside the forest
the first tree
learning to walk
but lo! behold:
space has closed
over the book of time
where nebulae murmur
timeless arguments
in celebration
of what we maybe
never will know


(false poem for the buddha, lately of timeless
ageless universe where years are 450 million) 

++


when you have seen 100 pomegranites fall with your own eyes and collected the seeds


boom room is where you go boom like everyone like no one will hear like poetry scratch pad days lines of oblivion etched into the feathered forehead of God's list in flight you lost me there at the crossroads of poetry and politics. boom. every word in the truth there is no substitute no paraphrase poetry Iies faithful to love no template for industry nor congress conspiracy of pharmocorporal wage-punishment fake peoperty document's please, you dinosaur fossil. poetry is the dwelling harmonic hambone hydrangea hydrophone hydra schio-analytics of doctor kryptonite. boom. muhhamad ali plus typing. It will not be there to argue class distribution curves but may be dress gender issues in colourful terms of the celebratory imagination and go fund the me the synaptic ligatures of identity. beep beep. whizz. scratch toe hold let your wing tips touch your peak drop those Martian maritime mumbly peg martini holding praying mantis hands to the ground. and boom. gravity goes quantum this mountain is naturally bald not arranged like Chopin. bam. bang a chopstick rattle its the Chico Brown eye pattern flare in the foveal grove showing you sun's plasma in freckles of your mitochondria. the angels are supported by the song you need the angels so you sing. simple as that. even I'd you dial the number wrong it gets you a where world were-world were-where. and you don't stop. the barrel scraping is infinite and the empty glows like howl-along
boom 

...

 

polarities by virtue of hardened age gaining maximum flexibility seem to lead me to pointing in all directions like the quantum brainless scarecrow -- the direction of your fear of loss, your direction for your hope for gains -- the heraclitean directionless direction -- the tao where all roads are the crossroads... i don't wish to be one person or even when that one person was okay it was doomed by being one to particle decay and clamber scatter across despair stairs of value -- who could be a poet after pasolini? the personal auschwitz of the leftist fermenting in procrustean beds? they will plow your car over your bones... michealangelo's shattered pieta the arm hanging too simian... the break-down of social barriers, the way anybody's soviet childhood meets with your own monkey family farms 
 
... 



In Crimean Tatar, the name of the city is Aqmescit, which means The white mosque (Aq—white, and mescit—mosque)

 
 
 
the one dimensional gag-order
weaponization of facial wear
versus multidimensional
gag-order, denial of services,
death by nostalgia, attack
attack?
the flaque not the flicks

they say delete your cookies
put your cookies down on the ground
and step-back, hands on your head
back out of your history
learn the new narrative
and it's cul-de-sac of rebellions
cul-de-sac, chicken shack
rooster in a hen-house
melting icebergs
the volcanoes mega

...

raped serially by the death monotony cult of capital with enchanting intermitencies the designer diseases passed randomly down predatory food chains whose bottom feeder calls top dog down stream of the bourgeois rage for consistent development technologies telling us which side this titanic is broken on determined to keep talking while the boat goes down while I suggest all you lovely people instead learn your swim against all the spins and yes they are sharks all around confused by it all maybe as much as you keep your distance the eye on the eyes take aim relax its all over anyway get on with it 

...

humans not in it. humans within it. humans surround some segment of it. surrounds humans. it does yet don't have any ain't. don't know what it is don't know themselves but make doughnuts make doughnut holes and sell them and grow bigger themselves. what have we been doing in the goldilocks zone but feasting on the rightful supper of the bears...

the optimist sees the glass as half-ruined, cracked, looks for a new one


clampdowns on cognitive freedoms rarely get reported. or only ironically. freedom itself is often not efficiently cognized. are any of you reading this? what pill was it that you took this morning? I have a theory about island people. a theory about goats and boats and ayahuasca and dreams of a theory of broken down authority. resolved into riddims. you with them. theory about landlocked nations that dream to be boats with children at the helm in pirate hats made of newspaper. there will be no election to perform itself incompetently on Sunday. are you reading this or only what you want to see in this? I think when artaud wrote all writing was pigshit it was in translation but he likely meant writing for the man is cryptofascist. let the word be free. to connect in the mind the numberless days of liberation. but what pill will we pick from the pharmocoligical sootoproletarian kindergarten and what is up with that numbed down dumbed down thing of flat roads and drained swamps that our civilization calls quality. put up a laugh emoji from the bank of emotions open offer. yesterday a swan walked ashore straight towards me and I didn't run away but there were cops in a hummer I hope will disappear over then summer I dream of djinn with the green glowing hair and kelp that walks. it is gentle madness and pineal clarity. type this and forget. poets never die
 
...

radio curvature -- spherical triangles - the social armature, armor, amour, casting spells in sound
moor mothers tangled weather
the kickbacks of apriori
ante-deluvian backwater
diamonds drawn from the moon
(ice crystals) did the virus come from mars?
surprised eyes upon dresses covered in vibrant green vowels,
apricot inside the apricot, starved fish for the fishers
because all causes are between 
bells do not ring in the cathedrals any longer
and the darkness of theater extending tendrils
devices design separitis (an inflammatory disease caused by being alone)
the inflammation of division

touch of a scandalous fair play may day's delayed rapture, extended mix par cour, par terre, par-tay, par-tau, square to the pi dwarf ancient c

brave the eternal why not now brave the teddy dreadies

under the paradigm shift the quick fix of the flipped ecliptic will re-rotate the total bliss manufacture--- 
let the judges be warned how judgement burns both ways
 
 surf the tidings of disaster, let the rubric read liberation

where fantasy coils with reality where the dream animals gather and give bifurcation a lift into town





Thursday, December 3, 2020

Wasteland with a Faerie Queene -- Sonic Youth in Pisa -- Florentine Notebook #2, Nov. 1992 --

 

zoom in on this for details...

 "sometimes you get so lonely, sometimes you get nowhere, I've been all over the world, I've left every place"

Don't tell me to stop now when it's beginning all over again. I'm rumbling in treno via Empoli a Pisa, brain moving faster than all words, towards my own Sonic Youth, with 3 Babbling Devils on my shoulder, eagerly absorbed into the whole of the night, like a sponge sucked into the drain. Don't ask me to stop singing, oy, fare le laude ai compagni assiem wherein their words and hairs fly so causeless in the wind headed into the nowhere we never been before. Through rushing air of window late, November as it was, moon a daub of semen or milk (some of us think like both) (some can tell the difference)(across the black velvet skirt (sky). The sky (skirt). Blends in with all the advertisements of the sky (of Tuscany) you see in Nature Magazines, sky porn, anna livia plurabelle, just ahead, anywhere. Skies backdropping the architectural crusades of progress: churches, tenements, malls, aracades, factories, living graft, then skies again, full, empty, the train's throttling intonarumori. Like the lovely lies my friends here tell me about the future while we laugh empty the mind and the bottles while filling up the heart with something like a ladleful of Italian sky-noise and by then I'm already hearing opening primordial haywire feedback space junk whistlers revolutionary spin (dreams that rise in wavelets thereof whistler's mothra, therefore) such dreams as music is made of, the wasteland, the Arno flooding in the heads of the Santa Croce residents, the abandonment of the City of Flowers in time of Re Pesta il Terzo, the paper boat we chilluns float upon, oh, well, someone else will tell the history of it all, the hooked trout, the factitious bait. For the moment there's only this grinding and fleshly feeling of moving into unknown Pisa Centrale Stazione, getting out &... no one is sure of where to go. Yet.

Where are they playing someone asks. Scott's laughter backwashes into recalcitrant Coke's lattina. Danielle is doing up the Botticellian whiplash tresses into a golden wasp's nest. (We are still on the train, we haven't even arrived at the station but the wheels are starting to whistle). Jill laying down between us how we in young adulthood or old age exploit our teenage scandals in later ages to extract legendary gold from the rank ore of coal dead dinosaur paddies. I'm the only one listening apparently. My dad, she says, has been, she seems to say, the has-been, hus-band, house-band freakin'... she seemed to have said, something. * About. We've all been wearing the wedding ring on the wrong finger lately. And if you have begun, my dear and be-mildewed reader, to lose sight of our narrative ship, then rebel! Stand aghast, don't give up the fight: I must remind you this is a facet, a fragment, a colored tile in a Byzantine mosaic of a life made of all our lives and you may, if naughtier than nice, see the assemblage therefrom years down the line. We await a bus at the second piazza up from the train station and ticketlessly steal ourselves into orange colored butt-holds of the pullman where I get involved talking to a pixyish Pisana fashion-plate who sells English lessons (by the pound) from swank portofolio and she's going our way. Score. We scramble off the bus and confront.

Illusory and deceptive as all hell, we confront the unknown people, the official wall, acting as if common granite. We dissimulate normalcy while feeling out of place, we decollatoed this and capitoed that through the well-suited lines of gently grunting nodding carabinieri, admitted, ushered or shooed along. We are all too legal these days to be long-detained and we got our skins, visas and hairs gathered into a vestibule. Once inside... 

The venue was like a tent, huge big-top or some modern gymnasium ** but once inside, we melted into the warmth of the throng. Huddled just a ahead a ring of steamy-headed Italians backs turned to us, smoking up an incense storm some sacramental hocus-pocus making us feel fine, smoking up a storm in fluted columns, hookahs, rising as the censer in some Tibetan shrine, murmuring outward, inward... 

(Pavement is in the distance on the set, a band I know di nulla).

Outward, inward, suddenly pressed up near the stage, without knowing how it happened, leather flesh fur denim scents hairs overlapping. The year is 1296, 1965, 1992 as far as I can see. Dante verses in my mind but babble in the ears, modern europes, Coltrane on the house-system whoozing so misty blue dark enraged out of nowhere but gently over the gen-X crowds, manna, some De La Soul, but the Trane back with the Sophic rain of the journey there and back again. Soothes. Excites. Ethiopian freedom saxophone. And then the Sonic Youth come out looking not so young as before but ageless as ever and I find myself in this ancient physical colloquoy of smiles, moving bodies, shaking out the dreads, the damp musty falanges, the rug of willied souls pressing as they roll out the first few noise-eloquent numbers (where's the fiasco of Fibonacci?), the whine of feedback, the barrel of the skull-drum thudding as the pit shyly at first seems to form out of the pointless core the spiral. Advancing into kindredness, oblivious to cause. Or several causes clicking. And we go weaving into the whorl, the ravished flower of this many-petalled collective dance. Girasole. We are all too temporary to withhold, not get thrown about, it's bloodless, there must have been this, always, but I only know this, now. Too eternal. Lest we forget. Mixed into this Mill of Life again. Heads and hearts in one silver bowl. Orphic, Sapphic, Bacchic all one. Jesus Christ and Judas Iscariot reconciled in the time-machine with flappers. Who do they think they are anyway? God it sure is hot here in Heaven. I step back and fan my jacket a bit, still swaying. For the first time in my life a girl boldly pinches my ass, an Italian, unknown, giggling, during  "Tom Violence" , then goes rushing back to her circle of friends. I just smiled and waved. Not running away, not chasing anything.

And someone on the stage says, "you better stay away from poets" and we all know why Henry James said "paint loneliness on your banner", if you would write your culture inside out. And that's what this is, this moment, flipped, Sonic Youth in Pisa, leaning over the stage, my inverted expatriate consciousness straining to see where the two shores meet. (That's what our notebook says, take it or leave it). The crowd is friendly genuinely the gentle throttling of the pit is nowhere aggressive. They seem to have a hard time hoisting anybody on top of the hands for too long since they are not packed tight enough. Stage-dives don't come off too well. Given my own imperfections, I am all open arms. Hope of open arms stupidly wasted on the perfect. Each song comes smashing out like baseball bats on windshields. That song's name takes a long time to come to mind while its goes, ah Drunken Butterfly. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, what's your name? 

Then some new songs I don't know too well, maybe improvisations, then something like "don't you touch my breast" very no-wave this one and after Sex, God and Angels, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, since it's been more like an hour and a half of something that one can't believe is here and happening anyway it's up to that tristesse, that sad, detached, fatalistic moment when we realize we must forever leave.

Let us the fuck out. Nothing is worse. I am always the-forget-to-leave-early-dumbass-king. 

Mezzo kilometro camminando. Following hunches, some people seen on the train here, ears bleeding, following the red trails, winding up at Cascine Stazione, chilly, waiting with the Florentine resident contingent of the throng, Chilly, waiting (you typed that already). Then talking until 4 in the morning about our lives in motion then at home more talking more until deep night alone talking in the mind then...

no more talking... what's that sound like?

"I am going to hate to leave this Earthly Paradise" ***

 

Notes.

* This is a lovely moment to recall. It's too loud to hear what people are saying but we all were smiling and happy and acting as if we understood. That had become our habit in daily life: hearing much spoken and pretending we understood everything so as not to be too conspicuous. Pretending to understand when you don't but also because by pretending you also understand something else: it's being together that's important.  

** Teatro Politeama, Cascina, Pisa

*** quote from American poet, Charles Olson


Wednesday, December 2, 2020

Trans-Thracian Tribal & Balkan Electronica 2020, some favorite sets and albums

 



 Grooves Tribal & Trans Thracian

Vataff Project (particularly beautiful in addition to the grooves & karnartic-like vocal is the sound of the gadulka

 https://vataff.bandcamp.com/album/jol-va

Isabel Sokol - Oxman - gadulka
Dario Tabakov - clarinet, voice
Petar Yordanov /Buny/ - percussions
Veselin Mitev - fujara, ney flute, harmonica
Teodor Nedev - electric guitar

 DJ Soulful Bliss -- with a name like that, you'd expect new age glitch but it's organic, woodsy, spacious, check out the track called Natural Instincts. The DJ sets are mixes of traditional Balkan folk song with gradually growing Black Sea froth building into downtempo grooves, heavy bass, smooth, well-rounded synth kicks and eerie keyboard washes and bells, melodies of the ney, Turkish and Roma vibes, trips. The link below is a apparently, upon closer scrutiny, not the work of Soulful Bliss alone. See the page for details

 https://soundcloud.com/djsoulfulbliss/soulful-bliss-waha-continuum-romania-2018

 Eastern Depths IV (Various Artists)

On the darker more industrial but deep and experimental side is the compilation from Bulgaria's Mahorka label. Quite vast and often surprising jumps from grooves into abstractions and clever switch-ups, with an overall workflow that is hard to turn off unless you have difficult neighbors & thin walls. Hosting a roster of artists longer than your arm and almost all them were news to me, time to listen again.

 http://mahorka.org/release/255

 

all photos by Karolina Ossowska

Saturday, November 28, 2020

Djalma Primordial Science Curriculum Vitae Back-Up

 just in case we cannot preserve the website of the project after the next year, I will archive here... this is not exhaustive -- there have been other actions after 2010 but they divide into the East and West streams of the project.

2010

January 20: "Une Poutre entre Nous" Ephia, Jeff Gburek and Thibault Delferière at La Ferme de Biereau and L'An Vert, Belgium.
March: "Jericho" film by Tamara Erde  featuring the dance of Ephia premiers at Le Fresnoy, Studio National des Arts contemporains, France.
Mai 8: Ephia performs in the "festival des solos insolites" Trevoux, France.
July: Le Corps: SENS DEDANS DEHORS, workshop dedicated to the encounter of body and environment led by Ephia on the plateau of Aubrac in collaboration with ATSARA-théâtre des sons

2009

October 31: The Secret Life of Matter 2-day workshop hosted by London's Butoh Festival.
November: Ephia premiers in "CHAOSanatomique"  in collaboration with Compagnie SCOLOPENDRE, Lyon.
July 8-12: "CONTRE-IMAGE" plays in the festival "NOUS N'IRONS PAS A AVIGNON" Vitry-sur-seine.
July 3, 4,5: Ephia performs with Toni DiNapoli in "Courant D'Art Festival" of Collectif Ishtar, Rignat.
February 24: Premier of "CONTRE-IMAGE" multidisciplinary performance in collaboration with Yael Karavan. Artistic residencies at CCN de Rillieux-La-Pape, Cie Maguy Marin, Micadanse, Atelier Carolyn Carlson in Paris.
January: Ephia begins long-running collaboration with Collectif Ishtar (Bourg-en-Bresse). Improvised music and dance in urban and rural locations.

2008

December: Body Mapping/Getting Lost, 6-day dance-theater workshop at Exploratorium Berlin.
November 5: "Mirrorminded Curiousitease" performed at UNIDRAM 15. Festival, Potsdam.
August 1-10: Le Corps: SENS DEDANS DEHORS 10-day land-based workshop at NOGANETS, FRANCE.
Mai 16: "Quatrième Participant Invisible", Ephia performs with Benoit Cancoin and Mathias Forge, Lyon.
February: Ephia is teaches at Hambre y Vida theatre-laboratory in Andalousia with anatgon theatreAKTion.
January 6-10: Body Mapping/Getting Lost, 5-day dance-theater workshop at Exploratorium Berlin.

2007

December 9-12: Unmasking the Body, 4-day workshop at London's Theater Training Initiative. 
November 2-30: Ephia begins long-running collaboration with Compagnie SCOLOPENDRE, developing a new approach to shadow and object-theater in artistic residency at RAMDAM, Saint Foy les Lyon.
October 2: MYOPIA perfomed at Le Petit Carre D'Art, St. Affrique, France.
September 29-30: Le Corps Démasqué Weekend Workshop in Marcillac, France. 
September 27-28: "mirrorminded curiousitease" performed at La Menuiserie, Rodez, France.
September 20-21: MYOPIA performed at Le Croiseur in Lyon, France. 
September 16: ODBO+DJALMA improvisation at l'Atelier Blanc, Villefranche de Rouergue, France.
September 15: ODBO+DJALMA improvisation at La Maison Peinte, Toulouse, France.
September 7-9: "mirrorminded curiousitease" performed at Espace 44, Lyon, France. 
August 10-18: Le Corps: SENS DEDANS DEHORS 10-day land-based workshop at NOGANETS, FRANCE. 
March 31-April 14: Body Mapping/Getting Lost, 13-day dance-theater workshop at Exploratorium Berlin.
March 23-25: "mirrorminded curiousitease" performed at Gallery Weissen Seer am Freitag, Berlin, DE.

2006

December 17: Entre Centre et Absence, improvisational performance @ Wedding Salon, Berlin, DE. 
December 5: (MYOPIA)2 performed @ ODIN Teatret, Holstebro, Denmark. 
December 1-2: (MYOPIA)2 performed @ GAYA-Karmanoia Theater, Berlin, De. 
November 14: "mirrorminded curiousitease" performed @ Theater Kapelle, Berlin, DE. 
November 4-5: Anatomie der (Un-)Ordnung weekend workshop @ Exploratorium Berlin, DE.
October 30: (MYOPIA)2 performed @ UNIDRAM 13. Festival fuer junges Theater in Europa. Potsdam, DE. 
September 14: LA RALENTIE performed @ Club der Polnischen Versager, Berlin, DE. 
August 26-27: "Una Anatomia de la Sombre" performed @ Gaya Theater, Berlin. 
August 10-19: Die Entlarvung des Körpers(Unmasking the Body), Summer Intensive workshop in Berlin.
July 16-23: integrating with/disintegrating into THE LAND, 8-day desert workshop, New Mexico.
Juni 23-24: "Una Anatomia de la Sombra" performed @ 48 Stunden Neukölln. Gaya Theater, Berlin, DE. 
Mai 30: "der Walzer der Blendung" performed @ Club der Polnischen Versager, Berlin, DE.
April 25: "mirrorminded curiousitease" performed @ Galerie Rachel Haferkamp, Köln, DE.
April 8-9: Operations on the Nerve-play of Life workshop @ Exploratorium Berlin, DE.
April 2: Operations on the Nerve-play of Life workshop @ Dans Space Pauline de Groot, Amsterdam, NL.
April 1: (MYOPIA)2 performed @ Overtoom 301, Amsterdam, NL.
March 9: Improvisational performance at Small Music Theater, Athens, Greece
February 11, 12: Operations on the Nerve-play of Life workshop @ Protagon e.V., Frankfurt am Main, DE.
February 3: (MYOPIA)2 at HAU 3, @ 100° BERLIN DAS 3. LANGE WOCHENENDE DES FREIEN THEATERS.
January 28 & 29: Operations on the Nerve-play of Life workshop @ Exploratorium Berlin, DE.

2005

December 5: (MYOPIA)2 performance premiere at Labor Sonor, KuLe, Berlin, DE.
November 19-20: SOUNDING THE UNSOUND BODY workshop for the exploration of movement-theater and voice in collaboration with Pamela Prather in New York City, NY. 
November 9: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Les Voutes, Paris, FR.
November 2: "le couteau à encoches de mon autre fille NENEKA"
Une rencontre du guitare préparée et le corps précaire, fragile, et volatil 
avec installation photographique de Monique Robert at La Menuiserie, Rodez, FR. 
October 29, 30: Operations on the Nerve-Play of Life, workshop at MIME Centrum Berlin, DE.
October 12: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Espace Antonin Artaud, Rodez, FR. 
October 9: "MURMUR" unsound body, video, live sound at Les Explorateurs Associés, Le Thoronet, FR.
October 7: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Les Explorateurs Associés, Le Thoronet, FR.
Septmeber 24, 25: Operations on the Nerve-Play of Life, workshop at Oerkenforte, Copenhagen, DK.
September 23: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Oerkenforte,Copenhagen, DK.
September 22: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at ODIN Teatret, Holstebro, DK.
August: Physical Address, four public encounters in Alexanderplatz, Berlin, DE.
July 11-24: Die Entlarvung des Körpers/UNMASKING THE BODY 
13-day movement theater workshop at MIME Centrum Berlin, DE.
July 2: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at LaLeLy, Berlin, DE
June 28: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Nieuw Atlantis Festival, Amsterdam, NL.
May 17: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at HET VERTREK, Arnhem, NL
May 14, 15: SOUNDING THE UNSOUND BODY workshop at Marci Panis, Amsterdam, NL
May 12, 13: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Marci Panis, Amsterdam, NL
March 19, 20: SOUNDING THE UNSOUND BODY workshop at the Nordic School of Butoh, Copenhagen, DK
March 13: "Ci-Gît: six pregnancies for Antonin Artaud" at Meet Da Lama Festival, Copenhagen, DK
March 8: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" at NISUS/Galeria Galou, Brooklyn, New York 
February 25, 26: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" at Jon Sims Center for the Arts, San Francisco, CA
February 19, 20: SOUNDING THE UNSOUND BODY workshop at Jon Sims Center for the Arts, SF, CA
January 31: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" at The LIDA Project Theatre, Denver, CO

2004

November 19-20: SOUNDING THE UNSOUND BODY workshop for the exploration of movement-theater and voice in collaboration with Pamela Prather in New York City, NY 
October 30, 31: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" at Modified Arts, Teatro Caliente Festival, Phoenix, AZ 
October 23, 24: Excavations Within the Unsound Body workshop in New Orleans, LA 
October 21, 22: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" at The Jewel Gallery in New Orleans, LA
September 25, 26: Excavations Within the Unsound Body workshop in Birmingham, AL
September 23, 24: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" at Omni Studio, Birmingham, AL
September 10: MURMUR. unsound body, video projection, live sound in Taos, NM. 
August 27-29: ASYLUM: a study of place and ghost. Trans-media event. Sol Arts, ABQ, NM 
July 18-24: integrating with/disintegrating into the landscape: BUTOH ON THE LAND III, 
seven-day workshop at THE LAND/an art site, Mountainair, NM 
June 4: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at The Other Side Arts, Denver, CO 
May 29, 30: Excavations Within the Unsound Body workshop at PIA, Amsterdam, NL 
May 28, 29: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at Illuseum, Amsterdam, NL 
April 25: "wife, life, tripe, damnit and THAT" in celebration of ARTAUD at WELD, Austin, TX 
April 23, 24: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at The Church of the Friendly Ghost, Austin, TX 
April 19: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at The Nightingale Theater, Tulsa, OK
April 2,3: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at Joe's Movement Emporium, Mt. Ranier, MD
March 27, 28: Excavations Within the Unsound Body workshop at Virginia Tech University 
March 26: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at in Blacksburg, VA 
March 19,20: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at CCA Santa Fe, Santa Fe, NM 
January 24, 25: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" in Yucca Valley and Palm Springs, CA
January 22, 23: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at The Salvation Theater, Los Angeles, CA
January 16, 17: "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence" at Perihelion, Phoenix, AZ

2003

December 14: Excavations Within the Unsound Body workshop, LIDA Project, Denver 
December 13: en.ve.lope/djalma: events(interlacing),
trans-media performance collaboration, Cordell Taylor Gallery, Denver 
October 12: Premier of "MYOPIA: the secret boxcars of pubescence," The Performance Space, ABQ
July 29-August 3: BUTOH ON THE LAND II, five-day workshop at THE LAND/an art site, Mountainair, NM
July 5,6: JELLYFISH GUILLOTINE butoh performance and installation at The Red Door, Austin, TX
June 23,24: JELLYFISH GUILLOTINE butoh performance and installation at The Performance Space, ABQ
June 2-27: Djalma Primordial Science teaches at Harwood Summer Arts Camp, ABQ
May 24, 25: The Unspeakable Bodies of Butoh Workshop, Chicago
May 20, 23: "Lovesong of Human Waste" performed at Hothouse and Spareroom, Chicago
May 16, 17: guest appearance in "Trading the World Center," a multi-media performance, ABQ 
April 29: "The Human Waste Project", a ten hour no-action performance, UNM Campus, ABQ
March 23-April 13: The Unspeakable Bodies of Butoh Workshop, ABQ
March 5: The Unspeakable Bodies of Butoh Workshop, LIDA Project, Denver
Feb. 28-March 4: Djalma Primordial Science performs with Keith Rowe at College of Santa Fe, Santa Fe,
Outpost Performance Space, ABQ, and LIDA Project, Denver
Feb. 15: Performance of "Half-Life" to culminate the WAR PARTY, ABQ
Feb. 15: WAR PARTY, djalma hosts eight hours of oppositional performance, ABQ
Jan. 16-Feb7: Teaching Residency at VSA NM, an arts center for the developmentally disabled, ABQ

2002

Dec. 14,15: Death, Our Mother, butoh workshop, Austin, TX
Dec. 13: "pale and what eyes fall on the eggshells", performance at The Blue Theater, Austin, TX
Dec. 5: "To Walk Without Shoes," a documentary by Benjamin Walsh
on the work of Djalma Primordial Science premieres
Nov. 17-Dec 8: Extended Investigations into the Bodies of Butoh, workshop, ABQ
Nov. 1, 2, 3: Los Dias de los Muertos Workshop & Performance at The Performance Space, ABQ
October 19: Jeff Gburek + Ephia, raw junk electronics at Amethyst Luna, ABQ
October 6 & 13: "Naufragio Ballante", 12 hour site specific performance with sound installation 
at THE LAND/an art site, Mountainair, NM
August 29: BUTOH ON THE LAND I, five-day intensive workshop 
at THE LAND/an art site, Mountainair, NM
June 15, 16: Metamorphosis and Magma workshop in Austin, TX
June 13: Metamorphosis and Magma workshop in Houston, TX
June 12: “no-body nowheres” performance in Houston, TX
June 9: “no-body nowheres” performance at A.R.K., New Orleans
June 8, 9: Metamorphosis and Magma workshop in New Orleans, LA
April 6: “no-body nowheres” performance at Outpost Performance Space, Albuquerque, NM
March-April: “Five Heads of Temptenchki” performance workshop directed by Djalma, Taos, NM
Feb 17, 18: Metamorphosis and Magma workshop, Santa Fe, NM
Jan. 24, 25, 26: “Tears of the Ditchdigger” performed at Theater X, UNM. 
Produced by Tricklock Co. Revolutions International Theater Festival.
Jan. 21-23: Metamorphosis and Magma workshops at UMN Department of Theater and Dance, ABQ
NOV 2001-MARCH 2002: “Cruciosa/Static Abject”, weekly performance 
happening for visual artists, Taos, NM

2001

Nov.3: Day of the Dead performance at CCA Santa Fe, NM
Djalma USA Performance Tour 2001:
Oct. 24: with Charalambides in Austin, TX
Oct. 23: with philip gayle, Houston, TX
Oct. 19: Zeitgeist, New Orleans, LA
Oct. 13: collaboration with Toshi Makihara, Red Room in Baltimore, MD
Oct. 11: Knitting Factory, NYC 
Oct. 7: MadLab, Columbus, OH
Oct. 4: Eyedrum Gallery, Atlanta, GA
Oct 3: Artswatch Gallery, Lousville, KY
Sept 18-Oct 2: Artist’s Residency at Workspace for Choreographers, VA
Sept. 8, 9: Metamorphosis and Magma workshop in Santa Fe, NM
Aug. 25, 26: “Water-Bearers Site 1,” outdoor performance in Taos, NM
July 15: “Rags of Larium Pali”, with Ben Wright, at Swann Fest, Taos, NM
June 28: performance of “Rags of Larium Pali”, Lincoln, NE
June 23-24: Metamorphosis and Magma workshop, Boulder, CO
May 18-19: ”El Migre,” composition for micro-tonal guitar and 
micro-incremental movement, EL PUENTE Theater, Penasco, NM
March 24: “Aint Observin Increments,” composition for two micro-tonal guitars 
and micro-incremental movement, Ballhaus Naunynstrasse, Berlin, Germany.
Feb 24: Djalma collaboration w/Erik Fakambi, voodoo body-painter
from Benin, West Africa and instrumentalist Andreas Wenzlova at Open Space, Berlin, Germany
Feb. 26: Djalma gamelan concert w/ Marcelo Aguirre at Acud Café, Berlin, Germany.
Feb. 17, 18: "Null Achtzehn, the one whose name was stolen and forgotten"
Performed at Acud Theater, Berlin, Germany 
Jan. 26: "Null Achtzehn, the one whose name was stolen and forgotten" 
Performed at Klappstuhl Festival, Wuppertal, Germany

2000

Djalma gamelan performance at I.M.Eimer, Berlin, Germany
"Null Achtzehn, the one whose name was stolen and forgotten" performed at "und ab die Post 2000" in Berlin; at Teatro Studio in Grossetto, Italy; at PLAMA in Gdansk and at KANA in Szceczin, Poland
Djalma "NUPTUAL" performance at Zionskirche, Berlin, Germany for Sakra Festival
Djalma Ensemble Tour of USA 2000:
(with Ephia, Gburek, Neel Murgai, Rich Gross, Chris Forsyth)
Go! Studios, Carrboro, NC
Wherehouse, Winston-Salem, NC
Flicker Theater, Athens, GA
Earthshaking Music, Atlanta, GA
Barking Legs Theater, Chattanooga, TN
Monopod Gallery, Birmingham, Alabama
Knitting Factory, NYC

1999

Ephia & Gburek travel to study with Min Tanaka in Hakushu, Kazuo & Yoshito Ohno in Yokohama, Japan.
“Mountain Behind My Eyes”, two separate site-specific performances in Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Djalma performances at C.O.M.A., Baby Jupiter, ABC-NO RIO, The Cooler and Knitting Factory.
“Rags of Larium Pali” performed at Eco Books, Brooklyn

1998

Gburek and Ephia conduct four months of physical/sonic research in Indonesia
“Blind We Run Into Ourselves,” (Ephia and Gburek's first collaboration) site-specific choreography 
for five dancers and live music by Orphan Sound System, Grant’s Tomb, Manhattan

Thursday, November 26, 2020

Twin Oscillators (​(​An Electro​-​Isolation Suite for 2020​)​)

 

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/twin-oscillators-an-electro-isolation-suite-for-2020

Recorded in Various Locations and Dreamtimes in the Pandemic Peristyles within the Eternal Raves of the Mind and Never imaginable without the Earth Resonance Science and Myth Traditions. Arkestral Elements: Turntables, Drums, Voice, Flutes, Field Recordings, Roland MC-309, Arturia Microfreak, Android Sampler App, Wash Basins, Radios, Micro-cassette, Audiomulch, Supercolloder. Karolina Ossowska on track 9. Bonus track is Ripped Covid Membrane. Follow us on Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek

Giving, Thanks
November 26, 2020
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday, November 14, 2020

being an ex-poet/ign'ant stone/everyday I have the blues/rushing up to the note-book/no matter when a sentence/for ages the white gauze/when the furthest/gone for only a moment/when the demon dissolves/how often does continuity occur


being an ex-poet
my line's free
going nowhere
empty shoe
footless home
inner wildness
outwardly secure
thoughtless binders
without resonance
 
*
ign'ant stone
stupid intelligence
only you, your broken
heart, isolate.
oneness of solidity,
inverted meltdown,
standing waves.
 
*
everyday I have the blues,
reds, greens, turquoises, oranges
pinks, crimson-purples
white hots -- only for you --
speed-freak medallion queen
ripper of the roads
who are never here
in order to show
the on/off switch
& how it doesn't work
 
*
rushing up to the note-book,
scrambling for a pencil, pause.
nothing to say. again.
evaporating breath of urgency.
no cop, no donut.
 
*
no matter when a sentence
falls out of place.
there are the Pleiades,
fish-bones adrift.
red, auriferrous, Mars
& no mood for fighting,
no mood for peace.
 
*
for ages the white gauze
enwrapped the yoni-lingham
statuette in travel packages
until one day becoming a bandage
for a deep cut that healed
it was bound again
with a rusty red-stained gauze
& we headed
toward the hills
 
*
when the furthest
& highest mountain
is the crest of one's own bed
there is anything but property
 
practice is the best
medicine
 
don't sing, dear bird,
just to be heard
unless you know
who truly loves you
 
*
gone, for only a moment.
days go by.
time always ahead.
steel scaffold.
or behind.
 
adaptive consciousness
billows on electrostatic
leylines, we laugh.
 
mapping the relatable
to the hazardous,
whatever this sandy texture
sounds like, exactly
what you hear.
 
dearest bird, since I have no wings,
teach me how not to fly.
 
*
when the demon is dissolved
hell's canti
turn thirstily
in search of new subjects,
for material burn.
 
*
how often
does continuity
occur?
 
*
to be continued
t
b
c
?
fourteen november
2020

Thursday, November 12, 2020

Overwhelming Waves: Radio Wide World Narrated for Radiophrenia. Texts, Scores, Bibliography, Links, Additional Notes, Whatever Comes to Mind

 listen via soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek/overwhelming-waves-radio-wide-world-retrospective

 listen/support via: https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/overwhelming-waves-let-the-black-crosses-fade-split-ep

     "The cause of the six-sided shape of a snowflake is none other than that of the ordered shapes of plants and of numerical constants; and since in them nothing occurs without supreme reason—not, to be sure, such as discursive reasoning discovers, but such as existed from the first in the Creators's design and is preserved from that origin to this day in the wonderful nature of animal faculties, I do not believe that even in a snowflake this ordered pattern exists at random."

— Johannes Kepler

 (text ad lib interpolation of Foucault's idea of "the visual gaze" in painting-- improvised, not rehearsed...transfer over to the guardianship of the ear -- riffing off the idea of the dromenon of Greek religious theater Jane Ellen Harrsion writes about -- where the audience member of a performance mimic the stage action mentally, physically, according to the entrained concept of the Eleusinian Mysteries -- the idea being that the listener is among many listeners and also imagines themselves as among the imaginary community of listeners whose listening is being heard -- ceaseless exchange ceaseless exchange ceaseless exchange ceaseless exchange ceaseless exchange

 over the wide arcs of (always inner?) space// inner to what, enveloping who...

where I had a dream I was standing on top of the ionosphere

----_____----____----____----++++++____******************************

7/_______      I use radio noises the way a painters uses pigments, color, sono-pigments

 After Twelve Comes Thirteen | Thirteen Comes Twelve (time reversal/rehearsal)

here on the trembling lip of the Anthropocene

the (g)listening dew

and the question spanning the late night hours...what has become of you? what have we become? 

what have we done? (to the earth, mom)

   "The moon, our own, earthly moon is bitterly lonely, because it is alone in the sky, always alone, and there is no one to turn to, no one to turn to it. All it can do is ache across the weightless airy ice, across thousands of versts, towards those who are equally lonely on earth, and listen to the endless howling of dogs."

 ssssssso wrote Yevgeny Zamyatin, in 1923  in the his "Story About the Most Important Thing"

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yevgeny_Zamyatin

 ....between 1987 and 1999 the American composer Pauline Oliveros 

 http://www.paulineoliveros.us/about.html 

 transmitted sounds to the moon

 over 800,000 kilometers away 

back and forth

  384, 400 km

round-trip

  in order to hear and

to play with the signal of our own voices bounced back

after a 2 and a half second interval -- some of the original signal being absorbed, lost in the craters of the moon -- or reflected into lost ears -- we don't whose --

 -- although the moon had been grappled with physically by astronauts  --this creative use of our nearest large stone neighbor employed radio specialists & transmitters

and the patience of listening to the sonosphere & latency

 Echoes of the Moon is one of the most interesting radio-oriented music & interactive sound art pieces -- it reaches out into the sky --

in a gesture of human consciousness finding it's global limits

and it exemplifies what Douglas Kahn calls

the earth-scaled art & technologies

 (read more of Doug, here: https://www.thewire.co.uk/about/contributors/douglas-kahn/read_introduction-to-douglas-kahn_s-earth-sound-earth-signal

 earth sounds have there own resonance regions

and on this journey we will explore the invisible via the audible

as I have capture the shortwave spectrum bouncing of the ionosphere

 over the course of many years

 here on the trembling lip of the Anthropocene

the glistening dew

 what has become of us?

what has become of you?


this is the radio speaking

this is the radio behind (muted voice)

the radio speaking

 and the radio between the stations (stuttered/gapped voice)

 radio natur

 radio mycorrhiza  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mycorrhiza

radio as a midnight nature portal

 this is an essay of radio signal and radio noise

 

one could argue there has been an ongoing extinction of shortwave radio since the internet took to the air, the medium may itself be on it's last leg 

but I am here to open the portal and to listen to what is still out there

 

what I'd like the listener ultimately to feel is the sense of the enveloping invisible radio spectrum, that it all around us as a kind of plasm, a super-organism, or a sheath of electromagnetic energy

that surrounds us -- connects us -- even without their being any focal point broadcast

 [[  i think of it sometimes like the myco-rhizza, that symbiotic network of sharing between the fungus and the roots of green plants in the forest: hidden from view, sharing information packets of mineral nutrients, glucose and water back and forth   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mycorrhiza

 

   I wish you to come away with = ((((((((

a sense of mystery of the radio as multi-dimensional, time-traveling

     potentiality for attunement --......  

((0000OOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo

        1) for neurological transformation, brain-change, re-wiringto become aware of fact that radio communicates not only broadcast information but also it's pure essence, it radiological pulsation

        2) a materialist era proto-para-psychological aid

       3) an immersion in deeper and therefore more subtle physicality

    4) the experience of hearing something before it's meaning and usage is "invented"

5) the radio as The Open -- a wilderness of -- things as they are --

 this is a plea to re-wild the planet 

(by re-wilding the brain)

 to listen in between to sounds unknown

-- an endless play between form and formlessness --

an open call to

fill your half-empty with the half-full

 HELLO IN THERE!

this is Radiophrenia and I'm Jeff Gburek

sound artist from the USA 

currently found bouncing signals in Eastern Europe

 and yet

there's a good chance you are listening to this via a live stream

 where things are smooth and reception good

but

Hey! this is Jeff Gburek

in the constructed world

and I'm here on a special TRANS mission, with another vision,

about the messier days of radio

when you had to turn the dial and there was interference

and indeterminacy like crazy

 

(voices noises)

 

(cable noise buzz)

 

that buzz you are getting is the Earth, the Ground

 

and more commonly the sound of the Earth resonating, sending

ripples of electromagnetic storms through the statistical static

and the distant buzz of the mind-night suns

 

(schumann resonance)  https://www.brmi.online/post/2019/09/20/schumann-resonances-and-their-effect-on-human-bioregulation

 

My experience with the radio buzz began

many many years ago (1993 actually) while I was studying Italian literature in Firenze

there came a moment (that would recur)

wherein the radio became the ultimate poem or poetry

enter John Elmanahi -- voice over --

        for after the witching hour there came a crackle between stations, a drift and mingling of sounds unconscious of one another, a luminous mega-brain flashing with oracles

and the veil of the radiosphere was suddenly flapping in the breeze

there was something about it so compelling and psychedelic and surreal

that I starting recording onto cassettes exactly what I could hear

 

      Radio Wide World had been played on the radio in Montreal and in New Mexico

and later would be published in a 4 CD limited edition set, largely forgotten

until it came to the attention of media arts students and curators in Chicago (Jeff Kolar and Meredit Kooi)

where they ran a pirate radio stations and it would become a Radius feature in 2011

 --- proof in here:  https://theradius.us/episode11 

--- support here:  https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/track/remix-for-radius-fm-2012


these ionospheric crackles I would later learn

 were in fact electrical storms off in the distances, very long distances

 even potentially on the other side of the planet

 there were the sweeping noise that reflected the earth's electromagnetic signature

whistlers and snaps -- of my static electricity --

know my own electro-magnetic field has sounded into the audio stream

 when I touched the antenna a station would appear or a new metrnomic click

I too was some kind of transmitter, my own body had an aura that mingled with the ether

but nothing really changed all that much, just a sense of expansion of perception

was this transpercption? I called it the radiosphere...

 

We were bouncing around inside the bubble of the planet earth... still reflecting our biosphere... but later I learned

 

there were also extraterrestrial noises -- that I was listening to hybrid noise monsters --


the extraterrestrial noises were solar flares, coronal ejections,

Jovian and Saturnian flares and in discovering these phenomenon

 brought me into contact with the works of Thomas Ashcraft 

website here: http://www.heliotown.com/

(whom I will speak about/ quote from/  later in this program)

and we could also hear the sounds of radio signals bouncing off asteroids

and satellites and the ham radio operators and the spies

their numbers stations and their jamming frequencies

 

"Radio is not always a technological control device supplied with energy from a battery or plug in the wall; sometimes it is the energy"

 

but the most peculiar phenomenon of all

was hearing live signals burst into fragments,

 split into several different streams, asteroid scatter,

sounds -- a Daffy Duck squawk and a quavering waveform --

and with this a strange repetition of the same message across the bandwidths

as if tra-versing several samsaras of signal

 

repeated signals --  the first was a Spanish broadcaster on one radio

then on another radio a few milliseconds later

the very same transmission but shunted down the timeline ((--0o0--))

but I was sitting in one room in small city in Tuscany, not moving at all

 sometimes a delay between two radios tuned to the same position

but more puzzling was when the transmission would skip, float across the band

 (the hams, I wasn't aware, I was in their range also)

there were many moments were I felt like I could be losing my mind

but as I continued these nightly seances

 the style of skip and bounce was recognizable

even if not predictable -- and I could never force it

nor induce it's occurrence

 

it was this time-defying phenomenon that amused and mesmerized me the most

it was a spatialization and also somehow an orchestration of time

 

where was the wave that carried the sound? how did it bend and fold back?

 

did it move randomly in the swamp of signals 

or was it a function of still other signals

that I had not been able to hear?

 many years later I would learn about heterodynes, the literal science of wave-forms, encodings, much of which is technical, even beyond my vocabulary

--  but in I began to wonder if my radio was broken or that

my radio experiences were simply examples of the decline of western radiographic civilization, ordinary malfunctions --- but in 1993 the aesthetics of the broken and glitch hadn't yet been invented, the science of the mistake hadn't surfaced --

I was however experiencing in those evenings a kind of radio hey-day and its sweetly decadent swan-song --  by the year 2000 the internet had taken hold of listeners --

and with it the rich and strange cosmos of radiophonic noise would vanish

 

horror vacuui -- nature doesn't like a vacuum

a principle whose meaning has changed for me over the years

and in the case of the short, medium and long wave radio

meant that the curvature of space and time was never empty

that the static itself was some kind of substance

white noise they say was the flat mixture of all frequencies

but then again nothing is pure

in the radio spectrum there was a struggle of signals, a tumultuous interactivity

and slippage along the arrow of time

stations would disappear and in the gaps new stations would appear

 that all things had interdependencies

causes woven inside other causal networks

reminded of the Gaian Principle in my first primitive grasp

that the there was a chaotic mixture of intentional and accidental

living forms versus inanimate forms flowing around and sometimes within one another

 http://www.gaiatheory.org/overview/

 

 

2 4 8 16 32

encode to sine

spark coils, morse code, sine waves, base frequency oscillator

Monday, November 9, 2020

"Overwhelming Waves" (new sound art piece of mine) premieres on Radiophrenia this Wednesday, 11th November, 12pm and this Thursday, 12th November, 3pm.

Radiophrenia is on the air around Glasgow 87.9 FM even as I type this. From November 9 until November 22.

streaming listen links:  https://radiophrenia.scot/how-to-listen/

Many an earful will be shelled out there over the next 2 weeks, many unpredictable sonorous varieties,  many unknowns, many a mystery I will hope to be attending to when I can do so. 

This message is to alert you to the times my commissioned works will be appearing in the temporal order of their appearance. Glasgow times, of course.

  "Voscillations" airs on 10 November 2020 @ 5:30 pm - 6:00 pm

 My premiere commissioned work, run time 50 minutes

"Overwhelming Waves, Radio Wide World Retrospective" will be airing twice. 

 Wednesday, 11th November, 12pm – 12.50pm

 "Animals & Loss" airs 12 November 2020 somewhere between @ 11:30 am - 12:00 pm  

"Overwhelming Waves, Radio Wide World Retrospective"

 Thursday, 12th November, 3pm – 3.50pm

 link to my page at Radiophrenia: https://radiophrenia.scot/portfolio/jeff-gburek/

Everything will be up on my soundcloud site as soon as the they have been played 

live as per the exclusive contract.

 https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek

 Cheers.