The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

more of the different

http://www.alansondheim.org  bj mp3s

tenor banjo & only because I can. running out of time here in West Virg-
inia, where the house we're renting guarantees a bit of quiet; otherwise I
wouldn't be able to think through the music, the music wd not be thinkable
if unrecorded in the presence of noise, elsewhere and in this case would
be obtrusive, resonance requiring a place or presence of development, an
expansion as in a dream where you might find yourself confined and then
elsewhere, out of doors, plein air, the fecundity of the world narrowed,
harrowed, back to that very confinement in the denial of it.

she thought otherwise, he thought the other wise; the pun led to plot.
what was it but four strings harboring sound, resonance creeping around
the room and its corners. what was it, she said, what was that noise.