confession
i realize my music is barking up the wrong tree.
my music is absolutely useless and misshapen.
it's not zen, it's just clumsy.
i'm lucky if i can hit intervals at all.
consider this a wordy piece of silence.
it's an admission of guilt in the production of bad music.
it's an admission of tricks and subterfuge with instruments.
i dream of fires of wood and steel strings singing their
final songs.
i dream of boats of woods and steel struts carrying
refugees away from me.
i hear differences where none are and nothing where
differences are.
i hear innovation where there's nothing but tired
repetition and i hear melodic repetition where i'm
running out of ideas.
i jump from instrument to instrument as i exhaust my
limited resources on each one.
i jump from speed to speed to impress and disguise the
fact i can't hold a note for any length of time.
my instruments are beautiful and deserve better.
you are accurate in your assessment that there's too much
of my music around, too much craziness, too much
exhaustion.
i pretend to focus on technique and exercises when all
i'm doing is trying something out with an impressive
surface devoid of any depth.
my music isn't barking up the wrong tree, it's not even
music, it's not even noise, or it's noise intended to
be music.
the only delight it brings is the usual shortness of the
pieces but sometimes i err further and produce what
appears on the surface like a meditation but in fact is
just a lengthy poverty of ideas.
my fingers move by themselves in idiotic patterns.
my mind stumbles in idiotic pursuit.
this confession should suffice, please control your
anger.
there's no reason to listen to anything more.
confessions - more of the same, the end of them
the medium is irrelevant; it's the bad psychology, the
stolen and repetitive mechanism, the lack of ideas, the
showy exteriors, the dabbling in body, sex and language.
i realize my texts are barking up the wrong tree.
they're absolutely useless and misshapen.
it's not zen, it's just clumsy plagiarism.
i'm lucky if i can write at all.
consider this a wordy piece of silence.
it's an admission of guilt in the production of bad theory.
it's an admission of tricks and subterfuge with tropes.
i dream of textual fires in recitation.
i dream of textual drowning and theoretical miasma.
i makes differences where none are and nothing where
differences are.
i see innovation where there's nothing but tired
plagiarism and i'm constantly running out of ideas.
i jump from thought to thought as i exhaust my
limited resources on each one.
i jump from style to style to impress and disguise the
fact i haven't read anything in depth.
my subjects deserve better.
you are accurate in your assessment that there's too much
of my writing around, too much craziness, too much
exhaustion.
i pretend to focus on philosophy and phenomenology when
all i'm doing is writing something with an impressive
surface devoid of any depth.
my writing isn't barking up the wrong tree, it's not
even writing, it's not even theory, or it's theory
intended to disguise my ignorance at any cost.
the only delight it brings is the usual shortness of the
pieces but sometimes i err further and produce what
appears on the surface like a meditation but in fact is
just a lengthy and stupid poverty of ideas.
i can type myself to death that way and you'd be lucky
if i did.
my mind stumbles in idiotic pursuit intelligence.
this confession should suffice, please control your
anger.
there's no reason to read anything of mine again.
for example,
i realize my media works are barking up the wrong tree.
they're absolutely useless and misshapen.
it's not zen, it's just clumsy plagiarism.
i'm lucky if i can program at all; i can't; i borrow
from everyone; the underlying structures are similar
and boring; clever camera angles cover up the rest.
consider this a wordy piece of silence.
it's an admission of guilt in the production of bad media
art.
it's an admission of tricks and subterfuge with scripts.
i dream of virtual fires everywhere
i dream of virtual drownings and theoretical confusion.
i makes differences where none are and nothing where
differences are.
i see innovation where there's nothing but tired
plagiarism and i'm constantly running out of ideas.
i use scripts to hide whatever truths there are; i steal
everywhere, from everyone; i create the surface lure and
an inconceivable absence of depth.
i jump from environment to environment, performance to
performance, as i exhaust my limited resources each and
every time.
i jump from style to style to impress and disguise the
fact i haven't created anything in depth or any new idea
that might be useful.
my avatars deserve better.
you are accurate in your assessment that there's too much
of my media work around, too much craziness, too much
exhaustion.
i pretend to focus on philosophy and phenomenology when
all i'm doing is creating something with an impressive
surface that belongs to everyone else, that desperately
seeks attention, that plays fool-heartedly with language,
sex, and body, that uses arousal as deflection from any
real content; everyone sees through me.
my media work isn't barking up the wrong tree, it's not
even media work, it's not even really interactive,
or it's simple interaction intended to disguise my
ignorance at any cost.
the only delight it brings is the usual confusion of the
pieces but sometimes i err further and produce what
appears on the surface like a meditation but in fact is
just a lengthy and stupid poverty of looping movement
and ideas.
i can work myself to death that way and you'd be lucky
if i did.
my mind stumbles in idiotic pursuit of intelligence.
this confession should suffice, please control your
anger.
there's no reason to look at anything of mine again.
that's the end of the confessions; they're as boring
as anything in my work.
Downtown Music Gallery presents:
THE DOWNTOWN MUSIC GALLERY 'FREE IN-STORE PERFORMANCE SERIES'
At 13 Monroe Street in NYC!
http://www.downtownmusicgallery.com/Main/index.htm
Please come!
Sunday, January 27th Double-Header: 6pm: ALAN SONDHEIM / AZURE CARTER /
JACKSON MOORE / CHRIS DIASPARRA! Weird Ethnic Instruments / Vocals /
Saxes! Flute!
7pm: HANS TAMMEN / JOHN GROSS / JONAS TAUBER / BILLY MINTZ! Analogue Synth
/ Tenor Sax / Bass / Drums!
Contact:
Alan Sondheim
sondheim@panix.com 347-383-8552
Schedule at:
http://www.downtownmusicgallery.com/Main/instoreshows.html
Alan Sondheim is a Brooklyn-based new media artist, musician, writer, and
performer. Sondheim made his recording debut on ESPdisk in 1968, leading a
group of improvisers from Rhode Island in a trailblazing exploration of
free improvisation and electronic music. He has recorded with a number of
companies, including Qbico, Porter, and Fire Museum. He specializes in
string instruments, including oud, saz, pipa, violin, viola, sung lisu,
and suroz; he is also working on sarangi and open-holed Boehm flute.
Sondheim also works in virtual worlds and theory; his most recent book is
Writing Under, published through West Virginia University Press. Much of
his current musical output is at http://espdisk.com/alansondheim or
http://lounge.espdisk.com/ .
Christopher Diasparra is a multi-instrumentalist, composer and improvisor.
He is an active performer, playing a range of diverse styles including
punk rock, soul, and freely improvised. In addition to performing,
Christopher works as a freelance consultant to record labels where he has
had the great fortune of working alongside his musical heroes. Christopher
Diasparra is currently recording his debut release as a leader which will
fuse his broad musical tastes. He would like to extend gratitude to his
friends and family for their continued support.
Azure Carter is an artist, educator, and singer/songwriter. When she
isn't collaborating on music, video, or performance with her partner, Alan
Sondheim, she is busy teaching First Grade or working on an on-going
performance/video piece, The Fairyland Around Us, based on the writings of
the early 20th century naturalist, Opal Whitely. Azure has performed at
numerous venues in NYC and Philadelphia, including the 92nd St Y, Dance
New Amsterdam, The Bowery Poetry Club, Eyebeam, High Wire, and ESP-Disk.
In 2012 she recorded Cauldron with Helena Espvall and Alan Sondheim for
Fire Museum. Her website is http://azurecarter.weebly.com/ .
Jackson Moore is a composer, sound artist, and multi-instrumentalist. In
the nineties his work examined the semiotic systems that musicians use to
communicate with one another. Moore moved to New York in 1999, and has
since undertaken numerous projects. From 2003 to 2007 he wrote and
recorded a book of radically antisymmetrical song forms for jazz
musicians. In 2005 he founded New Languages, now a 501(c)(3) non-profit
dedicated to improvised music, and has gone on to organize numerous
festivals and special events. Recently he has been documenting Moss, a
functional musical pidgin language, and developing a body of formalized
music based on natural language. Since 2010 he has worked at Eyebeam
Art+Technology Center, where he is researching auditory architecture using
sound localization techniques. He has taught in many different settings
and is currently developing experimental approaches to collaborative
education with The Public School New York.
Jackson, Chris, and Alan produced the four-day improvisation event,
Factory Music, at Eyebeam Art this past December; over fifty musicians
participated!