The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

March 26, 2014

Cura Cumbus Test Prop for John Emigh

A group of techniques taken from fusion music
on an instrument which isn't set up for them; the
result's an oddly percussive piece of with
waterfalls of notes inbetween, everything confused
and played under extremely low barometric pressure
dominating blizzard conditions just outside the
window. I'm feverish and We're snowed in!

(apologies for so many posts today - the weather swallowed us
  - this won't continue)

We've got a blizzard

and in the geographical whitespace center there are
unimaginable occurrences just behind the whitespace of
the eyes

video down the street, the lens freezes over with ice
the camera comes close to freezing, I run inside, remove the
  battery and card, dry everything out wrapped in towels then
  run to the window where I record more furious sounds -
years ago in similar I fell into the winter ocean at Peggy's
  Cove, there was rind ice, I half pulled myself out, was
  half pulled out by I think Robin Collyer not sure, people
  die at the spot every year, the tourists come in the
  thousands in summer -
I'm fascinated by the white blankness in the image centers,
  reminded of 19th-century maps of the Canadian north, where
  nothing was filled in, and land and sea impossible in the
  details; this is also the imaginary of the dream, or Lacan's
  imaginary, or the placelessness of the hypnagogic, or the
  threat of the abject in the real, but now -
now there's a gas leak in downtown Halifax near the College,
  the whole area's cordoned off, it's all over the news -
the winds are furious! it's exhilarating!

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