Rain falls hard
Upon paved cities of fortune
Dressed in gowns of glass.
Once she had thought cities held melodies
That singers know.
Now that she has sang
Her throat seems parched
Yet melodies still pour
From lung and breath
And her heart
Looks in upon itself
Even if only as metaphor.
Upcoming publishing schedule
The rate of speed in which we travel is unprecedented in human history. To think that for around one hundred years we have been able to speed through urban and rural spaces. These 100 years are a brief moment in comparison to our combined history.
When I started to compose _Landscapes_, I initially thought of modernism and postmodernism in basic forms. The first pertaining to new systems. The latter pertaining to dismantling of systems. And it came to me that our modernisms are a story of movement, and this movement is accelerating. We’ve traveled through both eras, quickly. Our perception of the world (_Landscapes_) has been altered to perceive it at a different rate of velocity. Different perceptions lead to different conclusions. No wonder people are always telling one another to slow down. I question whether that’s even possible.
_Landscapes_ is a composition of movement, of acceleration, of viewing landscapes at an ever-increasing rate of perception.
Click on the image above or the image link to Soundcloud below to listen. Thanks so much!
Simple melodies are the ones that are remembered. I offer one of mine. I hadn’t planned on releasing a composition so quickly following another, (July 15. It usually takes me a couple of months to complete an initial sketch) but I was rifling through old incomplete projects, when I stumbled upon this one that just needed slight editing. So, I decided to revisit it, think it over, and apply a narrative to it.
Instrumentation is two pianos, violin, cello, sample of a territory band from the twenties, Moog Spectravox, Behringer System 55 Modular Synthesizer.
Don’t sit and wonder why it’s gone
We did everything that’s wrong
Shades of black and white turn to color
Details of the reasons why we suffer
We don’t have to hold each other close
Those days are dead, like a ghost
We look like two (true) perfect lovers
But everything inside has been smothered
But I can’t shake…….
This love for you.
I don’t wanna lose……
What isn’t true.
Guitar Solo
I don’t have to sit and wonder why
I knew from the start this was gonna die
Things we thought we knew so well
Turned into reasons why we failed
Emptiness is a hollow thing to feel
Funny how nothing can be so real
It’s like the blue sky above us all
Gonna be the distance which we fall
But I can’t shake…….
This love for you.
I don’t wanna lose……
What isn’t true.
But I can’t shake…….
This love for you.
I don’t wanna lose……
What isn’t true.
Slow Fade Out
The creek isn’t cruel by not knowing my name, though I’ve known its name my entire life.
On walks, I follow its voice not asking it to know me, for I’m okay being a stranger.
The creek doesn’t need to know my name even during the loneliest times, when snow blankets its banks, when trees block the wind, and when there’s a stillness reaching beyond quiet.
It still sings a melody I’ve memorized.
There are times I wish I could sing like the creek. Perhaps, that’s why I seek its consonance while living downstream, where names are common among a rushing river that is ceaseless in its desire to reach the ocean.
A minimalist collage in ternary form comprised of analog tape loops, piano, Yamaha CS-5, a few filters, and a Reason mixer.
MoonCat 