arp/harp; home alone

&
self-betrayal
self-compassion
self-forgiveness

Bad Behavior

Between, Feb. 2022 take

Informed by Jonathan Crary’s Scorched Earth

Insomnia Theme

Leave my body at the breakwater, revisited

a Jewish melody written in Wisconsin, brought to Illinois and Michigan

Nigun for Olam Haba, Linke Fligl

omenspeak; what the inside of the seed sounds like

Conducted by Marli, Kahlani, King, Symphony, Nadi, and Leila

This song was made during a workshop I led at Arts@Large called "Conducting the Natural." After a discussion of what rhythm and melody are and listening to some examples of them in the wild,  participants used field recorders to collect sounds from the neighborhood and from inside the community center. Then, I asked them what they wanted the song to sound like (tone, beat, melody) and produced it live per their direction. I used a projector and speaker to share the Logic Pro project as I went. 

Every sound in this song comes from an organically created audio file - no software or MIDI instruments used. For example, among other sounds, crinkling leaves, a child running down a sidewalk, and a chain-link fence comprise the percussion. Melody comes from a couple collected piano notes of "The Entertainer" that someone was teaching to someone else in the gallery space (that I then split, trimmed, reversed, looped, etc.)

Picture shared with permission from Marli and Leila

Conducting the Natural Song

Cicada

found wet 
in the depths
let me swim in the blackness

night sky
clear water
every song i write comes back to 

deep shadow / freedom in the darkness
how weighty your trust is 
i have the same fantasy over and over again 

september flood
september dew 
i am the riverbed

riverbed

MORE

I’m a lucky woman. My friends are cowards, pathetic needy foolish. You don’t notice them on the street at least not without  a tightening in your rib cage and something in your spine, if such things can still be felt. They’re dull and wiry and bother you. You catch sight of your crown in the window’s 
reflection. Thank god. It shines, you say, it shines. All the shining people. I once heard the holiest place is the desert. I reckon these are holy times. My desperate friends know how dark the sun shines.

The Desert

I’m a lucky woman. 
My friends are cowards
Pathetic needy foolish 
You don’t notice them on the street

At least not without 
a tightening in your rib cage and 
something in your spine 
if such things can still be felt.

They’re dull and wiry and bother you. 
You catch sight of your crown in the window’s 
reflection. 

Thank god.
It shines, you say, it shines
All the shining people. 

I once heard the holiest place is the desert. 
I reckon these are holy times.
My desperate friends know how dark the sun shines.

The Desert at 96 BPM - slowed down, layered

Lucky to have written this track with friend and fellow jazz person (producer) Eddie Burns this weekend in Chicago. Friends on the collaboration include Iz Burns on trumpet and Isabel Mozer for cover art :)

Efrat

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