Passing by

Vincent's words:
'This work is a revision of a collaboration between Italian poet & sound artist https://soundcloud.com/ilaria_boffa and Italian-American Composer https://soundcloud.com/vincent-eoppolo/. Morirà Il Sole? (When Will the Sun Die) is a poem from Ilaria Boffa's 2016 collection of of poems The Bliss of Hush and Wires. www.samueleeditore.it/periferie-the-…laria-boffa-2/ ©2016

Will the Sun Die?
When will it die? This sun,
oblique.
It’s temperate in the neighbourhood, and not for long.
Immaterial the future of the insurgents
the ones who calm winter.
We don’t sleep, the collapse is near.
So virtual any step toward and outward the centre.
Neglected in the static village
dogs move unsettled, they smell the reversal.
Mowing grass in the fields will be pointless soon
as the aseptic film packs on the leaf and the brick.
Give us green clay to cover our skins, our hair.
Give us one more tomorrow.

Morirà il Sole?
Quando morirà? Questo sole
obliquo.
È mite il tempo nel quartiere e non per molto.
Immateriale il futuro di chi insorge
di coloro che calmano l’inverno.
Non dormiamo, il crollo è vicino.
Così virtuale ogni passo da e per il centro.
Dimenticati nel paese statico
i cani si muovono irrequieti, annusano l’inversione.
Falciare l’erba dei prati sarà presto inutile
come porre una pellicola asettica sulla foglia e il mattone.
Dateci argilla verde per coprire pelli, capelli.
Dateci ancora un domani. Ilaria Boffa © 2016
@ilaria_boffa

Morirà Il Sole/Will the Sun die? Eoppolo-Boffa (alternate version)

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*****

Ed Brunsden was kind and patient enough to interview me for  his blog Desert... Mountain... Dust...  - you can read it at https://desertmountaindust.blogspot.com.au/2017/02/tuonela-primitive-progressive.html

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. ~ Aldous Huxley

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it. ~ Jean Cocteau

All music is beautiful. ~ Billy Strayhorn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've become addicted to drone. Again. I was the kid with his head on the piano, listening to the overtones die away, or pressing his ear to the steel hull of the ferry, enthralled by the sounds it created. I was the kid who formed wordless songs to accompany the sound of train wheels on a long journey, or hummed along with the fan on a hot day.

In the 60s I used to play my 45s on 16, or backwards, or by hand using razor blades as stylii.

I made cut-up tapes on a cheap cassette recorder in the 70s and experimented with reel-to-reel in the 80s. 

Thank you Subotnick, Lygeti, Coltrane, Jimi, Mimaroglu, Eno, Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Frank Zappa, Pink Floyd, Kraftwerk, Throbbing Gristle...

I am not a musician. I am a scavenger of sounds. I use the most basic software to process those sounds, stretching and filtering until something emerges that makes a joyful noise. Or not...

Passing by

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