What a morning, monday fusion morning at Kutt.Air. all stages are closed, some tired ravers go to bed, some to the Wackstelzen Stage to kick the last pills, but some open up their ears and come down with fine tunes out of the jukebox from @sui_so and Parole Emil!
Sorry to the Kutter Crew, we didn't ment to breake the ravy mood so fast, but there was this guy, passing us a huge spliff right in the beginning. From there on, our way was paved.... 
A session to brush the auditory canals free from the constant bass of the last days.

Fusion Festival 2022 - Kutter bei die Fische - Sui b2b Parole Emil!

TEXT:

I come to think of it,
the cellar
under the kitchen;
that cold, damp space
into which you descend
along a steep, ladder-like stairway

My thoughts are sucked
into this almost unreal, dreamy amnesia
that stands silently introverted,
other-worldly
under the world
in another world,
below our common day, everyday feet,
stepping back and forth,
motioning our absentmindednesses
hither and thither
'tween stove and table, fridge and sink,
sunlight or moon ditto seeping in
through the windows,
the cat around our feet, tail raised,
begging for food,
the smell of fresh coffee
permeating our minds

While inhabitants have arrived
and departed up on the surface,
that periodically all but forgotten
quiet hollow
has remained the same
since it was dug out
in the 1930s,
mostly used as potato storage;
a cubic space about 8 ft x 8 x 8,
much like a tornado shelter
out in Oklahoma or Texas,
'cept hollowed out
under this farmhouse on a low moraine hill
in northernmost Sweden;
its entrance a hatch under the carpet
in the kitchen floor,
opening upwards and swung back
over the floor, allowing descent
into a dark chill
on a par with slipping into the hypnotic,
dreamy state of visions
between wakefulness and sleep

It passes unnoticed by visitors,
like murky family secrets

I've fantasized
'bout going into hibernation
down there,
hiding in its micro refuge
in a dark smell of soil and age,
silence and prehistory
and secrets,
but now I daydream
about squatting and crouching
in that cold darkness
with The Tibetan Book of the Dead,
a box of matches and a candle,
when the hot, white blast wave
of the Kremlin Spider's nuclear rage
flashes by
in the splintering annihilation
up above,
making everything even,

and the early Dylan song
Let Me Die In My Footsteps
starts circling my mind;
the poet's bitterly clearsighted comment
on the Kennedy – Khrushchev fallout shelter era
of the nuclear testing heydays,
when last there was a very real risk
of the world succumbing
in a storm of doomsday blasts

Heart drives me,
thoughts and all,
over the surface of a skinny terrain,
some moments blasting
like steelworks steel
falling 
off overhead cranes;
others barely reaching the outer perimeters
of bleak borderline hunches

I rest in gamelan gear shifts
and old age finalities,
interpret facial expressions
with sensitive expertise
and swing through Allen Ginsberg's Planet News;
his energy energizing these tumbleweed words
out of the grave,
bopping 'cross a winding road
in the West Texas wind
that blows in my skull,
howling
with the ferocity of a thousand burning warhead spirits
rising out of a confused leader's might and fear,
while tucked away lakes
in the coniferous belts of Alaska, Canada, Lapland and Siberia
sit silent in Zazen,
their surfaces mirroring the undisturbed Rigpa;
the smell of boiling yellow peas rising
out of giant indigenous pots,
each cruise missile blast as flash
of Satori,
Tellus shrugging its mountains, avalanches roaring,
coffee breaks holy down the trenches
and deep inside the rocket silos
across the mono cultures of Nebraska;
time rushing back into its singularity,
evolution imploding in the existential backwash,
all phonemes sucked back
into a final choking gasp,
not unlike the final stanzas
of Michel Chion's Requiem;

the thimble with humanity's gene pool lost
somewhere
in the artillery shelling of Kiev
while Everything rushes toward Nothing

It's zero o'clock sharp,
and all is well

Zero O'Clock Sharp!

Omaggio a Sandra Marconato e Teresa Rampazzi. Trame di suoni e giochi di forme per rendere omaggio a due artiste padovane, due donne, che hanno intrecciato le proprie vite e aspirazioni con la forza del loro talento e visione artistica

Installazione sonora per il micro festival di Architettura e Design _ Festival dell'Abitare: Memoria e Riuso. Centro Culturale Altinate/San Gaetano, Padova 15 Maggio- 3 Giugno 2024. Il microFestival dell'Abitare è un progetto di incursioni culturali ideato da Silvia Codato e organizzato da GuerrillaLAB, GRAUNDSTUDIO, IN-STUDIO, con il patrocinio dell'Universotà IUAV di Venezia, Università degli Studi di Padova, Odine degli Architetti di Padova e in collaborazione con Assessorato al Commercio, Assessorato alle Politiche abitative, Assessorato alla Cultura del Comune di Padova

Trame ( versione 12Maggio2024)

En vue d'un projet autour de texte d'Henry Koek, nous avons fait deux séances, l'une le 22 l'autre le 23. Le 22, nous avons juste jouer, sans que je connaisse les textes. Le 23, Henry a choisi et expliqué les textes, et noius nous sommes mis d'accord sur quelques éléments musicaux, juste deux ou trois mots.
Cet extrait est ici pour une courte période. Il sera retiré d'içi une à deux semaines!

musiquepoésie

GOM EXTRAIT DE LA SÉANCE DU 23 DÉCEMBRE

On 28 May 2006 I recorded the birds in the great castle park at Tista Castle in Sweden; a place where Greta Garbo spent much time. This is the first of a few such recordings from that park.

Tista Ornithology 1

Tista Ornithology 1 (0225 AM - 0344 AM)

Tista Ornithology 0225 AM - 0344 AM

Quest (2011-12) - viola & saxophone
Music written to accompany a dance for dancer Miranda Wheen choreographed by Martin del Amo
Premiere performance from Chronology Arts' 'Synchronicity' (February 2012)

Quest - Alex Pozniak

eliska (and the falling stars) : written and read by @megwaf - inspired by the #vss365 prompts during March 2019

eliska : written and read by @megwaf

Part of a new Album of GOM : Energy Confinement Fusion 

Christophe Meulien & Henry Koek  You can find the Album on
https://gommusic2.bandcamp.com/

Contact  remote collab Henry Koek & Christophe Meulien / GOM

In the fall of 1988 I sent Sune Karlsson a package with some recordings I'd done for fun, of another friend's electric razor, me playing with some forks, plus some other household items. He reacted with a massive recording spree in his tiny apartment in Danderyd, Stockholm, recording 12 hours of household sounds. He called the collection PHONIA DOMESTICA. This  is a sample with a vacuum cleaner and a newspaper.

ANEMONIA E

„very sad ‚amusic‘ (sound art), a sounding SCHWITTERS“
This is a quotation from a letter of Nam June Paik to Dr. Steinecke (8th December 1958). Paik tried to do music (or better: ‚amusic‘) in the spirit of Kurt Schwitters.
Perhaps Schwitter's "Merzkunst" is sometimes melancholic, but never really sad, however it never lacks of playfulness.
This installative sound collage tries to be "faithful" to the spirit of Schwitter's art. Not at least also using materials from his epoch. Doing sound art with acustic garbage, but not only…
Schwitters is been a master of collage and assemblage.
He said: „Merz means to create relationships, preferably between everything in the world“.

Cover image - Kurt Schwitters, Collage (1944)

Theatrum Phonosophicum
(© Leopoldo Siano & Shushan Hyusnunts, 2020)

https://arefoundation.com/en/the-magic-of-collage

sehr traurige „Amusik"  (Tonkunst),  ein klingende[s] SCHWITTERS  [excerpt]

Biker, hiker, poet, skier, sound artist, photographer, FORMER horse rider, retired crime investigator

Zero O'Clock Sharp!

Ingvar Loco Nordin

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