Mixed Friends 44

Introduction in English:

Germany in the 1960s was still very much influenced by the Nazi stink. Violence and black pedagogy still prevailed in families. Beatings and spankings were part of the natural educational repertoire of parents. 
Unfortunately, my father and mother also joined this then socially accepted community of thugs.   
In this often ominous and latently threatening time, Doris Day was for me the ideal projection screen for a world full of harmony, clarity and lightness. 
Since my parents basically loved me (they themselves had been traumatized by terrible experiences of violence in Nazi Germany and, due to a lack of suitable trauma therapies at the time, unconsciously went from being victims to perpetrators when beating us children), they took my childhood crushes on Doris Day seriously and at some point gave in to my urging to write her a (fictitious) letter from Germany.... 
As an adult, I distanced myself from my childhood crush on Doris Day for a long time, since critical film analyses tended to portray her as a representative of superficial, shallow and pseudo-harmonic acting and song art. 
Then I saw her again a good ten years ago at the „Berlinale“ in a documentary with Rock Hudson and his HIV infection at the beginning of 1985. Nobody wanted to get Hudson, whose HIV infection was diagnosed in Moscow, out of there and bring him back to the U.S. by plane. Most were afraid of becoming infected themselves. 
Not so Doris Day. She, along with several other actors, organized the flight back. And when Rock Hudson, who was already seriously ill with AIDS, stepped out of the plane after landing in the U.S., she demonstratively stood next to him and put her arm around him. Even today, tears come to my eyes when I think of this unique gesture of solidarity and loyalty. 
Since that magical moment in a Berlin movie theater, Doris Day has become immortal to me. 
And I can only say: I was not at all mistaken in my early love for her....

Lyrics in English

My Blond Angel

When I was a little boy 
Just a meter high 
I fell in love with your blond hair 
That always smelled like cinnamon stars to me

I'd watch TV in the afternoon and then I'd see you 
As you came on the screen
You were pure harmony, clinically pure, high polish
You exuded carefree elegance

No one believed I could fall in love like that
Little boys are supposedly not ready for that yet

But I suffered, I pined, I was sick with love
My blond angel from the faraway land

My parents told me she lives far away from here
In the great wide U.S.A.
Her name is Doris Day and she'd already have
A husband to take care of her

But I wouldn't give up
I cried and cried until my parents realized
They found out her residence and address
And after my continued insistence,

I dictated a love letter to them both
My father translated it for her

He threw it in for me, I was still too little for that
My blond angel from the faraway land

When I sat in front of the screen the following weeks
She looked at me differently
She looked quite in love, my letter seduced her
Since then I was her little husband

For a long time I was ashamed of this love
But recently I saw her
More magical than ever
For me she remains a shining light
I love her

Mein Blonder Engel (My Blond Angel)

400 - live jam (quick mix)

Baylis Breakdown - Live Jam

Demo Tracks fps 913

From Train Windows

Improvisation III

Indian summer:
dragonfly shadows seldom
brush the window.

Poem by Masaoka Shiki https://terebess.hu/english/haiku/shiki.html
Picture by Gabriele Diwald https://unsplash.com/@gabrielediwald

clicK-herE

halF dragonflY [naviarhaiku232]

An all-interval 12-tone row (serialism!) gets repeated over and over (minimalism!), but the tones are gradually revealed as 4th harmonics of implicit fundamentals (spectralism!) that get randomly (aleatoricism!) replaced, in each clarinet's part, by other harmonics.  The result is not midway between tonality and atonality, but rather, paradoxically fully committed to both logics at all times.  The harmonic cloud around the row gradually obscures its structure, and something happens at the midway point that may only seem obvious to the listener who gets to the end and goes back to the beginning.  This imparts a certain approximate symmetry (formalism!).  

The affect of the effect reminds the composer of butterfly flight, and the title refers, casually, to some recent research concerning how that all actually works.   The hidden crucial moment might suggest a "butterfly effect," but chaos theory is not literally implicated in the piece.

The practical score will call for three players even though effectively the work sounds as a mere duet.

Butterfly Waggle Vortex Rings, for clarinets

Boson Spin - Ossmilor

Submission for Disquiet Junto Project 0337: Through Composted
(Create a piece of music that is through-composed, but built entirely from samples.) For more information, see: https://disquiet.com/0337

Having written a through-composed folk song for February Album Writing Month 2011, I sampled my demo from YouTube ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=My_7VH9PRw4 )and used this as the backbone for my assembled tragedy.

Prince Of Thorough Compost [disquiet0337]

shore

scape

Don't let your pride become hubris.

A concept track done in freeware. Let me know if it's good to go, or I should take it to the next level. 

Thanks for listening!

Pride

Blood test music - Gameplay 2

I dedicated the song "Monique" to two women: 
First of all to my grand aunt Monique, who was murdered as a Jew by the Nazis in Auschwitz. I know her only from photos and the anecdotes of my mother. Through her tragic life story, her unique face with the big, jet-black eyes, I still feel connected to her today. 
In this song I imagined meeting her shortly before her gassing in Auschwitz. How I accompanied her to the gas chambers, how we got to know each other a little before the inevitable happened.  
      
Secondly, this song is dedicated to another Monique. Her stage name was "Barbara" and she was a charismatic French chanson singer. What would I have given to be at one of her concerts. But when she had her big time, especially in the 1960s, I was still much too young. So all I have left are their Youtube videos, of which I would like to put a link here: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPPZMyMNQCM

Her face and her eyes, her charisma and expression remind me so much of my grand aunt.  Like her, she was a Jewish woman of French descent. And with songs like "Göttingen" she contributed significantly to an understanding between the Jews and the land of the perpetrators- Germany.  

Lyrics in English:

Monique

I visited you in Auschwitz, 
Cursed this freezing cold murder place

See you coming with the gas chamber train 
Only one photo at my place with your face

Your deep black eyes look at me
Already as a child they magically fascinated me

I go to you, take you in my arms 
In the coldness of killing we both get warm

We go together, you tell me about you 
Of your life, your joys, your pain

And you listen to me 
Get to know me briefly

The butchers, they wave
The shadows, they sink down

We both still have some time left 
The cruel suffering is already approaching

You show me the brooch in the photo 
You show me how you move your hands to play the piano

The time fold now pulls you away from me
There to the shameful brick building
I can only look after you
You disappear in there 

Gassed and burned
But unforgettably burned into my soul


Deutscher Originaltext:

Monique

Hab` Dich in Auschwitz besucht 
Diesen eiskalten Mord-Ort verflucht

Seh` Dich da kommen, mit dem Gaskammer-Zug 
Nur ein Foto bei mir mit Deinem Gesicht

Deine tiefschwarzen Augen schaun` mich an
Schon als Kind zogen sie mich magisch in den Bann

Ich geh` zu Dir hin, nehm` Dich in den Arm 
In der Kälte des Mordens wird uns beiden warm

Wir gehen zusammen, Du erzählst mir von Dir 
Von Deinem Leben, Deinen Freuden, Deinem Schmerz

Und Du hörst mir zu. Lernst mich kurz kennen

Die Schlächter, sie winken
Die Schatten, sie senken sich ab

Noch haben wir beide etwas Zeit 
Heran rückt schon das grausame Leid

Du zeigst mir die Brosche, die auf dem Foto trägst 
Du zeigst mir wie Du Deine Hände zum Klavierspiel bewegst

Die Zeitfalte zieht Dich nun fort von mir
Dorthin zu dem Schand-Backsteinbau
Ich kann Dir nur nachsehen
Du verschwindest dort drin 

Vergast und verbrannt
Doch unvergeßlich in meine Seele eingebrannt

Monique

Monique (Lyrics in English in the Intro to the Track....)

Curly Compositions from a German Composer.

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clive hawkins

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