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Shawn Lucas: Lachenmann's score is written in an invented form of tablature, and But Salut is in fact a very intelligently notated piece of music, providing just the I never imagined the guitar making before playing Salut, but I never thought of MM: Well, two key words for the world of today (let us read the newspapers) . Twenty-five years later, summer of , I was back again at Apple Hill and was caught in some terrifyingly abrupt chords before slipping back into its polished guise. The lyrical melody navigates flourishes, murky diminished harmonies, and Later on, the impressionist episode from the first movement returns as well, . Round and Round/Come Into My Parlor. Pauline Rogers We'll Never Meet Again/Don't Change Your Pretty Ways. Midnighters. Darling, Listen to the Words of This Song/Mama Don't Want Salute to Johnny Ace/Jadda. Rovers.
Here say figurines billycoose arming and mounting. Mounting and arming bellicose figurines see here. Futhorc, this liffle effingee is for a firefing called a flintforfall. Face at the eased! Face at the waist! Upwap and dump em, ace to ace! When a part so ptee does duty for the holos we soon grow to use of an allforabit. Right rank ragnar rocks and with these rox orangotangos rangled rough and rightgorong.
What a mnice old mness it all mnakes! A middenhide hoard of objects! Olives, beets, kim-mells, dollies, alfrids, beatties, cormacks and daltons. See the snake wurrums everyside! Our durlbin is sworming in sneaks. They came to our island from triangular Toucheaterre beyond the wet prairie rared up in the midst of the cargon of prohibitive pomefructs but along landed Paddy Wip-pingham and the his garbagecans cotched the creeps of them pricker than our whosethere outofman could quick up her whats-thats.
Somedivide and sumthelot but the tally turns round the same balifuson. Axe on thwacks on thracks, axenwise. One by one place one be three dittoh and one before. Two nursus one make a plaus-ible free and idim behind. Starting off with a big boaboa and three — legged calvers and ivargraine jadesses with a message in their mouths.
And a hundreadfilled unleavenweight of liberorumqueue to con an we can till allhorrors eve. What a meanderthalltale to unfurl and with what an end in view of squattor and anntisquattor and postproneauntisquattor! To say too us to be every tim, nick and larry of us, sons of the sod, sons, littlesons, yea and lealittle-sons, when usses not to be, every sue, siss and sally of us, dugters of Nan!
Damadam to infinities True there was in nillohs dieybos as yet no lumpend papeer in the waste, and mightmountain Penn still groaned for the micies to let flee. All was of ancientry. You gave me a boot signs on it! I quizzed you a quid with for what?
But the horn, the drinking, the day of dread are not now. A bone, a pebble, a ramskin; chip them, chap them, cut them up allways; leave them to terracook in the muttheringpot: For that the rapt one warns is what papyr is meed of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints.
Till ye finally though not yet endlike meet with the acquaintance of Mister Typus, Mistress Tope and all the little typtopies. So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined may his forehead be darkened with mud who would sunder! But look what you have in your handself!
And the chicks picked their teeths and the domb-key he begay began. You can ask your ass if he believes it. And so cuddy me only wallops have heels. That one of a wife with folty barnets. For then was the age when hoops ran high. Of a noarch and a chopwife; of a pomme full grave and a fammy of levity; or of golden youths that wanted gelding; or of what the mischievmiss made a man do. Malmarriedad he was reverso-gassed by the frisque of her frasques and her prytty pyrrhique.
From that trippiery toe expectungpelick! Veil, volantine, valentine eyes. Flou inn, flow ann. But lay it easy, gentle mien, we are in rearing of a norewhig. Het wis if ee newt. I am doing it. Hark, the corne entreats! And the larpnotes prittle. It was of a night, late, lang time agone, in an auldstane eld, when Adam was delvin and his madameen spinning watersilts, when mulk mountynotty man was everybully and the first leal ribberrobber that ever had her ainway everybuddy to his love-saking eyes and everybilly lived alove with everybiddy else, and Jarl van Hoother had his burnt head high up in his lamphouse, laying cold hands on himself.
And his two little jiminies, cousins of ourn, Tristopher and Hilary, were kickaheeling their dummy on the oil cloth flure of his homerigh, castle and earthenhouse. And, be dermot, who come to the keep of his inn only the niece-of-his-inlaw, the prankquean.
And the prankquean pulled a rosy one and made her wit foreninst the dour. And she lit up and fire-land was ablaze. And spoke she to the dour in her petty perusi — enne: Mark the Wans, why do I am alook alike a poss of porter — pease?
And that was how the skirtmisshes began. But the dour handworded her grace in dootch nossow: And Jarl van Hoother war — lessed after her with soft dovesgall: Stop deef stop come back to my earin stop. But she swaradid to him: And there was a brannewail that same sabboath night of falling angles somewhere in Erio.
And where did she come but to the bar of his bristolry. And Jarl von Hoother had his baretholobruised heels drowned in his cellarmalt, shaking warm hands with himself and the jimminy Hilary and the dummy in their first infancy were below on the tearsheet, wringing and coughing, like brodar and histher.
And the prank-quean nipped a paly one and lit up again and redcocks flew flack — ering from the hillcombs. And she made her witter before the wicked, saying: Mark the Twy, why do I am alook alike two poss of porterpease? And Jarl von Hoother bleethered atter her with a loud finegale: Stop domb stop come back with my earring stop. But the prankquean swaradid: And there was a wild old grannewwail that laurency night of starshootings somewhere in Erio.
And why would she halt at all if not by the ward of his mansionhome of another nice lace for the third charm? And Jarl von Hoother had his hurricane hips up to his pantry-box, ruminating in his holdfour stomachs Dare!
And the prankquean picked a blank and lit out and the valleys lay twinkling. And she made her wittest in front of the arkway of trihump, asking: Mark the Tris, why do I am alook alike three poss of porter pease?
But that was how the skirtmishes endupped. And he clopped his rude hand to his eacy hitch and he ordurd and his thick spch spck for her to shut up shop, dappy. And the duppy shot the shutter clup Per-kodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurth — rumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun! And they all drank free. For one man in his armour was a fat match always for any girls under shurts.
And that was the first peace of illiterative porthery in all the flamend floody flatuous world. How kirssy the tiler made a sweet unclose to the Narwhealian captol. Saw fore shalt thou sea. Betoun ye and be. The prankquean was to hold her dummyship and the jimminies was to keep the peacewave and van Hoother was to git the wind up.
Thus the hearsomeness of the burger felicitates the whole of the polis. Ex nickylow malo comes mickelmassed bonum. Hill, rill, ones in company, billeted, less be proud of. Breast high and bestride! Only for that these will not breathe upon Norronesen or Irenean the secrest of their soorcelossness. Quarry silex, Homfrie Noanswa! Undy gentian festyknees, Livia No — answa? Wolkencap is on him, frowned; audiurient, he would evesdrip, were it mous at hand, were it dinn of bottles in the far ear.
Murk, his vales are darkling. With lipth she lithpeth to him all to time of thuch on thuch and thow on thow. She he she ho she ha to la. Hairfluke, if he could bad twig her! The soundwaves are his buffeteers; they trompe him with their trompes; the wave of roary and the wave of hooshed and the wave of hawhawhawrd and the wave of neverheedthemhorseluggarsandlisteltomine.
And would again could whispring grassies wake him and may again when the fiery bird disembers. And will again if so be sooth by elder to his youngers shall be said. Have you whines for my wedding, did you bring bride and bedding, will you whoop for my deading is a? Anam muck an dhoul! Did ye drink me doornail? Now be aisy, good Mr Finnimore, sir. To part from Devlin is hard as Nugent knew, to leave the clean tanglesome one lushier than its neighbour enfranchisable fields but let your ghost have no grievance.
Not shabbty little imagettes, pennydirts and dodgemyeyes you buy in the soottee stores. But offerings of the field. Mieliodories, that Doctor Faherty, the madison man, taught to gooden you. And honey is the holiest thing ever was, hive, comb and earwax, the food for glory, mind you keep the pot or your nectar cup may yield too light! And admiring to our supershillelagh where the palmsweat on high is the mark of your manument. All the toethpicks ever Eirenesians chewed on are chips chepped from that battery block.
If you were bowed and soild and letdown itself from the oner of the load it was that paddyplanters might pack up plenty and when you were undone in every point fore the laps of goddesses you showed our labourlasses how to free was easy.
The game old Gunne, they do be saying, skull!We'll Meet Again - Katherine Jenkins & Dame Vera Lynn (D-Day 70 Years On)
Begog but he was, the G. There was never a warlord in Great Erinnes and Brettland, no, nor in all Pike County like you, they say. No, nor a king nor an ardking, bung king, sung king or hung king. Who but a Maccullaghmore the reise of our fortunes and the faunayman at the funeral to compass our cause? If you was hogglebully itself and most frifty like you was taken waters still what all where was your like to lay the cable or who was the batter could better Your Grace? Mick Mac Magnus MacCawley can take you off to the pure perfection and Leatherbags Reynolds tries your shuffle and cut.
But as Hopkins and Hopkins puts it, you were the pale eggynaggy and a kis to tilly up. We calls him the journeyall Buggaloffs since he went Jerusalemfaring in Arssia Manor. Hep, hep, hurrah there! Seven times thereto we salute you! The whole bag of kits, falconplumes and jackboots incloted, is where you flung them that time.
Your heart is in the system of the Shewolf and your crested head is in the tropic of Copricapron. Your feet are in the cloister of Virgo. Your olala is in the region of sahuls.
And that there texas is tow linen. The loamsome roam to Laffayette is ended. Drop in your tracks, babe!
Readers recommend: the A-Z of all songs ever listed
The headboddylwatcher of the chempel of Isid, Totumcalmum, saith: I know thee, metherjar, I know thee, salvation boat. Howe of the shipmen, steep wall! Coughings all over the sanctuary, bad scrant to me aunt Florenza. As popular as when Belly the First was keng and his members met in the Diet of Man.
The same shop slop in the window. Meat took a drop when Reilly—Parsons failed. The lads is attending school nessans regular, sir, spelling beesknees with hathatansy and turning out tables by mudapplication. Lucy Dhegrae of Contemporaneousalso your wife! Has your approach to composition changed in writing for each of these unique voices? What has collaborating with each of these singers brought to your music?
As a young composer, I was drawn to the voice because of the unique opportunity it provides to say something concrete via language. My first vocal work was an anti-war song cycle. The wonderful thing about writing for voice is that each person, and thus each instrument, is unique. In writing for the three women you mention, my approach was always to listen to each sing, and try to discern what is unique about their artistry and how their voice likes to move.
Lucy Dhegrae has taught me a lot about the mechanics of the voice, as well as its relationship to body and spirit. She is a model of what a lifelong commitment to contemporary music and new challenges looks like. What has struck me repeatedly in working with her is her great humility and warmth.
I am incredibly grateful to these three wonderful women for their impact on my life. You have now written two vocal works for me: In both of these pieces, you have writing in a meltingly beautiful style for the voice: What role do you see the voice playing in these works, and what has influenced your vocal style?
This was an interesting point of departure for me—so many influences and ways to think about how I was writing spatial melodies.
Certainly a connection to the past and something a bit new! Yes, it is ambiguous, but certainly not unapproachable or difficult to form a relationship to. I believe that Stein is inviting us here to form our own personal subjective reactions to these words and the images they invoke. While the language and rhythm of her text is certainly possible of so many interesting and experimental musical interpretations, I have put my energy in preserving the solitude of each word instead of focusing on phonemes, or chopped vowels, fricatives, and such.
For a composer this is freeing in a way that I find satisfying—a meditation on the rhythmic patterns and melodic contour of the phrases. Wrapping her words in a highly melodic context allowed me to reflect on my own relationship with the way I use language everyday.
I was very glad when you told me that you would be using live electronics for this piece. In light of the previous question, what role do the live electronics play in this piece whose textual themes revolve more around the mundane human world? What sort of environment will the electronics evoke, or do they act more as a third voice in this piece? My use of electronics varies so greatly from piece to piece.
I would say that in this work, it allows the strictly notated ideas in the score to scatter and to come alive more—meaning that the live processing of both the cello and the voice add an unpredictable element to the surface textures of the piece. But I think the primary aim of this piece was to create sound layers in the composition that would not be possible with only two musicians. We have worked together for a long time, and your music has meant very much to me: To what extent does your knowledge of my instrument and interests have an effect on what you choose to write?
How does this collaboration manifest in Mythologies? Returning to your question, it is difficult to express how your voice and our relatively long-term collaboration have changed the course of my compositional language. It inevitably makes me think of Berio-Berberian.
After so many works tailored to your voice, capabilities and expressive urges, Mythologies posed a very difficult challenge: More than trying to challenge you this time, I am trying to reflect on our previous collaboration through this piece. So it borrows materials from previous works for you and set them in a different context and different formal designs.
As you know, this concert celebrates the song cycle, and is designed as a platform to welcome in some new incarnations of the genre. To what extent did the concept of the traditional song cycle shape your piece? How does it compare to our traditional conception of what a song cycle is?
So far two pieces from a cycle of four pieces were completed, so in that sense, by existing as a unity these pieces relate to the song cycle. I would be curious to know what — in a post-serial, post-narrative musical environment of increasing complexity also characteristic of your style - initially drew you to using stories as inspiration for your work?
How do you bring out the theatricality and narrative of these stories in your music? In Costa Rica I grew up listening to legends and now I understand legends are forms to create cultural bonds. However, for me these pieces you mention depart from concrete, simple concepts after which a more complex, sophisticated language can be applied without loosing touch with a more graspable foundation.
The closer I come to the theatrical especially since our collaboration and of course Fonema Consort the more I find in these pieces fertile ground to let drama emerge.
The stories I choose tell me more about how could I build a piece they suggest approaches to form and structure than about to represent something a feeling, ideal, story. I must confess sometimes I envy writers quite the opposite of for example Alejo Carpentier, one of my favorite writers, who really wanted to be a composer…and who actually left great sources of musicological work in his native Cuba. Mythologies is part of your first chamber opera in armonia excerpt herewhich you have been writing for two years.
We are gearing up to premiere a larger new section of the opera at the Ear Taxi festival in October Can you describe the opera itself, and how this trio fits into the larger work?
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I am guessing that no one dies of tuberculosis… PC: The opera is slowly taking shape and finding its own way to develop as an organic creature I really like to think of musical works as living creatures to whom we composers must listen to in order to know what they want to be! Beside the obvious, how does the final result differ from using electronic means? I was wedding a sonic sensibility gained from staring at spectral and waveform displays with quasi-serial combinatorial strategies; deterministic, grid-oriented rhythmic operations; layered parametric thinking in the instrumental writing.
Nowadays I really do think like a computer musician. So despite its acoustic realization and its exacting notation, Octoid has a central organizational concept that originates in electroacoustic music.
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In computer music, I tend to explore and reveal things about the underlying nature of sound objects. The compositional processes in Octoid, by contrast, tend to impose lots of constraints that frustrate the natural development of the sonic material, cutting sounds off in midstream, switching abruptly between sound objects, extending textures or actions uncomfortably.
The title of this piece Octoid conjures so many interesting images. How did you envision the role of the pianist versus the role of the three manipulators? The only tyrant here is the damn click track! In that respect, the keyboardist is on the same ruthless treadmill as everyone else. I think the piece ends up as a mixture of a keyboardist-plus-assistants model and a four-distinct-players model.
Much of the time, the piece is a legitimate quartet with separate lines of activity. Could you tell me about the many objects that the three assistants will be using inside the piano? Did you choose them in groupings to create specific categories of sounds, and if so, what significance does each category have within the piece as a whole? I wanted to physicalize the whole process of developing gestural material. Hopefully, the listener can really hear the parametric knobs and sliders moving as the performers manipulate the various playing implements.
I think it helps to make the gestural syntax clearer when you can hear the parametric manipulation in such a raw way. What inspired you to write this piece? Solo piano is of course a classic genre, but then add three assistants dedicated to manipulating the guts of the piano… you have something entirely new.
To some extent, the idea grew out of a piece I had done the previous year for prepared piano. In that piece, every single key is prepared. I learned a lot about the inside of the piano doing that piece! But in the course of creating the piece, I began to think of the four players as a real quartet, at least some of the time, and not just assistants.
During this visit, the two performers interviewed Dillon on the piece and his music as a whole, which we are releasing in anticipation of our April 15 Chicago concert with Dillon. Who was A Roaring Flame written for, and what brought about its creation? I worked a lot in the early 80s with a group called Lontano, and the director was a Cuban lady called Odaline de la Martinez and she asked me to write a piece for her bass player who was the principal bass player with the royal opera house, but he liked to play new music so he was an unusual orchestral player in that sense.
She worked with Boulez and Maderna in the 60s. But the piece was part of a planned cycle, a small triptych of pieces, all written for three different ensembles. But I planned them as a cycle in the beginning. They were all written around the notion of erotic texts.
The bass part of A Roaring Flame is virtuosic, technically challenging, and full of unique sounds. What were your thoughts when you were writing for this instrument? Well, probably on two levels. One, just the nature of the instruments itself. I was trying to find a way to bring something to the instruments which was being denied by classical training, so I was really looking for something was that closer to a vernacular tradition than a classical tradition.
And so hence I planned the piece around these sections which were extrapolated from the text itself. Once I laid out the structure of the text, it was a question of the textures around it. I wanted to maintain the same density of change from start to finish. Sometimes the changes are really big textural changes, other times they are just small nuanced micro events.
But it was really just maintaining this onslaught of sound, in that sense unclassical. Were you experimenting with the instrument, were you creating sounds in your mind? One of the things I never do is I never consult players. Players will tend to be a little bit conservative. I was curious about that transaction between me and the performer, how we come to that thing within this continuum, within an intense space. And we are curious why there is such a departure from what we are familiar with in the bass, contrasted with this more traditional voice part.
Still very complex and difficult obviously, but something more recognizable. It seems materially the connection is tenuous at time. The connection for me is one of sound. So that was the connection between the two, but there are undoubtedly some incredibly virtuosic parts in the voice. What are these risks? As in the Boulez tradition? But there is a lot of really bad writing in that period, just ignoring the nature of the voice, and based on tempered tuning, which makes no sense because if you are singing in tone rows and your pitch is not absolutely digitally right on, what the point?
And every singer has their own particular way of dealing with pitch. Was this a conscious choice for you when you decided to write for the voice?
Yes, I think so. There is one exception. Its a very onomatopoeic piece, the voice actually ends imitating the rain, making small vocal sounds. Its the image I had of a singer who is singing in a landscape and then becomes the landscape. Enthusing with her environment? It starts out imitating small droplets of rain and it ends up the same way except even smaller sounds. Really, you need a radio mic to pick up these small sounds. The first section starts with these isolated consonants, and again the form is a kind of arc.
It starts with the rain and in the end its the rainwater running off a building into a drain. And in between she goes through these various vocalization, but the vocalization the actual singing turns into onomatopoeia, gradually. That was a piece where I really treat the voice instrumentally in a way. Could you explain a little bit about the structure of A Roaring Flame?