breath http://www.alansondheim.org/breath.mp3 Azure Carter, voice, song, Alan Sondheim, terz guitar http://www.alansondheim.org/breath.jpg
this is a different breath than the earlier, different song/music, replacing the other. morbidity is endless. you know, i was just thinking about the universe today and maybe more than billions of galaxies and each may be harboring lifeforms and one hopes somehow that such might not be set on such self-destruction as we find here. the parameters of course are fundamentally the same and there's little sign of cosmic chatter, but who knows. the oddity is that here we are conscious and functional in a world that environmentally is falling to pieces, way before the death of its primary star, way before any serious deterioration for that matter. The stromatolites have had their day, which lasted inconceivably longer than ours will; we'll take the remaining stromatolites with us. I was given the amazing opportunity to see some of the few remaining ones near Perth. Stolid they seem to be, and successful. So this is morning mourning music about this. If you do not remember, I will tell you, the terz is from 1917 and a rescue; it plays somewhat noisily, carrying its unknown but brutal history into every sounded note. That is what it is and what it does with me. I imagine it is the sound from a great great distance. Music sounding elsewhere in the universe with the vibrations of others, I still like to imagine strings of some sort, stretched to a fundamental somehow, with a means of stopping them here and there; vibrations rushing through tubes of different lengths; clattering or thrumbling sounds in all sorts of materials activated in all sorts of ways; liquids and atmospheres participating in consonance and dissonance and everything else fundamentally inconceivable to us, on a planet now close to universal fire, poisoned atmospheres, creatures desperately breathing, creatures desperately disappearing, one after another, groups groping, sounds elsewhere, memories of music, yes, now, and only now, memories of music ... What is left behind, they, we will say, is nothing. Nothing is left behind. +++
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