It was a few strange April days in our little town of Bad Münder. The sky was low and completely filled (with clouds?), and a yellowish light spread as if from below, and from everywhere. Irene had said at the time that it must have been the wind…
It was a few strange April days in our little town of Bad Münder. The sky was low and completely filled (with clouds?), and a yellowish light spread as if from below, and from everywhere. Irene had said at the time that it must have been the wind…
...and suddenly I realise it's Christmas Eve, and it's The Day Before. Years have passed and you don't expect anything special for a long time, and at least in Lower Saxony there is no snow, at all. But the magic of the childhood is still there…
...and suddenly I realise it's Christmas Eve, and it's The Day Before. Years have passed and you don't expect anything special for a long time, and at least in Lower Saxony there is no snow, at all. But the magic of the childhood is still there…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
Someday there will come a time when there will be no Monday. And there will be no need to remember about work or to follow the schedules. For some, it is temporary, for someone forever.
For Anton
06.06.2021
Robert Frost - On Looking Up…
Lebenslinie (Life Line)
Life, if you look back at your own one, or at the stories of others, often seems to be presented as an ornate line. This line is trying to branch out, but since a person is indivisible, that lifeline is always one, but…
Unless of course your life is out of control and the path spirals ending the center of the island after circling for the same answer again and again and never finding it
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday.
I continue the conversation when it's long over…
Someday there will come a time when there will be no Monday. And there will be no need to remember about work or to follow the schedules. For some, it is temporary, for someone forever.
For Anton
06.06.2021
Robert Frost - On Looking Up…
Whistling a tune, I walk up to the house and meet a cat on the doorstep. We are going to have supper, and at this time a blizzard begins. April.
05.04.2021, live recording.
Whistling a tune, I walk up to the house and meet a cat on the doorstep. We are going to have supper, and at this time a blizzard begins. April.
05.04.2021, live recording.
Goldfishes tell fairy tales to each other, slowly moving their tails and fins as if moving the air with their Chinese fans. They do not mind that we listen to these stories too. After all, everything is in there: simple joys, and emotional experiences…
This is not the same ponderous endless time being that was mentioned by someone, somewhere. But rather I touch the water lightly and expecting the circles to disappear. And again.
This is not the same ponderous endless time being that was mentioned by someone, somewhere. But rather I touch the water lightly and expecting the circles to disappear. And again.
As you age, as you improve your speaking skills and gain experience, you try to speak to others more accurately and concisely. And immediately you are faced with the problem that you have nothing to say, or with the fact that most of what is said…
Midday field. I watch the lark, which serenely rises in circles up to dissolve there, forever. He sees no danger around. Why [should] I care?
---
I recall that in childhood we all watch adventure films (or performances), and here the children…
Actor: me too, Trev. There is definitely a difference in roles since childhood, but how it affects us humans is not known. Creators and users? Listeners and performers? Probably deeper. Not worse, just deeper. I wonder of how it will be for AI 👀
It's not unusual to chase your girl around with a dull axe, is it? Just kidding - This was 60 tracks and almost a year to finish. I had some help:
Guitars: Tony W
Fadeout Solo: Gnasty
Acoustic/Rhythm Guitars: Me
Phone Message: Tony W &…
~He turned pale... and threw himself at her feet~
~And the veil of Russian snow slowly began to cover them both...~
~~~
~Snow blizzard pounced in a rush, and as quickly disappears~
~As your sound thru the night~
Had these backing tracks laying around on my drive for a while and didn't know what to do with them, so grabbed my Ebow and a fretless electric that I built for myself a couple years ago and had a go. My fretless playing is really in its infancy…
I swore that I would NEVER upload this. Was having a bad day trying to loop "nice" acoustic guitar sounds and got frustrated so grabbed my Taylor and plugged it into a cheesy Effects box and straight into the looper. Started twiddling knobs and…
Zona (Russian word for 'zone') was inspired by Andrei Tarkovsky's movie Stalker where the protagonist takes his guests to a 'forbidden zone' to experience glimpses of an alternative reality.
You know, I always thought that he leads them into experience the true reality - the one that actually is. If it is ...
Hmm... My impression from that "zone" lighter than yours. Well, I will answer thee, with my play.
This song was inspired by Mikhail Lermontov's 1840 poem 'From Goethe':
The mountain heights
Sleep in the darkness of night
The quiet valleys
Are filled with a dewy haze.
The road has no dust,
The leaves do not shake…
Wait awhile
And you will…
~~~
Ueber allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh’,
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch;
Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.
~~~
Dear society,
Here, in my seclusion - my isolation - I've come upon a pattern in time and history that we had not previously seen. You need not be concerned about whether or not I've gone crazy, it won't matter soon because you'll understand…
~
Hello, muchacha
No, no, me muchacho you muchacha
You know like me Tarzan, you Jane
Me muchacho, you muchacha
Oh, you muchacho, me muchaca
Wow, too much of a woman
Mucha, muchacha
~
~Long-forgotten voices, tears and laughter ... an empty stage as a metaphor for what was~
P.S. Ah, it would be necessary then re-master: add echo and "otherworldly" reverb, a bit.
This is an experimental track based on a binaural field recording from Schiphol airport. The noisy, effective and informative soundworld of a modern airport reveals here its dreamlike harmonies and hidden heartbeats.
Comments on igor's stuff
very excellent work! Thank you for sharing!
Just beautiful as always
Merry Christmas be sure to go to bed early
Simply gorgeous! Thank you! Wishing a warm and lovely Christmas to you and yours.
So that’s who wrote the letter I didn’t receive I sent a telegram but forgot to write the message
Beautifully played expected like the rising sun
Unless of course your life is out of control and the path spirals ending the center of the island after circling for the same answer again and again and never finding it
I agree with the hauntingly beautiful …….you must be a ghost
Beautiful piece. A melancholy feeling.
Nicely done. Lots of emotion in your playing.
Just fabulous - stunning!
hauntingly beautiful... what a poignant and terribly sad concept you pose in the description...
Wow. Delightful. Conjures many images in my head.
To some snow cements that winter is here to stay To others a sign spring is on its way
Very nice! You kept that opening chord progression peppered throughout. Well crafted and dreamy!
Beautiful
indeed beautiful!
I could listen to this gorgeous music all day
beautiful
Actor: me too, Trev. There is definitely a difference in roles since childhood, but how it affects us humans is not known. Creators and users? Listeners and performers? Probably deeper. Not worse, just deeper. I wonder of how it will be for AI 👀
Comments made by igor
~Are You Sequenced? - Yes, I'm~
~rock steady~
~I remember then being different, when I could fly, when I could dream~
~Gandalf appears on highlands~
Elegiac emotion - outward!
~He turned pale... and threw himself at her feet~ ~And the veil of Russian snow slowly began to cover them both...~ ~~~ ~Snow blizzard pounced in a rush, and as quickly disappears~ ~As your sound thru the night~
I think you need to continue such soul searches - you're successful, Master Kirk. Longer was even better ...
~wave of mess into something like music~you're succeded~
You know, I always thought that he leads them into experience the true reality - the one that actually is. If it is ... Hmm... My impression from that "zone" lighter than yours. Well, I will answer thee, with my play.
~~~ Ueber allen Gipfeln Ist Ruh’, In allen Wipfeln Spürest du Kaum einen Hauch; Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde. Warte nur, balde Ruhest du auch. ~~~
~We may never know exactly how they played music~ Now, through the veil of romantic, I hear~ Is it? ...
Sie war es, Deutschland. Hallo liebe Freunde! Hey, machen laut!
Pattern in time and history that I had previously seen - the fight with itself in isolation. Oh ..! I'm gonna crazy down...
~ Hello, muchacha No, no, me muchacho you muchacha You know like me Tarzan, you Jane Me muchacho, you muchacha Oh, you muchacho, me muchaca Wow, too much of a woman Mucha, muchacha ~
Then it was the orchestra of 200 musicians. Now it is a pairs bubbling up in the phase. Noise, ordered..?
The joy and the freedom of playing piano - that's it! Waves.
~Long-forgotten voices, tears and laughter ... an empty stage as a metaphor for what was~ P.S. Ah, it would be necessary then re-master: add echo and "otherworldly" reverb, a bit.
Found no Eno here- good sign :-) Ja! - found your/Lena Sleepless in Dresden, good.
~Post-classical pastoral as impressionism in painting, but on a matte paper~What I forgot?~I can't remember that...~
Piano Poetry - it's what I do, too, in private or in public with a grand piano. Thank you for sharing it here, Elena.