Field Notes & Observations

Abel Gekiere - Caroline Michael Kleniec - Obadiah Charles Curtis - Song (Terry Jennings, 1960)

Leopards break into the temple and drink to the dregs what is in the sacrificial pitchers; this is repeated over and over again; finally it can be calculated in advance, and it becomes a part of the ceremony.

Sebald: "It was to this sort of phenomenon, to these spurious incursions of the unreal into the real world, to certain effects of light in a landscape spread out before us, to the reflection in a beloved person's eye, that our deepest feelings were kindled, or what we took for such."

Sebald, Austerlitz: "Alphonso once remarked that it seemed to him as if all the colours had faded, as if everything beautiful was disappearing and could only be found in places where no one looked for it anymore, in underwater gardens, dozens of fathoms below the surface of the sea."

Dylan: "Folk music was a reality of a more brilliant dimension. It exceeded all human understanding, and if it called out to you, you could disappear and be sucked into it. It was so real, so more true to life than life itself. It was life magnified." Sebald: "The study of history, so Hilary's thesis ran, was merely a matter of pre-formed images fixed inside our heads, on which we keep our eyes while the truth lies elsewhere, somewhere apart, in a place no one has yet discovered."

Dylan: "A folk song has over a thousand faces and you must meet them all if you want to play this stuff."

Rûmi, Le livre du dedans: "Comment pourrait-on parvenir à la perle en regardant simplement la mer ? Il faut un plongeur pour trouver la perle." Óscar Hahn: Les jours passeront comme passent tous les mauvais jours de la vie. Les vents néfastes faibliront. Le sang de ta plaie stagnera. L'âme errante regagnera son nid. Ce qui hier était perdu reparaîtra. Et tu diras face à la mer: Comment ai-je pu inondé sans boussole et perdu arriver à bon port toutes voiles déchirées? Une voix te dira: Tu ne le sais donc pas? Le vent qui a brisé tes vaisseaux est le même que celui qui fait voler les mouettes. Films: Lou Ye — Suzhou River. Wong Kar Wai — Fallen Angels. Jacques Rivette — La Belle Noiseuse. Tarkovsky — The Sacrifice. Cassavetes — Love Streams. Stephen Kijak — Scott Walker: 30 Century Man. Taste of Cherry: "My love I am flying off come to me, I'm hounded from my friend's garden, come to me. Tell me. We barely know each other. You go, I'm your friend. You stay, I'm your friend."

Dylan, Chronicles: "Songs, to me, were more important than just light entertainment. They were my preceptor and guide into some altered consciousness of reality, some different republic, some liberated republic."

Hassell, Atmospherics: "See music as a painting with layers, retouchings, second thoughts, with new layers erased in places so that the under-painting shows through." Pentimento — The reappearance in a painting of images, forms, or strokes that have been changed and are used as elements of a final composition.

"Vertical listening: listening to 'what's happening NOW' — letting your inner ear parse out the entire spectrum of sound, asking yourself what kinds of 'shapes' are being manifested." "I've gone past the stage where questioning the nature of music, of sound, was the subject matter of my work, and am content to simply try to make beautiful things according to certain rules."

Yoshino. "Il est dit que la vie est un flux, une rivière, un voyage. Nous avançons perpétuellement et il n'y a pas de destination." The past can be a weight, but also a well of fresh water — In the bathroom at Yoshino, crouching, helped by turquoise touches, I remembered the small bathroom of my childhood. It felt slightly outside the apartment. This simplicity is still there, part of me.

Otto Benson — Another Long Day In the plane — Films: A Real Pain. Death Stranding. Listening: Terre Thaemlitz — Elevatorium.

Coltrane — Crescent. Gabor Szabo — Galatea's Guitar, Fire Dance, My Foolish Heart. The Doors — Indian Summer. Grateful Dead — Dark Star. Eden Ahbez — The Wanderer. Chico Hamilton Quintet — Blue Sands. Paul Motian Trio — It Should've Happened a Long Time Ago. Nana Mouskouri — No Moon at All. Velvet Underground — I Found a Reason. Sly and the Family Stone — In Time. Santana — Evil Ways. Fairuz — Le Beirut. Marianne Faithfull — Corrine Corina. Mel Tormé — The Windmills of Your Mind. Peggy Lee — Is That All There Is?. Vanilla Fudge — Keep Me Hangin' On. The Wings — Let Me Roll It. The Beatles — Dear Prudence. Bob Dylan — One More Cup of Coffee. Scott Walker — It's Raining Today. Jacques Brel — Les Marquises, Je suis un soir d'été. Yo La Tengo — Nowhere Near. Lewis Taylor — Lucky. Marvin Gaye — I Want You, Come Live with Me Angel. Alain Bashung — Kalabougie (rough mix).

Church of Notre Dame aux Riches Claires, curated by Stetson. Raphael Rogiński. The Handover. The day before: Abel Ghekiere «In de verte, dit uitzicht»

Several days immersed in the intrigues of Hideo Kojima. Stop trying to understand, let yourself be carried. Goya's Black Paintings. Incomplete, removed from their natural state, reinterpreted. Yet the balance is there, the nuances magnificent. "If you look for a meaning, you will miss everything that happens." — Nietzsche Joshua Edelman at Central Cafe (student of Barry Harris, played with Chuck Israel).

Cuban music: Instruments interchange roles. Percussive and tonal. Rhythm constant but never repeating. Dance crystallizes melodies, the pulsing heart, grants harmonic freedom. Leaving tonality without losing communion. Making music — not propositions about music, but the most complete form there is. Melodies, textures, harmonic progressions, narration, organic and dense rhythms, emergent spaces. Memories. A song, a piece. Bucolico — No more eclecticism, no standards, no stylistic posturing. A richness of evocations, yes, but one single recurring purpose. The ability to name.

Kondo a kondo / Ima wa ima "Ophir is the arrival to the safe place, now I need to bring all things past, those of great value, through the desert."

"We are gardeners tending a plot at the back of our house. We bring what we have, what we find along the way — to magnify it, elevate it, twist it in sometimes surprising ways." "We must accept the cracks in our body. We live inside the garden — we see it grow as much as we feel it grow."

Organic then synthesized — like air displacing. Intense frequency selection. Boomerangs around space.

Spectral harmonies, cohesive sonic ensemble. Underwater landscapes.

As time goes by our life is simplified — PLUM6.

Wanting to refine guitar approach. Looking for a Telecaster to perform in New York. Ended up with a vintage Jaguar — very acoustic, quite heavy. Indian feel. That same day: Bi Gan's Kaili Blues at the theatre.

Lecture de Sebald, Les Émigrants, au spa du RM. Bi Gan vu le week-end précédent. "As I finished reading, I was searching for the truth of these stories. I wanted deeply to believe in them, for they were proof to me of the beauty of the real. Despite the speculative and composite nature of Sebald's writings, the authenticity of the stories remains intact for me." Les personnages sont habités de fantômes, ils cherchent sans trouver. L'éloignement spatial et temporel de leur patrie leur fait ressentir un manque qui dépasse, de manière métaphysique, leur condition vécue. Ils ressentent la hauteur et la profondeur de la vie, de l'existence, et se savent alors relativement immobiles dans cette immensité. Une hypersensibilité à la vérité et au possible. Je crois profondément au poids du passé lointain. Les humains et leur esprit, n'ayant aucune limite, laissent des sillages par leurs actions. Notre situation dans le sud de la France nous était d'autant plus intenable que nous y sommes revenus à chaque génération et ce depuis quatre générations. Nous n'y étions pas de simples étrangers mais des messagers à notre insu. Sans que je le sache, mes terres d'accueil devinrent virtuelles, résidant dans mes pensées, elles étaient mon vrai point d'ancrage et m'emmenèrent très loin du présent et de la réalité. Le temps passant ma vie s'est simplifiée et éclaircie. Film: The Scent of Green Papaya

Bozar, Brussels

Anvers — Blauwe Zaal Jakob Bro / Midori Takada / Jesper Zeuthen / Marilyn Mazur.

"Nature transcends our tendencies to label and classify, to reduce and limit. The natural world is unfathomably more rich, interwoven, and complicated than we are taught, and so much more mysterious and beautiful."

"The closer we can get to the natural world, the sooner we start to realise we are not separate. And that when we create, we are not just expressing our unique individuality, but our seamless connection to an infinite oneness." "It is said the ocean provides a closer reflection of who we are than any mirror."

Julian Lage, Jorge Roeder, Joey Baron — chemistry, warmth.

There is no inner path without an outer perimeter. The path connects the practical and public dimension of life (the outer perimeter) to the mystical knowledge of divine reality (the luminous and ineffable centre).

Mayo Hubert and another Japanese player. We ended up taking a cab to find a new bar when the one we were in closes. Standards after standards, they don't stop, sometimes his wife sings. Rarely heard such energy from acoustic instruments.... fills me persistent joy....

Georg Baselitz — Towel - Beach Picture 6, 1980: 'The problem is not the object in the picture, but the picture as an object.' Simple, raw compositions in oil and egg tempera. Fierce, brusque pictures made alongside first sculptures. Enormous, unwieldy plasticity — but gaiety, occasionally comedy.

Mania, 2019: Hands are an important motif. The hand of rulers, the hand of God. Blessing or damning, acting in isolation from golden ground. Later, Dürer and Parmigianino depicted their own hands to reassure themselves of their artistry.

Surrealism Is Moving, 2019: 'I paint a picture and I counterproof it. The counterproof is simply the lighter rendition, like a reflection. Just the illusion of it all.'

The Ice Skating Woman, 2019: The canvas as an arena. Baselitz confidently plays with the method but does not relinquish the object. We are not looking at an ice skater floating across the lake at all — our entire vision begins to float.

Between Nature and Art: Flowers and Fruits Botanical knowledge increased continually during the 15th and 16th centuries. Local flora was systematically investigated and new species reached Europe from distant lands. Detailed illustrations accompanied scientific publications on herbs and plants, which artisans could use for accurate replicas of flowers and fruits in silver, glass, stone or ivory.

Bill Frisell and Thomas Morgan — Vienna playlist: Misterioso. Mumbo Jumbo. It Should Have Happened a Long Time Ago. You Only Live Twice. Goldfinger.

Landing with Uma Elmo by Jakob Bro, Arve Henriksen & Jorge Rossy. Nature, raw, blue-grey. Sculpted but not by the wind — from within. Precise, dense industrialisation, sense of design.

Dream: a tsunami fills the earth with water. Endless climbing of mountains to escape drowning. Abandoned mountain villages. We discover a possible life very high up. The mountains are green, flowered, temperate.

Other dream (above frozen Mongolia): Stopover in Venice. Visiting a building where I would have lived during my student years. The view over the river. The apartments are sublime and spacious. An ideal Venice. Enormous, multicoloured fish.

With Eivind Aarset & Jan Bang. Le Générateur, Gentilly.

Cold, feverish, walking out of Paris to suburban reaches. Streets quiet and comforting. Charles Lloyd's Sangam on the way. Concert extremely inspiring — mossy, full of life and shades.

Bachelard, L'Air et les songes: "We always think of the imagination as the faculty that forms images. On the contrary, it deforms what we perceive; it is, above all, the faculty that frees us from immediate images and changes them."

Braque: "Le vase donne une forme au vide et la musique au silence." Lorsque les torrents étreignent la rumeur. Que les idées cessent. Les torrents rassurent. Leur bruit blanc ne se répétera jamais. Leur respiration nous enracine. Je ne souhaite plus écouter de battements imposés, séquencés. Le monde déborde d'énergies mais on y perd notre sensibilité. Un vacarme si organisé qu'il en devient inaudible. Les lumières bleues nous aveuglent. J'ai besoin d'écouter les éléments, un environnement vide d'idées. Watson. Fennesz. Lloyd. Il y a des orages dans la nature — ils apaisent par leur force. Leur force n'est pas destructrice, elle ne disperse pas.

Stéphane Lambert sur Klee: « Klee est littéralement fasciné par ce miracle qui fait sortir les vivants de leur inexistence. » « Il y a en permanence chez Klee un pont subliminal entre irréalité et matérialité. » « Chez Klee, cet alliage atteint un tel degré de concentration qu'il dégage des exhalaisons parfois vertigineuses. Le peintre avance sur le chemin de l'inconnaissable jusqu'à l'évanouissement de la raison. » « Ce ne sont pas des couleurs qui habitent les œuvres de Paul Klee, mais le murmure des spectres que nous deviendrons. »

Shcaa live along with Romeo Poirier & Jan Jelinek. 3537, Rue des Francs-Bourgeois.

Autechre. Zoviet France in support. Cave music. Sound as geology — The hall becomes the instrument.

« Peindre est un moyen, un lieu, une direction. Le peintre expérimente son art tandis qu'il tente à travers lui de donner une forme au sentiment qui l'habite. Les œuvres se confondent aux effets que leurs artifices produisent. Les mosaïques calment la frayeur de la vue en ce point où ce qui se décompose rejoint ce qui s'assemble. L'ornement devient le sanctuaire qu'il décore. Dans la tanière des âmes, Klee bâtit des cathédrales où prier. La complicité de la matière et de l'esprit aboutit à un double mouvement : constructif-impressif. Par l'abstraction figurative, l'histoire de l'art est revisitée par les deux bouts. Quand les pointillistes fragmentent la lumière en une multitude de particules, Klee passe de l'autre côté du miroir. Percée. »

From abacus to vacuum tube to transistor — the same question compressed smaller each decade. Silicon at 10nm meets quantum tunnelling: electrons refuse barriers, flow continuously. The gate loses control. Graphene waits. Carbon sensing terahertz radiation, changing properties with smell. Flexible, elastic. A material that listens. Memory access time remains the bottleneck. 80 to 90% of machine learning is spent remembering. The rest is thought.

"Our bodies are ecologies. They also belong to different ecosystems in which we are not alone. This room is dedicated to rethinking these ecologies more inclusively and symbiotically and to designing spaces in which these ecologies could thrive.

How does architecture recognize, represent, and help us live with other beings? How does it include the microbiomes of the body or the birds, bees, luffas, soils, and fungi as partners in building and inhabiting these ecosystems?"

« Le monde de l'atome était extérieur et, de même, la planète Terre, que nous habitons, était selon toute probabilité un intérieur plein de profondeur, sur le plan organique. Un chercheur n'avait-il pas évoqué, dans son audace rêveuse, les « animaux de la Voie lactée », monstres cosmiques dont la chair, les os et le cerveau étaient composés de systèmes solaires? » Les rideaux de pluie miroitante s'évanouirent : la mer s'étendait, c'était une mer du Sud, d'un bleu extrêmement profond, étincelant de lueurs argentées, avec une baie magnifique, dégagée et vaporeuse d'un côté, à demi sertie dans de vastes massifs montagneux dont le bleu allait en se délavant…

"In the abstract, bop is the harmonic and rhythmic complexification of jazz, based on the substitution of a new and more elaborate framework of chords for the ones originally anchoring pop songs. Organizationally, it's the shift away from big bands (with their emphasis on compositions, arrangements, and unison playing) and toward individual soloists playing in small groups centered on extended improvisations. Aesthetically, it's musicians' self-aware transformation of jazz into an exemplary element of artistic modernism. And in tone, it's a virtual sonic documentary of the world as the musicians experienced it at the time of its flowering—a musical representation of anguish, irony, derision, and idealistic yearning." "Parker's music had an effect akin to that of Welles's deep-focus complexities in 'Citizen Kane,' uniting the foreground and the background, rendering the complex musical framework conspicuous. Like Abstract Expressionism, it rendered the surfaces of music turbulent and cosmically intricate."

Natsume Sōseki: "Sans savoir pourquoi j'aime ce monde où nous venons pour mourir" Ozaki Hōsai: "Partout des meurtres et pourtant l'eau coule dans la nuit"

Premier confinement. Fifty-hour stream. Chi Factory. Deepchord — Rod Modell's submerged dub. Waveform Transmission — esoteric sound collages.

The visualisations helped foster the tension between synthetic and organic. Advent of a new era.

Digging some EVE artworks to complete the vision...

Territorial struggles, both on land and at sea, have always been a significant "meeting point" of civilisations. Maps are a record of the changing borders resulting from territorial conquests, while military strategy, which exploits geographical knowledge, serves both a historical and an educational role in the biographical accounts of great leaders.

Released. First Placidum release.

Immediacy of music. Kaleidoscopic qualities. Strong narration.

Transcended. Years before, a small note to myself compared her voice to Miles' trumpet on Bitches Brew. Both look like burning canyons.

It's like a storm inside A weight to their songs Obstructing the light When the 23rd passes The seventh, check five, four Lost in the sublime, the subliminal They praise the cage, delay its pulse, prey on affection, Leaving me cold, vague, with sympathy for their melody.

Jan Jelinek and Midori Takada.

Seagulls shortly after waking. A door has been opened somewhere — though hours fall at the same place, a stream runs beside me. Correspondence with the past. The one I missed. The strokes my name has to forget.

Opposition of high modernity and minimalism with luxuriant tropical atmosphere. Strong impact. Soundtrack: Basinski — Cascade. Low — Lullaby.

Bill Frisell & The Bad Plus. "Unsung Heroes. Into the Animal Race. Let Me In. Rag. Live to Tell." Watching Bill play, a feeling of familiarity, as a memory from a very distant future. We will meet one day.

After the album's release. Finalisation of Hearts. Many inspiring acts, nighttime walks. Bill Frisell. Zorn. Tyshawn Sorey. Marc Ribot. On Ka'a Davis at the Stone (lofi sceneries + bluesy guitar). Alan Vega retrospect. Matana Roberts improvising in MOMA. Cécile McLorin Salvant. Encountered Ryuichi Sakamoto in the street.

Placidum — concept laid down. Different versions of the logo slowly emerge through archive research.

Also finalized a second track for my R&S Records 12".

"Les derniers jours m'ont submergé d'un sentiment de plénitude, effaçant le vide, repoussant l'obscurité Plusieurs fois j'ai tenté d'écrire car mon cœur débordait, mais je restais, immobile, sur le canapé délavé, orangé, du petit salon. Cette pièce en contrebas est abritée de toutes parts par un beau jardin rempli d'oiseaux."

Weird retake.

Released. First album. Strong post-colonial influences — Joseph Conrad, Brazilian colors, surrealist themes. As they were longing for these stones with their whole soul, incandescent gazes illuminated Southern Indian nights. Whispers would silence the nocturnal fury. Conspiracy fills the warm air. What appeared to his sight were countless blazing birds, slowly, carrying out their watch, through thick layers of rainforest. Their systems, their ambitions, their wild illusions, so many spheres of romance. For an instant, the great luminaries took shelter within the most obscure earth, only to arise again, as a reflection, in the eyes of a Queen.

Dordogne. Improvisational collage: synthetic materials, field recordings, found audio. Improvised guitar along DSP. Solid body Gibson 335 and a small fx rack. Opening for E/tape and Nicolas Lutz. Among others: Jan Jelinek & Masayoshi Fujita, Miss I, Chi Factory, Vlada, Roedelius & Chaplin, Gwenan, Adrew James Gustav, Oswaldo...

Cotton moon, in the naked angle, still remembers it was full. Behind, so far, a star, so strong — thought it was a plane. Then above my lingering place, a screen, white glow on the lava, twice every half a minute. Second lighthouse, truly, in my history. Quarter century. Silver over marine blue. Pleased to contrast the astral lights, pleased to wear the abyss. Clusters of obscure mines.

Wind stopped. Time resets backward, recites common wonders. Perfect circle ruling the thousand sea grooves. Faint call from the naked angle. My dream has paused, partially lost I suppose. Now eerie is this cotton sphere — its mines are none.

Victor Hugo: "Le Poète engage dans les profondeurs de l'inconnu le souvenir des amis intimes, des morts, des absents, des empires disparus. La double mer du Temps et de l'Espace. Comme la musique, art du nombre qui révèle la loi de l'Ordre Cosmique. Liaison de la langue humaine à celle de Dieu. Révéler la mesure entre la grande âme obscure de la nature et la simplicité de l'enfance. Faculté d'absorption de la vie extérieure. Sens subtils révélant les abîmes : les poètes voient le mystère partout. ← Exprimer les ténèbres captivantes, l'énigmatique physionomie du mystère. C'est Dieu qui remplit tout."

Le bleu de l'âme pour préserver la grâce des nuits. Fontaines de sables et océans éteins. Une rosée qui se compose, vert sur noir, les chants comme les nuits, les plumes d'une certitude infinie.

Les mots se plissent, doucement, puis se voilent tant ces pensées sont réelles, trop grandes pour une âme sans courage. Elle arracha l'horloge du mur et brisa le verre. J'aimais les yeux fatigués, car ils ne récitent plus. C'est ça le jazz. La cadence des vents. Les cycles millénaires. La minute de trop.

Baudelaire, Les Paradis artificiels — III. Le Théâtre de Séraphin: "Votre œil se fixe sur un arbre harmonieux courbé par le vent ; dans quelques secondes, ce qui serait dans le cerveau d'un poète qu'une comparaison fort naturelle deviendra dans le vôtre une réalité." "Au-dessus de ma tête voltigeaient des oiseaux brillants et tourbillonnants, et, comme mon œil percevait le son des cloches au cou des chevaux qui cheminaient au loin sur la grande route, les deux sens fondant leur impression en une idée unique ; j'attribue aux oiseaux ce chant mystérieux de cuivre, et je croyais qu'ils chantaient avec un gosier de métal."

La brume ne songe qu'à nos rires. Elle sait voir nos leurs au déplaisir. Laisse s'étendre dans les passages étroits la lueur de cœurs inventés. Personne ici n'a de cœur. Nous sommes une foule qui ressent sans choisir. Ses rues sont bordées d'incandescence qu'elle enrobe par bienveillance et obsession.

Le froid bleu de l'air qui nous retient. L'envie que chacun a d'observer en l'autre une réponse. Car les brûlures se font plus nettes encore que le temps. Quelle est la marque de l'attachement? Lorsque une lumière vacille et qu'il se fait tard.

Bought a guitar in the desert. Named it Aino — reading Sándor Márai at the time. This instrument, that feeling, will become the embodiment of a series: Hearts, Interior Rooms, Latitudes. A decade of sonic evolution.

"Ce jour d'août la main pesait sur moi, la sève de ma vie s'était asséchée comme dans la chaleur sèche de l'été." Baudelaire, Les Paradis artificiels — Le goût de l'infini: "Il est des jours où l'homme s'éveille avec un génie jeune et vigoureux ; ses paupières à peine déchargées du sommeil qui les scellait, le monde s'offre à lui avec un relief puissant, une netteté de contours, une richesse de couleurs admirables ; le monde moral ouvre ses vastes perspectives pleines de clartés nouvelles."

Baudelaire, Les Paradis artificiels — Le poème du Hachisch, I. Le goût de l'infini: "Ceux qui savent s'observer eux-mêmes et qui gardent la mémoire de leurs impressions, ceux-là qui ont su, comme Hoffmann, construire leur baromètre spirituel, ont eu parfois à noter, dans l'observatoire de leur pensée, de belles saisons, d'heureuses journées, de délicieuses minutes."

Dj set opening for Hans Joachim Roedelius & Christopher Chaplin, visuals by dreamrec.

I knew I wanted to work on a mix for a Paul Klee painting even before I had an idea of what I might find in the Tate collection. I have been captivated by his work for some time, and I think it is because I enjoy his balance, his delicacy in whispering to the subconscious. Klee elevated his art by intellectualising every facet of it – he knew what aspects needed to be considered and executed in a precise manner; at the same time, he also preserved other spaces for spontaneity where he could let the imperfections of organic life express themselves.

Baudelaire, dédicace à J.G.F. des Paradis artificiels: "Toutefois il est évident que comme le 'monde matériel' n'existe que dans le spirituel, hors des patries, et concourt ainsi à opérer cet amalgame indéterminable que nous nommons notre individualité, la femme est l'être qui projette la plus grande ombre ou la plus grande lumière dans nos rêves." "La femme est fatalement suggestive ; elle vit d'une autre vie que la sienne propre ; elle vit spirituellement dans les imaginations qu'elle hante et qu'elle féconde."

Many nights sleeping outside. Loren Connors on repeat. Epiphanies — the sparse guitar, uncertain tempo, hugely melancholic intertwined melodies against Mediterranean backdrop.

(see chronicles)

South of France. Guitars layered at night. Air saturated with pine needles. Small walks under yellowish artificial light — tricked myself into believing this was quiet America. This way of working will remain. Mémoires: "Doors opened very early, onto universes I could not understand but whose grandeur I felt." Arlequin. The jungle, woody and exotic mysteries (the back of my grandparents' house). The reptile aquariums.

Pompidou. Enormous opening. Mystery, miniature, dream logic. Stéphane Lambert on Klee: « L'artiste-architecte attend le moment où la théorie ne répond plus pour échafauder la structure du rêve. C'est par exemple un Départ des bateaux (1927) sur une mer nocturne. Le moindre suffit pour planter le décor. Battre la mesure dans l'obscurité. Les couleurs vives flottent dans la nuit, qui pourraient être autant d'allusions allégoriques que de simples voiliers cherchant à s'orienter. Cette position intermédiaire charge l'œuvre d'une épaisseur inédite comme si elle s'était inscrite sur un palimpseste maintes fois effacé. Les époques se fondent en un courant identique. Deux petits cercles surplombent un fin rectangle : et un visage apparaît. Quelques triangles sur des croissants de lune : et nous voilà embarqués pour l'odyssée. Dans le sommeil de l'existence, des ombres œuvrent à notre navigation. Notre image se dilue dans les eaux sombres sur lesquelles nous voguons.»

Controfase.

Live. Incredibly touching.

Schubert, Liszt and Schumann programme, culminating in the Dichterliebe. Tenor: Ian Bostridge Pianoforte: Thomas Adès

Mediterranean scents in an antique city. Mazy stairs.

For Sharingtones.

A set that opened doors. Cross-contaminated curations since absorbed into my language. Could not see the crowd — the lights.

For Pluie Noir.

For Pluie Noir.

Winter persists. A track called A dombon materializes. Tropical assumptions, vocoded French, a Dostoevskian shadow. Reading Tender Is the Night. A sentence yields "Placid Strait." For now, a vague alias. Nothing more.

London, fourth winter. End of a cycle, apparent now. High fever, things refusing alignment. Without knowing it, back where it began. A dream of chamber music — texture and hidden melodies in conversation. Time released. Later that season: trains ascending Swiss mountains, War & Peace open on my lap. Something behind the peak. Keep climbing.

South of France. Wet soil, dead leaves, firewood smoke. Preface emerges — not pretentious, a collection of missing links. (See Chronicles.)