Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Mini Manifesto

Dear A--

I am on a precipice, so very close to doing (and perhaps more importantly, finding others who want to do) the kind of music that is, I believe, BEAUTIFUL and PICTURESQUE and NOW. Sing, play the piano, sit at the laptop, don the headphones: make it as damn old-fashioned as electro-technical. (Techno-electric?) Yes, it will be music that you can SEE and perceive, that you ought to frame, hang, and admire.

I crave BEAUTY. I crave sounds that make me cry, especially the ones so delicate and beautiful--bells, birds, and thumb piano spokes; wind, snow, and twinkling stars; bottles in the recycling, spoons in the bathtub, popcorn in the hot air popper; the rhythm of commuter trains, mantle clocks, and herded mountain sheep--so delicate and beautiful that you can't help but want to understand the aural intricacies more fully. I hear, too, the sound of butterflies' wings flapping, the sound of slippered feet shyly choreographing their dance on a smooth hardwood floor, the sound of petticoats running--being chased--down the hallway, and the breath--out of breath--from efforts thus expended. Yes, the music of breath, "hah, ah, sigh..." all ghosts and shadows.

It's a museum of music, no? I do not wish to "listen to modern art" so much as I wish to regard (literally, as in French, regarder) modern music. Yes. Regardez à la musique moderne.


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