Repetition

“But this repetition has a meaning…
It alone confers a reality upon events”

Mircea Eliade, The myth of the Eternal Return

The second time I presented Piano.Letra.Aparato. I invited the audience to play a note on the piano while I recorded them in a loop. One by one the audience stood up and played a note. – Recorded Loop.mp3

The exercise would become the base and texture of La Calma in the concert.

A few hours later I decided to write a song inspired on the collective loop. I putted the loop in a new session and started to make modifications to it with the same tools I used live (EHX-2880), then I wrote and recorded two pianos inspired on it (Modified_loop.mp3).

This song was made for and by you: players, attendants, musicians and assistants.

Thank you.

Enjoy,

- PLA 120609 Fundacion Chacao.mp3 -

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Experimental Composition Method

…and suddenly everything becomes meaningless.

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1. – Define type of chord (e.g. Major, Minor, Dominant, sus 4) and root note (e.g. G) – Gm7 / G#13 /Gdim / etc.

Starting from Gmaj7

2.- Each circle derives from the first one, Gmaj7 in this case, and each note becomes the root note of a new maj7 circle.

3.- Define the start and finish notes of the exercise (you can mark them on the diagram if you decide too, each musician can choose his way from the start note to the final one)

e.g. Starting in G and ending in G#

4.- Choose rhythm and tempo (Percussion can use rhythm circles setting initial and final rhythm instead of notes)

a

b

c

5.- Start your trip.

a.- You can stay in a note as long as you want to b.- You can go and return in any route you want to. c.- Try forming new chords or arpeggios with the notes that surround your actual position. See yellow boxes in the diagram. d.- Use it with your band

A song using the method:
Gmaj7_from_G_to_G#.mp3

Let me hear your experiments and write me if you need any help: info@xavierlosada.com

Rest II

Day, Goethe Institut, Inferno, internships, Chacao, Bruno, 3, The Dance of Prayer, Ernest Hemingway – From whom the bell tolls, car, glass, Chacao, Moleskine, documental, beer, Twitter, traffic, John Medina – Brain Rules, green, 15, kalimba, Gerry, Just Plain Folks, 2012,  Micheletti, 10:34 P.M., farewell, Crashed Ambulance, G2, diary, time, radio, Marcianos, E, Juanito, audio, Triad, J, plane tickets, M, disable, 44.1 kHz, well, arabic, Embassy of Spain, 107.3, #freemediave, Google Reader, money, 30, 10:42 P.M., reunion, effects, —Rest.mp3—, C,  The Dance of Oblivion, Fa, new position, 27, 5 years, Igor Stravinsky – An autobiography, meat, Sergio, Blog, cuatro, Canadá, 48 kHz, La Salle, remember, texture, Rey Zamuro, water, Quotation of Dream, Dudamel, Río Chico, CNB, think, late, bath, Pärt, ML, read, pen, Peter Burt – The Music of Toru Takemitsu, Museum, CdBaby, KQII, 10:36 P.M., tomorrow, shrimps, flat, D, @xavierlosada, club, paddle, screwdriver, drop, dragons, horizon, Uno, melody, 20 plg, “I’m here”, Nashville, US$,  orders, 13, Fa#, 601, Oliver Sacks – Musicophilia, oboe d’amore, dream.

Readings
Compositions and recordings*
People and things that matter.

Weil’s Trip

Gerry had died the night before.

In between telephone calls, dreams and prayers I managed to talk him.

He

seemed

younger.

Inmersed in pride and sadness I told him we had things to do, that he shouldn’t leave

- at the time I didn’t realize that I don’t tend to think in death as a determinant key in relationships -.

With his innocent and wise vision he made me understand we would still be working together…

We should wait for me to wake up.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+

Weil’s Trip is part of La Uña, El Martillo y Los Pensamientos Imposibles (TBA)

The Maker

Being time,
seeing my hands become time
(constructing, destroying and composing while I listen, think and walk),
is my new obsession.

The Maker.mp3

For years I sought the inexistence of time. Despite searching and forcing myself to get rid of the notion of time, it was impossible to do so. At times I managed –just for a few seconds– to feel the absence, but soon it returned stronger than ever. Apparently still. Invincible.

The fight against time is exhausting. Caving in to time is even more so.

One day I decided to try and become time. If I could make myself time, real time, I would be able to battle it.

Since time destroys it all, I rid myself of everything I deemed useless around me, timely and without a doubt, according to my new criterion.

Time creates. I began to create. Our notion of time does not allow us to ignore its apparent linearity. Our creations help us cloud it. Being time, the wait ceased to exist. I created and destroyed only aware of space and my own working hands.

It’s just that sometimes I cannot recognize my own hands.

Composing is pursuing an idea.

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El Hacedor is part of Escritorio

Inferno

 

Inferno.mp3 

When should I rest? When should I work? Should I work just enough to appreciate both work and rest? Define rest.

“Here, to the right, the bar of artists and writers, scene of so many intellectual and sensual orgies”.¹

I compose. Play the piano. Read. Think. Write. Work. Rest. Love. Dream. I sleep. And the rest? How much do I sleep?

“Puzzled, I am unable to utter a single word. If I deliberately cause some harm, how much wouldn’t I hurt without wanting to?”.¹

I move forward in this world, between puzzlement and arrogance, between –ever less so- society. I am puzzlement and arrogance. I advance. Why in this world?

“At night, the poor souls who suffer from insomnia and nightmares wander around in prairies and forests, in order to tire themselves to sleep”.¹

Little by little music entangles me and forgets about me. I must place some notes. It never ends.

——— Dominus regit me, et nihil mihi deerit.² ———

Inferno.mp3
is part of acantilado

¹ August Strindberg. Inferno
² Book of Psalms. Psalm #22

The dance of oblivion

Part of a concert for three pianos,
woodwinds and percussion.

—-
First Part: A new cycle

- The dance of oblivion: The new cycle.mp3 -

The new cycle is about to begin.

A crowd is waiting for the end of an era. They’ll soon disappear. Soon the inhabitants of older villages will choose a “witness” and make him the new people’s god. The rest of them will pilgrim forever.

The caravan is coming.

The elder god had his moment. He is old and doesn’t fear. He is just sad. He had forgotten this destiny & now attempts to explain everything again to him & his children. The people barely listen, they are eager of oblivion.

The caravan is coming.

Memories begin. The houses are getting cleaned and closed. Some have the false belief that they’ll return. The people, now united, hear their fate approaching.

Flying over the people – infinite – it ventures.

In the meantime many stopped believing in the coming and going. The ideals and beliefs mutated, diversified. In the meantime the targets got lost. We became many. The coming is cyclical.

Between drums, dances and life it devastates the town, it grows and immediately leaves.

Among empty buildings is the one, the new god. The witness must create new laws, seasons, wealth and people. He must create a new town where everyone will be waiting to be chosen or be doomed to disable people and choose witnesses for the rest of the eternity.

The new cycle is about to begin.

- The dance of oblivion: The new cycle.mp3 -

Walking

“The windmill has gone, but the wind is still there”
Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

- The sea & the night.mp3 -

Texture

“If the trees had been standing
so much star’s solitude,
then we stand the death
in the glowworm shadow.
If silent is the eternity 
then we can feel the course of the universe.”

Vicente Gerbasi, Los Colores Ocultos

I tend to believe that any non-final take in a recording is a canvas waiting to be painted. I see these potential paintings as textures -wood, cups, whistles, breaths, roarings – that sometimes I consider the final composition, while other times I rather use them as a base of a work. It’s quite interesting to explore both perspectives.

Facing a possible silent eternity, sometimes I sit down and paint:

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Sometimes I just want some silence.

Calm

“There is an hour just at evening when the plains seem on the verge of saying something; they never do, or perhaps they do-eternally-though we don’t understand it, or perhaps we do understand but what they say is as unstranslatable as music…”
Jorge Luis Borges, Fictions

La calma.mp3 is part of acantilado

I.- Ir quitando, poco a poco, la estructura a la música para así lograr los paisajes anhelados. Composiciones que demuestren y hagan sentir el proceso de creación donde no veamos únicamente el acabado final. El resultado final sería el silencio. II.- Me encontraste, me abandonaste. No quiero verte hoy. No quiero verte más, al menos no olvidado. Soy el que necesita, soy el que quiere, soy el que extraña, soy el que cede, soy el que cela y el que cree, el encontrado, el abandonado. Soy el que se excita, el que te espera, el que olvida, el que reprime, critica y se entristece. Soy el que miente, el que juzga, el que teme. Soy uno, soy nada, el que pretende y alcanza, el que perdona, duda, se ofende y se extraña. Soy el que compone y drena, cierra los ojos y persevera, el que se perturba, se masturba y te sueña. Soy el que evade, no evade, te enfrenta y recapacita, te arropa y mira. Soy el que ama, el que drena, el que se engaña y odia, rechaza y reza. Soy lo malo, soy la tristeza, soy yo, el que piensa y camina. Quiero verte hoy, quiero verte siempre. III.- Persecu_ A veces queremos dejar huellas de nada. IV.- Me he perdido tantas veces… cada vez me cuesta más encontrarme. Entre la noche y cada pisada mía no defino los sonidos. Quizás no pretendo encontrarme. Espero a la mañana para buscar tus respiros. De noche los veo, ya no los espero en mi oido. Mañana vuelvo a casa. Cada vez me cuesta más encontrarme.