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continuo-docs · 4 years ago

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Music reviews by Laurent Fairon, July 2021 Epsilon-Delta – Music for Recurring Decimals (March 2021) Dino Felipe – The Gardeners (June 2021) Shane Cooper – Happenstance (June 2021) RhaD – Metamusic (June 2021) Angel Bat Dawid – Hush Harbor Mixtape Vol. 1 Doxology (June 2021) Ron Nagorcka – Lovregana - Music From A Tasmanian Forest (July 2021)

Epsilon-Delta – Music for Recurring Decimals (433 Records) https://433records.bandcamp.com/album/music-for-recurring-decimals Lovely collection of short, poetic synth sequences build on simple mathematical algorithms by Hong Kong mathematician Addy Choi working under the Epsilon-Delta alias. Algorithms are based on decimal fractions like 4/7, 7/9 or 3/11, using the resulting digits as the basis for the sequence. Far from being arid or too cerebral, the tracks are poetic and varied thanks to the beautiful MIDI synth sounds chosen by the programmer, who is also a clever musician apparently. Tracks may be repetitive but the album isn't. This is textbook Systems Music as practiced in the U.K. during the 1980s by the likes of The Dead Goldfish Ensemble or The Lost Jockey. Exquisite album.

Dino Felipe – The Gardeners (self release) https://dino-felipe.bandcamp.com/album/the-gardeners Mini-LP of 16 very short tracks by Miami-based electronic musician with previous full length releases on ¡Mayday! and Schematic. The music on The Gardeners is based on samples, sound collages, occasional beats and various sound treatments like speed modification, sound stretching, accumulation, heavy reverb, or else. Felipe thus creates colorful and humorous vignettes based on ethnic music snippets, found vocals, musique concrète or cheap electronic sounds. Glitch-y textures abound, as well as grotesque sounds and weird juxtapositions, the music being deliciously direction-less and erratic.

Shane Cooper – Happenstance (Kit Records) https://kitrecs.bandcamp.com/album/happenstance Gorgeous ambient, ethnic and experimental jazz music by South African double bass player and multi-instrumentalist Shane Cooper. The album is actually constructed as a collage of short excerpts from sessions recorded with Johannesburg guest musicians in 2020. The whole project was commissioned by contemporary artist William Kentridge's The Centre for the Less Good Idea, an artist run facility he founded in Johannesburg to promote local independent art projects. Cooper obviously selected the interesting and relevant parts from two days' worth of collective improvisations and the 2 side-long tracks of Happenstance are bursting with ideas and surprises. The 1st side is rather varied in instrumentation, including superb piano and cello parts, lush Rhodes electric keyboard notes and incredible South African traditional instruments played by Cara Stacey. The music is moody and adventurous, jumping gracefully all over the place. The flip side is more about exploring rhythm textures and deep bass sounds and features Shane Cooper on double bass along 3 percussionists. The collage technique is applied here as well, producing pleasant mood changes and exciting U-turns. Cooper delivers a variety of sounds on his instrument, from walking bass lines to long-held notes played with arco (briefly played backward at some point), and also performs beautiful electric bass guitar parts with reverb. The non-linearity and unpredictability of the collage strategy used in Happenstance ensures the music is keeping away from jazz music's clichés and each new listen is surprising and interesting. Two more episodes were recorded during these sessions and are available on YouTube and other platforms, like the vocal only piece called 'Tongues'.

RhaD – Metamusic (Unexplained Sounds Group) https://unexplainedsoundsgroup.bandcamp.com/album/metamusic Standing for Research for Historical Audio Documents, RhaD is a musical project by Italian music activist Raffaele Pezzella, also known as electronic music producer Sonologyst, as well as Unexplained Sounds Group label director and publisher, not to mention radio host and sound researcher, among others. Metamusic is a 40mn sound collage of mysterious radio transmissions, found vocals, spoken words, vintage electronic sounds and a number of guest stars on classical music instruments like organ, guitar, bass or piano – respectively Michael Bonaventure, Stefan Schmidt, Daniel Barbiero, Francesco Arrighi and Mara Lepore. Adroitly avoiding any ca 2021 digital artifact along the way, Metamusic's sound design is bringing the listener back to the glorious 1960s and '70s, yet the music sounds rather timeless to these ears. Metamusic recreates the sound of early European avantgarde with plenty of tape manipulations, sound collages, buzzing sounds, French spoken word and contemporary classical music instruments. The sound crafting is superb, the collage technique creating an ever-changing musical soundscape full of weird sounds, grotesque sound manipulations and Surrealist juxtapositions. What's not to love?

Angel Bat Dawid – Hush Harbor Mixtape Vol. 1 Doxology (International Anthem) https://intlanthem.bandcamp.com/album/hush-harbor-mixtape-vol-1-doxology Very personal and original album by Angel Bat Dawid, a US clarinet player, singer, electronic musician and DJ from Chicago. Created with a few sounds and a minimum of means, devoid of spectacular solo outing, these mostly desolate tracks form a meditative musical travelogue through the Black people psyche. Track titles deal with themes of slavery, racism, and Black culture tropes, though neither the occasional lyrics nor the strange music on offer here can pass for angry or vindicatory, the music being far too personal for that. The clarinet confers a neo-classical atmosphere to some of the tracks, sometimes interestingly contrasted with synthesizer sounds or electronic beats. Harmonica and vocals on Autotune also contribute to the unique sound signature of this album, with occasional hints at gospel and rural blues. Playing in continuous mode in a kind of stream-of-consciousness style, the music would work just fine as a soundtrack to a Kara Walker exhibition—Bat Dawid actually composed the soundtrack to a Yoko Ono outdoor installation in 2020. On a side note, she also released the Harkening Etudes mini album on Longform Editions earlier in April 2021, where her classically-trained clarinet playing is contrasted with sampled piano accompaniment and electronically processed vocals in a series of short, bizarre classical music études, also worth checking out.

Ron Nagorcka – Lovregana - Music From A Tasmanian Forest (Invisibilia) https://invisibilia.bandcamp.com/album/lovregana-music-from-a-tasmanian-forest-1990-soundscapes-from-wilderness-1988 This CD reissue combines 2 cassette tapes of manipulated field recordings by Australian composer Ron Nagorcka, born 1948, namely 'Lovregana - Music from a Tasmanian Forest', 1990, and 'Soundscapes from Wilderness', from 1988. Both are based on bird recordings from northern Tasmania island, where Nagorcka relocated in 1988, building himself a house and makeshift, solar-powered recording studio deep in the primeval forest. On Lovregana, short samples of bird songs are run through a sampler and harmonized in just intonation, producing eerie soundscapes of disembodied and supernatural bird singing. The music is reconstructing a fictional and artificial forest populated by dozens of birds, some far in the distance, some near ; some slowly developing a song, others performing in sudden bursts, with a variety and unpredictability akin to actual birds in nature. To this, Nagorcka adds minimal electronic loops in the background, dreamy synthesizer notes in strange tunings and discreet didgeridoo playing, all very well integrated to the sampled bird songs. These tracks are thus poetical evocations of a primeval forest via electronic sounds. While Lovregana's tracks more or less focused on one specific bird song at a time, the two tracks of 'Soundscapes from Wilderness' take a more holistic approach to nature recordings. The 1st track, 'Black Forest, Victoria', is a reconstruction of the deep forest sounds via the accumulation of various field recordings, creating a particularly dense soundscape through layers and layers of nature recordings. Here again, the natural-vs-artificial dichotomy is what interests the composer, and arguably this forest never existed, it was rather reconstructed in the studio. The 2nd track, 'Rainforest in Northern Tasmania', uses forest sounds as the basis for slow, mysterious didgeridoo improvisations, perhaps examining how the musician can dialog with the environment, being a part of it, being one with it. The superb didjeridoo playing is what fascinates most here. . . .

#reviews #music review #music reviews #Experimental #avantgarde

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 73: Teal

Chapters: 73/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: R

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Mentions of Sexual Activity, NSFW, Starting to Bring Some Threads Together

Summary: Asgard honors the giant as best it can. You continue to dream

The weather turned worse on the way back, until even the well maintained Ring Road was scarcely visible. Eventually, Loki pulled you up into his saddle on Leynarodd's back, seating you flush with his body, and wrapping his back-up cloak around you.

“I will keep you as warm as I may.” He breathed into your ear. “Would it help if I were to whisper lewd and wicked things to you?”

You giggled, but shook your head. “Just cuddle. I want to go to sleep.”

And so, he wrapped his arms around you as well, and let you doze.

Your arrival was heralded with a celebration that woke you with instruments and shouting. You moved back to Acorn as the procession moved through the city, and, still drowsy, participated in a great feast thrown in the giant's honor.

This was a part of Asgardian funerary customs, as taught to you by Saga. The burial honored the dead's body, and the feast honored the dead's spirit. Normally, the revelers told stories of the dead's deeds during life, but no one knew the giant, so instead extolled the accomplishments of all Jotun, across the ages.

You didn't have any such stories, so you listened and ate, as Bogljot described being defeated in a contest of speed by the Forest Giant, Hyrrokkin, as the normally quiet Heimdall sang praises to his many 'mothers', as an older Asgardian you didn't know described the great mountain kingdom of Utgardaloki, for whom Loki was named.

It was dark yet again by the time the feast ended, and Loki led you, stumbling and tipsy on cider, back to his bedroom. He carefully divested you of your armor, stripped every last garment from you, and sat you down on your chair beneath the sunlamp. As the light warmed your skin, Loki also shucked his own clothing, and sat down at your feet. The two of you spent an hour under the warm lamp, Loki reading you various examples of Earth poetry he thought you would like, or resting his head in your lap and letting you toy with his hair.

Finally, when fatigue had clearly caught all the way up with you, Loki turned out the light, and carried you off to bed, where he made love to you until you could no longer keep your eyes open. When you drifted away, it was on a cloud of warm bliss.

******

You found yourself in the glory of open space once more buoyed by sparkling blue light. It came from a gem that you could see now, flying before you like a comet, with yourself gliding along in its glowing tail. You started to reach out for the glittering object once more, but pulled your hand back, vaguely remembering something that put you off of grabbing it. Thoughts echoed within your blood, concepts resolving themselves into impressions in your mind.

You are learning me. Learn me. Learn more.

How? You thought. What are you?

A swirl of something. A blur of light, a different 'texture' than the blue.

Green.

Your right hand itched.

Learn me! Learn me! There is so much of me! Look! See!

Your world jittered, like a heartbeat slightly out of rhythm. With the suddenness of a drop of water in a still pool, the space around you rippled unexpectedly, folded in around you, and instead of nowhere, you were Somewhere.

A world full of green-skinned, red-haired people, thriving, but confused. A woman walked the streets crying out what you assumed to be a girl's name.

Titan, with its orange skies, empty, ruined. A ghost town of a planet.

Earth, running through frigid winds. Other humans ran beside you, dressed for a time long since passed. Frost Giants pursued, driving terror, like dogs, at your heels.

A woman, bald and elegantly androgynous, in flowing robes and surrounded by nothingness. She looked at you with pity, with eyes that pierced right through you.

“You are not ready for what is happening.” She said. “And I am not in a position to help.”

A severed head, the size of a small moon, floating through space. There were lights, cities built upon it, within it. You recoiled in horror, but as you watched, the cities shrank; went dark. The head floated backward, back and back. You blinked, and it was reattached to an impossibly gargantuan body. Another blink and the colossal being orbited a young sun, along with a haphazard belt of asteroids. You watched as they grasped one of the largest of them, and sundered it over their knee.

Wiping the newly exposed surface clean, the being stared out into a space that was dark and sparsely decorated with stars. Then, with fingertips each stained a different color, they grasped the asteroid and began to draw.

******

You awoke, brimming with the feeling that something important had happened while you slept, but couldn't quite pinpoint where that energy was coming from. There was something you felt the need to do, something you couldn't put a name to.

You could barely sit still under your sunlamp, wolfing down your oatmeal and dried fruit. Loki couldn't help but to comment on your increased energy. A wink and a suggestive comment, and you had him back in bed, hands on his chest, riding him for all he was worth.

You sure didn't hear him arguing.

When the two of you were finally presentable, scrubbed and dressed and fed, you took to the halls with your sunlamp in tow. Loki had some meetings to attend today; some job disputes that had come up recently. You had your classes with Saga. A light squeeze of the hand, and you parted ways.

The snow had continued through the night, piling up high against the windows. Reconstruction of your room had been forced to a halt, and all of your things had been moved, either to storage or to Loki's room. The caterpillar in a jar had become a chrysalis in a jar, but the butterfly had not emerged yet. It was possible that the cooler temperatures and lack of light had put it into some kind of stasis: unusual, but not unheard of.

It was still frightening to think that you had caused all that destruction, just because of a dream you couldn't even remember. What if you did that while Loki slept beside you?

There were far more people indoors now that winter had come, doing what Loki had described as their 'real' jobs, weavers and seamstresses, scribes, engineers, jewelers, and so many painters. In every hallway and alcove there was someone with a palette, someone with a pencil, someone carving the plaster into delicate ribbons and knots. Some of them told you they were trying to recreate murals from old Asgard. Others seemed to be trying a new take on their history. Others were focusing on more recent events.

As you walked through the halls, you saw heavily formulaic paintings of what must have been Odin and Frigga, Bor and the terrifying Hela, Heimdall, Thor, and Loki, and many others you didn't recognize. There were battles, and peace treaties, Vanir, Alfar, and Jotnar, There was Njord, Freya, and Freyr, whom you stopped and stared at for a few moments before shaking yourself free.

There were also events and vistas in a different style, some of which must have been pulled directly from the painters own memories. Soaring golden buildings and busy streets, folk dances and blacksmiths forging swords. A riot of berserkers clashing their metal staves, the view of a waterfall ocean.

There were Svartalfari in the great halls, Heimdall destroying a strange vehicle, portals to all of the realms circling each other. There was Frigga, standing tall, holding a sword over her head. There was Frigga, lying in a boat, surrounded by golden light. There was a sparkling red jewel, hanging over the head of a woman you realized must be a stylized Dr. Jane Foster. There were the Avengers again, painted in the heroic style of Asgard, haloed like holy beings. Did the Asgardians see them as the pantheon of Earth?

There was the destruction of Asgard. The great Jotun Surtr, the tiny form of Hela brandishing her thorn-like weapons against him in an almost heroic way. There was the enormous wolf Fenris, grappling with the Hulk. The star-filled expanse of space, with their island spaceship carrying them safely to Earth, a beautiful orb, painted as though seen through a window.

There were the mountains and river outside, rendered in such marvelous detail that you recognized the exact place. There were nightscapes of the Northern Lights.

And there was you.

Your little figure, next to Loki, with your flower crown helm. Among the longhouses of Trolerkaerhalla, wearing the cloak of a Seidkona. It was a very strange feeling, to see yourself immortalized like this. The impostor syndrome flared up, heavy and loud. Logically speaking, you had made history. But why should it have been you? Why should any of this be you?

You hurried through the increasingly colorful halls, seeking out the library. There would always be this battle inside you, between acknowledgment that you were deserving of good things, and belief that there were others so much more deserving.

You rushed into the library, with it's nice new door, and set up your sunlamp. Saga handed you your drum. The Valkyries were here, as well as an ancient, wizened woman who had probably been a Seidkona since the Parthenon had been built. She instructed you strictly, but patiently in the primeval rhythm of Seidkona ritual. There was a chant she was teaching you, a mystical affirmation ritual in a bygone dialect of the Asgardian language, so archaic that the meaning of the words were lost even on your venerable teacher. Saga understood them, but since she was not a Seidkona, she was in essence, forbidden from speaking them.

You got the feeling that it annoyed her a bit.

You were walked through the chant, and the drum beat over and over, committing the sounds to memory, like you had for the past few weeks. The only thing you were missing was the very last syllable of the chant, the knowledge of which would only be imparted on you at the eve of the Buridag festival. Before then, you would not be allowed to speak, or even know it, for fear of completing the spell prematurely.

After your lessons, you spent a little bit of time in one of the library's side rooms, where Asgard's salvaged art treasures were kept. Lofn and her twin Sjofn, who were in charge of preservation, display, and upkeep, were both all too happy to educate you on what they were. Sjofn had just finished cleaning and labeling a collection of Nornheim knives, very similar to your own. You could see the shift in shape and handle style that had occurred over the years of war with Asgard.

They were all made of nornbein, with stone handles, though many of them had been engraved with the names of the Asgardians who had claimed them. Yours had not. In comparison, your knife, with its lance-like blade and cylindrical handle, was clearly from the latter period of Nornheim occupation, while the earlier knives were more leaf shaped, with flattened handles. You wondered how many hundreds of years those changes represented, with rock trolls carefully shaping the blades to their preference, and picking their favorite stones; blue and green, gray, violet, white, banded, and your own pink ruby, to carve into handles. Did the color and type mean anything to them, or had it just been personal preference?

These knives all represented Asgardian lineages which had died out, with no one left to inherit the blades. It was a sad collection to look at, as sad as where the knives had come from in the first place.

Lofn had templates from past Asgardian fashion designers, arranged on an enormous poster board, and carefully glued down flat. As you watched, she affixed strange little clip-like devices at all four corners, and at regular intervals along each side.

“They are useful storage and protective devices.” She explained. “We can make them from Midgardian materials too. You see, when activated, they form a protective field.” She tapped each of them in turn, and they lit up, covering the huge poster board in a very slight, almost imperceptible glow.

“It is protected now.” She announced. In a swift and startling movement, she grabbed one of the newly cataloged knives and stabbed the board with a ferocious growl. You jumped back, even as the blade bounced harmlessly off. She laughed as a glaring Sjofn snatched the knife back. “You see? It cannot be harmed. We protect our precious things in this way.”

“It has another use too.” She grasped the edges of the poster board and squeezed them together. To your amazement, the entire thing-easily as wide as you were tall-shrank to the size of a sheet of paper. “Look, do you see?”

She touched the field and it reacted like an electronic tablet, magnifying and moving across parts of the board, so you could see the details up close.

“You see, don't you? You see?” She asked.

Your gaze shifted, away from the fashion poster, away from the knife collection, to a work of art that had caught your attention earlier in the year. An artwork that wore the same preservation devices.

Ymir's Dreamscape.

“You see.” Lofn said.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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mikrokosmos · 6 years ago

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Beethoven - Symphony no. 4 in Bb Major (1807)

Whenever I read about the Beethoven symphonies, I always find someone saying that the odd numbered ones are great while the even numbered ones are “less”. What they mean is that the even numbered ones tend to be more lyrical while the odd numbered ones tend to be more extroverted, and that extroversion is what the crowd loves from Beethoven most. And for some reason, the fourth has gotten the least attention of them all. Even the first two “classical” Beethoven symphonies get more concert time than the fourth. I’m not exactly sure why. I used to not “like” the fourth much either but I didn’t have a good reason beyond “it’s not as exciting” as the others. Listening to it again, it is full of so much joy. It’s a fun symphony, it reminds me of the “classical” rush you find in Mozart’s great orchestral music. It was written for Prince Carl von Lichnowsky, probably Beethoven’s most loving patron, who commissioned a symphony after hearing the second. It’s possible that this is the reason Beethoven wrote it in a more classical style than in the “heroic” style of the third and fifth. But this is not a “regressive” work. It feels like a mastery of the classical Viennese style of symphonic writing. It opens in a bizarre way, a single note in unison, something he could come back to with the ninth, but here the symphony that is supposed to be in Bb Major is meandering through minor keys, contemplative, almost primeval or universal. We are listening to the silence of the druids droning on in the background of the universe. This ponderous introduction grows until, without any real warning, a brass fanfare introduces a caffeine rush of of sunny, fun music. It’s like a Haydn joke, juxtaposing the serious with the playful, but this is something that Mahler would continue to do successfully in his own symphonies. The sonata movement continues, bringing back the darker chords of the opening but recontextualized as part of the bouncy rhythm. It goes through with a mildly heroic character, without getting to the “epic” proportions of the third. The slow movement is like a song over a heartbeat string motif. It’s got a cool moment where the orchestra plays with an arpeggio melody that feels like looking over an expanding landscape. That’s a vague image, but I don’t know how else to describe it, like flying over a field. The menuet here, no surprise, is treated like a scherzo, playing around mostly with textures and awkward scales in different keys. The last movement rushes us into what feels like is going to be a long contrapuntally dense rondo-finale, but it focuses on punchy brass chords over baroque complexity. The rapid-fire pace pushes through until the triumphant coda, only interrupted by a few breaths where the music slows down, savoring the moment.

Movements:

1. Adagio - Allegro vivace

2. Adagio

3. Menuetto: Allegro vivace

4. Allegro ma non troppo

#Beethoven #symphony #music #classical #orchestra #orchestra music #classical music #symphony orchestra #Beethoven symphony #Ludwig van Beethoven

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