Herbstnebel wallen bläulich überm See; Vom Reif bezogen stehen alle Gräser; Man meint', ein Künstler habe Staub vom Jade Über die feinen Blüten ausgestreut.
Der süße Duft der Blumen ist verflogen; Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stängel nieder. Bald werden die verwelkten, goldnen Blätter Der Lotosblüten auf dem Wasser zieh'n.
Mein Herz ist müde. Meine kleine Lampe Erlosch mit Knistern; Es gemahnt mich an den Schlaf. Ich komm' zu dir, traute Ruhestätte! Ja, gib mir Ruh', ich hab Erquickung not!
Ich weine viel in meinen Einsamkeiten. Der Herbst in meinem Herzen währt zu lange. Sonne der Liebe, willst du nie mehr scheinen, Um meine bittern Tränen mild aufzutrocknen?
Autumn mists drift, blue-tinged cross the lake... Coated with frost, all the grass stands stiff; One would think an artist had sprinkled jade dust Over the delicate blossoms.
The sweeet scent of the flowers has vanished. A cold wind bends their stems; Soon the faded golden petals Of the lotus will float past on the water.
My heart is weary. With a crackling sound my little lamp Has gone out; it reminds me of sleep!... I am coming to you, dear place of rest, Yes, give me rest, I am in need of comfort.
I often weep in my lonely days... The autumn in my heart has lasted too long. Sun of love, will you never hine again To gently dry away my bitter tears?
I know: jesus. but it's beautiful, right? I have a strong & distinct memory that I can't connect to any particular time or place of being somewhere & having a kind of a filthy old man rant to me pationately about Mahler. I remember especially him saying & this is Alma, right, & he just writes every curve of her body & he was sort of foaming, scaring me a little. I sort of want this to've happened almost maybe too much to be trusted on the memory. but I think it's real. one thing that make life better all the time is kooks. let's hear it for kooks.
anyhow, this'll be a short post, but I've got some good stuff to share & largely also wanted to just check in -- a meatier heap is in the works. for now, some points of hygiene:
1) well, Odetta died today. I feel sad about that. one voice. 2) did you hear about Deborah Lawrence? & then my question is: is the art the event or the object? 3) sorry it's been so long since I've posted. mystifyingly, human beings continue to organize themselves into groups defined by kinship. & so I have been eating cousins' turkeys, or something. but I have a great post coming in the next day or two, a survey of a few of the really excellent things coming out on records right now. also some stinkers that sent me on fun tangents. it's going to include some out-of-print Anthony Braxton, the smiths in ukrainian (major improvement, from my perspective), the story of the time I saw 96-year-old Claire Barry sing makin' woopie vegas-style to a puddle of terror-struck midtowneres & some great stuff from new york's yiddish radio of the 40s.
in the meantime, here's a fanfuckingtastic song by the adventure, which is the nom de bleep of a guy called Benny Boeldt who's part of wham city, a baltimore-based arts collective whose most famous member is Dan Deacon. (hmmnnn.... baltimore, балтийское море... mere coincidence?). he gets a really grainy, lovely sound. (it's not made with 8-bit synthesizers, but you can hear how someone might make the mistake.) he gets a lot across in a really lean way. there are some lessons from Bach. & it's just fun. anyhow, here:
the other day I saw the movie slumdog millionaire. I didn't love it, but the soundtrack is by A.R. Rahman, whom you should definitely know if you don't. one song that really got my ear was this one, which is called o... saya. I don't know what that means. it's a great song, maybe sort of, I don't know, gaudy?, but also really striking & interesting & essentially well-done. check it out. click here to download o... saya by A.R. Rahman & M.I.A.
& now here is something very exquisite & weird & magnificent, for if you missed out on the splendor that was bratislava in 1966.
