Celebration

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this evening I retrieved my parlor guitar, quite possibly
a Larson, from the luthier, with a new completely hand-
carved bridge and the instrument sounds amazing! so here
are four short pieces for the guitar, as well as a
celebratory piece with plucked ghichak and a harmonics-
driven piece for the Cambodian tro, enjoy, come visit and
see these instruments, and the new bridge is beautiful!

Rozy

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- solo suroz with delay -

among rosy dawn
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
and daemons like fairy-wraiths caress the rosy-hued dawn!
and like fairy-wraiths caress the rosy-hued dawn! and like
marriage and hackers screwing up my system and my arms and legs
and leprosy and lies topple!
the rest of us would die for the same leprosy, local gangrenes
like fairy-wraiths caressing the rosy-hued dawn! and like
marriage, for mesmeric rosy nipples entering miraculous singing
and like a long white gown
falling
drinking her urine in front of the night, rosy nipples, pale
breasts, and to others, song,
and mesmeric you have no idea of the night, rosy nipples,
rosy nipples
mesmeric rosy nipples entering miraculous singing long white gown
falling, rosy nipples and
asceticism, leprosy, and saintly disfigurement, would Kali fit
and, and receive
all other infirmities, asceticism, leprosy,
and saintly disfigurement, and would Kali fit,
and would Kali have a fit, or long white gown,
falling

• SORT

Spatiality and Technique

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- cura with full room resonance, gaps -

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- baritone horn with analog delay, resonance -

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- earlier baritone horn with analog delay,
talking through embrochure errors -

oh, my mistake, I thought it was okay to fail.
i’m still that little brat sitting in the
corner of mr. pugh’s class while he threw
chalk at me.

Baritone Horn with Delay!

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Not only a way to cover up errors (snuff them
out like a candle wick!), but to create a kind
of musical beauty I wouldn’t otherwise have
access to, I imagine streams and clarion calls,
and tall mountain peaks, cataracts…

desperate cluster f**cked

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- solo long-necked saz -

because at the core of it all i recognize i don’t know what
i’m doing, well then, the best way to proceed is to create
clusters which serve as homes in the midst of the nomad;
they can be accessed and surrounded and that’s what happens
here, so many half-tone approaches to and from those strange
attractors of stability that leave one breathless and scared
of the movement one to another, it’s almost as if one can
miss and slide forward or backward, frightening! so screwed
with the scales, so many scales, short-termination memory
holding the last sequences in abeyance. and then there’s
always the question of technique, hands need prior knowledge,
fingers follow as if in (natural) kinds. a stretch may
collapse or a fret rattle, and sometimes a leap to another
field is the only way out. i work towards long forms, this
way everything gets a chance to settle down, eventually some
good might come out of it, perhaps saving a life or two …

As part of ESP-Disk’s 50th Anniversary celebration, artists are invited to reconfigure ESP-Disk’ tracks to add a 21st-century twist to classic material. Brooklyn electronica artist Coeruleum has already worked his magic on at least five items, all of which we will eventually be sharing here. This one’s the funkiest so far, drawing on the legendary album Marzette Watts & Company for its source material.

Alan Sondheim
sax sax baritone horn electric saz

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first time we played @ being a trio
first time recording w/ baritone horn
we went at it fierce w/ considerable brio
emphatic new musick waz ecstatic and born

first three -
Ed Schneider alto sax
Chris Diasparra tenor sax
first -
Alan Sondheim baritone horn
next two -
Alan Sondheim electric saz
last -
Alan Sondheim baritone horn

mama dont make lungs like they used to
papa dont lunge like he might
rampage in times with the tongues like the blues do
hamper the hands and follow the fingers at night

Incident at  Toronto International Airport

We were in Toronto for the HASTAC Conference at York University.
We left Sunday late afternoon. At the airport we checked our bag.
We then took the bag through customs. We went through several
stages. We had the bag tagged. We showed our boarding-passes and
passports everywhere. We filled out the customs declarations. We
waited in lines. We went through a long line. Azure had her
boarding-pass stamped. The Canadian official forgot to stamp mine.
We went through another line. We turned things in. I was stopped
two stops later and told to return to the Canadian official. The
line to reach him took a half hour the first time. I walked two
stops back. I reached a U.S. official who had allowed us through
the first time. I said do I have to go through the whole line
again. I was annoyed. He told me I was being rude. He started
yelling. He told me one of the three Canadian soldiers present
would escort me back [it was to booth 20]. He was furious. He said
if the soldiers have time. He said be polite to them. He said
don’t interrupt them. He said be nice to them. He was glaring at
me. And for a moment I felt I was in a foreign country, the United
States of America. He was bullying. His sarcasm was stupid. His
insults were flat. His eyes impaled. Other people watched. He kept
his eyes focused ‘in that male gaze way’ on me. He wanted me to
challenge him. He wanted to arrest me for something. He wanted to
humiliate me. I said nothing. The soldier was fine, the Canadian
official joked with me, the U.S. guy let me through. I didn’t look
at him. People afterwards asked us what happened. I didn’t know.
All I knew is that here was an ugly bullying American who liked a
uniform and didn’t like me. Who wanted to arrest me; more, I was
sure he was going to hit me. I kept thinking: here’s the police
and here’s the police leakage across the border. You check INTO
the United States while still in Canada. Canada, throw them out.
I thought: this guy owns guns. I thought: this guy wants action.
I thought of his pleasure: humiliation. I wanted to strike out at
him. I was powerless there. There was here.

I came back to the States and played cura and did this piece:

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I wanted to play as many styles as possible in as short a time as
possible. But it’s long. I want to wrap the strings around his
eyes. I want to slam him to the ground. He turns me ugly. He turns
me enemy combatant. He turns me collateral damage.

I don’t play guns with cura. Of the music: cura cures.