Sound is a material, physical and ethereal,
.solid and hollow, full and empty,
It has qualities found only when listening.
.My work is inspired by this phenomenon,
by the diversity of cultures around the globe,
. and by ever learning the sonic lessons
.taught to us by the voices of the natural wild.
As a composer the Icelandic word tónskáld, meaning sound poet or sound weaver, may be a more appropriate term for my approach to composition. The sonic quality, the imprint of each sound, how they interact with each other, how the music twists and turns to form a physical, tangible and emotive world these things could be considered important. However Looking for links through someone’s work often turns into a wild goose chase. For me if anything it would be the power and energy that sounds, as they manifest, have on our world, and us. A composer creates through channeling and manipulating the detailed, complex emotive power of sound.
One afternoon as we recorded a few drum parts the percussive drive for the piece started to emerge and I realised I could finally answer a creative calling. To write a piece that was unashamedly massive, with big drums, numerous string sections, synthesisers, and more. This however was only part of our journey in creating a piece that for us is an instrumental tale of many modern day tales, stories both human and wild, of those seeking refuge and striving to survive.
It’s My Blood, It’s My Love, It’s My Home
A soundscape to a memory scape.
What is written of your life?
Memories some fleeting and some that remain.
The sky of your mind clear blue or fraught with clouds and thunder.
No matter we venture under your skies to hear your story.
A rite of passage from a bygone age,
.Modernity and tradition in contention
.as the young girl and the devil.
It is often the initiation of an idea
that offers us the greatest challenge.
.The first foot print in the snow may tarnish the landscape,
However it may melt the snow to reveal a see of dreams.
.With that in mind a good piece of advice would be to take that step.
I am the joy of pain, the shattering shards of glass
.are my symphony,
.my very skin.
Through my burning and twisting I am an obelisk,
I am Kamikaze.
Standing, no, kneeling in suspense,
. here to worship
. here to pray
here to howl, here to weep, no, to laugh.
. The dance leaves its marks, creates its story.
The vagabond, the stray, the subtle flame burning, burning, gone.
Released is that which is locked
. beneath the skin
. Celebrating the slow demise
through the final act we find consolidated power.
. We touch, we move, we dance, to the sorrowful jig
of the chorus of strings.
. Have you ever heard the
. Sound of smoke, the ethereal
. of this ghostly apparition?
. The silent specter
. singing as
. it dreams aloud.
(A) Being, (in) an eternal process,
. changing, shifting, transforming
It is wooden, it is digital, born of fire, living as water, a master of air.
. It is sonic material?
. It is infinitely small, and larger then the mountain.
It is living experience,
. living to change,
. it is of this world, and of another, it is Molecule.
5 a glitch
6 a whisper muffled, a mechanical heartbeat
7 someone’s daughter, someone’s son™
8 It is not because I learned how they died; it is that I learned how they lived.
Will you come with me, will you follow?
Favor and disgrace are like fear. Honor and distress are like the self.
What does this mean?
Favor debases us afraid when we get it, afraid when we loose it.
The self embodies distress,
. No self
. No distress. . Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching