I have an "absolute music" deficiency. /also, i do not know enough about counterpoint
other than that though i am slayin, lately
June 2011
“The tree sought refuge in the leaf, the house in the door, and the city in the house. The same scene over and over. The tree became a leaf, the house a door, and the city a house. It was hard to see all that and not seek refuge in my hands.”
—
“To advance a mile, we only have to take a step. If Tar doesn’t exist, we can invent it.”
—
whats amazing about Jodorowsky...
i quoted the holy mountain monologue in my yearbook.
no one reading it has heard of the man, the myth, or the movie before.
they all appreciate it, take something from it, they all respond to it.
I was just kinda quoting it because it meant something to me, yaknow, i wasn’t really expecting anybody to pick up…
i’ve just quoted some things from Fando y Lis (because i’m using dialogue from it in a piece of music i just started working on) on a face-post…
people who have no reckoning of the movie, the man, or the myth, seem to be taking something from it.
name one other guy who can say vague spiritualistic poetic-philosophies (out of context no less) and get that response.
“I’ve only been doing it since the world began.
sometime i’ll get it just right” —The Phantom Tollbooth
sometime i’ll get it just right” —The Phantom Tollbooth
6/26/11
a great hunt was played, on an ankle nigh-sprain’d
the three-leave’d dangers were no match for the lake we bathe’d in
the summer call rang, beckoning clear
the fire climb’d higher, to it we grew near
americana-breakfast gluttons
parking lot sunrise
the more i go on, the more i'm faced with the truth of it:
you don’t really matter in your artcraft till you’ve reached the point of the sublimity that comes with not giving a fuck.
"Wagner and the Romantic Hero" - Simon Williams
Hector Berlioz on the genesis of his Les Troyens
“It was Virgil who first found the way to my heart and opened my budding imagination, by speaking to me of epic passions for which instinct had prepared me. How often, construing to my father the fourth book of the Aeneid, did I feel my heart swell and my voice falter and break! one day, I remember I was disturbed from the start of the lesson by the line At regina gravi jamdudum saucia cura [Now the queen for some time had been troubled by the pangs of love]. Somehow or other I struggled on until we came to the great turning-point of the drama. But when I reached the scene in which Dido expires on the funeral pyre, surrounded by the gifts and weapons of the perfidious Aeneas, and pours forth on the bed - ‘that bed with all its memories’ - the bitter stream of her life-blood, and I had to pronounce the despairing utterances of the dying queen, ‘thrice raising herself upon her elbow, thrice falling back,’ to describe her wound and the disastrous love that convulsed her to the depth of her being, the cries of her sister, her nurse, and her distracted women, and that agony so terrible that the gods themselves are moved to pity and send Iris to end it, my lips trembled and the words came with difficulty, indistinctly. At last, at the line Quaesivit coelo lucem ingemuitque reperta, at that sublime image - as Dido ‘sought light from heaven and moaned at finding it’ - I was seized with a nervous shuddering and stopped dead; I could not have read another word… Seeing how confused and embarassed I was by such emotion, but pretending not to have noticed anything, my father rose abruptly and shut the book. ‘that will do, my boy’ he said, ‘I’m tired.’ I rushed away, out of sight of everybody, to indulge my Virgilian grief.”
“… for the last three years I have been tormented by the idea for a vast opera, for which I would write the words and the music… I am resisting the temptation to carry out this project and shall, I trust, resist to the end. To me the subject seems magnificent and deeply moving - sure proof that Parisians would think it flat and tedious”
“Berlioz was not merely a composer mis-heard by… critics and neglected by… conductors; he was not merely an extraordinary artist fighting the usual losing battle with his contemporaries and early posterity; he was also an archetype whose destiny, when retold, was the story of an age; he was the incarnation of a style and spirit that we can no more expunge from the history of western man than one can expunge a stretch of years from one’s own past.”
—Jacques Barzun
playlist of music used in Tree of Life →
youtube.com
thank you youtube guy.
i used to think there was music goin on and i just lacked technique
and now i have technique enough i should be able to do all these things. but like god damn. what happened.
i'm pissed at music right now.
well its mostly just myself.
i want to do things.
i try too hard, and i rather like to think i know what i’m trying to say.
which is so so much less than not knowing what is being said.
but when i try that i don’t like what happens it feels hollow.
i don’t know what to fucking do with myself.
tolkien creation myths
And when the Ainur had gazed for a while and were silent, Ilúvatar said again: ‘Behold your Music! This is your mistrelsy; and each of you shall find contained herein, amid the design that I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself devised or added. And thou, Melkor, wilt discover all the secret thoughts of thy mind, and wilt perceive that they are but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory.’
“Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures.”
—The Silmarillion
“The world calls me Wanderer;
widely have I wandered already:
far over the Earth’s face I wend my way.” —
widely have I wandered already:
far over the Earth’s face I wend my way.” —
Siegfried Act I Scene ii
Wagner
“
Ever wide and wild
the wandering path;
long lay the shadow
of lone rider.
Ever high and high
stood Hindarfell,
mountain mighty
from mist rising.
A fire at crown
fence of lightning,
high to heavenward
hissed and wavered.
Greyfell Grani,
glory seeking,
leaped the lightning
lightning-sinewed.
A wall saw Sigurd
of woven shields,
a standard streaming
striped with silver;
a man there war-clad,
mailclad, lying,
with sword beside him,
sleeping deadly.
The helm he lifted:
hair fell shining,
a woman lay there
wound in slumber;
fast her corslet
as on flesh growing-
the gleaming links,
Gram there clave them.
the legend of sigurd & gudrün - The Lay of the Völsungs - VI Brynhildr
translated by J.R.R. Tolkien
