A contemplative and difficult piece for quartet. If the microtonal chorales don’t get you, the hocketing at the end might!
https://on.soundcloud.com/TN6SIS71BXPO7KudzG
This piece is meant to place a listener in a grain silo and be surrounded by the reverberations of the internal while an optional peripheral audience observes the stillness and superposition of the external. In writing this piece, I was reading a collection of poems In the Night Field, by Cameron McGill. One in particular (“46.7234° N, 117.0002° W”) found a special place in my mind and heart. Not only were these coordinates the near-exact location of an apartment I previously lived in, but the final stanza reached from across the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains. The Palouse kindly called into my resonant and subterranean Chicago garden unit:
The night is numbered
in a forest of sharps & flats
in a register climbing wet mirrors Inside me
a silo fills with rain
I sing into it
A contemplative and difficult piece for quartet. If the microtonal chorales don’t get you, the hocketing at the end might!
https://on.soundcloud.com/TN6SIS71BXPO7KudzG
This piece is meant to place a listener in a grain silo and be surrounded by the reverberations of the internal while an optional peripheral audience observes the stillness and superposition of the external. In writing this piece, I was reading a collection of poems In the Night Field, by Cameron McGill. One in particular (“46.7234° N, 117.0002° W”) found a special place in my mind and heart. Not only were these coordinates the near-exact location of an apartment I previously lived in, but the final stanza reached from across the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains. The Palouse kindly called into my resonant and subterranean Chicago garden unit:
The night is numbered
in a forest of sharps & flats
in a register climbing wet mirrors Inside me
a silo fills with rain
I sing into it