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8.56 minutes, 20.5MB streaming mp3 file, 320kbps
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I have to say I’m very pleased with this. Completed yesterday morning, (Saturday 11 January 2013).
I think it would be accurate to describe this as a, “sound painting”; a Rothko for your ears if you will.
It is also true to say this is by far the most technically accomplished piece of audio I’ve ever produced without the help of a sound engineer.
As I hoped, the Roland A-500PRO Midi Keyboard Controller was an absolute boon and a liberation as well as a source of anxiety and frustration necessitating some long hours gleaning a working knowledge of midi-mapping.
As it happens I could have just stuck with the keyboard’s automatic control map that Ableton recognizes but my exploration into manual midi control assignment produced one or two happy accidents which wouldn’t be in here otherwise.
The piece is a mixture of field recordings made near where I live, and virtual midi-instruments, synthesizer pads and so on from Ableton Live.
The title, “The Whole Rainy Stony Earth”, is a phrase borrowed from the Ted Hughes poem, “Examination at the Womb-Door”. It was actually a crow in one of the field recordings that brought him and his, “Crow”, poems to mind.
I think the piece has a very earthy feel and a quite literal sense of searching for something which sits very nicely with Hughes’ powerful nature imagery.
Here’s the poem in full so you have something to read while you listen.
I hope you enjoy both.
Examination at the Womb-Door
Who owns those scrawny little feet? Death.
Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face? Death.
Who owns these still-working lungs? Death.
Who owns this utility coat of muscles? Death.
Who owns these unspeakable guts? Death.
Who owns these questionable brains? Death.
All this messy blood? Death.
These minimum-efficiency eyes? Death.
This wicked little tongue? Death.
This occasional wakefulness? Death.
Given, stolen, or held pending trial?
Held.
Who owns the whole rainy, stony earth? Death.
Who owns all of space? Death.
Who is stronger than hope? Death.
Who is stronger than the will? Death.
Stronger than love? Death.
Stronger than life? Death.
But who is stronger than Death?
Me, evidently.
Pass, Crow.
