1. |
||||
2. |
the edge of vision
05:13
|
|||
|
"Aubade" by Philip Larkin
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with, The anaesthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape,
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
|
||||
3. |
we are burning
10:16
|
|||
4. |
red pulse
04:46
|
|||
5. |
the inner strife
05:53
|
|||
6. |
burn the stars
08:35
|
|||
7. |
||||
8. |
keeping quiet
11:32
|
|||
|
Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
|
||||
9. |
epilog
05:49
|
|||
|
Excert out of "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart;
the centre cannot hold;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
|
||||
Frank Schulte Cologne, Germany
German sound creator Frank Schulte works in the fields of improvised music, new music, ambient, experimental electronics, develops expanded media performances and composes sound and music for theatre plays, movies and contemporary dance choreographies and develops intermedia installation for public spaces. ... more
If you like Frank Schulte, you may also like:
42 Days 四十二天
by Southeast of Rain 东南有雨
This stunning, beautiful project from Fujian duo Southeast of Rain 东南有雨 blends field recordings with rippling notes from the pipa.
go to album
Sonic Essences
by Angela Winter
With all proceeds going to benefit Ukraine, the latest from Angela Winter is a beautifully haunting work that centers the human voice.
go to album
Visionist showcases vocals for the first time on his Mute debut, featuring collabs with members of Circuit des Yeux, Black Midi and more.
go to album
Stark and fascinating analog synth songs cross-wired with crazy rhythms & spoken word to disorienting effect.
go to album
where one begins and the other stops
by Oh No Noh
Fascinating minimal indie pop, with rhythms that whirr and click like clockwork, ornamented with silvery guitars.
go to album
Ambient soundscapes 1
by Mark Heaney
The aptly named new one from Mark Heaney presents enveloping ambient worlds designed to get lost in.
go to album
Poignant soundscapes and quirky electronic gems cleverly crafted with micro beats and pianos.
go to album
