True identity must be a collective one. Here’s an attempt of depersonalization of musical writing, in 269 (short) steps.
Time is a scraping engine, and the piece is a loose attempt to put it in motion. Musicians are four old gramophones, constantly in phase, granulating some old stuff. During the journey: the on and off of the light in a grey hospital corridor. And a scent, as of october leaves, as of tempests.
Sortie, Docili maniere, Finché morte, Benché simili, Mentre gelide, Eccetto Vercurago. As truncated incipits of non-existing poems, these six short piano pieces explore the relationships between extremely simple mechanisms and groundless abysses.
Four Chansons by Ockeghem, four lieder for cello or viola, piano and lo-fi electronic device: “L’autre d’antan”, “Presque transi”, “Ma bouche rit”, “Malor me bat”. Distant voices, still lives. Can we sing with someone else’s voice?
“So that there is no sun and no unveiling / and no host / only I and then the sheet / and bulk dead”
A clarinet player and a narrator face to face in an intimate and passionate journey towards Maurizio Cucchi’s unknown lands and marvelous towns.