A wild run, through a curtain of droplets, through the quicksand of a relenting slowing down that leads nowhere, and if anything gets increasingly feverish – across gardens, cities, suburbs, drought, frost, flood, fire. Everything sinks, everything rises. The storm is on the horizon; it’ll come.
A dream-like passacaglia, with a simple refrain and an everchanging background that organizes the world by pitch, so that we can either tune it, or perhaps tune ourselves through it.
With the complicity of Schubert, “Fathers” is both a concert piece and a documentary on ‘auditory fatherhood’, containing a set of interviews to composers and friends.
A /nu/thing project: the attempt for a truly collective writing
The An Experiment with Time installation “brought to life” by an (amplified and distorted) ensemble. Can installations become live events?
An anthology whose raw material are masterpieces of past and recent history of music (from Ockegem to Grisey). Belonging, universality, authenticity: put these concepts in a composer’s hand, and they’ll immediately clash against the hermetically sealed compartment of copyrights. Eventually, all music is meta-music.
Luz, ojos, mundo. Light, eyes, world. An intimate exploration of of proximity and distance, through the words of Gustavo Adolfo Becquer.
Always keeping Mahler’s eight symphony as a distant mirror, a small fragment from un unknown Schlussszene aus Faust.
A “consertum” and a “certamen”, over a magma of underlying scores. Far away, the tip of the iceberg: Tristan.
Electronic sounds are elsewhere, in an unknown land where laws of physics get tricky, in a non-place where everything suddenly becomes possible, where sounds become symbols, and where words and ideas are mingled with the heavy burden of their possible meanings, as phantoms of a young Pessoa, in an dreamlike view.
Loop, loop, loop, loop, loop, loop. Circularity, recursion, iteration. As Flann O’ Brien’s fictional De Selby inside its hell, going round and round. But what’s the relation between looping and grooving?
A desperate cry for help, the frantic monologue of Bernard Marie Koltès in a chamber opera for an actor, two singers, ensemble and electronics.
Nietsche, Marinetti, Savinio, Bellezza, Joyce, Apollinaire: each one weaves the net for a criticism of Italian Futurist movement. Just outside the door: telephones, fireworks, megaphones. And right below the surface, between objects and shadows, the reflection of an hommage.