cognitive dissident (ariael) wrote,
cognitive dissident
ariael

london 8

the summer was spent recovering at home in Paris: 7 weeks lying in bed. Then somehow, still in pain and wobbly on my legs I just hop across the channel to experiment to collaborate with an unknown band... whimsical? foolish bravoury?
First, play with complete strangers: that in itself meant a complete revolution of the way i went about music before. Doing it built confidence/ my music to be appreciated by itself. Then their music I could relate to... because as a matter of fact it did show similarities to other existent bands I feel close to what i carry myself musically.
So did I get deluded by an ersatz, a mirage of ... ? I didnt mind the obvious similarity since it also carried signs of insufficiency, a call for completion by something heterogenous, that i could give and was allowed to. So it was instructive in the way that I found out the resource of my own ability to orientate an instrumental piece that by itself was lacking personality... sounding incomplete because inhabited... because it is music coming from music heard/ duplicated process/what's in the air at the moment ; music coming from skill full people who would be subconsciously manipulated by references when you have to be subconsciously manipulating them...
I liked finding how i could hijack pieces, just by impressing a harmonic direction that they didn't contain. Completely opening a way by an arpeggio and a vocal line. What was mostly instructive (this revealing the scale of my doubting and of the unawareness of what is special that i carry) was to find out it was imposing itself without effort. Also for the first time, I could hear myself, feel safe and strong in my own vocal presence. To the extent that even in the most chaotic circumstances (that show when all that could predictably go wrong went wrong... technically and sound wise) my voice was a guide to me. Had it been accapella, it was just the same for me. During that pretty terrible show, which on top was my first (playing with strangers, after only a few sessions, and actually first ever...) Singing then, it was being me in an immediate, unreflective, exclusive way. It was like a root and an opening. The sought for link to earth for the lightning ( being wagnerian?). Just sing like I was at last being able to let myself resume totally in one act, one moment, without any division (being naturally analytic and having developed the conceptual method and instruments for it). That by itself is a precious experience and knowledge.
So, metaphorically (and once again the result of this experience only points out how metaphors have as much to do with literary figures as reality modes) if mirage it was, I did find out something there that is absolutely tangible; that would be... being me... here and now ( mostly me making music: delivering a physical reality of my own voice, harmonics/what ma petite musique interieure is, the experience of immediacy, work in limited time with limited means, on a defined basis/someone's start idea).
Why did it reveal itself so late etc... humm:
I didn't mind coming second after someone started the idea because somehow I know (but I don't... since I'm so abstract and subject to questioning therefore doubt, and so abstract i mostly know things without ever seeing their practical sense) the originality of my intervention. Just like traveling, being exposed to strangeness brings in me a response that wouldn't occur in another situation. The uniqueness of this response that is all mine, but caused by a exterior reality, is the development I seek for. Growing new parts of oneself through the experience of other environments. For J. it is all about le voyage interieur, like for the orientalist, like for symbolist, like for Baudelaire, elsewhere/ l'ailleurs is less a reality to experience than the inspirational ideal that starts a piece.
I seek for disturbance, to be distracted from myself, to be questioned by alterity.

Leaving London yesterday, so heavy-hearted... wandering in streets and remembrance of a past I thought I left there; proof that I had left parts of my history there... and sealing place and lived experiences is something you do by leaving parts of yourself behind. Back then, I left thinking i would come back 2 days after but I never did.
But coming back now, called by the meeting with my beloved, late James' mother and sister, I accomplished a full circle. I mourned: I assimilated the lost one to myself, idealizing him (bringing the essence of who he was) and celebrating in living every moment the moments we spent together. It is permanent from now. Continuation, not repetition. It is transubstantiation. I let go the mortal and comprehend (/take with me) all his leaving makes me become still. A point, a celestial corpse disappearing in the ether, by seeing it modifies all my presence. Like the way he lived, the way he died, certainly letting go of the persona, joining in will a cosmological totality he understood, teaches me to stop being scared of that moment to come.
I found joy in responding by singing: a gesture so light, so present, so unquestionable and personal.
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