Lately I have done five new pieces of musique concrète exploring darker sensations. The creative process started with listening as always and field recording. Recordings of birds in the darker regions of the woods, of people in the lokal park at night, of myself walking around in an old church before a concert and recording myself knocking against the walls of a metal box, a sculpture in a park. The instant compositions made of these recordings explore darker sensations, the abject regions of my mind and of society.

The five pieces are:

Discourses of the birds

Claustrophobic conditions

Convolutions of nothingness

Go to bed, dear despair

Into the liver mist

The first four pieces will be premiered at the next Under Subcult Online Art Meeting on May 18. Here is the link of the Facebook event: https://www.facebook.com/events/763896378853820/

The fifth piece will be available exclusively on Bandcamp as a bonus track of the album later.

Finally here are the words I wrote in response to the five pieces, some kind of poems, perhaps:

Discourses of the birds

The birds sing to the joy of men,
But this is a mistake, for they sing without ceasing,
To the delight of men, but they can't stop
To sing unless they fall dead from the branch, only then
One falls silent, but the others continue to sing and
In their singing they tell the stories of the dead,
They sing without ceasing, they sing of death for the joy of men,
Death, what a mistake.
The S-Bahn runs between them, but the birds continue to sing,
The motorcycle roars past, but the birds continue to sing
Without ceasing of death to the joy of men.

Claustrophobic conditions

The mood in the chamber is metal, is knocking against metal,
the wall on the side, the ceiling, the wall, knocking,
It's better not to step outside, but there are people outside,
They shout and make noise and there are many of them, so better keep knocking,
The wall on the side and front and back and above the ceiling,
claustrophobic happiness.

Convolutions of nothingness

Empty steps, but the echo in the church, but still empty the steps,
The reverb gains the upper hand, overwhelms the steps, becomes a wall,
A wall of sound. But the emptiness remains, no wave of sound can fill it,
it passes through and leaves nothing but emptiness that remains.

Go to bed, dear despair

Good night, despair, what else do you want, go to bed, despair,
Haven't you had enough, haven't you done enough, done what is indigestible?
Go to bed, despair, finally give up, let go, let go, go,
Go to bed, despair.
So the litany goes, until the repetition, the never-ending repetition
As you get used to it, it changes and feels gentler. Then maybe 
Despair finally goes to bed in the morning.

Into the silver mist

Into the silver mist
Into the silver mist
Into the silver mist
Into the silver mist
Into the silver mist
Into the silver mist
No option to return.

YouTube premiere