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Friday 22 August 2008

eighth

Rotterdam

it smells like clichés.

one vietnamese boy explains me what good friends are: "if I want to dance, I call my friend and I tell him: let’s go out, but it’s monday? doesn’t matter... ok, let’s go out!"

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one woman from an unknown country for me (Surinam) tells me that her daughter is borned alsmost in the same day as I am and almost in the same year".

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one unexpected visit.

one says stories.

one.chaos.for everyone.

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in Rotterdam the dummies are still there. while the black people turn their dreadlocks on each corner, one might find a piano player ready to give an ad-hoc concert.... he might be drunk and he might want to fuck you, but he’s also part of the Carnaval, isn’t he? between Chopin and Schumann and Ch....Rachmaninov (chaos), there are some days for listening, thinking, walking, talking, thinking, finding, seeking SOME OTHER MUSIC.ssssssssssssssh

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the clichés are still there... for me and for you and for the rest of the world to take them away and put them into a green bag with the illegal sound-sign on it. egal what one might hear. ill from the society. legal from the languages. lethal. gal... allllll.

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there’s not much to say about Rotterdam..... the train station is on it’s place, the underground works quite good, the people speak most of the time dutch, well, there are also some water channels, some windows, of course and some streets, corners, as well as in any other city. it’s a normal city, actually.... it might sound not real, but so it is. well, this should prepare you to go in Rotterdam.... so, when you’ll go on the street and you’ll meet to chaos in person, you might not afraid or scared or disturbed. ’cause there is space enough for this experience, also, in Rotterdam. you’ll never know when the moment will come for you to put the headphones away and to enter directly into a mass of people, sounding people, speakers, colours, moves and drogs, existence and, mm, not... some of them were falling. let’s click them in a picture! some of them were laughing laud and some were even crying. it was a dance parade through the city, disturbing the calm life and the dreadlocked stairs. with our headphones, we shared a strange world..... interrupted. damaged. ignored. saved.

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seventh

let’s get naked in the forest let’s get naked in the forest

after one full day of boat-rhine-ride, we find a small path through a forest, near a small city in Netherlands.

naked in the forest..... should be the next funky shit hit from an ad-hoc band, also called "naked in the forest". is this experimental? or is this enough.....?!?!

silence.... clean and silent. clean, silent and full with rich people. luxury boats. no coffee shops, unfortunately.....

ruins from a dead war.

we drink some time, beer and wine.

with Vincent, we drink some words, thoughts and steps.

there is already night.....

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sixth

Antwerpen

on the way to Antwerpen, I had to broadcast from the boat for my romanian radio, while the engine was running loud. hopefully some of the people from Romania understood what I tried to say....

from the very first moments in Anvers, I found out that some of my new boat colleagues are some ffffffffamous porn stars (hahahaaa).

...together with my romanian musician fellow, we get lost in the city. suddenly we realise.... no idea about the adress we have to go back to. and on the telephone we knew, nobody answered. as I had a "right obsession", Catalin concludes saying "we haven’t been this way". and so it was: the "right" way was on the left side.

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the big house from Anvers is full with people. here also... it looks like everybody has a specified plan about recording, mixing, working, laughing, speaking, not talking, being polite or not, eating, coffee’ing, behaving. and by the way: the city is, anyway, beautiful.

Antwerpen was for me like the name of the house we’ve been staying in: "air"..... one week just flewuuuuuuuuuu. out of nowhere it was monday and Netherlands feelings started to come closer to us.

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the dummies in the shops made me feel as walking all the time through a red light district of the human emotions. all for sale, everything for sale, everything is known, you can buy the attitude, the clothes, the smile, the hands and the rings to prove that you’re employee, engaged, enlightened. I spent hours after hours in front of the shops windows, taking photographs of those amazing (mind blowing, nice, beautiful, simply bullshit) duuuuummmiessssssssss.

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in the while, I tried the beer, the local wine, the local church and, the most amazing! the record shop without computer!!!!! thousands of vinyls gathered there only through the power of some small announcements in the newspapers. the woman who talked to me had the look of a quiet janis joplin. she was a "computer widow" but she went through the "computer rehab" and, at almost 50 years she was fresh, foxy and full with vinyls.

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the tunnel: the most beautiful group experience with field-recording.

the parties: well....sometimes, maybe too laud?

the jam sessions: ROCCCCK!!!!!!

the food: might be.....

the sex: .....

the drogs:?

the dogs: Castro was perfect! viva el chien andalouse!

the fame: New York is not the place or experimental music could not be the right word for it..... or for me. Phil Niblock is a person to have the answer, but maybe you’ll ask somebody else before him.

the books: de la Nature de choses. Lucretiu and Honderd jaar eenzaamheid. Marquez....

the tent: mirrors the analog. wonders of technology and sound system.

the language: tyivqpwerb qwervv vqger qwertqwyerui2384776bwer ha

the magic: was gone.

the Rhine?

still there.

fifth

and also in Brussels....

I met two boys on the street. they tried to sell me their latest hip hop cd. I asked them to do me a spontaneous freestyle about the Rhine. well, so they did.

IMG/mp3/rhine_hip_hop-2.mp3

some old russian ladies explain me how grateful they are to Europe....

IMG/mp3/doamne_ruse.mp3

tourists, friends, baggers, romanian musicians, "where do you come from? venezuela....oh, there’s no Rhine in there? i’m sorry, no...." second hand shops, streets, 10 minutes of dancing in an experimental music club with an old sailor, "i’m working....no idea about the Rhine", "le Rhine c’est super bien".....

if you want brown sugar, we have white sugar.

coffee in the morning and some yoga moves. the morning is most of the time late, but the Atomium will be there mostly the whole "time".

I try to remember India and I buy some indian food on the beach of Brussels.... it doesn’t taste so good and I burn my mouth. Alice will definitely burn in her wonderlands, while eating some belgian home food. the wires will be the problem of my residence... what kind of wires do I need when I have to connect my laptop and make it sound loud? no no no idea.... I probably am not the best image for an experimental sound artist, coming to the performing place with a fucked up laptop and some books about Alice, haiku and nepalese lessons...... like Alice, I am trying to find some good sounding cookies to make me grow larger and larger.... finally, somebody helps me with the wire and a microphone comes up. I won’t be anymore a cat without a grin.

"and the things became curioser and curioser".

forth

so....

once again about dummies and african feelings, while sounds and memories....

without any logical order, let me fragmented, chaotic and still laughing, tell you something about my european sound delta.

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Brussels

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"is he a mafioso?" I asked Nicolas when he texted me that an italian looking guy will come and pick me up from the train station. well.... Olivier wasn’t really a person to deal with the mafia, but more a smiling and nice sailor man. I wouldn’t picture him making dirty business in his free time, but.....

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Brussels... I understand nothing from it..... in the first day, confused and not exactly knowing what should I do, I’m just walking the way streets show to me... everybody seems to work here and they all have a plan..... me? me?!?! I try to improve my french abilities, asking people on the streets where is the Rhine..... it looks like, hm.... the Rhine is not in Brussels. this might be the conclusion of my first day in Brussels.

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because of a good internet site called Hospitality Club, I got to know a boy who’s a linguist: one of the 50 persons in the whole world to deal with the african languages..... he: "what’s your artistical aim, Maria?" me: " I don’t know.... I’m just searching for the truth." break me: "what are you searching for when you study african languages?" he:"I tried to see if they converge or diverge. the conclusion was that some of them converge and some diverge...." me: hahahahaaaaaaa he: "well, after, I spent 3 months trying to give this conclusion a more commercial face. why do the world, actually, need the truth and the african languages? imagine us going to the guys from the financial department and ask them for some money.... how could we prove the use of the truth and the use of knowing if the african languages converge or diverge? they can be really useless."

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.....some hours after this dialogue, I receive a phone call from an african boy I met in Goa, India, 7 months ago, asking me if I still want to go to the party.....

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....in the middle of the night, in a club that showed me another face of Brussels, an african woman, tall, black, beautiful, dances. she’s dancing on the rhythms of 2 dj’s and she’s really dancing, happily, laughing with her entire body, shaking her ass, her legs, her arms and our souls of poor mortals. I stop from my own move. I cannot take my eyes from her. she’s there, giving us a little bit of an amazing mixture of worlds: african continent and house music universe. her dress is taking the shape of her body and I dream of feelings I’ll probably never..... I went out of the club and, as I was walking on the street, a car stops. I get a free ride to the boat and an invitation of drinking wine and make sex. I choose to drink my own stars, while sleeping outside.... Brussels still sounds like sleeping.

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Thursday 7 August 2008

third

because here it´s raining and because I feel it´s time to write about this project.

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be is the cause before four a´clock in the morning to come and t to become one om, om mani padme hum or any other.

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tasting the parts of time that are happening, suddenly one gets to conclude, imaginary speaking, because in reality there is no way to a conclusion or to another, the floating of one movement towards another is the effect that one gets when bees and buzzzz go together.

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I let the dummies in the windows tell me once again and once another gain, the story of the stollen feelings from the soul of the first and from the wings of birds who eat flying like we eat lines of metros.

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I wake up in the morning and all the sounds I heard before, turn into a reality, I wouldn´t call it reality, really, even if it comes from me and it goes out, outside, outkast, oututututut, ut being the first sound in a forgotten key.

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silence and noise come together in this rotterdamnation place where we ended now. streets meet corners and when they do, sound becomes silence and when suddenly silence length a hand to the message, turns into the big bigotic and narcotic noise.

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let it be random rain and let be to believe the longitudinal difference between then and eleven o´clock in the evening.

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gardens, beds and british accent.

IMG/mp3/rhine_hip_hop.mp3

greetings, thankings, givingoding.

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odddding.

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addding.

addict.

ict.

intelligent corners of testosterone.

Wednesday 6 August 2008

second

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the second article for this blog takes the trip further on. my thoughts round about knowing and not knowing.... I see very clearly how my travelling experience influence the things I do. for example, I didn´t dare to be strong on stage until I saw the performances of Joaquim. on the other hand, I didn´t think of adapting the sounds of a sexual act for another performance, until I spent a couple of extremely full days in this group.

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the invisible cities come along.

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social problems, moments of almost magic, surreal people, shops with thousands of vinyls but without computers, a city where one has the factories, the churches, the Rhine and the cranes on the same level of feelinbeing.

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Anvers had for me the eyes of the dummies in the windows of the shops, the hands of the cranes, the mouth full with french, the ears of the one who wants to hear, hears something, not exactly what he/she wanted, explores, it´s quite interesting, goes further, stops, museum, sounds, noise, performance baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang.

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the dinner is ready, let´s all go and eat, behind us, the Rhine flows. we, leting ourselves to be and only be in our small artistic group, we don´t pay attention to it. the rain.... the tango.... the lost. minutes. wine. why? and beers melting chocolate in front of the gotic church while sky.....

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I danced on the sides of Rhine, with an opened umbrella, causing an unexpected fight between Frank Sinatra and Frank Zappa, one might say they are both dead, that might be true, still it isn´t. the umbrella didn´t bake because of itself.

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carefully, the bridges go up and down. nobody really knows if they let the ships to pass or if they only follow a movement they knew since somebody put them in a certain but out of poetry place.

IMG/mp3/musicalitation.mp3

Thursday 31 July 2008

first one

it´s really hard to write a story about the Rhine right now. how does, actually, the Rhine sound? why it sounds like this? is the Rhine just a "concept" that only the cultivated people might know? is it a symbol of Europe? are there people how doesn´t know about it?

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if Heine wrote his Lorelei, wouldn´t it be possible to do some modern poetry around the idea of Rhine? maybe freestyle, on the street, after the very first moment hen the name of Rhine was to be heard.

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I´m searching for the Rhine.... where? how? in Brussels, z.B. can I find it there? in a geographical way of speaking, no.

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the questions about the existence of Rhine and maybe only about its existence in our imagination concern me those days. the presence of Rhine in Europe? for me - Lorelei. for the people who live on its sides - an every day walk to school, university, job. for the others - pollution.

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can Rhine mean Lucretiu, Tagore, psichanalyse, friendship, magic, nationality, languages, societies? can Rhine mean "one century of solitude"? translations?

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after a couple of days spent on the Rhine boat, I understood the only way to find a Rhine for me is to ask my own questions about it. these are some sounding ones.

IMG/mp3/le_rhine_lorelei_et_le_moi.mp3