“To Pee or not to Pee, That’s the question…”
Oedilet
A musical ‘loosely’ based on
Hamlet, Oedipus Trilogy, Irma La Douce,
The Dionysian Myth, Macbeth & The Threepenny Opera
Music
Pink Floyd
The Libretto
Scene 1
In an unknown village of Else (Elsinore) the night life is at its peak as the drags and prostitutes have camouflaged the streets and the prospective buyers have gathered all around them. They are selecting their mates by judging the blow of their farts. People are singing and dancing, and a polyphonic environment is established. This merry moment, however, is soon obstructed by the unwanted arrival of a city dwelling priest, Oedilet (Oedipus/Hamlet) who initially creates chaos in the situation, but later gets interested in the prophecy that three drags speak to him about, according to which, one day he will become the king of ‘Else’, mesmerized by which he starts dreaming of his kingship, treating his tricycle as a luxury motor car and rides it like a king should, consequently bumping into the real king of Else, a juggler drag- Drunken. There is a slight confrontation between them, though assuming it’s the queen of Else, Oedilet tries to seduce her by kissing her but as he reaches down he realizes that it’s a drag and thus a scuffle takes place between the two. Soon, Oedilet is overshadowed by his anger and also is reminded of the prophecy, thus, encouraged by the three drags, (To pee or not to pee, that is the question) he pees in the ear of Drunken, causing his death. (the submitted music score traces the events only till this point) At this very moment, the fat, grotesque, cross dressed, hanswurst-like queen of Else, Gertrude/Ophelia comes and crowns him as the new King and her new pimp. The people of Else gather and take a procession of their new king and his queen. When left alone, he kisses his new queen, but before that checks her gender as he doesn’t want to get fooled again. However, he soon gets confused about his own relationship with the queen, in a kinky fetish, he calls her ‘Mama’ when he says the last comprehensible thing (Mama, I am bleeding… blahblahblah…).
Synopsis of the story that follows:
After loosing the power of oral communication, there starts an ordeal for Oedilet to discover the reason behind this curse. He is helped by the three drags who had initially prophesized his kingship, and is told that this is because of some deadly sin that he has committed. After trying to find it out in several ways, he finally secretly overhears/sees an exclusively women ritual being performed by his queen and some of her friends, in which they enact the story of how she sent her first son, when he was an infant to the city to a certain priest. Thus, he discovers that actually he has murdered his own father, married his own mother and bore children from her. At the moment of this realization, his communication power comes back to him. Filled with remorse, he asks his mother and her friends to kill him with a poisoned sword which they reject, he even asks the viewers to kill him but no one helps him… he is left to live with his guilt.
Setting, Location & Set Design
This musical is set in a utopian land of Else, but I still am deliberate to keep the setting as an Indian village. This implies the existence of carnival in rural spaces as opposed to the regimentalised and governed urban life. The location that I have chosen to stage this musical is the road in front of the Godavari hostel upto Godavari bus-stand. With its dynamic curve, central location and interesting spatial structure, I find it perfect for the staging of this musical. It also completely gels with the politics of the play, for eg. the issue of the subversion of the gender codes dealt with in the play gets reflected in the location of this road in the middle of a boys’ hostel (Periyar) and a girls’ hostel (Godavari) creating a kind of ambivalence in the space. For the set design, I would basically like to depend upon the location itself as it provides most of the structures that are essential for the movements of the character. However, there still will be a kind of a human framing (two people holding a kite string in the shape of a frame) which will on one hand signify the uncertainty & destiny as a basic feature of the story, and on the other, underline the marionette like condition of the characters where the strings are in someone else’s hands. This will also serve another purpose- as all the action will definitely not remain confined to the limitations set by this frame, it will also critique the proscenium in its inability to capture the dynamics of carnival.
Characters, Costumes, Props & Acting Styles
Oedilet:
A city dwelling Priest, represents religious dogmatism (as he creates chaos in the free flowing life and also obstructs the sexual behaviour which the people are accustomed to), he also in a way represents a bourgeoisie mentality with his pure concepts of society, gender etc. which are completely challenged in this new land. He is also like the Chaplin figure, but this time in an inverted paradigm where the village tramp doesn’t come to the city but instead a city-dweller comes to the village (without any predefined reason), and falls into the trap of the conditions that await him. He wears a priest-like robe, but multicoloured, to give him a clownish priestly look. His consistent mistakes regarding people’s gender can be looked at as a subversion of the social construct of gender. He rides a tricycle, too small for him to be able to ride it properly, which represents his inadequate experience and knowledge of life. He also carries multiple balloons on his tricycle as a symbol of his hollow knowledge and his fancy of flying high. The act of drags bursting the balloons can be looked at as a mockery over his under-knowledge and pre-conceived notions about everything. I would prefer him to act in a very chaplinesque manner, more in mime, giving him a feel of certain naivety
Drunken and Other Drags:
The concept of drags here, apart from again being an obvious subversion of the gender codes, is to address to a bigger issue of the impotent government that we have right now. The mystery behind the real identity of these drags is also the mystery that is present around the political figures of our countries. The concept of kings and queens being up for sale on the street actually represents the repulsive level to which Indian politics has fallen where everybody is bought and sold. The king, thus, no wonder, is also a pimp for his own queen (a job taken over by Oedilet later). The drags are dressed in large, strange gowns with a lot of laces and accessories, very loud make up and some of them are also wearing strange blonde wigs- a critique of the modernity being imposed on all the segments, leading not to development but to displacement of these tribes. Drunken is a juggler, he juggles with three balls- a half ball (underprivileged), a small ball (minorities) and a large, heavy, black ball (fundamentalists), hence representing the position of the king (government) as a juggler where he keeps on juggling with these issues and tries to tame them so as to keep his position as a king intact. I want him & other Drags to act in a very loud, almost over the top manner to break the codes of realism completely so that the rupture becomes more evident.
Gertrude/Ophelia:
The queen of Else, is a big, fat, grotesque woman who wears clownish clothes, hence mystifying her gender identity. She is a glutton, initially on seeing our colourful Oedilet she thinks he is a piece of a cake and runs to eat him. In the love making sequence, she jumps on the lap of Oedilet like a child, almost crushing him to death. She is at the same time very authoritative; she carries a leash with her which she calls the crown of Else. This is the same leash with which Oedilet is crowned after the death of Drunken. A kind of female dominance is also evident in this. Her acting style is very loud, in fact quite like what Amal uses in ‘Erendira’,
Music:
The music plays a very vital role in this production. To break from the melodic & symphonic codes imposed by the classical canon; I have deliberately chosen music from the first phase in the work of a rock band ‘Pink Floyd’. Most of this music is psychedelic in nature, experimental, even absurd at times. The little harmonious pieces (like ‘cry me a river’ by Julie London) only act as an element in the creation of a polyphonic structure that the carnival soundtrack demands. The use of contrapuntal sounds to add to this structure is another significant feature of the sound track for this performance. I have also been very deliberate to be completely unconventional in the selection of the music to firstly, set the mood of the narrative and yet, secondly, to avoid verisimilitude. The rock opera piece that comes in the end of the first scene can be looked at as an example of this where an act as bizarre as peeing into somebody’s ear is musically staged as a high point, like a war would have been staged in a classical opera. The music also provides ample space for the actors to improvise and play with their characters as opposed to the pre defined movement for every single note in a ballet. This also gives it a more carnivalesque feel and texture.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Rewind
Rewind...
...and as I stood there... I realized that something inside me was melting. I saw the smoke rise up, expand, and dissolve into the atmosphere. For when it was nowhere to be seen... I felt it was all around me. The cigarette in my hand was still red and grey. I gave it a last kiss, and the hollowness of my body got saturated by its breath for a moment. The smell of tobacco was tickling my nostrils. I searched my packet, just to reassure myself that this was the last one I had. Like a good bye kiss, which is never the last one till you part- I blew the smoke again, slowly. My fingers fiddled with the little bud, shivering with the evening chill, and as I walked back... I hid them inside my pockets, attempting to give them the warmth, they had never known before they touched you, the warmth- they were always going to miss.
***
It was funny how we goofed up with the airport. This has never happened to me before and I am quite sure never ever to you... or has it? Anyways, we were quite lucky to come here early, weren’t we? Why? Imagine us arriving when it was time for your flight to leave and discovering that we are at the wrong airport and that the ‘right’ one is an hour away... though honestly, I would’ve loved it. After all it’d have meant us spending more time together. Truly, it’s been so long since I saw u last. You can’t imagine how I have waited for this chance to be with you again... to talk to you... to touch you, or maybe you know more than I do, and just never spell it out for me.
So we also get a chance now to have a ride to the other airport together. As you ‘try to’ haggle with the auto-driver over money, and quite predictably end up agreeing with what he had quoted earlier, I stand there, admiring your ‘impracticality’. Sometimes I simply love the auto-drivers for their perpetual deficiency of CNG. As the driver gets down at the gas-station, I look at you... this is the ONLY moment I have, and I miss it... we don’t kiss... but did we really need to... I kissed you the moment I saw you today.
The airport doesn’t allow people inside after a point... and as you stand on the counter asking me if I’d like to have some coffee... I look at you, and a glass house comes alive, all around us, isolating us from the rest of the world.
You left... and I kept looking at you, till my eyes failed to spot you anymore, for when you were nowhere to be seen...I felt you were all around me... and as I stood there... I realized that something inside me was melting.
***
Lajpatnagar was busier than I had guessed it’d be. Agoraphobic I may not be, but I am surely not a crowd-lover either. The winter morning wasn’t pleasant at all. The sun was obdurately scorching, and the air was humid. As I waited for you, so many things came to my mind. Our initial plan of going to a hotel and having some sex seemed a little impractical though, considering how little time we had before your flight. And anyways, getting into a hotel for an hour or so seems a pretty embarrassing idea to me. Do you remember how nervous I was when we did something like this... that was our first time after all. I think I still remember the name of the hotel, do you? However, as I saw you, in that black shirt, smiling as you waved at me, holding all those shopping bags... I kissed you standing there... far away, yet so close, and so many memories knocked at my door. As if life took a full circle and came back to me, with all it had snatched away two years ago. Memory is such a boon... and such a curse.
Do I remember what we talked about as we walked around the streets? I don’t think so... no really, apart for my notorious status as a careless listener I do have a habit of switching my ears off when my imagination works... all I remember, and that too ‘cause it encouraged my imagination, is that we did talk about our old plans of going to your village... seeing all the places where you spent your childhood, your house, your fields, the lake where you used to swim, the tree you used to climb... everything. As we were talking, I imagined all of it happening... in front of my eyes... sometimes, how we miss being a part of someone’s life, being able to see someone grow up... do all sorts of things- not necessarily the smart and good stuff... but all the little silly things... I saw you doing them, and it was so beautiful. We could have been so good together; it was funny how we goofed up.
***
Your calls are never a surprise, considering somewhere at the back of my head, I am always expecting them. So when you called that evening, as I was relaxing in my hostel room, after a very steamy sex session, my first reaction was that utter excitement of sharing my experience with you. And as I went on and on about how raunchy I was and how in all this time I have ‘grown’ up sexually and about all my casual encounters, you were patient as always... listening to a child talking of how he has learnt to make words from alphabets, when unknowingly he had already read Shakespeare... just never understood it. And then you disclosed that news... of your arrival, and a brief rendezvous that can be fixed... for a moment, I just didn’t know how to react? Were you lying or was it true... two years I have been craving for this day. I’d surely have to miss a class for that, but that’s such a small sacrifice. I can’t believe that with such little currency I can buy myself such extreme pleasures. In a state of ecstasy... I forget the words I had just learnt to make, and the only word that my mouth painstakingly utters is ‘where?’ your reply follows... ‘Lajpatnagar.
***
They were always going to miss us.... these streets, the coffee house, which you so aptly called ‘the glass house’... as there we sat, talking about just everything under the sun, secluded from the world, yet very much a part of it. Looking out, and commenting of things around us, forgetting for a while, what a miserable part of it we were. Enjoying how are lives were a direct confrontation of so many things around us, and mourning over the same. My struggle with myself had started in those days, and there you were, sharing your life with me... what a wonderful relationship it was, like ash and smoke... together, yet so far away.
As I handed you a silly little rhyme as a parting gift, I realized how weighty sometimes a little piece of paper can be. You were there; in front of me... it was the same turn where we used to part every day, and yet it seemed to be such a strange turn today, as if I didn’t know where I am supposed to go from there. The moment was filled with strange feelings... which words do not have the capacity to define. We just kept looking at each other. We knew this was our last meeting for a long time... you were about to leave. We really missed by a year, didn’t we? Had we met before, you wouldn’t have married, and we wouldn’t have been in such a situation? But now you are married, and you have a daughter... and a life that I don’t want to complicate further. But that doesn’t change the fact, that we do love each-other... that what we share is so special...and that life may take a thousand twists and turns, but whatever we have shared with each other is always going to stay as a part of us. We could have been so good together; it’s funny how we goofed up. As we hugged for the last time... melting in your arms, I was scared somewhere... how are we going to continue this? Talking to you was a ritual to me. How am I going to survive without it? You left... and I kept looking at you till my eyes failed to spot you anymore. The city was never going to be the same for me... and life too... if it wasn’t for you, and your calls.
ankush gupta
...and as I stood there... I realized that something inside me was melting. I saw the smoke rise up, expand, and dissolve into the atmosphere. For when it was nowhere to be seen... I felt it was all around me. The cigarette in my hand was still red and grey. I gave it a last kiss, and the hollowness of my body got saturated by its breath for a moment. The smell of tobacco was tickling my nostrils. I searched my packet, just to reassure myself that this was the last one I had. Like a good bye kiss, which is never the last one till you part- I blew the smoke again, slowly. My fingers fiddled with the little bud, shivering with the evening chill, and as I walked back... I hid them inside my pockets, attempting to give them the warmth, they had never known before they touched you, the warmth- they were always going to miss.
***
It was funny how we goofed up with the airport. This has never happened to me before and I am quite sure never ever to you... or has it? Anyways, we were quite lucky to come here early, weren’t we? Why? Imagine us arriving when it was time for your flight to leave and discovering that we are at the wrong airport and that the ‘right’ one is an hour away... though honestly, I would’ve loved it. After all it’d have meant us spending more time together. Truly, it’s been so long since I saw u last. You can’t imagine how I have waited for this chance to be with you again... to talk to you... to touch you, or maybe you know more than I do, and just never spell it out for me.
So we also get a chance now to have a ride to the other airport together. As you ‘try to’ haggle with the auto-driver over money, and quite predictably end up agreeing with what he had quoted earlier, I stand there, admiring your ‘impracticality’. Sometimes I simply love the auto-drivers for their perpetual deficiency of CNG. As the driver gets down at the gas-station, I look at you... this is the ONLY moment I have, and I miss it... we don’t kiss... but did we really need to... I kissed you the moment I saw you today.
The airport doesn’t allow people inside after a point... and as you stand on the counter asking me if I’d like to have some coffee... I look at you, and a glass house comes alive, all around us, isolating us from the rest of the world.
You left... and I kept looking at you, till my eyes failed to spot you anymore, for when you were nowhere to be seen...I felt you were all around me... and as I stood there... I realized that something inside me was melting.
***
Lajpatnagar was busier than I had guessed it’d be. Agoraphobic I may not be, but I am surely not a crowd-lover either. The winter morning wasn’t pleasant at all. The sun was obdurately scorching, and the air was humid. As I waited for you, so many things came to my mind. Our initial plan of going to a hotel and having some sex seemed a little impractical though, considering how little time we had before your flight. And anyways, getting into a hotel for an hour or so seems a pretty embarrassing idea to me. Do you remember how nervous I was when we did something like this... that was our first time after all. I think I still remember the name of the hotel, do you? However, as I saw you, in that black shirt, smiling as you waved at me, holding all those shopping bags... I kissed you standing there... far away, yet so close, and so many memories knocked at my door. As if life took a full circle and came back to me, with all it had snatched away two years ago. Memory is such a boon... and such a curse.
Do I remember what we talked about as we walked around the streets? I don’t think so... no really, apart for my notorious status as a careless listener I do have a habit of switching my ears off when my imagination works... all I remember, and that too ‘cause it encouraged my imagination, is that we did talk about our old plans of going to your village... seeing all the places where you spent your childhood, your house, your fields, the lake where you used to swim, the tree you used to climb... everything. As we were talking, I imagined all of it happening... in front of my eyes... sometimes, how we miss being a part of someone’s life, being able to see someone grow up... do all sorts of things- not necessarily the smart and good stuff... but all the little silly things... I saw you doing them, and it was so beautiful. We could have been so good together; it was funny how we goofed up.
***
Your calls are never a surprise, considering somewhere at the back of my head, I am always expecting them. So when you called that evening, as I was relaxing in my hostel room, after a very steamy sex session, my first reaction was that utter excitement of sharing my experience with you. And as I went on and on about how raunchy I was and how in all this time I have ‘grown’ up sexually and about all my casual encounters, you were patient as always... listening to a child talking of how he has learnt to make words from alphabets, when unknowingly he had already read Shakespeare... just never understood it. And then you disclosed that news... of your arrival, and a brief rendezvous that can be fixed... for a moment, I just didn’t know how to react? Were you lying or was it true... two years I have been craving for this day. I’d surely have to miss a class for that, but that’s such a small sacrifice. I can’t believe that with such little currency I can buy myself such extreme pleasures. In a state of ecstasy... I forget the words I had just learnt to make, and the only word that my mouth painstakingly utters is ‘where?’ your reply follows... ‘Lajpatnagar.
***
They were always going to miss us.... these streets, the coffee house, which you so aptly called ‘the glass house’... as there we sat, talking about just everything under the sun, secluded from the world, yet very much a part of it. Looking out, and commenting of things around us, forgetting for a while, what a miserable part of it we were. Enjoying how are lives were a direct confrontation of so many things around us, and mourning over the same. My struggle with myself had started in those days, and there you were, sharing your life with me... what a wonderful relationship it was, like ash and smoke... together, yet so far away.
As I handed you a silly little rhyme as a parting gift, I realized how weighty sometimes a little piece of paper can be. You were there; in front of me... it was the same turn where we used to part every day, and yet it seemed to be such a strange turn today, as if I didn’t know where I am supposed to go from there. The moment was filled with strange feelings... which words do not have the capacity to define. We just kept looking at each other. We knew this was our last meeting for a long time... you were about to leave. We really missed by a year, didn’t we? Had we met before, you wouldn’t have married, and we wouldn’t have been in such a situation? But now you are married, and you have a daughter... and a life that I don’t want to complicate further. But that doesn’t change the fact, that we do love each-other... that what we share is so special...and that life may take a thousand twists and turns, but whatever we have shared with each other is always going to stay as a part of us. We could have been so good together; it’s funny how we goofed up. As we hugged for the last time... melting in your arms, I was scared somewhere... how are we going to continue this? Talking to you was a ritual to me. How am I going to survive without it? You left... and I kept looking at you till my eyes failed to spot you anymore. The city was never going to be the same for me... and life too... if it wasn’t for you, and your calls.
ankush gupta
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
from A to Z
what did I do when I came to know that Z has a boyfren? m sure Z knows it best what I would've done. but did I derive any bliss from a fundamentally physical act? I don't know... and since then, all through the abyss of anonymous encounters with interesting north-eastern strangers... I wonder if there was anything specific that i was looking for? what could i have been looking for, except for a familiar pair of little eyes, an intoxicating smell, and an ever perishable taste... wrapped in a golden heart?
life has its own ways of doing things... and for a young and 'out for fun' guy like me.. to discover people who swear their love and shower their fortunes is nothing like a fairy tale, but beyond everything that destiny can hold... there is a small little confession... that somewhere, someone is still missed, and that I wish, someone gets everything someone has ever wished for, even if I am not a part of that wish.am sure we both will land up with nice interesting people in life, have fun and live our lives to the fullest, but I will never find another Z and nor will Z be able to find another A... our closeness dwells in these distances now, and I love those distances, for the closeness they conceal...
A
life has its own ways of doing things... and for a young and 'out for fun' guy like me.. to discover people who swear their love and shower their fortunes is nothing like a fairy tale, but beyond everything that destiny can hold... there is a small little confession... that somewhere, someone is still missed, and that I wish, someone gets everything someone has ever wished for, even if I am not a part of that wish.am sure we both will land up with nice interesting people in life, have fun and live our lives to the fullest, but I will never find another Z and nor will Z be able to find another A... our closeness dwells in these distances now, and I love those distances, for the closeness they conceal...
A
Monday, December 29, 2008
on...
(shud've written this long ago... but then, better late than never)
'tis a cold mornin 'ere.. very cold.. n my habitat is camouflaged by mist, n d first thought i get, on such an inscrutable morning... is of urs. where shall i start it from... u r definitely the best thing that ever happened to me... and the best thing that can ever be. sumtimes i laugh at myself... at my stupid folly of going out and searching out a soulmate in the abyss of bodies... when my soulmate's always there, by my side. have me n u really become so synonymous that we don't remain to enjoy seperate entities? why do i need to look around? what do i want? security? i don't know... how i wish life had a habit of coming up with precise answers to all our queries... and how i wish we all had the courage to accept them. my body has smelled so many perfumes... but the one that never goes off... doesn't even need to open the bottle anymore. u know, how life plays tricks.. n pranks... n takes us to the labyrinth of relations and dreams, n leaves us alone... n i don't know if life's gonna play a similar game with me too.. but one thing i know for sure, that even in the middle of such a labyrinth, when i'll look up, u'll b shining like the sun...
and u know... I WILL LOOK UP....
LOVE
KUSH
'tis a cold mornin 'ere.. very cold.. n my habitat is camouflaged by mist, n d first thought i get, on such an inscrutable morning... is of urs. where shall i start it from... u r definitely the best thing that ever happened to me... and the best thing that can ever be. sumtimes i laugh at myself... at my stupid folly of going out and searching out a soulmate in the abyss of bodies... when my soulmate's always there, by my side. have me n u really become so synonymous that we don't remain to enjoy seperate entities? why do i need to look around? what do i want? security? i don't know... how i wish life had a habit of coming up with precise answers to all our queries... and how i wish we all had the courage to accept them. my body has smelled so many perfumes... but the one that never goes off... doesn't even need to open the bottle anymore. u know, how life plays tricks.. n pranks... n takes us to the labyrinth of relations and dreams, n leaves us alone... n i don't know if life's gonna play a similar game with me too.. but one thing i know for sure, that even in the middle of such a labyrinth, when i'll look up, u'll b shining like the sun...
and u know... I WILL LOOK UP....
LOVE
KUSH
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
on 'dreams'
... out of the kaliedoscope of dreams... there are broken pieces of glass... kiss them, for they were once those dreams.
Monday, November 24, 2008
on 'music and the new group I want to form'
Every sheet of music ever written is full of question marks. Is music for the soul, for the ears or for the brain? Is it a social concept, intimate concept, political concept or cultural concept? The vexed issue of evaluation of music as an art has been dealt with by innumerous ethnomusicologists, musicians, philosophers, anthropologists etc. in various theoretical, experimental, even dogmatic ways, but the conclusions have always proved out to be inept. Every attempt of classification of music has been turned down by time as abortive with intermingling of genres and recreation of forms. For eg. whether a non-Westerner studying Bach or Mozart would also be an ethnomusicologist, and whether ethnomusicology, as a Western invention, is simply a disguise for the continued dominance of Western concepts and values is a paradoxical question over the whole approach that is termed as ethnomusicology. Similarly, the Impressionist movement in music led by the French composer Claude Debussy, influenced by the paintings of the French Impressionists and by the poetry of Paul Verlaine, Charles Baudelaire, and Stéphane Mallarmé; emphasized tonal colour and mood rather than formal structures such as the sonata and the symphony but by the beginning of World War I in 1914, provoked adverse criticism from composers and critics alike for its over-refinement and technical limitations. A new group of anti-Romantic French composers, Les Six, influenced by Erik Satie, satirized and revolted against these excesses. Eventually, Impressionism, which had been conceived by Debussy as a revolt against Romanticism, came to be regarded as the final phase of Romantic music. History is filled with such ironies and contradictions. The form and function of music has always been a question of great debate all over the world, and so is it, even today.
It becomes important, at this time, to look at the aleatory music techniques, not as an answer or as a refuge (which, frankly speaking, we don’t even need) but as a fresh point of view towards looking at music. For eg. Minimalism evolved in the United States taking influence from Indian improvisation, Balinese gamelan, and African drumming. The experimentalists John Cage and Harry Partch can be seen as father-figures, but La Monte Young was the earliest exponent with his group Theater of Eternal Music, founded in 1962. Terry Riley, Philip Glass, Steve Reich etc are other remarkable figures. Similarly, influenced by the Zen Buddhist philosophy of adapting to the world rather than attempting to shape it, Cage’s attempt to reduce the musical importance of the composer, seeking to find music in life and the environment, rather than to create it by using silence as a musical element, with sounds as entities hanging in time, and exploring ways of incorporating certain degrees of randomness in his music came to be known as Music of Changes (1951) for piano, where, combinations of notes occur in a sequence determined by tossing coins, in accordance with the Chinese Book of Changes, Yijing. In 4′ 33′′ (1952), the performers sit silently at instruments; the unconnected sounds of the environment are the music. Like Theatre Piece (1960), in which musicians, dancers, and mimes perform randomly selected tasks, 4′ 33′′ dissolves the borders separating music, sound, and non-musical phenomena.
What you will listen here, is an extension of these and several other techniques, which we believe, move towards a radical concept of ‘Free Music’. The emphasis here is not towards freeing the music from all the above and several other ‘classical’ and ‘non-classical’ influences, but on the contrary, to allow the artists, to move freely and merge all the possibilities that he wants to explore with a musical piece, not worrying about any possible influence of form or technique. This, we believe, is a true strive towards ‘Free music’. The idea here also is not to play with the term ‘Free music’ but to understand the phenomenon of free music. Any attempt to eradicate a certain kind of an influence from music is ironically an attempt to create a rigid ‘form’ of music- and thus, can’t be termed as ‘free’. Therefore, we allow the free flow of artists’ emotions to create their own music, free from all pre-conceived notions- a truly formless music. Thus, we propose ‘Free music’, not as a term, but as a belief, in continuation of several aleatory techniques already existing in the field of music. We also do not call this a new concept, as this ofcourse is not, but instead a small endeavour towards re-discovering music- with a free and honest heart…. the only requisite for a truly free music. May this freedom stir the souls of all the living beings. Amen.
It becomes important, at this time, to look at the aleatory music techniques, not as an answer or as a refuge (which, frankly speaking, we don’t even need) but as a fresh point of view towards looking at music. For eg. Minimalism evolved in the United States taking influence from Indian improvisation, Balinese gamelan, and African drumming. The experimentalists John Cage and Harry Partch can be seen as father-figures, but La Monte Young was the earliest exponent with his group Theater of Eternal Music, founded in 1962. Terry Riley, Philip Glass, Steve Reich etc are other remarkable figures. Similarly, influenced by the Zen Buddhist philosophy of adapting to the world rather than attempting to shape it, Cage’s attempt to reduce the musical importance of the composer, seeking to find music in life and the environment, rather than to create it by using silence as a musical element, with sounds as entities hanging in time, and exploring ways of incorporating certain degrees of randomness in his music came to be known as Music of Changes (1951) for piano, where, combinations of notes occur in a sequence determined by tossing coins, in accordance with the Chinese Book of Changes, Yijing. In 4′ 33′′ (1952), the performers sit silently at instruments; the unconnected sounds of the environment are the music. Like Theatre Piece (1960), in which musicians, dancers, and mimes perform randomly selected tasks, 4′ 33′′ dissolves the borders separating music, sound, and non-musical phenomena.
What you will listen here, is an extension of these and several other techniques, which we believe, move towards a radical concept of ‘Free Music’. The emphasis here is not towards freeing the music from all the above and several other ‘classical’ and ‘non-classical’ influences, but on the contrary, to allow the artists, to move freely and merge all the possibilities that he wants to explore with a musical piece, not worrying about any possible influence of form or technique. This, we believe, is a true strive towards ‘Free music’. The idea here also is not to play with the term ‘Free music’ but to understand the phenomenon of free music. Any attempt to eradicate a certain kind of an influence from music is ironically an attempt to create a rigid ‘form’ of music- and thus, can’t be termed as ‘free’. Therefore, we allow the free flow of artists’ emotions to create their own music, free from all pre-conceived notions- a truly formless music. Thus, we propose ‘Free music’, not as a term, but as a belief, in continuation of several aleatory techniques already existing in the field of music. We also do not call this a new concept, as this ofcourse is not, but instead a small endeavour towards re-discovering music- with a free and honest heart…. the only requisite for a truly free music. May this freedom stir the souls of all the living beings. Amen.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
on 'Z'
Sometimes a small casual meeting can have so many side-effects… and long-lasting ones. Like the prime motif of Beethoven’s ‘fur elise’, that’s playing on my soundbox rite now… the simple little touch and its equally soft responses that this piece so beautifully incarnates… my mind takes me back to that moment… when we shared some whispers, floating in the atmosphere and covering us from all the side, as if hiding us from the world for those intimate moments, those soft little whispers, and their responses… those gazes, touches… smiles. Our body is so full of music, only one should know how to play it.
The obvious query comes up to me, kisses me and says “Hail Rabbi” when I know all it wants is my crucification on the frozen wall of time. Is it love? Do I really need to answer? The impotence of words in explaining and defining the innermost feelings is an issue I keep on complaining about all the time. Then why not this time? Somebody asked me, what do I want to come out of it? I said, ‘Nothing.’ Do I really need anything else to come out, except the pure bliss, the nectar of which has filled me allover… and I’m brimful. I know it’s all very romantic, one can argue about the reality side of it… what is the future? And is it really feasible. I know, an open relationship seems like a mirage to most of us, and we? Two commitment scared souls have found a unique manifestation in this relationship… even if this is a mirage (which, bye the way, I guess every relationship is) then this one is a beautiful one.
My hand has always been full of pearls, of distinct shine, texture and colour. There have been times when a pearl or two has rolled down from my lousy hands… and their shadows have rolled down from my eyes at those moments…watery shadows. Every such shadow has written a testimony for my emotional attachment, and more, for the regular and most natural of all human habits- to hold on. Somewhere, interestingly enough, we all are also scared of this habit- of holding on… of being possessed, being owned… being caged! But at the same time, human beings have got so accustomed to acquiring everything through power that they are also always insecure about these things being snatched away in the same way… and this is where words like relationship, commitment and marriage come in. So the result is a society where an emotion becomes inept to be defined unless it falls into any one of these conventional norms.
When I was born, I had no name… a piece of soft flesh… with a hue of the beauty of the world, a drop of innocence and a little ignorant soul was all I had (sometimes, really, ignorance is bliss) with only one relationship with the physical world… of breath… of hollowness (exhaling) and fulfillment (inhaling)… 23 years later, I share the same relationship with the world (though now I share a name too, the water is all contaminated, and the soul has turned into an arrogant one.), of hollowness and fulfillment. Interestingly, one leads to the other. The only refuge is… if you believe me, the moment of a kiss. That is the only moment, when the hollowness and fulfillment get interspersed with each other, loosing any distinct character which can separate them in any possible manner. Perhaps it becomes possible, because at that moment… you share yourself with someone else… and stand as one. So you share someone else’s hollowness and vice versa. For me... all beauty of life lies in that one moment… the moment of sharing… the moment of unification… the moment of pure bliss…with nothing behind… nothing forward…
Whenever people ask me, what Z is for me? I say… Z is that moment of pure bliss for me…that moment of sharing… that moment of togetherness!
When was the last time you did something without a reason? When something deep inside you compelled you to look at the surrounding things… and smile… without getting any physical gain from it? When was the last time… after getting completely tired after a hectic day, you’ve waited to meet someone… and stayed awake all night? If life was a human, she would’ve lived in all those moments… those precious moments. And then there are people who make every moment equally precious and cherishable. Yes, we are remarkably different people, with different opinions, different points of view and different aspirations about just anything under the sun… but when we are together… we share them… even the differences… and that’s the beautiful part. I have seen the darker sides of that ‘carved’ body and Z has seen that my ‘kissable’ lips have venom too… so it’s ‘all said and done’. Yes, life is a series of discoveries… and tomorrow is uncertain. I won’t claim that this is what I’ve always been looking for... and all that shit… actually I’ve never known what I’ve been looking for… but yes, some right button is pressed… and some beautiful thing is initiated…don’t know what destiny keeps for me… but until this discovery is on… I have things to look forward to… and I’m keeping my fingers crossed….
The obvious query comes up to me, kisses me and says “Hail Rabbi” when I know all it wants is my crucification on the frozen wall of time. Is it love? Do I really need to answer? The impotence of words in explaining and defining the innermost feelings is an issue I keep on complaining about all the time. Then why not this time? Somebody asked me, what do I want to come out of it? I said, ‘Nothing.’ Do I really need anything else to come out, except the pure bliss, the nectar of which has filled me allover… and I’m brimful. I know it’s all very romantic, one can argue about the reality side of it… what is the future? And is it really feasible. I know, an open relationship seems like a mirage to most of us, and we? Two commitment scared souls have found a unique manifestation in this relationship… even if this is a mirage (which, bye the way, I guess every relationship is) then this one is a beautiful one.
My hand has always been full of pearls, of distinct shine, texture and colour. There have been times when a pearl or two has rolled down from my lousy hands… and their shadows have rolled down from my eyes at those moments…watery shadows. Every such shadow has written a testimony for my emotional attachment, and more, for the regular and most natural of all human habits- to hold on. Somewhere, interestingly enough, we all are also scared of this habit- of holding on… of being possessed, being owned… being caged! But at the same time, human beings have got so accustomed to acquiring everything through power that they are also always insecure about these things being snatched away in the same way… and this is where words like relationship, commitment and marriage come in. So the result is a society where an emotion becomes inept to be defined unless it falls into any one of these conventional norms.
When I was born, I had no name… a piece of soft flesh… with a hue of the beauty of the world, a drop of innocence and a little ignorant soul was all I had (sometimes, really, ignorance is bliss) with only one relationship with the physical world… of breath… of hollowness (exhaling) and fulfillment (inhaling)… 23 years later, I share the same relationship with the world (though now I share a name too, the water is all contaminated, and the soul has turned into an arrogant one.), of hollowness and fulfillment. Interestingly, one leads to the other. The only refuge is… if you believe me, the moment of a kiss. That is the only moment, when the hollowness and fulfillment get interspersed with each other, loosing any distinct character which can separate them in any possible manner. Perhaps it becomes possible, because at that moment… you share yourself with someone else… and stand as one. So you share someone else’s hollowness and vice versa. For me... all beauty of life lies in that one moment… the moment of sharing… the moment of unification… the moment of pure bliss…with nothing behind… nothing forward…
Whenever people ask me, what Z is for me? I say… Z is that moment of pure bliss for me…that moment of sharing… that moment of togetherness!
When was the last time you did something without a reason? When something deep inside you compelled you to look at the surrounding things… and smile… without getting any physical gain from it? When was the last time… after getting completely tired after a hectic day, you’ve waited to meet someone… and stayed awake all night? If life was a human, she would’ve lived in all those moments… those precious moments. And then there are people who make every moment equally precious and cherishable. Yes, we are remarkably different people, with different opinions, different points of view and different aspirations about just anything under the sun… but when we are together… we share them… even the differences… and that’s the beautiful part. I have seen the darker sides of that ‘carved’ body and Z has seen that my ‘kissable’ lips have venom too… so it’s ‘all said and done’. Yes, life is a series of discoveries… and tomorrow is uncertain. I won’t claim that this is what I’ve always been looking for... and all that shit… actually I’ve never known what I’ve been looking for… but yes, some right button is pressed… and some beautiful thing is initiated…don’t know what destiny keeps for me… but until this discovery is on… I have things to look forward to… and I’m keeping my fingers crossed….
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