Sunday, August 30, 2015

Appolinaire's Symphony Made by the World

Music is the audible history of my fingers moving. There are other histories. They make a ballet to the eye. Makes me think of Kubik reconstructing Chopi xylophone music from documentaries.

But there are other non-music sounds. arms moving in clothes, chairs squeaking, blood surging past the stapes. The cataract of aging ears. They got left behind. Audible shadows of the audible, left out of history.

Apollinaire's ‘symphony made by the world’ created by the Moon King, who when we meet him
"... was seated in front of a keyboard, one key of which he was applying with a weary air; and it remained stuck, so that there came from one of the pavilions a murmur both strange and continual. At first I was unable to discern its meaning. The well-developed microphones which the king had at his disposal were regulated in such a manner as to bring into the cellar noises of life on earth from the most far away places.

Now it is murmurs from the Japanese countryside …

Then, from another depressed key, we are transported in mid-morning, the king hails the socialist hard work in New Zealand, I can hear the whistling of geysers …
Doum, doum, boum, doum, doum, boum, doum, doum, boum, it is Peking, the gongs and drums of the patrols …
The king’s fingers run over the keys, haphazardly, raising them up, in some fashion simultaneously, all the murmurs of the world have just been made for us, as we remain stationary, a tour by ear..."

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