Musique électroacoustique latino-américaine

José Halac, The Breaking of the Scream, 1999

Durée de l'enregistrement : 10 min 45 s.
Instruments : Pour DC

Autres ressources disponibles :
- À propos de José Halac
- Compositions par José Halac

À propos de cette composition :

[Traduction française non disponible]
THE BREAKING OF THE SCREAM was composed based on a poem by Argentine poet Pablo Anadón, and a "baguala", a traditional folk song from the NorthWest area of Argentina. The poem (attached below), originaly in Spanish, is titled "Seasons of the Tree" and is centered around the idea of the departure of the loved one and the painful remains of the sentiments no longer recognized. The baguala describes the sexual desire of a man that calls himself an "old tiger". These two sources merge in the piece with screams, teh composer's voice singing and reciting the poem and the digital manipulation of all the material.

Artistic Statement : For many years I have created music that goes deep into the music of Argentina's NorthWest tradition, a mostly indigenous population. I found there many sources of inspiration and a connection with a spiritual and cosmic way of creating the musical experience. "The Breaking of the Scream" is the final of a series of 9 compositions for electronics, percussion ensemble, string quartet, and solo instruments. In them I explore the folk music rhythms, the different types of chanting, intonation, melodic phrasing, poetic content, harmonies and orchestration. In them I found simplicity, meaning and depth. I add my own love for pure sound, and the need for a new semantic to express my own ideas.

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Someone leaves
And someone remains
Shaking under the winter sky
Like a naked branch :

What to do with these remains,
The leaves that once were our flesh
And cry on our feet like spectrums ?

Should we raise our arms
Towards the empty air ?

Not there, there's no comfort
On an indifferent sky,
Or on the cloud that the sun brightens
For an instant and then dissapears…

All that which was,
What you were, the white trace
Of the elm tree on the grass,
The shadow that time buried in memory…

The Past doesn't die,
It's another tree the same one that shed light on us,
But the Past has not died.

The leaves have fallen one after the other
Like an endless winter rain,
But none has escaped :
Every flight that we witness behind the glass
Remains. Everything remains, all our eyes ever loved
Everything persists, here in our memory,
In this puddle of leaves rotting and of sorrow.

By Pablo Anadon, poet from Cordoba Argentina-

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Alguien se va
Y alguien queda
Temblando bajo el cielo de invierno como una rama desnuda

Que hacer con estos restos,
Las hojas que eran nuestra carne
ahora gritan a nuestros pies como espectros?

Elevamos nuestros brazos
Hacia el aire vacio de la altura?

No ahi, no hay consuelo
En este cielo inmutable
O en la nube que el sol ilumina
por un instante y desaparece

Todo aquello que fue,
Lo que fuiste, la huella blanca
Del alamo sobre la hierba,
La sombraq eu el tiempo enterro en la memoria…

El pasado no muere
Es otro arbol el que arroja luz sobre nosotros,
Pero el pasado no ha muerto.

Las hojas han caido una tras otra
Como una lluvia interminable,
Pero ninguna ha huido a la nada:
Cada vuelo que miramos detras de la ventana permanece.
Todo permanece, todo lo que nuestros ojos amaron,
Todo persiste, aqui, en la mermoria,
Y en este charco de hojas pudriendose, y de llanto.

Pablo Anadon
Poeta cordobes de 39 años de Villa Dolores

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