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The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 4

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Summary: In a small shop in Vesuvia lives Vivian Caelum, a student of the magical arts who works as a shopkeeper for her tutor, Asra Alnazar. Her name is not known in the streets as her master's is, nor does she have full control over her magic yet. But one night, there's a knock at her door; Vivian is needed at the palace to help Countess Nadia upon her personal wishes. Soon, what she thinks is a small task is something she would never have expected her magic to be used for: Vivian must find Count Lucio's murderer. Will she be able to track down the infamous murderer and finally put the Countess's years of restlessness to ease? Or will the killer captivate her in ways she can't explain? Is she even running after the right man? Something deeper than she thought is happening within her beloved city, and she's about to understand the vastness of the magical realms.

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: N/A

Word Count: 6,415

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

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The path of black stones is back, cold and soft beneath my bare feet. My hair, still in a braid, is whipped around by wind that upsets the rust-coloured sand. The wind is chilly against my skin; all I wear is a silk slip. The thick, dark clouds made of shifting blue and purple hues are heavier than before, pregnant with unreleased rain. If I'm dreaming about this place again, where is Asra?

Unforgiving wind burns my eyes as I search the desolate landscape for him. Sure enough, I find him. Asra is still with the lumbering beast heading towards the horizon. He is too far to reach.

I watch as Asra reaches the fork in the paths and dismounts the beast. He pats the white beast firmly on its hide, sending it down the east path. But Asra doesn't follow. Instead, he walks west, and I know at once he's going the wrong way.

"Not that way!" I suddenly blurt out. "Not again!"

Again?

Despite the words coming from my own mouth, I don't know what I mean. Even though I remember him warning me about the wrong path, I almost wonder if he's chosen it deliberately. He turns, hearing the faint sound of my voice, even from the uncrossable distance. Though I can't see the fine details of his face, I feel our eyes meet.

"Viv?"

His voice is nothing but a whisper carried by the wind, unsure as to how I can hear him. I don't bother to question the rules of this little world I've found myself dreaming about. He drops his gaze and continues west, his silhouette quickly fading.

"Asra!" I cry, "You told me not to take the wrong path, so I'm telling you the same!"

I go to take a step forward, but my feet are heavy and suddenly hot. The sand begins to flood over the stone path, trapping my feet. Then my knees. Soon enough, it has reached my hips.

I grow angry, calling out his name again. "Asra! Please, listen to my warning!"

The sand has swallowed my torso, my chest. I know I'm still calling my friend's name, even as the sand fills my nose and mouth, filling my lungs. And I know he can still hear me.

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Comfortably warm sunlight strokes my cheeks in a motherly caress. Rise, it tells me. With a groan, I head her words. The course, exfoliant sand no longer rakes at my skin. It’s instead replaces my the soft feel of luxurious linens. Silk pillowcases cushion my face. Through an open window is the early song of birds residing in the palace gardens. Accompanying it is an enticing smell of freshly cut fruits coming from inside the room.

“Morning, Vivian.”

At the edge of my bed stands the cheery, red-headed maid Portia. Her neat appearance at such an early hour is envious. Balanced on her forearm is a platter of breakfast pastries, each topped with strawberries and plums. Nestled in the middle is a steaming tea pot and an empty cup. Gently, she sets the tray at my side. I smile lazily in thanks.

“Morning.”

She claps her hands together as I sit up. "Beautiful sunrise, isn't it? Did you sleep well?"

I nod despite the extra few hours of rest I wish for and take a bite of the plum pastry. Rich flavours fill my mouth. "This bed is so much nicer than my own."

"The countess wants to meet you in the library once you've eaten and dressed." Cradled in her other arm is a pile of fabrics. "And she also wanted to gift you a few things."

My eyes pause on the pile of clothes. "Gift me? As in to…keep?"

"Of course, silly. She suggested them herself. She has a great eye for someone's preferences."

"I...thank you."

"Don't thank me. You can thank m'lady when you see her." She approaches the door. "I'll be waiting in the hall. Come out whenever you're ready."

With a soft click of the door, she's gone, leaving me to marvel at the pile of clothes and the extraordinary breakfast. Cramming the last pastry into my mouth and pouring a cup of tea, I stand and spread out the array of clothes. Generously, the countess has offered multiple options. Atop the pile is a small wooden box I have yet to open. Neatly placed beside the nightstand are a few pairs of shoes.

My heart flutters in bewilderment. I lay each piece out to carefully examine them, more blown away than the last. Drawing me in is a pair of light grey pants that, when I slip on, appear to be tailored to my size by some miracle. With it I pair a dark blue top that I wrap around my waist to tie in a small bow. The sleeves are long and draping with a slit down the middle. Around my waist I fasten a thick leather. The silver clasp is so intricately designed and complicated that it takes me a minute to figure out. Lastly, I pull on some leather boots.

After neatly stacking the remaining clothes, all that’s left is the small wooden box. What’s inside nearly sends me into cardiac arrest. It’s pack full of silver jewellery so perfectly pale it must be white gold. Tucked between folds of silk are enough rings to wear two per finger. Some are dainty and unassuming, while the others are chunky, gorgeous gems nestling in the metal. In another section are multiple pairs of earrings, enough to replace all nine piercings per ear. In the third section are bracelets and necklaces, some plain silver, some hosting huge jewels. My God.

I blindly pull out one of the necklaces. It’s a silver choker, the centrepiece a thin piece of metal shaped into a moth in flight. I don’t hesitate to put it on. Then another. And then another. Quickly, I’m covered in blinding amounts of jewellery.

For the first time ever, I look expensive. There’s a noticeable theme of silvers, blues and greens within the clothes and accessories. I smile. The countess sure has an eye for the smallest things. I’ve even been gifted another satchel to replace my sorry excuse for one. 

Portia looks over as she hears the sound of the door and her eyes widen as she takes me in. She whistles in approval.

"Beautiful!"

I blush. "I—thanks. I'm not used to nice things."

"I suggest getting used to them because, from now on, those are yours." She begins leading me down the hall. I follow, enjoying the comfortable feel of the new heels. "The countess will definitely be pleased.”

Through the weaving palace halls we go. I’m led through hidden shortcuts beyond the stone walls, turned this way and that. It would be hopeless to find my way out alone. Eventually Portia stops us before an art piece about five times the size of me. Carved into smooth wood in all the colours of rippling honey is a dizzyingly intricate tree at the height of its maturity. It stands tall and proud, depicted to be swaying in a soft breeze. The detail is so carefully thought of that I can almost hear life buzzing around it. The tree's leaves and fruit are inlaid with jewels, precious stones, and shimmering pearls.

Portia notes my amazed gaze. "It's m'lady's own work. Beautiful, isn't it?"

“She carved this?” I stare back at the tree in awe. “Does she dabble in art?"

"Only when she can find a moment to herself," she answers. "This is one of her proudest works."

Portia retrieves a ring of keys from her pocket. There are about a dozen on the silver ring, each carved of the same wood as the panel, and each bearing a unique jewel. One by one, she finds the locks in the panel. As each key turns, the roots of the tree start to unwind from each other, pulling free from the floor. When all the locks have been turned, the panel folds upon itself, retracting from either side like a fan.

I watch in further amazement. The tree isn’t just a magnificent art piece, but the door to the palace library.

The first thing I see are the books—the towering shelves of books. They wind up the walls, reaching the ceiling, which is impossibly high. The room is naturally lit by an arching, stained glass window depicting a peacock strolling through a garden of white roses and lavender. Rainbow light paints the wooden floors. Growing around the window and up the bookshelves are lush vines of ivy. Surrounding the bottom of the window, where a fireplace sits, is an arrangement of red armchairs.

"Ah, Vivian!" sings the countess. “Come here, let me look at you!”

Nadia emerges from an aisle of shelves, looking radiant herself. She's wearing a simple, white dress that ends above her knees, showing her long, sleek legs. A green shawl covered in yellow flowers falls off her straight shoulders and is tied at her waist. It falls to the floor, dragging behind her. Today she doesn't wear heavy jewellery. I don't know why I think to look, but...she wears no wedding band. If my husband died, would I still wear mine in memory? Or would I have gotten rid of it?

Curious, the countess circles me once, her gaze thoughtful. Not in scrutiny, but in wonder. She stops before me with a proud smile. “Gosh, I’m a genius. You look amazing.”

“All thanks to you,” I gush, looking down at myself. “This is all so beautiful. It almost feels wrong to accept this.”

She gives me a dismissive wave in faked offence. “Nonsense. You will accept it if it means I must order you to.”

“The jewels…”

“From my own collection,” she adds.

I shake my head. “I can’t—they must be worth a fortune.”

“Even if I were to accept the return, what would I do with them?” She questions. “Silver is not for me. All have been gifts from thoughtless, simple men who think they now the desires of women. What better than to go to someone who will find use in them?”

I open and close my mouth in search of a rebuttal, but nothing comes. I’m astounded to even be in search of one—not any commoner can playfully argue with the Countess of Vesuvia. I would expect myself to, either, but her aura is so familiar that it practically coaxes the words out of me.

“Thank you, my lady,” I finally say. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You can thank me by finding that doctor." She smiles and gestures to the books. “Now, do you read?"

I nod. "My life would not be worth living if I couldn't read, countess."

"A woman after my own heart it seems." Her smile broadens, and I hope she can't see the thrill her flattery causes. Portia was right: talking to the countess isn't so frightful. "It's a great gift, to read. Where I come from, the love for it is shared amongst all citizens, but woefully uncommon here. Now this way, if you please."

She leads me deeper into the shelves, where the sunlight can't reach. Here, lanterns light the way. I hear Portia follow along by the soft jingle of keys. My fingers itch to drift across the spines of old books as we pass.

After a moment, the countess says, "Vivian, you are my guest. If you wish to ever return here, you need only ask. But for the moment…” She stops before an alcove, nestled between the shelves. “…I would have your undivided attention here."

A roomy desk stands beneath the rays escaping a small window. Books, journals, papers, and scrolls cover every inch of the table. Despite the clutter, everything is neatly organised. Someone's place of study, preserved in time, it seems. Swirling handwriting is scribbled on the papers. It is so small and rushed that I can't make out any words.

"This was Doctor Devorak's desk. He was employed at the palace, as was your Master Asra for a short while.” Asra? I don't recall him saying he worked here… “We called upon them to concoct a cure for the plague.”

Of course. Three years ago, the Red Plague swept through the city like wildfire. Untamed, cruel, relentless. It claimed young and old, frail and strong. There was no way to tell who would succumb. Cases are rare, now. I can't even recall the last time I saw the telltale red in the whites of someone's eye. The carnage was immense, and even now the city still recovers.

"Physicians, scientists, alchemists, fortune tellers, magicians..." Her eyes flash with the memory. It's quick but leaves a spark of sadness. "All were invited, in hopes that our resources may aid in the research. Perhaps he was plotting even then...but the doctor accepted the invitation. As did your master, Asra.”

Now there's anger in her ruby-like eyes. Her gaze shifts to the small window above the desk. It overlooks a large willow tree, which hangs above a fountain in the garden below. A gentle breeze tussles the full branches.

She continues. "I've had everything found on and within the desk examined laboriously. Nothing of consequence has been found. But perhaps you can make better use of it. Do as you wish—read through the papers, try to understand Doctor Devorak if you must. Anything. It is the best lead I can offer you."

"Thank you, my lady. I will use this information as best as possible."

"As I expect you would." The countess draws away. The air in her wake is stirred with the scent of jasmine. “The search for Doctor Devorak is now in your hands. You may proceed as you see fit. And please," her expression turns grave, "bring Vesuvia peace. Bring that criminal justice."

I nod again. "Yes, my lady. May I ask if I have to be anywhere else to meet you today?"

"I ask only that you meet with me for dinner this evening.” With a serene smile she sweeps out of the room. Portia follows closely in her wake, and I am left alone with the doctor's desk

There is a stack of leather-bound books with silk page markers hanging from between the pages. Folios, scrolls, and stray pieces of paper etched with illustrations and writings nestle in the little row of draws and scatter the table surface.

Browned with age and crinkled, the folio papers catch my attention first. There's a meticulous drawing at the top of the first page. Its neat lines contrast sharply with the doctors small, messy writing. Somehow, the patterns and shapes look strangely familiar. But nothing solid comes to mind.

The hairs on my arms stand on end as I gently trace one. My eyes drift shut as I do so. I should feel something… somewhere…

There; an echo of desperation and single-minded purpose is worn into his sketches. It's a faint trace, but it still gives me a tangible sense of what the doctor was feeling when he made those drawings. Carefully, I tuck the page into my bag. This fragile piece of paper was something important to him. Why, I’m not sure, but the connection still persists, tying the two together. A surge of excitement and apprehension rushes through me.

I can use this. With the scroll and my magic to assist me...I may be able to find him. If I'm quick, I can still meet back with the countess for dinner.

Tracking spells are not too reliable, still needing a professional hand in strengthening their mechanics. But with the feel of the doctor so strong on that piece of paper, I'm sure to find him. So, making my way out of the library, I begin.

Hazy golden light paints the rooftops of crumbling, stacked buildings that line the streets like towering walls. The sun continues its slow ascent as I step foot outside the Palace walls. Light fades from the streets and alleyways as it reaches for the horizon, disappearing behind the tall, depleted buildings of Southend.

Magic weaves the doctor’s lingering feelings of desperation into an endless string—one end tied around my index finger, the other halfway across the city, attached to the doctor. That invisible string tugs and pushes me around corners and across canals. It leads me through allies and down busy streets and down secret passages that I know all too well. After every block of stacked houses and bustling shops I pass, the tug grows stronger.

Asra taught me this spell well, but I know it off by heart only in theory. When I first learnt it, Asra would give me a belonging of his and then hide somewhere in the house, leaving me to locate him with the spell. Start with your breath, follow with your heart, and be present. The rest will be as easy as blinking if you connect with the spell. I remember his words as if they were his parting goodbye from yesterday. 

Close contact is easy enough. It requires little focus and little effort. Asra told me that it takes trained magicians years to control tracking spells, being able to hold that string like the reins of a horse. However, tracking the Doctor now feels exactly the same as finding Asra around the house. I can't tell if his words were just tall tales to warn me about the hardship of magic but motivate me all the same...or if there's something off with my magic. It feels too easy, as if I've done this tenfold—when in reality, this is probably my fifth time.

I've ended up in a narrow, slippery cobble Southend street, its shabby stones layered like scales. The street is separated by a rushing river sourced by a waterfall ahead. The water gushes from one of the gigantic aqueducts around town. While it towers over the buildings, it's nothing in comparison to the primary aqueducts running from Vesuvia's walls that feed the deep, stretching moat surrounding the city. The light mist it sprays tickles my face as I walk by. Most of this street is inns, bars, and cheap shops. The Southend is an interesting place, to put it politely.

Few people wander the street. They aim straight for the inns and bars, not bothering to wander around. Some are already stumbling, laughing and singing slurred tunes. The talk shared by patrons is drowned out by the rushing waterfall. I strain my ears, nervous that I may not hear something I need to.

Suddenly, the door to a tavern I'm about to walk past swings open. Light, commotion and the heavy smell of alcohol and smoke flood into the street as someone walks out. I jump to a stop and back away as a tall man with unkempt auburn hair and a wide grin walks out.

"Oh, I'll be right back. Just stepping out for some air."

I freeze mid-step, staring with wide eyes as I recognise the man.

My spell worked.

But I find a flaw in my plan; I didn't think of what I'd do when I found Julian Devorak. If anything, I had just hoped to observe him, to learn him.

Beside me is a narrow alleyway cutting between the tavern and a liquor shop. It's my only chance at staying unseen and coming up with an idea. I go to back away, but my heel catches between two jagged stones in the street. I let out an inelegant yelp as I tumble into a pile of empty barrels and cardboard boxes. The next thing I know, I'm staring up at the sky, limbs failing me.

Approaching footsteps catch my attention and my heartbeat quickens. He undoubtedly heard, drawn to the commotion. His deep voice sends my mind into a frantic frenzy as I see a gloved hand extend towards me.

"Hello, that was quite a tumble. Are you all right?" The doctor leans over the barrels, hand out in an offer, only to rear away when he sees my face. "The shopkeep? What are you doing here?"

I scowl. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He raises a brow. "I certainly would. Now come on. Upsy-daisy."

"Hey—"

Ignoring my resistance, he grabs my wrists in a firm grip and hauls me up from the barrels and boxes. I stagger to my feet and towards the doctor's broad chest, thrown off balance by how fast he pulls. For a moment, his eye meets mine, surprised and aware of our sudden closeness. Flustered, I tear my hands from his grip and push away.

The two of us stand behind a tavern, well hidden from the street and citizens. But we're also in a dead-end. The alley stops abruptly at a crumbling brick wall a few feet away, too tall to climb. I have nowhere to run; the doctor has me trapped. From here, I can barely see the painted sign of a cackling blackbird lying back on a crescent moon. The Rowdy Raven, it reads.

"Now tell me, shopkeep, what are you doing here? Southend is no place for a pretty face like yours," he purrs. While his words are teasing, I don’t miss the genuine question.

"The same as you, it seems. I came to get away for a bit, have fun," I reply, letting the lie flow freely. "I just wasn't expecting to see you here, is all. And now here I am."

He nods slowly, smirking. "Of course. Now...there are quite a few rumours that you have been working for the palace. I'm sure—well, by now or any time, really—that you've heard some interesting stories about me."

"Interesting is an understatement," I say slowly. "You don't belong here."

He rolls his good eye. "Yes, yes. I've heard it plenty. But has anybody asked for my side of the story? Now that is something I've never heard."

I go quiet, a little confused. He wants to talk? What else could there be other than the fact that he murdered the count, his employer, and fled from the sentence? At first, I doubt there's more, and yet my curiosity betrays me. No one has heard his side. Everything Vesuvia knows has come from the Palace, the posters, and the muddled rumours—some of which I know have been blown ridiculously out of proportion. Who’s to say something has been ignored?

"Humour me, Doctor Devorak," I say slowly. “What is your side of the story? What else was there that could possibly be riveting enough to put a new light on what you did."

He smiles. "Brilliant. Now if you could follow me, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

My stomach twists as I replay the short exchange in my head. I'm talking to a murderer. The infamous murderer of Count Lucio.

The doctor beckons me up the steps to the tavern and eases the door open for me. Warmth rushes over my skin and pours out the door as soon as I cross the threshold. Sundown has barely begun its approach, and yet the tavern is in full swing. I brush past bodies and tables as the doctor leads me through the tavern. The barkeep—a wide, scarred, unkind looking man—gives him a small salute. The acknowledgement is returned.

Humming to himself, the doctor finds a cozy booth in the back. "You make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

He breezes past me and to the bar, leaving me to myself. I slide into the set, placing my bag by my side as I attempt to sit still, but I can't help look around uncertainly. Nearby, a pair of old crones are hunched over a table playing card game that attracts a squabbling crowd. A few people occupy a far corner playing a heated game of darts.

Up at the bar, the doctor chats with the barkeep. They both erupt into laughter at a joke I can’t quite hear. For a second, Doctor Devorak doesn't look like a cold-hearted killer. In fact, he doesn't look the part at all. He looks sly and cunning and a bit of a cheat...but not a murderer. He looks so perfectly at ease, so different from when I met him at my shop.

He turns, and I avert my eyes as he approaches the booth with our drinks. He places mine before me, occupying the opposite side of the booth as he takes a generous swig of his drink. I peer into the golden liquid in my cup. It smells faintly of fruit. Slowly, I take a sip. The drink is refreshing, barely sweet, and burns on the way down. While I’d never deny a free drink, the doctor better not hope to get me drunk.

"You know, I never got your name." He interlocks his hands on the table, giving me an expectant look.

"...Vivian. Vivian Caelum."

"Vivian. What a lovely name. And how lovely it is to see you again."

I hate that the simple remark makes my cheeks flush.

He extends his hand across the table to me, and though I hesitate, I still place mine in his leather grip. My hand is rather small in his. His smile broadens to a lopsided grin that, I have to admit, is quite attractive. I never thought about it before, but now that I'm sitting across from him, I can't deny that he is attractive. The sharp angles of his jaw, his hooked nose, his high cheekbones, his tall, lean frame and wild auburn hair. Everything about him is quite handsome. Even when he looks like he needs a weeks worth of sleep. What a shame such pretty looks are wasted on a criminal.

"Remember that I am here only to talk, Doctor Devorak," I warn him. "I am not here to get drunk with you. I have places to be."

He nods. "Of course. And please, just call me Julian. 'Doctor Devorak’ sounds…ridiculous.”

"Right. So, Julian, you hinted that there was something about your side of the story I should know.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I? How carelessly.” A joke. He chuckles at my irritated expression.

The doctor, Julian, leans forward, folding his arms on the table. My heart races as I consider what I could learn. Maybe he isn't bluffing—maybe he really has something of importance he's kept to himself. How it could affect what he did, I don't know. But...I'm willing to listen. There's no use convicting a man on an incomplete story. 

Sooner or later I will still have to take him in, I remind myself. Do not forget. I have to remind myself how to stand my ground a lot of the time. I tend to be too empathetic for my own good.

"All right, darling. Ask what you want and I will answer."

The ridiculous nickname agitates me, but I choose to ignore him. Get the information and leave. Though I'm a little stuck on what I should ask. Instead of wasting my time in thought, I pull out the paper from my bag and place it wordlessly on the table between us. Julian hesitates before taking and unfolding it. A flicker of recognition crosses his steely blue-grey eye, but it's not warmth or affection for his work. As he reads, his expression slowly hardens. The map-like, winding patterns draw me in again. I find myself leaning in closer, taking another look at his work. I only sit back when I feel his gaze on me.

"Where did you get these?" he breathes.

"It was on your desk, in the palace's library. The Countess said she didn't mind if I looked at it, and so…I took one."

He looks away, but not before I catch a flinch of pain on his face. "Oh. Well, this is a slice of a human brain. The patterns are unique to each individual."

"Individual?" I echo. I meet his gaze, and he stiffens with trepidation. "You mean you've seen many?"

Julian sets the piece down. "What did you expect? We started off with nothing when trying to find a cure, so of course, we had theories on where the disease thrived."

"What's it like, having to look at them?"

He shrugs. “Dissection gets easier over time, but it’s not a pretty sight at first. You've just got to remind yourself that they didn't die in vain if their body helps cure thousands."

The clear emotions in his face is troubling for all the wrong reasons. Julian, like everyone else, is human. He feels sadness and remorse and happiness just like the next person. Suddenly it feels so wrong to think about bringing him in to be hanged. Even though he broke into my shop like a madman...he seems like a decent person. And I hate myself for thinking so.

This is exactly the opposite of what I should be doing. Creating any connection, whether truely personal or just through sheer empathy, makes my job harder.

"There are other drawings, aren't there? At the palace?" he asks.

"All of them remain." 

Julian purses his lips at that, drumming his fingers along his jaw in clear distress. Looking back to me, he says, "You should return it. The palace will notice that it has disappeared soon enough. Now if you could excuse me for a moment..."

As if unable to look at the papers anymore, he folds it up and slides it over to me. I take it, gently slipping it back into my bag. Julian whisks our steins away as I do so.

Shrill bickering erupts from the crone's table, interrupting conversations held around the tavern. Julian whispers to one of the women as he passes by, tapping a single card in her hand. The card is played, throwing the crowd into cheers. I cannot see, but guessing by the sly grin on the woman's face, she has won.

Julian is grinning when he returns. I watch him, lowering my brows in confusion as he passes through the crowd with friendly greetings and smiles. He wears no mask here, as he did in the market. Both are busy places, and here, everyone seems to know him. There has been no guards, no whisper of authority passing by. Does it not set him on edge?

"Are you not worried about being seen?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Here?" Julian laughs as if the answer is simple. "No, I'm not worried. Folks around here aren't known to oblige to the wants and needs of the Palace. Even the raven spends his time scouring for guards. Obsessively."

"The raven? What raven?"

Julian scans the smokey rafts as I process what he's said. Where Asra and I live, the guards are treated with reverence. And fear, in no small measure. Even though I know I pose no threat to them, I fall into an anxious silence whenever they pass by. The Palace guards are known to be violent. Unnecessarily so.

Personally, I've never experienced the unmerciful wrath of the iron-clad guards. But I've seen the bloody horrors from afar, making sure to turn a blind eye. Nobody dares stop them in fear of becoming next in line. Interrupting them is like swinging fresh meat in front of starving hounds.

Since Count Lucio's rein has fallen into the Countess's hands, she's been known to try stopping the guard's violence. Count Lucio couldn't have cared less. She's done a good job combing through Vesuvia's guards, but at the end of the day, it's not enough. There are those in their ranks that just...snap. And when they snap, they become almost inhumane. The horrors I've seen, especially in the slums—

Suddenly, a huge black raven bursts in through a dusty window overhead, flying in loops with bloody shrieks. The bird swoops down and along a string of bells stretching from one rafter to another, erupting the tavern into chaos. I watch it in awe and unease as the crowd responds to the raven's warning. ...The same raven from the marketplace.

"Guards! Palace guards!" The barkeep warns.

Patrons push and claw their way through every door and window, playing cards flying in the wind. Few stay, obviously those who have nothing held against them by the law. But even they back into the shadows, distancing themselves from each other and becoming anonymous.

Julian grabs me by the arm and pulls me from the booth and into him as people rush around us. “That. That is the raven."

"Wha— where are we going?"

"Anywhere the guards aren't. You wouldn't want to be caught with a convicted murderer, would you?"

But that's the whole point, I almost say aloud.

This is the moment. This is where I keep him behind for the guards to find and possibly turn this whole tavern against me. This is where I easily complete the task that Countess Nadia set for me and claim my reward. But I look to the main door, suddenly torn between staying and the option I shouldn't have. That reward I pictured so clearly in my head suddenly comes with another unwanted gift. Guilt.

I look to Julian. "I suggest you hurry."

Julian keeps his grip on my arm tight as he weaves us through the patrons and out a side door into an alley behind the tavern. When I step outside, the cold air is harsh and chilly against my skin, arising gooseflesh over my arms. The sun has begun to set, painting the rooftops in oranges and pinks and yellows that cast the streets below in oncoming shadows. Julian casts a frantic glance along the alleyway we stand in before ushering me into the shadows.

He grabs my shoulders, forcing my attention on him. "You can find your way, yes?"

I nod. "I've spent years living in these streets. I know every which way."

I'm surprised I can get the words out so firmly, taken aback and slightly flustered by how close his face is to mine. I can smell the faintest scent of sickly sweet alcohol in his breath. Julian, as tall as he is, has to lean down to level his face with mine. This close I can see terribly dark circles beneath his eyes that I barely noticed before. They're deep, almost appearing like bruises. A look of real concern on his face draws lines across his forehead and between his brows.

"Good. The guards aren't after you, so you should be able to get by easily." Before letting me go, he sort of smiles. "Thank you, Vivian, for, uh…not taking that chance to turn me in. I could tell you were close to deciding so."

I open my mouth to defend myself, to almost say I didn't think about it, but he doesn't seem angry. I give him an apologetic half-smile in return. With a nod and a wink, he lets me go and vanishes into the shadows. Turning the opposite way to Julian, I leave the alleyway and continue down the street. A cold evening breeze sweeps between the towering buildings. I let out a shuddering breath that isn't in response to the cold.

Now what do I do? I thought Julian would have told me something, given answers to questions I didn't consider until now. But all I'm left with is an endless well of questions. Even worse, I’m starting to wonder if accepting the Countess's job was wise. This should be a bounty hunter's job. I'm no bounty hunter—I'm not even a real magician. I'm just a nobody apprentice who still has years of practice ahead before I can consider myself so. Someone with less of a heart than me should have been the one.

"Hey! You there!"

Shit. Two guards approach, swords sheathed in silver scabbards hanging from their hips. They only stop once they're close enough to see my face, standing side by side in practised precision. Please tell me you didn't see, I plead silently. Please tell me I'm not about to pay for what I just did—who I just let go of.

Instead of what I expect, one says, "Oh. The Countess's magician."

I barely suppress my sigh of relief. It takes even more effort to keep my jaw from dropping as they both give me a short, sharp bow. I'm no royalty, belong to no noble name, but they still regard me as if I am greater than them. All because I've been working for the Countess. Once I turn in Julian and return home with my reward, will they still treat me the same? Or will I fall back into the lower class that they look down on?

"I'm Ludovico," the other says. "We met briefly yesterday at the gates."

Straightening my back and composing my face into a placid, calm expression, I smile, hoping they don't see the fear and relief within. They have no idea what I've done, who I just spoke with; nervousness would only cause suspicion. The last thing I need is for this to go downhill on day one.

"Ah, yes. I remember you. I'm supposed to be dining with the Countess this evening, but it is getting late." I speak with an unwavering voice. "Quite convenient that you're here, really. Do you think you could..."

Ludovico briskly waves off my unfinished question. "Of course, Miss Caelum. We'll hail you a carriage back to the palace. Wouldn't want to keep Her Majesty waiting, would we?"

I continue to smile. "Never."

Ludovico keeps his word as he escorts me to a broader street. I stay quiet as he hails me a gilded carriage, only muttering a 'good evening' as he closes the door behind me. Dark blue velvet clings to every surface, save the creaking wooden floor. Slumping down on the plush seat, I draw the sheer white curtains closed, wishing to block out any view of Southend. The silence is calming and comforting but not enough to wash away the worry.

The chance to end the search in only hours was right in my grasp. I could practically feel the hand of opportunity brush over my fingers, calling for me to take hold. But I didn’t. I froze. I thought better of it and considered Julian's safety as if I knew him. Cared for him. I let him disappear without a trace.

What am I doing?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

A Polar Visions / Polar Visions Amplitude review of -

Francisco López - a bunch of stuff (1980-2020)

Release date - July 2020

Reviewed format - Francisco López self-released (under the Nowhere Worldwide banner) USB business card, as kindly sent to me as a review copy by Francisco López

Note - you can purchase this release in digital format directly from Francisco López' Bandcamp page here: https://franciscolopez.bandcamp.com/album/a-bunch-of-stuff-1980-2020-40-years-of-sonogenic-composition

Welcome to the first review on Fluid Sonic Fluctuations review in 2021! Today I’m discussing Francisco López’s very large multi-part anniversary compilation a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) which was self-released by Francisco both as a neat USB business card and later reissued as download through Bandcamp in 2020. With this compilation Francisco is celebrating the 40 years he’s been creating immersive sonic compositions in the experimental and underground music scene, practicing his own coined way of sonogenic composition. a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) presents an excellent thematic overview of Francisco López’ discography through a large number of excerpts from his ever-growing universe of untitled compositions as well as titled pieces. The excerpts are organised into 15 parts which Francisco has tagged with his own invented genre names, which both point at his own personal sound philosophy but also have a subtle comic touch to them. Besides the excerpts, Francisco has also included several full-length (as well as almost full-length) as well as rare, unreleased and at the time of the original release still unreleased compositions making the compilations a great mixture of both showcase and rarities compilation. Whilst Francisco’s full-length compositions are often quite expansive in length making them suitable for a full-on immersion in the sonic universe created, the way every chronologically ordered part of a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) flows makes for a different yet equally intriguing and immersive listening experience with creative usage of both fades and hard cuts connecting the tracks together making every part that the full 12 hours worth of listening this compilation consists of a very rewarding listening experience. Francisco’s philosophy on both listening itself as well as his way of composing always originates first and foremost from the experience of listening in a very immersive sense which goes beyond source recognition or surface-level emotions but is very much settled in immersion within the sound world itself leaving the often cathartic, subconscious effects to the listeners themselves to feel and thereby completing the composition. Francisco himself reminds us of his philosophy but also shares some new insights on 40 years of sonogenic compositions in this mini-interview I did with him over email:

Orlando Laman - Over the last 40 years you've released a large number of your compositions, the selection on a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) is organized using your own invented genres. Regarding bringing together selections of compositions as collections through series (like recently, Two Head Snake) or by listeners themselves discovering certain connections between releases, how do you view your full collection of works as a whole, especially in the way all this shaped sonic matter is forming a sonic universe completed by the listener?

Francisco López - Well, as a whole I guess I see it as my way of having a more meaningful and richer interaction with the world. Not through representation (as in canonical so-called 'field recordings') but rather through penetration into sonic matter and its ontology.

OL - From listening to your compositions and interviews with you it's clear that most of the time you create compositions without planning things ahead, creating a system or trying to execute creative ideas through manipulated sound matter. It's a matter of composition that is both improvisatory based on the sounds themselves yet also very refined and perfectionist, which makes the compositions feel very natural but also unpredictable in captivating ways.

FL - This is what I call 'sonogenic composition', i.e., a practice of creative work with sound (and listening) in which sound themselves lead the way; not merely as 'samples' of elements to be placed in a pre-existing structure / grid / idea, but a generators of structure, pace, dynamics, texture and anything else imaginable in a sonic work. That's why I dislike the term 'manipulation'; in this context, I'd rather use 'evolution', which describes more reliably what takes place in this process.

OL -The results are more important than the tools used, however one thing that intrigued me is your manipulation and usage of low to sub-bass frequency layers of sound within many of your compositions, even those from the early 1980s, with low to sub-bass frequency sounds being an area of sonic matter that falls somewhere between the audible and felt area of sound and its direction being hard for humans to discern, how do you view this field of sonic matter relating to your compositions? Is it an area of the spectrum which you intuitively often accentuate in compositions or is this area one which you've gotten used to working with overtime to fully utilize the audible (and inaudible) spectrum of sound we can hear from sub-bass to very high frequencies?

FL - I like rich music, in all imaginable senses. That naturally includes the frequency spectrum, both audible and sensible (we do a lot of our hearing haptically in the low and sub-low ranges). As I've learned to compose largely through an intensive and extensive listening interaction with the world, those low frequencies are a 'natural' part of my sonic palette.

OL - a bunch of stuff(1980-2020) features excerpts which are often quite a bit shorter than your full compositions and releases, your full releases often feature long single compositions or a collection of shorter compositions making up one full "untitled" album release, besides these you've also released a few released a few albums which span several hour up til a full day worth of listening. In the compilation context and with the albums featuring shorter compositions the whole listening experience flows in an intriguing manner at times, with some pieces having a hard cut at the end rather than a fade-out or silence, this can have the effect at times of sudden realization of the composition's finite state within the album. Additionally, releases that span multiple hours can have the effect of the listener's listening mode moving from a focussed listening to a state in between listening and the sounds seeping into the subconscious of the listener creating certain emotions or triggering memories, What is your approach in selecting compositions for the albums and compilation releases, taking into account the listener experience? And further zooming in on time disappearing from our perception as we're fully focussed on the sounds, especially when listening to your multi-hour releases, is there a difference in terms of creating these extended-length releases to your other albums and compilation, relating to the listening experience you present?

FL - I like to be compositionally free to work with time. Traditional limitations like the length of a record or a radio show shouldn't limit our adventures in creative listening. To me, mega-long compositions (i.e., 24-hour or longer, like some of my pieces) generate micro-worlds of sonic experience that suggest a different kind of listening -one that gets closer to a form of 'inhabiting sound', which is tremendously suggestive. Different people will approach such extensions in varied ways, but I believe they always generate an unusual and fruitful potential for a very different, interesting and appealing experience of sonic matter as space and as time.

Many thanks to Francisco López for sending over the physical release as well as answering these questions and sharing such inspiring insights. Before we dive into the analyses of the separate parts as well as thoughts on my favourites tracks on this compilation I’ll mention what you can expect from the physical version of a bunch of stuff (1980-2020). Like most of Francisco’s releases the focus is all on the music and immersive sonic experience itself, so the USB business card itself features quite minimalistic design combined with a lovely photo of fire however. The content of the USB business card itself is a liner notes PDF file as well as the full compilation with 15 folders making up all the parts. Every folder contains the tracks as lossless 16-bit/44.1kHz CD quality files. While the best listening experience of Francisco Lopez’ work is by going into the compositions with a fully clear mind without knowing in advance what to expect in terms of a description or listings of sources used, the liner notes file does list the sound sources for some some of the tracks although Francisco isn’t getting specific about what these exactly consist of so beside the credits and tracklist parts not spoiling anything these source details are still staying cryptic enough to not reveal the workings behind the magic of Francisco’s compositions. Let’s now dive into a bunch of stuff (1980-2020).

a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) starts with first part All In. All In features a collection of pieces that mix various compositional approaches López takes together, with the All In being appropriate as “maximalist” pieces in terms of density of the sound matter or layering. In terms of sound matter I spotted bird and cicadas but there are also some “hidden” melodies in some of these pieces, either through certain resonances within the sound layers used or as series of tones that peek through the textures. López’ signature very low sub bass frequencies (also mentioned in my mini-interview and subtle glitches also appear within these pieces. In my favourite track 2012 - With_In [excerpt] López brings us an eerie tapestry of mysterious swirling resonant wheezing sound that flutters left and right, makes percussive shifting clicks to the left and right side and appears as this cloud of shaky sonic matter we are floating in ourselves. The perspective shifts from within (no pun intended) the sound matter to looking at this matter from a distance but the general experience is definitely very much grounded within the sound itself. The aforementioned hidden melodies appear in this piece too, in the form of hollow resonant diffuse tones that add this mysterious ambience of uncertainty to the emotional situation that might arise from our being in this environment. Whilst quick shifts do occur in some of Francisco’s compositions, the gradual continuous nature of this piece definitely helps the subtle shifting of focus within the layers of sounds as well letting the sonic matter work onto your mind in a certain meditative state. Delusional Cinematic follows, which features chopped up, at times quite abrasive collage like compositions of various sound matter including environmental sounds, movie sounds and music fragments. At times the compositions are stylistically comparable to Noise in their uncompromising more harsher edged nature. The pieces also feature rather clever transitions making for listening experiences that are as captivating as films or TV series themselves but in this case the imagery is purely mind-created.The strengths of my favourite track 2017 - untitled #360 [excerpt] are both in the silent brooding atmosphere of the composition within this longer 10:27 minutes excerpt and the way it progresses from one situation to the other. Starting from this eerie minimalist situation featuring quite a lot of shifting, rustling and clicking high pitched sonic matter there is something quite eerie about the idle space in between the sounds which creates a bit of a vacuum effect within the space and the at times wildly varying spectra and panning of the sounds themselves makes for quite some disjointed bits and pieces being scattered around this space as well, feels quite like being in a medieval village whilst sounds appear and disappear out of nowhere. In its second phase the piece moves into a battlefield of wild low frequency laden combat, helicopter whirling, a lot of (gun)shots and a further brooding mass of low frequency rumbling following up the first phase’s more resonant metallic waves of lower pitched sound. The transition from the battle to the dive underwater in which the battle can still be heard but in a more muffled state is one of my favourite aspects from this piece as it does add such a natural flow to the aural narrative this conjures up in my mind. I’d say this piece does mix Francisco’s more purely textural qualities with an inspired sense of rapid-cut composition making this one of his pieces which you can listen to through filtering and diving into its layers as well as letting your mind make up its own story through the progression from phase to phase within the composition. The next part Drone World features Drone pieces in the sense of especially hypnotic high frequency streams of sound, rhythmic sounding environmental sound matter as well as low bass frequencies and resonances. My favourite piece on this part is 1992 - Hypogeion [excerpt]. The piece is noticeably quite a bit louder than the other compositions before it on this part and whilst Francisco is clearly not trying to make a composition in a traditional manner this piece stylistically does remind me of 90’s Tribal Ambient, albeit in a more improvised manner. Featuring an array of highly resonant and bassy mallet tones as well as reverberant tribal style percussion the except of this piece showcases a particularly intense part of the composition moving into a more laid-back sustained phase. Somewhere in between mysterious factory and Egyptian pyramid sonics it features some excellent mixtures of dense tonal layers blending into each other with the overtones creating diffuse and at times dissonant interactions of sound. The percussive elements are quite high pitched throughout with quite some crystal like sounds flowing throughout the sonic space like grains of silver but overall the layers of sound flow much more like rippling shuddering waves that are often shifting from interlocking to interfering creating that always captivating element of mystery within Francisco López’ compositions. Afterwards in the Lo-Fi Broad-Band Tape Noiselationism part we have Noise oriented pieces made up of collages of sound matter of an Industrial and more organic nature as well as AM radio sourced sounds in compositions that feature some sweet droning and rhythmic sub bass frequencies. The pieces are more minimalist in terms of composition but equally captivating and showcase the more extreme side of López oldest works. My favourite track 1983 - untitled (1983) [excerpt] features most of the aforementioned elements. It’s a raw, lo-fi composition made up of various layers of electronic signals broadcast over shortwave radio with its beginning being the most recognisable in terms of source. However as always with Francisco’s compositions, the immersive experience is much more important than trying to further analyze what the actual sounds are and in this case it’s a particularly physical listening experience. The sound is grainy and often artefact laden, filled with hiss and sharp frequencies and in this fragment there is some kind of pattern of tones recognisable within its first half, as a whole however it sounds more like flying through an electric interference laden sky in which bits of metal are swirling around you in this cloud of disturbance and interference. Unlike some of the other 1980s composition excerpts on this compilation however this piece features a few hard cuts and changes to different clouds of fragile sound. Whilst being a continuous stream of hissy sound matter the piece eventually breaks up into shards of sharp irregular shaped sound movements until the fade-out. It’s definitely quite noisy in a way but I feel it’s also quite organic as all of Francisco’s works are, the sounds flow as freely as nature does and never feel artificial compared to what generally is considered as natural sounds. Following part Medium With No Message moves through various types of recording and playback medium based compositions both analogue and digital but actually does recall a lot of the crackling sounds and resonances from Francisco’s environmental sound matter based works as well. There is some recognisable glitch work in the last piece however but this again sounds more crystalline like than the at times clinical sounding works by other Glitch oriented artists. When we look at my favourite piece on this part 2002 - untitled #128 we find a piece that is minimalist in terms of its textural density. Quite like a breeze of wind subtly increasing in intensity, crackles, ticks, pops and other little grains of sound matter gradually build up a subtle rustling cloud of sound accompanied by mysterious tonal elements. Just like the diffuse spectrum of a light shower combined with how you can sense a lot of details in these sounds within quieter environments this piece offers a lot of depth, ever-changing bits of sounds within the subtly intertwined layers as the fluid qualities of the sound grip your ears and mind in a both intriguing and enjoyable manner. In the following part Mutated Locations we can find pieces based on environmental sound matter which are evolved into repeating rhythms, strange resonances as well as eerie and metallic layers of sound. The first few pieces carry Francisco’s darker Industrial like sonic approach to composition whilst pieces later on within the track list have a lighter (cleaner) sound and utilise the sub bass frequencies in a more intense manner as well as featuring less audible techniques of evolving sound matter. Whilst Francisco’s compositions aren’t really dark, I do often get a pretty eerie feeling from some pieces which I do like a lot and the more directly hitting approach of some of the compositions works better than the forced subtlety that some other sound artists would try to keep within their compositions. In my favourite track on this part, 2014 - untitled #321 [excerpt] we have a rather gripping flow of events. Just like the other tracks surrounding this one there’s quite a lot of depth in this piece and the imagery conjured up in my mind by this composition also particularly feels like looking at this sonic environment from above. As I felt this piece, it’s like a mass of clattering and shifting sounds as well as rather high pitched details quickly increasing in intensity as the layers demand more and more attention culminating into some particularly spooking train whistle like tones which keep hanging in the air at the end of this except until fade-out. The whole track feels quite like exploring one of these areas in which unused train carriages are stored, some of which rusting and degrading away until we’re suddenly transported to a used railway in which a brownish grey transport train is just about heading our way. Then on the following part Nice Noise we indeed have a collection of Noise styled compositions by Francisco which ranges from early metallic sound matter collages forming streams of layered Noise to more glitchy and granulated sounds in later tracks, cleaner hissy sounds with the last track blending these elements together in a similar way like pieces on the All In part. This last track, 2020 - untitled #380 [except] is also my favourite piece from this part. With Francisco combining various approaches from the 4 decades he is active by now within this piece he also created a very captivating mysterious sonic environment within this piece which is less abstract than other pieces but makes for a very unique listening experience with its combination of environmental sounds and brooding hypnotic tones. It’s quite like this dream about a cold dark forest you find yourself in which is “breathing” as one entity, with the animals providing soundtracks to this process of breathing through the hissy and hollow sounds they produce, the strange low thumps at the end, further thicken the surreal plot of this sonic story. Non-Representational Environmental Sound Matter is the part that follows and is in a way similar to Mutated Locations in terms of selection but inverts the compositional approach by showcasing Francisco’s environmental sound matter pieces with less extreme evolution within the sound matter itself but instead use some great layering, unpredictable structures and amplification creating immersive listening experiences in which some sounds are still recognizable at times but form elements within newly composed environments that are like the title says different from just reality. The excerpts on this part are also longer and feature more gradual progressions within which makes for more meditative like listening experiences as you shift your focus through the various layers within. My favourite piece in here is 2011 - Hyper-Rainforest [except]. It’s the longest excerpt Francisco has taken from any piece on this compilation but it’s also especially good that he’s selected a long part of it in the editing process as it’s a rather subtly enveloping composition. There’s a lot of sonic details of the rainforest you can pick up in this one, especially the many different animals within the rainforest, but also various other natural environmental sounds. One of the best things about the way this piece is composed however is the combination of shifting layers with an almost narrative like progression of sonic situations and directions, but all the while staying within the same sonic universe, giving us the ability to travel without moving, but in a different sense. I found it particularly enjoyable to shift through listening modes, at times spotting certain sounds, at other times taking in the effect of the entities within the sound matter and letting the fabric of each of this work on mind as well as sense of depth in the sonic space through listening. Indeed through the shifting layers you also start to sense the location of certain sounds within the depth of the piece as at times having a strangely reverberating acoustic distance to them whilst still sounding as being in the same sonic universe making for a quite magical listen. The progression of the piece towards the rain shower which abruptly ends into a sudden quiet section of soft chirping sounds adds a radio play like narrative element to the piece too as Francisco provides a bit of a frame for the behaviour of all sonic elements within the piece as certain changes that appear within this environment. It heightens the immersion too as not only do the changes make your part of the sonic universe, but they also point towards the deeper subconscious effects of streams of full spectrum sound matter like rain and the many layers of diffusion hidden around the centre of it. In the following part Sonic Seeds and Mega-Evolution Francisco utilises sonic seeds, which sound similar in approach to grains of sound to sculpt mostly unrecognisable sound matter into richly resonant, metallic and often glitchy forms. This part starts with an amalgamation of layers of sonic matter, after which the pieces grow ever more rhythmic and at times recognisably melodic in a way. The results of this sonic approach are somewhat similar to some pieces in the Nice Noise part but in this case the compositions are showcasing more of Francisco’s abstract Glitch like works, differing from his compositions grounded in environmental sonic matter but still bearing some similarities with the organic sound matter in terms of crackling clicks and the usage of high frequency sound. My favourite piece on this part is 2020 - untitled #383 [excerpt] and this one is a particularly glitchy composition. Following a nice gradual progression throughout this excerpt, the composition builds from a cloud of metallic crackles to a final section of glowing droning tones. All throughout we can dive into the various layers of clicky and mostly pointy sound matter that make up the framework of sonic actions that make up this composition feeling somewhere between machinery rhythms and liquid organic matter. The buzzing glitched “bass” tones make for a great ground of the framework, driving the composition forward with quite rumbling low frequencies which when combined with the glowing tones of the final section make for a quite intriguing combination of abstracted rhythmic sound and glowing diffuse sound combined within the same sonic universe. It does remind me a bit of Autechre as well in terms of approach, although in a less chaotic and more organic manner. Afterwards in the part Soundtracks With No Real Subservience we can listen to a selection of soundtrack pieces by Francisco, composed for various films, including art films and documentary. Moving from intense Noise like compositions towards less abrasive compositions featuring concrete and environmental sound matter, Francisco works with sounds within a more narrative type of fashion with the pace of the compositions being quicker and having more of an emotional edge to them. There’s also some more division in sections audible within these pieces as well as the darker qualities of environmental sound matter. In my favourite piece 2016 - Anima Ardens [excerpt] we are presented with another intriguing situation as the piece combines quite peaceful organic sound matter with layers of metallic clangs as well as a brooding diffuse tonal cloud hanging in the air. Quite like finding a mysterious wooden house which is also used as a metal workshop the juxtaposition also makes it feel quite like roaming around in the forest at night. The sharp swirls and clicking sounds, combined with the hollow tones and clangs instantly conjure up quite some magical imagery as these elements start to blend into each other as well as change or fade out whilst remaining a continuous flow of sound keeping its grip on you within the sonic universe. Next part The Ultra-Quiet, Not Conceptual features some of Francisco's quietest pieces. Indeed these are excerpts from his pieces that feature quite a lot of very quiet sound matter and silence moving from a hollow resonant flow of sound to soft rustling and clicks to some surprisingly intense sections of sub-bass frequencies in later pieces within this part. These sub-bass frequency section do also feature in my favourite piece on this part, 2013 - untitled #309 [excerpt] and in this case they’re accompanied by muffled mysterious drones that fade into soft-focus out of the silence. Like most pieces on this parts it’s a very subtle listening experience best listened to on good speakers, including a subwoofer or headphones with a good bass response to properly hear the subtle sonics Francisco builds up in her creep out of their corners. Afterwards on the next part VirtuAural Machines Francisco zooms in on his machinery based pieces. The part features a mixture of approaches to the sonic experience of machinery itself moving from relatively rough softly saturated Industrial like pieces to the usage of percussive mechanical elements to create hypnotic sonic framework as well as eerie sonic universes made up of huge halls filled with heavy clangs of equipment, siren like diffuse, distant tones and pointy and hissy sonics blending together into enveloping streams of sound around us. Whilst some of the sources on this part are at times recognisable in a way, there’s a lot of enjoyment to be had once again by the strange textural qualities of the sound matter as these entities in themselves have a particular enjoyable quality within them here, which is helped by the often spacious panning within the compositions. Favourite piece 1990 - Fango de Euriptéridos [excerpt] utilises the aforementioned spacious panning rather well and also amplifies another aspect of machinery in that it’s based a lot around shimmering tonal resonances reverberating through a large spaces rather than emphasising the (harsh) hissing and repetitive elements of machinery. It features various types of sonic actions but the general sonic focus is on this warm glowing mass of resonance that vibrates in certain ways as well, creating shifting droning tones that seem to make the floor vibrate as well. A quite “temple” like approach to an Industrial sonic universe. Following part Within The Noosphere features a rather different kind of compositions by Francisco in that most of these pieces are built up out of many layers of other music, which are evolved in various manners. Moving from pretty intense tape collages to tumbling Plunderphonics Metal barrages to the rather amusing wailing stretched tones of the old song sampled of a vinyl recorded on the last track it’s Francisco’s compositional work at its most structurally and sonically disruptive. Favourite piece 1994 - Concert for 300 Magnetic Tapes [excerpt] feels quite like a mountain landscape built out of many types of sonic matter. Most matter used within this piece is quite noisy, quirky and quite explosive too but the general fuzzy and crumbling nature of all these bits combined does still conjured up this curious imagery of a mountain landscape made up of sonic material. Recognisably musical and human sounds are at times still audible in between the cracks of the mass of sound, but in a subtle way. The following part Xeno-Instruments features a selection of Francisco’s “acoustic” pieces, in the sense that some of the compositions do feature acoustic musical instruments, at times without much audible post-production. The results are quite mysterious as can be expected from Francisco’s approach, feeling quite like the sound of the earth crust being broken open, sharp clouds of buzzing sonics, thundering percussion rhythms and wooden rumbles travelling through the room. Indeed most of the time it’s not even audible that there are actual acoustic instruments used, which is definitely the quality of Francisco’s work in that he consistently keeps evolving the sonic universes he conjures up and can find richness, “alien” new elements as well as captivating details though any method of composition and with any sound matter he finds making for a very solid but still diverse body of work. The aforementioned wooden rumbles feature in my favourite piece 2011 - untitled #275 [excerpt]. Built up out of rhythmic elements, low rumbles as well as diffused spooky tones the piece progresses in a subtle and deep manner. There’s this great metallic bell like clang that creates regular accents in the first half of this excerpt filling the room with rich resonance periodically. The rhythmically moving wooden elements form irregular patterns that do follow a certain scheme of sections in terms of there appearance and are spiky but also somewhat dampened in nature. Strangely reverberating tones almost form a diffuse melody in the second half which then moves into a brooding cloud of tonal sonic matter. It’s the kind of piece that feels somewhere in between your room starting to create its own sonic universe as well as the sonic picture of an abandoned wooden windmill’s mechanical sounds of past activity. Final part Yes, Humans features compositions that all feature recognisable human sounds or traces of these in various manners moving from amusing locally recorded environmental sound matter to layered children’s choir recordings and a further direction of ever more evolved and abstract sound matter culminating in one of Francisco's most recent compositions (from the last few years) on the final track. This final part quite nicely compiles Francisco's approaches in a way, as radio play like recordings moving in the ever more mysterious abstract and at times cinematic sonics of Francisco’s later works. My favourite track here is the rather short but sweet 1992 - Sofia [excerpt]. In nature is more straight-forward than other pieces on this part but I do find the juxtaposition and sounds themselves within this piece rather nice. It starts with a TV recording of some kind of Soviet TV commercial which sounds all cosy and sweet but afterwards cuts to this Russian Orthodox(?) church in which can hear chants. I especially do like this combination as the commercial seems to recall the memories of the Soviet Union in perhaps a bit overly rosy manner while the church sounds totally loose from anything that might conjure up bad memories and sounds much more peaceful in a way. The way you can hear Francisco walking around the church as well as all kinds of extra noises including a loud cough, footsteps and muffled talking adds to the amusing nature of this piece. The lo-fi nature of the recording also makes the chants themselves feel more like a cloud of tonal sonic matter as syllables get a bit drowned out in the recording. Francisco López’ a bunch of stuff (1980-2020) is an excellent compilation showcasing a great selection of Francisco’s rich discography of compositions which by now reach over 40 years. Full of immersive, uncompromising sonics this compilation is a rewarding listen for anyone who wants to get into Francisco’s music and wants to have a curated overview of his discography to get started diving into his full-length and shorter releases. There’s also some great material in this compilation for fans of Francisco who already have multiple of his releases as the rarer material and recent pieces offer some further sonic enjoyment and the compilation’s selection and sequencing also offers a new more mixtape style manner to enjoy Francisco’s compositions. It’s a recommended compilation for anyone who wants to get into Francisco López as well as fans of Noise, Sound Art, Tape based experimental music, Glitch as well as a uniquely personal approach to sound matter based experimental music, sonogenic composition. Definitely check this out.

You can order a copy of the physical USB business card edition here: https://www.blackhole.la/webshop/francisco-lpez-a-bunch-of-stuff-1980-2020?fbclid=IwAR3pcZfCIT-3Y7BR2M7AjTuph_3TWUm2ZHFjwmuNadir21X_imHnv9ODiZk

April 2020 music reviews, or, music I enjoyed in previous weeks L. Fairon

Meredith Monk & Bang on a Can All-Stars – Memory Game (2020) Lemna – Storytelling #1 (2020) Beatriz Ferreyra – Echos+ (2020) DakhaBrakha – Alambari (2020)

Meredith Monk & Bang on a Can All-Stars – Memory Game (Cantaloupe Music) https://bangonacan.bandcamp.com/album/memory-game Memory Game is a revivification of some previously published works – including pieces from the Do You Be (1987) and Impermanence (2008) albums, among others –, plus selections from The Games, an unreleased sci-fi opera co-created with Ping Chong and performed in Berlin in 1983. But what seemed at first a kind of retrospective album, in fact embodies everything we love about Meredith Monk: a dedicated vocal ensemble specially trained to her repertoire, incredibly moving songs and lyrics, interesting arrangements and a great instrumental accompaniement by classically-trained players. Indeed, NY contemporary music ensemble Bang on a Can bring their rhythm accuracy and instrumental prowess to the project – electric guitar and clarinets are especially great. The vocal trio around Monk is also totally convincing. And then there are the songs themselves: disarmingly simple, unbelievably sad or full of gaiety, based on basic English words (or occasionally German), embarking casual conversation or cabaret song, onomatopeia, child babble or bird imitation – at the end of the sublime Memory Song, for instance, Monk ullulates like a flock of cranes in the sky to devastating effect for this listener. Granted, the album lacks an 18mn mothership ala Turtle Dreams, and the instrumental opener is but a distraction, but apart from these quibbles, the album is just fantastic.

Lemna – Storytelling #1 (Horo) https://lemna.bandcamp.com/album/storytelling-1-reminiscences-of-inner-scenery Oneiric, intricately crafted miniatures for electronic sounds by Japanese composer Lemna aka Maiko Okimoto. Usually avoiding regular rhythms or beat, the music is based on sequences of a few highly filtered notes slowly creeping back and forth, while undescript white noise agitation is obsessively crawling to reach the surface. Lemna is interested in timbres and tones, their proximity, homophony or dissonance. Her music is an exploration of the surreal and the hypnagogic – the album is said to have been recorded during insomnia nights. Reverb is used to mingle sounds together and blur their individualities, while a minute attention to details in the sound processing and the arrangements ensure that the small tickling sounds reach out amid a sea of shifting tonalities. Storytelling #1 is a long album at 70+mn, but Lemna manages to captivate the listener throughout this well thought-out collection of tracks.

Beatriz Ferreyra – Echos+ (Room40) https://room40.bandcamp.com/album/echos Archival material from Argentine-born Beatriz Ferreyra – a member of the INA-GRM from 1963 to 1970. Dating from 1978, 1987 and 2007, these pieces complement our knowledge of this fine musique concrète composer. With the various tracks already published by Fylkingen in 1977, Mego in their Recollection GRM series in 2012 and 2015, and her synth+tape recorder duo with Christine Groult on Trace Label in 2015, we're slowly gaining a more accurate view of Ferreyra's œuvre and individuality. Openner "Echo – In Memoriam Of Mercedes Cornu", a piece from 1978, is a poignant tape collage based on a unique sound source, that of Ferreyra's late niece Mercedes talking and singing. Vocal excerpts are subject to collage, superposition, accumulation, plus various sound effects and tape manipulations of the analog domain. Dating from 1987, the second piece uses the composer's own voice, heavily manipulated to create disembodied choirs, grotesquely elongated syllables and onomatopeia. Titled "L'autre ... Ou Le Chant Des Marécages" [Otherness... or, the Swamp Chorus], the track presents Ferreyra's poetic and phantasmatic vision of sound poetry. With #3 L'autre Rive [The Other Shore], from 2007, Ferreyra added computer and synthesizer to her beloved tape recorder. The music is much more abstract here, based on a diversity of artificial sounds and electronic textures, plus occasional percussion samples used to great effect. A lively, almost restless piece, with  internal dynamics that catches the attention. Generally speaking, Ferreyra's poetry and individuality shines through these fine works of musique concrète, though I can't help thinking she stays too much within the limits of the INA-GRM canon.

DakhaBrakha – Alambari (self release) https://dakhabrakha.bandcamp.com/album/alambari New album by Ukrainian folk & jazz quartet DakhaBrakha, dominated by the splendid voices of Olena Tsybulska, Iryna Kovalenko and Nina Garenetska, also doubling on cello, piano, percussion, etc, and all brilliant, classically-trained multi-instrumentalists by themselves. The inspiration for each track is stylistically varied, based on lullaby, ballad, folk and traditional or jazz, and is peppered with scat vocals, slap bass, cabaret song or Serbian turbo-funk elements, delivered in playful arrangements. But the vocals dominate here, with their exquisite vibrato and beautiful, Eastern-European female timbres, soloing, alternating or singing in unison. To us Westerners, the group singing is occasionally reminiscent of 1980s Bulgarian choirs. The man of the band, Marko Halanevych, also contributes vocals as a counterpoint to the women's section, and provides great accordion accompanyment. I found Nina Garenetska particularly impressive on cello throughout the entire album. Incredible traditional reed instrument solo (the zhaleika) by Iryna Kovalenko on track #5 Torokh.

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... I Love Dick (S01E05) A Short History of Weird Girls Airdate: May 17, 2017 @amazonvideo Ratings: Privatized Ratings @amazon Score: 9.75/10 TVTime/FB/Twitter/Tumblr/Path/Pin: @SpotlightSaga **********SPOILERS BELOW********** The more I watch television... The more I write, review, observe, soak in, and immerse myself into what I'm watching the more I drop certain series, and cling to ones that stir up a thunderous rumble of emotions inside of me. Like Dick's art, sometimes those emotions don't have a name. Maybe they're new, maybe their not, but I feel those emotions with such a surging intensity that I know what I'm watching is beyond just a tv series and literally a piece of moving art, cinematic wonders that maybe aren't for everyone, but sure as hell should be. Amazon Studios' 'I Love Dick' is a special series, one of those rare entries that match and sometimes even surpasses its original source material. This series is literally the equivalent of females embracing their very fiber, their sexual being, and shouting out loud on the top of a mountain, echoing through a massive valley, stirring up birds and wildlife... As if to say, 'I'm here and this is who I am. I will not be shamed.' Although I'm a male, and my sexuality is of a different multi-colored variety, I connect with these women and somehow understand them on an enormously supreme level. 'A Short History of Weird Girls' is 'I Love Dick's masterpiece. As you may have noticed, and as I mentioned earlier, Ive changed the way I watch television. I've been holding onto this series, as I have with others... I actually have watched, documented, and written nearly a hundred unreleased articles. I review them, tweak them, add to them, sculpt them... Because much like this show, my writing has evolved, the way I watch tv has evolved, and the way I release these pieces I've written on these shows have evolved. This episode is somewhat in the vein of last years 'B.A.N' from Donald Glover's FX masterpiece 'Atlanta', in the sense that the core narrative takes a back seat and we are given a whole new point of view from the female characters within the series. Not everyone will see this for what this is, and some may even ridicule my interpretation & impressions, but 'A Short History of Weird Girls' is high art and should be viewed, handled, and studied as such. The more I watch 'I Love Dick' the more I see it's many different layers... It's hyper-feminine POV is Jill Soloway & Chris Kraus' alternative to HBO's hyper-masculine lens we see the show 'Ballers' through. Both shows are under appreciated, and besides that fact, the only thing that they have in common is their extreme opposite handling of how we see their worlds. Maybe 'I Love Dick' is actually less of a feminist masterpiece and more of a honest, existential, tribute to an open, bold, unchained and aggressive look at female sexuality... Sexuality in general, and where embracing it can take us. It makes me long for a truly honest look at the male take on sexuality, but 'Ballers' and it's earnest admissions that masculinity can so easily drive towards toxic levels with a snap of a finger, I know my wish is probably losing its way in the wind... At least for now. What if everyone wrote Dick letters? Chris Kraus (Kathryn Hahn) poses an interesting question at the very beginning of the episode and then suddenly that reality comes to life in one of the most vibrant, sexually charged and sensual episodes of television not only in 2017, but ever. Yes, people are throwing around the word 'Revolutionary' when it comes to 'I Love Dick' because that's exactly what it is. People as a whole never quite grasp 'revolutionary' at first do they? Chris starts off her letter at the beginning, as all characters do, and we join them on their individual journeys of sexual awakening & personal drive. She talks about her time in high school, her willingness to literally give herself to anyone, male or female, but never having any takers. Finally during her College Years, she's taken, fucked. That first encounter intoxicates her... What is it that made this man want her so badly? What was it that he found beautiful? Her mind wonders to all the things he doesn't mention, after all, we are insecure beings... Even the most confident person in the room has something in the back of their mind that they compensate for. We are imperfect... But for me, that's exactly what I find so perfect about the human form.... Imperfections, Sadness, a little bit of crazy, 'cuz, aren't we all? Chris, Devon (Roberta Colindrez), Paula (Lily Mojekwu), and Toby (India Menuez) all share their letters to Dick, chronicling his particular effects on their lives... Sexually and otherwise. They recall past lovers, current ones that they feel strong disconnect with, and that disconnect is chronicled with images of both positive and negative experiences. As the experiences head into more heartbreaking territory, or difficult memories to interpret, their sexual escapades are shown and the women are erased leaving a fading, cartoonish like presence of each woman as they are entangled with their lovers or the confusion with their burgeoning sexuality... Much like the short film 'Removed' that this very episode opens with where Tribeca Film Festival 'Jury Award' Nominee & experimental filmmaker, Naomi Uman, creates a series of clips of vintage porn and erases the women's images using fingernail polish remover. Each women's entry is captivating for separate reasons and encapsulates the Bright Eye's brainchild and this generations' Bob Dylan, Connor Oberst, idea that 'every heads a different world'. Sexuality is unique to every one person, male and female, and it's so goddamn refreshing to see, hear, and feel the lusty, powerful force of honesty in approach when it comes to sexual identity. Chris strikes up the dialogue as straight forward as it gets, "Dear Dick, I've been horny since I was six. I used to press my crotch into the belly of my stuffed rhino in the family room of our duplex in Cleveland, Ohio. I loved to hump him in front of our sitter Karen Harris. I used to say that Rhino was hungry and that I needed to feed him... And then Karen went away to college and I didn't feel like doing it anymore." As humans, we ARE sexual beings... Aren't you tired of feeling ashamed of certain impulses that occur naturally within your body? Even before I was six I had these feelings. My situation may have been unique and incredibly polarizing to the majority, and most likely this isn't the show, or should I say segment, to discuss every detail as to how I got to that point so early. It wouldn't exactly be considered a natural occurrence... But even my situation is more common than most people would like to admit, or flat out refuse to admit. All I know is that children should not be punished for acting on these impulses in an innocent manner. We should be asking more questions as to how they got there, but unfortunately people don't want to hear that answer. We are not disgusting or wrong for thinking about sex. Creating a taboo around certain subjects just catapults those very subjects into a high number of internet searches and 'behind-closed-doors' fetishes. Relationships are not as easy as everyone wants them to be. Monogamy might not exactly be obtainable the way most will it to be. Our desires for inclusiveness may just stem from a melodramatic inherited human trait of selfishness, an unwillingness to let those grow around us, because we want to own something. Whether its a relationship or a person within that relationship, the idea that it's "yours" is actually absurd. We can devote ourselves to someone, but in the end we are human. There are certain voids that exist in this life that we need to fill, as animals, as human beings. That's not to say someone can't sustain a healthy relationship with another for 50+ years, its just to say that we all have our own paths. Even if as people our paths are destined to intertwine... Like Devon and Chris... We still must continue to grow and move forward at our own rates, careful to not become codependent. Devon talks about Dick's strong masculine energy as something she embraces and emulates (unlike Chris who wants to take it in any which way she can), turning bits and pieces of it into her own. She uses that 'Dick Swag' to woo other women for sport, but when she falls in love away at college and her heart is broken she drops out of school and tosses her dreams out behind her on her way back to Texas. But it's there where Devon meets Chris and suddenly becomes inspired, tho briefly distracted by the free spirited, India. It's India who sees Dick as or through yet another color of light, Chris' is glowing red, Devon's an iridescent indigo, India's color is much more difficult... A damaged, slightly cracked, creamy shade of yellow... She had an intellectually and creatively stimulating home in New Mexico but her father, John Willis (played by People of Earth's Luka Jones) is a writer of children's books, so therefore felt like he could touch her. India doesn't seem too affected by this as she rattles it off like a cold, but natural fact of life. And here is where I once again am inspired to tell you, the reader, who may or may not know what that feels like... Suddenly the place where I talk about 'my situation' and deem Chris' experience close to mine, but an insufficient place to explore even a second of my experience becomes much more real... And much more appropriate. You see, like India, some of us are taught how to act on sexual behaviors at a young age. We all don't just experiment naturally like Paula, who talks about how seeing her mother's tampon string suddenly pushes her away from her youthful obsession of her mother or how masturbating at a young age became uninteresting once she learned there was a name for it... Hence Paula's infatuation for Dick's massive protruding, structural masculine art that has no name, no specific identity, no title... Some of us have a bit of a push, or an inappropriate 'class', if you will. India seems to be a 'victim' of non-violent sexual abuse as a young child. This is where things get very fucking confusing, because you see... As I mentioned before, India quickly rattles off this fact and sweeps on to the next. Why is that? In my own personal experience, it's extremely difficult to decipher just what sexual abuse is, especially when one isn't physically hurt or 'traditionally forced' into anything. I've written on the subject before and was met with polarizing responses. One young woman asked if she could take me home recently and drove me through the busy intersecting freeways, highways, backroad byways, and long winding ramps & roundabouts from the west end of Miami all the way to the tip of coastal Miami Beach, all the while with tears in her eyes relating to my written experiences, giving me a vivid account of her own. No one wants to see themselves as a victim, not REAL victims anyway. This idea of 'victim culture' is scoffed at by those who have been through it. Some of us may be victims, but we refuse to let that define us, or use it to try and gain sympathy or attention, applying it to causes or whatever it may be, because then suddenly we are admitting defeat or are forever trapped in those moments. The same moments we rarely tell anyone, or ever express. So when my words were recently met with disdain and accusations that I was trying to define sexual abuse in any way, I simply had to laugh. Once again, 'Every head is a different world'. The spectrum is huge, but I personally will not allow myself to be a victim, just like India it's a passing fact, it happened, it's part of my story... But you can't have it, it can't be more than what I'm giving it now... And my experience is simply one example, as is any other. Although slightly damaged, and beautiful in that fact, India captivates all in her presence... Unfortunately she leaves them a bit broken, just as she is. Trudging on, she turns porn into art at Columbia University, even centering her final undergrad thesis around the shapes of a woman's face as she sucks two cocks. For her PHD, she presented a written & visual presentation of what's known as 'gaping' in pornography. If you don't know what that is and you haven't watched the show, I'll let you explore that one at your own discretion. Her professors are a bit horrified and one even suggests she moves towards Gender Studies, much like India I would have laughed that off. I've always found such subjects to be pretentious and divisive, but hey, that's me. As a male, and according to one troll on the #BoilerRoom's comment section who took offense (and hammered down my context) to comments I made during an Oakland, CA show where one of the worst DJ Sets I've ever seen took place on a grand platform (that most people would kill to have) by some wealthy, frankly bored looking hopeful (whose passion and talents self-admittedly lie elsewhere), "I'm a 'washed up raver cis-male' who can't accept females in positions of power" (boy, he got that one comically incorrect, welcome to the 2017, age of the Internet). My comments were light and I was even trying to be supportive, saying that maybe that DJ could get better in time, my point was that she had gained that opportunity through either knowing someone or good looks. Men have created that opportunity for women to use, and I'm not saying that it isn't a legitimate way in... But my comments were taken out of context. You should be able to perform however you want, looking however you wan... But without passion, you are simply taking up an opportunity for the next person in line. A bit of research indicated she has had the opposite road of some of my strong, female musician acquaintances and friends of whom I list as fierce inspirations of my own work (however I do not and would never take away the common denominator of the grand, all-relatable human struggle). I have called upon & channeled the inspirations of women like long time Indianapolis & Midwest treasure, Techno Powerhouse, DJ Shiva, or now worldwide success and frankly G.O.A.T. House Music Legend, The Black Madonna. These women worked so hard & sacrificed so much & never rested on their laurels. I am inspired by strong females, but I don't necessarily see them as just females, I see them as human beings, who like me, have had to work a little harder to get where they're at. No one has handed me anything, and many times when I had something, I blew it. We are all working against something, someone, ourselves, time... My inspirations in life are a direct product of my environment, just like the different presentations of myself over the years. And no one will take away my freedom of speech, right to an opinion (whether it's agreed with or not), or use a term like 'cis-male' to insinuate that I don't understand what it's like to be discriminated against, to be confused about who and what I am, the complexities of human sexuality, and so on and so forth. I often tell people about my first experience in Chicago at the age of 12. I went to the Art Institute of Chicago with a large group of my fellow schoolmates, but i broke free from the pack and wondered into rooms unaccompanied. I found myself suddenly surrounded by 'Impressionist & Post-Impressionist' Paintings, peppered with Medieval & Renaissance Art. My eyes centered on this massive painting that literally popped out of the wall, surrounded by a low lying rope, to keep people away from its magnificence, but their view unobstructed... It was Georges Seurat's 1884 pointillist painting 'A Sunday Afternoon on La Grande Jatte. I felt small and insignificant, like one of the pinpoint dots that made up what seemed like a million little dots that made up the painting. I've always had trouble describing that memorable moment, but Paula knocked it out in one line while describing how Dick's art made her feel, "It evoked in me a feeling of boundlessness... It was fucking terrifying." Yes, that's exactly it. 'Dear Great Man, Genius, Loner, Cowboy', India lists off Dick's accomplishments in the most condescending tone she can possibly channel. India had previously known of Dick through the Art History books her parents had lying around the house. Dick's was her favorite, not in the normal sense. She is young. She has known pain. She has worked hard to get where she is at. India is beautiful, but she doesn't use that to her advantage to succeed. She takes the hardest route possible, because she simply doesn't want what everyone else wants and she knows that anything worth having in this life doesn't come free... And that's something I can connect to. 'Dear Dick, We are not far from your doorstep.' Yasss, Queen! Jill Soloway just directed a fn' knockout... And the all female writing staff, this one headed by Annie Baker and Heidi Schreck deserve a Spotlight Saga nomination for Achievement in Writing... And Soloway for Directing. India's final words to Dick sent a surge of electricity through my body. This is exactly how I look at the AV Club. Knock Knock.

Cape Town set for rare Kyle Shepherd Trio concert

The internationally-renowned Kyle Shepherd Trio makes a rare concert appearance at the Reeler Theatre in Cape Town on Saturday, 25 February 2017.

fineART Music proudly presents The Kyle Shepherd Trio, one of South Africa’s most unique and adventurous music ensembles on the world modern Jazz scene today, Live in Concert at the intimate Reeler Theatre, Rondebosch Boys’ High School, Canigou Avenue, Rondebosch, Cape Town on Saturday, 25 February 2017, 8pm.

Featuring band leader Kyle Shepherd on piano, Shane Cooper on double bass and Jonno Sweetman on drums, this inventive Trio, who have been together for the past six years, have captivated audiences across the world with celebrated performances in Japan, Germany, Canada, Switzerland, China, South Africa, Mozambique and Botswana!

Concert-goers can expect another spellbinding performance from this magnificent Trio who will explore compositions from Shepherd’s rich and evocative repertoire of both recorded and new unreleased original compositions! “This is a true trio – intricately intertwining as they play Shepherd’s music; pensive and exhilarating by turns.” says Nigel Vermaas, respected South African Jazz presenter & producer.

CONCERT INFORMATION:Date: Saturday, 25 February 2017 Time: 8pm

Venue: The Reeler Theatre, Rondebosch Boys’ High School, Canigou Avenue, Rondebosch, Cape Town

Concert Duration: 90 minutes in total

Entry Fee: R100. Students pay R 80. Payable in cash only at the door.

RESERVATIONS: Seating is limited therefore prior bookings are essential to avoid disappointment. Whatsapp / Sms or Call 063 631 7836 or e-mail [email protected] or via the ONLINE BOOKING FORM – http://goo.gl/forms/UICDyVpdet

Concert-goers who arrive 30 minutes before the show starts will receive a complimentary glass of wine or fruit juice.

PARKING: Secure parking is available in Rondebosch Boys’ High School grounds.

During November 2016, Shepherd curated the 49th SWR NEWJazz Meeting 2016 in Germany. For this project entitled ‘Sound Portraits from Contemporary Africa’, The Kyle Shepherd Trio together with the internationally-renowned guitarist, Lionel Loueke [Benin / USA] and Mthunzi Mvubu [ZA] presented a critically-acclaimed 3-concert series. Earlier in 2016, the Trio embarked on a two-week, 8-concert performance Tour of Japan where they enthralled capacity audiences at Shikiori, in Miyawaka, Saikouji in Toyohashi, Kyoto Art Center in Kyoto, Anyouinn in Tokyo, Garaman Hall in Ginoza, Scarecrow in Ishigaki Island and Book Café Breathe in Miyako Island.

Their debut tour of Canada in 2015 included performances at the Ottawa International Jazz Festival, the Victoria International Jazz Festival, the Vancouver International Jazz Festival and Festival International de Jazz de Montréal.

Other highlights include performances at the infamous Bird’s Eye Jazz Club (Switzerland), The Tianjin International Jazz Festival (China), The Gaborone International Music and Culture Week Festival (Botswana) and in South Africa, The Joy of Jazz Festival (South Africa), The National Arts Festival, Grahamstown (South Africa), The Standard Bank Youth Jazz Festival (National Arts Festival), Grahamstown, The Mahikeng Jazz Festival (South Africa), The Orbit Jazz Club (South Africa), The Wits Great Hall (South Africa), and CCFM – The Centro Cultural Franco-Moçambicano (Mozambique).

Kyle Shepherd, arguably one of South Africa’s leading progressive pianists, composers and band leaders of his generation, is fast gaining international recognition for his distinctive compositional style and performances.

Noem My Skollie / Call Me Thief – The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

In his debut as a film composer, Shepherd composed the film score for the critically-acclaimed independent film, ‘Noem My Skollie’ [2016] which was South Africa’s official entry to the 2017 Academy Awards! The film, a moving crime drama set in Cape Town in the late 60s, written by John Fredericks and directed by Daryne Joshua, was released in September 2016! Shepherd’s music also features prominently in rising independent film-maker Nadine Cloete’s documentary, ‘Action Kommandant’, based on the untold story of the young South African revolutionary freedom fighter, Ashley Kriel.

The award-winning pianist, is a recipient of both the coveted ‘UNISA National Piano Competition Award [2015] and the ‘Standard Bank Young Artist of the Year’ Award [2014] in the Jazz Category.

“There’s a palpable connectedness they share as players, a connection that also touches attuned audiences at their live performances too. This band is on a search for more than beautiful notes. They are asking more of the music. Its corporeal and ethereal aspects are invoked into the simultaneous sound ritual.”  – Percy Mabandu, Arts journalist and author, South Africa.

The 29-year-old virtuoso pianist who has a well-established record of celebrated performances in South Africa, Europe, Asia (including Japan, India and China), Canada and the USA, has already released six critically acclaimed albums in his young career. The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack composed by Shepherd for the feature film ‘Noem My Skollie / Call Me Thief’ was released in November 2016. ‘Dream State’, a 21-track double album of his Trio released in 2014 which garnered nominations for both the 2015 South African Music Award [SAMA] and a 2015 Metro FM Music Award in the Jazz Category. His debut solo piano offering ‘Into Darkness’, recorded in Japan, was launched with a tour in the South-East Asian country in the same year [2014] and included a performance at the prestigious Tokyo Jazz Festival. Previous releases ‘fineART [2009]’, ‘A Portrait of Home’ [2010] & ‘South African History !X’ [2014], also attracted SAMA nominations.

Cape Town set for rare Kyle Shepherd Trio concert was originally published on Artsvark