09.06.07 kulturnatib

Lullabies

When I moved to my present apartment almost seven years ago, – a bachelor's pad until recently when I hung up my bachelor's togs – one of the deciding factor's was how quiet this village was.

And, my unit at the back of a big house, whose present configuration now accommodates three families or large households really, has a nice view of the city whose enjoyment often requires silence for maximum effect.

For all these years and through all the changes in the tenancy of this house, that general quietness has held. Even when, I am immediately reminded that, once, upstairs, was a neighbor who fancied himself a drummer. His practice sessions, however, were mercifully conducted at hours that I was away. But, he was also a womanizer, often bringing more than one woman into his place, and this went on, quite disturbingly, at all hours.

I survived that, as I do now when I realize how noisy this place can really get.
I realized this because recently I needed absolute silence. Or as near absolute as is possible in this decidedly non-audio studio apartment environment.

I had to record some guitar music for an upcoming performance event. This will be next week, September 12, at the Tapas Lounge, at Crossroads, in Banilad.

This music is to be passed on to Winston, a professional musician, who I have mentioned several times in this column.

We have been collaborators in a few performance art pieces. More immediately, he provides the live music or auditory element, either alone or in tandem with some canned music or sound. But, more generally, he is, himself, an element in the performance piece that adds to the the overall layers or trajectories of meaning of the piece in its entirety, enriching it.

We have already discussed the concept for this piece and what was needed was for him to have an idea of the actual music I will play on the classical guitar for his guidance in playing percussion; On a pillow.

More than just the music itself, there is a crucial sound effects track, whose timing is critical for our separate but related actions to be synchronous.

So, with a digital video camera that can also record sound, I went about making the recording.

Almost immediately my difficulties started. First, part of the music I have thought of playing – a series of short lullabies – was a variation I have developed myself from a somewhat Arabesque tune I have the tablature or musical notation for. With the notation, I have no difficulty. With the variation, I have plenty of difficulty. But, nothing that practice won't mitigate, if not entirely erase; Something I cannot say with the noise.

While true that this recording was only to be some kind of guide and not necessarily one with any high-fidelity quality, noise would be anything from mildly irritating to disturbingly distracting. Especially from my music generating end.

Distracting it was. Even the birds whose song accompany the slow rhythm of this near mountain idyll were now interferences. What sort of bird would make that call? Have I heard that before? I should really try to connect calls with configurations. Etc.

Thoughts like this, innocuous sounding as they are, tripped me.

And then: How many babies do my neighbors have? What are they doing awake at this early afternoon hour? Shouldn't they be taking their afternoon nap? Why are they conspiring to altogether shriek at the same time? Where are the yayas?

Then the dogs, the roosters, the motorcycles, the jet liners that often pass through this approach corridor over our hills seem to be flying lower than usual, even the water pump is noisier than ever. Then the cicadas jump into the concert.

Impossible.

But, I press on. I guess that's what this performance piece is saying. In the general chaos of life there is or, should be, a silent space, lullabies, to help us keep on. Though it's never as neat and easy as that.