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Category Archives: writing sound
The universal veil that hangs together like a skin
A rising creature spreads its shadow over hushed land. In the moment of folding its wings, all air leaves the world. All things now operate by friction, stridulation, rough surfaces in contact with abrasion, materials unlike silk or plastic, the … Continue reading
In the Cave of Sound
“To him who is a cave in which my shout echoes.” Victor Segalen, from Stèles (1912). How was it, and when was it, that I encountered Victor Segalen’s peculiar little novel, Dans Un Monde Sonore, published in 1907? Probably when … Continue reading
head peelers
Extracts from a collaborative text written by David Toop and Marie Roux, published in Marie Roux’s photobook, The Head Peelers, published in an edition of 40, 2021. A wandering adventure was my starting point. This is what I find exciting. … Continue reading
gone to earth
Maybe a coincidence but during our Sharpen Your Needles event last night (28.09.17) Evan Parker played “Music for Mbale (Ndokpa)”, from The Photographs of Charles Duvelle: Disques Ocora and Collection Prophet, a sumptuous book and two CDs published by Sublime … Continue reading
and so it was the blues falling upon us
and so it was the blues falling upon us . . . like a lot of other people, my head was burning and turning from the reality of an American president in 2017 unwilling after Charlottesville to fully distance himself … Continue reading
Posted in writing sound
Tagged blues, Exotica, J. B. Lenoir, Lightnin' Hopkins, Paul Oliver, Rap Attack, Richard Wright, vernacular architecture
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that lead beneath brambles to the bodies and minds of others
The book jacket is designed by Vanessa Bell, sister to Virginia Woolf. Her drawing for the front of the jacket is of trees and grasses, many black pen lines pulling and curling in vortical movement, little differentiation made between figure … Continue reading
Who will go mad with me
We were on Dartmoor, Brent Fore Hill at Ball Gate to be exact. The date was the 29th July, 1971, though there was little evidence of summer to be heard in the howling wind. During the same year I was … Continue reading
A falling fourth or fifth
Bitterly cold this morning in Queens Wood but not too cold to hear the woman calling her dogs with a fluting falling call – ooh oooh – that reminded me of the similar calls my mother would sound out over … Continue reading
