"In Greek mythology the Horae or Hours (Greek: Ὧραι, Hōrai, "seasons") were the goddesses of the seasons and the natural portions of time. They were originally the personifications of nature in its different seasonal aspects, but in later times they were regarded as goddessess of order in general and natural justice. "They bring and bestow ripeness, they come and go in accordance with the firm law of the periodicities of nature and of life", Karl Kerenyi observed: "Hora means 'the correct moment'." Traditionally they guarded the gates of Olympus, promoted the fertility of the earth, and rallied the stars and constellations."
Also, a (very) short mini-album (or digital EP or 7-inch or what have you), composed at a lazy pace over roughly a years-worth of time, with one song for each season of the year. They are meant to be listened to in order, but any song can serve as the beginning- they are presented here roughly in the order they were written. The first is a stab at something like a straightforward pop song- the second rather the opposite, and the first to use exclusively electronic sounds- it ought to be listened to on headphones, or at least widely spaced speakers. The third is a re-working of a very old song, and the fourth a trifle that grew unexpectedly, an attempt to capture in sound the soft yellowish cast of light on a snowy day in late December.
released March 18, 2011
Words for “Printemps” are by Charles D’Orleans, sung in badly mangled old French. Words for “Illumination” come from the prose-poem “Enfance” in Arthur Rimbaud’s collection of the same name (English translation by Paul Schmidt, from the Rimbaud anthology picked up as teenager). Words for “A Dirge” are from the poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley. All sounds, which were made using violin, guitar, tiny faux-analog synthesizer, casio keyboard, software drum machine, and mathematical tone generator, are by myself with the exception of some help from a chorus of crickets and passing cars found in the park near my parents’ house, Lauderdale, Minnesota, late summer 2009.
Le temps a laissié son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de brouderie,
De soleil luyant, cler et beau.
Il n'y a beste ne oyseau,
Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie ;
Le temps a laissié son manteau.
Rivière, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent, en livree jolie,
Gouttes d'argent d'orfaverie,
Chascun s'abille de nouveau :
Le temps a laissié son manteau.
Track Name: Illumination (fragment)
Au bois il y a un oiseau, son chant vous arrête et vous fait rougir.
Il y a une horloge qui ne sonne pas.
Il y a une fondrière avec un nid de bêtes blanches.
Il y a une cathédrale qui descend et un lac qui monte.
Il y a une petite voiture abandonnée dans le taillis, ou qui descend le sentier en courant, enrubannée.
Il y a une troupe de petits comédiens en costumes, aperçus sur la route à travers la lisère du bois.
Il y a enfin, quand l'on a faim et soif, quelqu'un qui vous chasse.
In the woods there is a bird;
His singing stops you and you blush.
There is a clock that never strikes.
There is a little swamp, with a nest of pale animals.
There is a cathedral that sinks, and a lake that rises above it.
There is a little ribbon-covered cart, abandoned in the hedge
Or rolling away down the path.
There is a troupe of tiny strolling players all dressed up,
Seen on the road at the edge of the woods.
And when you are hungry or thirsty,
There is always someone to chase you away.
Track Name: A Dirge
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main,—
Wail, for the world's wrong!