cobamusicblog

palíndromes por Sebastián

2006-07-06T15:46:00.000-07:00

*...o da coba; bocado
*a cobita, a ti, boca
*anula la luna
*amad al reconocer la dama
*lamina ese animal
*el río ama oirle
*aroma a mora

cobita graba

2006-04-27T14:12:00.000-07:00

Este sábado 29 de abril será la primera sesión de grabación del segundo disco de coba. Será un disco con un formato más íntimo que el anterior; una versión pequeña de coba que llamo "cobita." La tradición de este pequeño formato ha sido la de tocar con músicos invitados y el disco tendrá varios invitados especiales. También habrá tres cantantes diferentes. Este segundo disco tiene como uno de sus propósitos el rescatar canciones viejas que he escrito, o canciones que se han perdido entre "grietas" de diferentes etapas musicales. Con el disco de cobita reducimos el formato, cerramos el espacio, y ofrecemos un abrebocas del nuevo y tercer formato de coba -que bien podría llamarse cobota, pero no - y que tiene 9 músicos incluyendo percusión, guitarra, contrabajo, clarinete, trombón, violín y cello. Cada formato pues, explora diferentes niveles de energía y comunicación. Cobita se encargará de la parte más íntima, contenida y de cocción prolongada a fuego lento.

How we belong

2005-12-19T08:54:00.000-08:00

“Man achieves the height of wisdom when all that
he does is as self-evident as what nature does.”
From the I Ching

Imagine the oldest photograph that exists in your family. It will probably show a now deceased great-grandfather captured in a flattened second, ceremoniously offering his best angle for the event. He will probably appear wearing some of his finest clothes, and his hair -possibly his mustache too- organized to its most decent presentation. Imagine him now preparing for the taking of the photograph, walking about the house selecting a spot, a chair, a jacket; then the event, the second worthy of future inspection that you can return to observe whenever you wish. After that, a return to regular activities not captured and rapidly forgotten.
What comes to mind when looking at such a picture? Among the many possibilities I want to focus on the sense of an earlier time. The photograph exposes just a moment filled with information about a time when things were a certain way, when taking a photograph involved a certain ritual, when clothes, furniture or people had a certain look. It is very difficult to think about any previous time without a whole ambiance coming to mind and without recognizing it as past. It is hard to see that great-grandfather's photograph and imagine that in his eyes everything looked current or even modern. To us that atmosphere is inevitably old and to our great-grandchildren so will ours, no matter how hard it is for us to picture what seems so immediate become obsolete.

Mankind's motion in time always carries an atmosphere, a sense of aesthetics. And in its motion the ambiance transforms, rejuvenates and the ideas also shift and get modified. The previous thought is abandoned to welcome the next over and over. In scientific thought we get a sense of advancement; we are all familiar with the fact that at some point the earth was thought flat, the static center of a rotating universe. It is almost a cliché to use that example to challenge a person too fixated on a theory: "How do you know that there aren't any aliens? don't you know that once people thought that the earth was flat and who ever said the contrary was evil and was burned? now we know it's round, so maybe one day we will know that there are aliens!" but this essay is not about defending the existence of aliens. The point I want to make is that our thought is perishable, it often has an expiration date. Of course there are known facts; the earth, most likely, will not be discovered to actually be flat. But given the permanent factor of the possibility and the existence of unsolved mysteries or enigmas, there will always be room for change, and discovery. Scientists looking for a model to explain the universe have increasingly become more sophisticated and difficult to understand; but they still face issues as what they call the 'uncertainty principle' which makes it almost impossible to understand what they call the 'elementary particles.' Scientists now have to build a system where the uncertainty principle is acknowledged; this shows that there will be space for speculation –about uncertainties- for as long as there are enigmas to get around.

As a contrast to the ever transforming world of mankind, we can observe nature. A picture of a tiger does not reveal an era, a time when tigers did things a certain way. The only thing that can reveal the time of a picture of an animal is what technology was used to document it; the animal
itself is not responsible because nature is permanent. Tigers are never out of style, outdated or modern. "Did you see the latest tiger they put out?" We will, hopefully, never hear a comment like that. Nature is, at the same time, ancient and new. There is nothing that transmits the sense of 'new' as the sunrise, and yet it has happened every day since days have existed.
It happened all the same when it was explained as the result of the sun going around the earth or vice versa. Nature remains as real and concrete as the biggest truth that we may ever find.

Although it keeps getting harder to notice, we are a part of nature. When asked why he avoided representing the natural world, Jackson Pollock answered; "I am nature." He was right. We know, at some level, that we are some kind of fancy animal. The one that raises questions, that explains theories, that invents the world in which he lives. We know that we differ in many ways to the rest of existence on earth. However, it seems that the difference is somehow distancing the world from us. The world from which we sprung appears to be fading out.

The approach to nature, particularly from the western civilized point of view has been almost conflicting. The history of industrialization in North America carries an underlying story of mankind attempting to dominate, control and exploit nature. The manifest destiny declared, in favor of colonization, that Americans had a duty to educate more primitive people in the ways of using the resources given by god. I will not enter into detailing the many damages to the world that such knowledge has brought; I'll just state that there have been many. As a result, we live in a world were most of what we see is created by humans. Buildings, roads, cars, and almost everything that we encounter daily. The little that remains of nature inside civilization can often be upsetting; rats in the subway tracks, living off the residues that we discard, more of a problem than an animal. We still preserve, and just because it seems virtually impossible not to, the sky over or heads. Other than that, we have gradually replaced the given world with an invented one. Once in a while, however, a snowstorm comes in, and all that we built is covered by nature. The white cloth that reigns in the landscape, before it is disturbed, cleaned or removed, can make the spirit nostalgic.

I've always envied cultures with a more direct and friendly relationship with the world. For instance, the American Indians who seemed to be integrated to the ways of nature with more intensity. 'Black Elk Speaks,' is a book with the life-story of a holy man of the Oglala Sioux told by himself and documented in writing by John G. Neihardt. This is how it starts:

"My friend, I am going to tell you the story of my life, as you wish; and if it were only the story of my life I think I would not tell it; for what is one man that he should make much of his winters, even when they bend him like a heavy snow? So many other men have lived and shall live that story, to be grass upon the hills. It is the story of all life that is holy and is good to tell, and of us two-leggeds sharing in it with the four-leggeds and the wings of the air and all green things; for these are children of one mother and their father is one Spirit."

It is very evident a sense of belonging to the world and of communion with all that lives. That sense is not a part of daily life in a big city. Black Elk happened to be a holy man who apparently had special powers given to him in a vision when he was nine. Without getting into a discussion about believing or not in the supernatural, I will say that his wisdom is unquestionable and that it comes from his direct and clear relationship with the world.

But the way in which we relate to the planet is different. As I mentioned earlier, we have created an artificial substitute world to live in. The truth is, however, that there is no use in lamenting not being a holy man of the Sioux, however tempting. We can still find that sense of belonging even in the most industrialized street of the most urban of all cities because you may take a person out of nature, but you can't take the nature out of the person. No matter how much we shift ideas, discard theories and render our own inventions obsolete, we still have the permanence that is inherent in nature. The stories that we tell and the things that we do will always be the same under new presentation. The basic elements remain.

The sense of advancement and progress may seem natural and inevitable, but the truth is that all that we have created can be questioned. The essence of mankind, instead, has existed from the beginning, true -unquestionable- and deep. The highest wisdom has already happened in mankind's history as early as five thousand years ago. The highest stupidity has also been achieved probably since then, too. The defining elements in us, our nature, are as ancient as the species and as new as a new born. Our understanding and explaining of that nature, inside and outside of ourselves is what may improve. In that sense we may try and justify the idea of progress, but I think it is more a matter of movement because I'm not so sure that where we are is better than where we were. It is thought -one of the things that distinguish us from the other animals,- which has proven to be perishable, become outdated, and suffer the passing of time. It is thought that has made nature more distant, inside and outside ourselves. It is thought, also, what may bring it back. But it would have to be a different kind of thought; a way of thinking that understands the language in which the world speaks; the poetic language, the intuitive language, which imparts the knowledge that revolves around the mystery and the possibility within our own nature.

Cisnes de primavera

2005-12-12T17:15:00.000-08:00

El sueño de la noche anterior a Octubre 6 lo había olvidado completamente hasta leer Bukowski durante un descanso en el trabajo.

En el sueño había un aparato totalmente imponente y sofisticado. Era una especie de nave espacial con fama por el increíble universo que existía sobre su techo: Un despliegue fantástico de naturaleza casi mitológica. El mundo sobre el techo de esta nave era misterioso, húmedo con neblina, y su superficie era como un río lechoso y fresco. Daba el ambiente de la nieve en el invierno pues predominaba la blancura, pero sin el frío invernal. Sobre esta superficie lechosa, pantanosa y humeante yo me deslizaba con fluidez entre andando y flotando. El lugar estaba habitado por varios animales, todos relativamente pequeños: ponys, terneros, etc. Pero el verdadero espectáculo, y la principal causa de la fama de este lugar, eran los cisnes. Los cisnes por supuesto contribuían a la luminosa blancura característica del lugar, y la blanca luz se entretejía y contorsionaba de acuerdo a los elegantes diseños y curvas de los cisnes. Yo pensaba, esto es realmente muy hermoso. Pero en ese mundo de cisnes me impresionaba encontrar a varios de ellos muertos, aunque eso también era hermoso de alguna manera; parte del mundo natural. Los cadáveres de los cisnes flotaban en el pantano lechoso, sus blancuras confundidas, donde los cisnes muertos apenas sugerían sus siluetas flotantes. Y uno tras otro tras otro formaban un diseño, un patrón consistente con sus tenues curvas apenas visibles. Yo andaba, flotaba y miraba esquivando los cadáveres.

Pero como dije, el sueño se había borrado completamente de mi memoria, hasta el día siguiente (Octubre 6, 2005) cuando en un descanso en el trabajo abrí el libro de Bukowski y leí:

Cisnes de primavera

También en primavera mueren los cisnes
Y allí flotaba
Muerto un domingo
Girando de lado
En la corriente
Y fui hasta la rotonda y distinguí
Dioses en carros,
Perros, mujeres
Que giraban
Y la muerte
Se me precipitó garganta abajo
Como un ratón,
Y oí llegar a la gente
Con sus cestas de merienda
Y sus risas,
Y me sentí culpable
Como si la muerte
Fuese algo vergonzoso
Y me alejé
Como un idiota
Y les dejé
Mi hermoso cisne.

_____________________

De esta historia desprende la canción de coba:

Cisne blanco, cisne negro

Míralo durmiendo ahí
Ya no es invierno acá
Parece una "S" que
Deslizándose va

Cisne blanco, cisne negro
Cisnes por el suelo
Si a los dos me los encuentro
A cual veré primero

Míralo durmiendo ahí
Ya no es verano acá
Porqué no se mueve más?
No se va a despertar

Cisne blanco, cisne negro
Cisnes por el suelo
Si a los dos me los encuentro
A cual veré primero

Su pálido blanco
La luna va a alumbrar
Parece que el brillo
Fuera a cantar

Cisne blanco, cisne negro
Cisnes por el suelo
Si a los dos me los encuentro
A cual veré primero

couple poems

2005-12-12T17:13:00.000-08:00

Spin the vinyl endlessly
Spin the vinyl endlessly
And burn an incense stick
Then look outside the window
And watch the tree for me.

All that falls must then come up
As snow that falls reveals
Yes all that falls must raise
As smoke and ashes tell

So watch the tree turn outside-in
And smell the scent of musk
Then watch the roots outside turn red
They burn with fire leaves

The big eye
Trembling lights. Dead, rocking leaves
A flower called "Narcissus" near a wet, big, longing eye

The eye that never let's me fail
By drawings of concentric circles
As targets that become after the whim

A stone
A man
A lake

canciones del CD a vuelo de pájaro

2005-12-12T17:04:00.000-08:00

el resplandor
sobre el secreto y la belleza. De como a algunas cosas les conviene no ser sabidas.
de aquí para abajo
acerca de la soledad, de esperar y de como se relaciona uno desde ahí con el mundo.
en una servilleta
habla de amor; en la primera mitad con imágenes y en la segunda mitad con solo música.
piedras trae
acerca de los ciclos, lo posible, de las infinitas versiones del futuro que salen de un momento dado y de la idea de estar simultáneamente en el medio y el final de algo.
bandido, ladrón
pone elementos juntos de actividades clandestinas o marginales: ladrones, artistas y juglares con sus horarios dispares y habilidades comunes de seducir y reciclar.
ojo mirado
habla de una manera de mirar y de buscar. El faro es metáfora del ojo que es metáfora del faro, y al proyectarse y hacerse visible atrae respuestas como barcos.
dime lo que ves
canción para ser cantada mirando por la ventana. Describe escenas sueltas vistas desde ahí y la condición del que mira como un espia que no soporta su marginalidad.
mirada primera
canción de amor acerca de reconocerse y descubrirse en el otro.
estática
describe una relación de una forma extraña. Al invertir los papeles -la canción que suena en la radio es dedicada por el oyente al locutor- la canción muestra la dualidad que hay entre distancia e intimidad con los medios de comunicación - entre el locutor de radio y el que escucha.
de norte a sur
que pasa si de repente rompemos la ruta que conocemos de memoria? Imagínese que sigue una ruta que es rutina y de repente decide voltear por el lado que no es. La canción habla de lo posible y lo impredecible. De sentirse 'ubicado' por saber cual es el entorno, cual ha sido el trayecto y de esa forma habla de lo que representa pertenecer a un lugar. De como eso define.
vacío
tema circular en dos gestos: la copa se llena y desaparece el vacío, la copa se vuelca y el vacío aparece. El vacío es como una cosa - que se va y que vuelve.