This is from chapter two of Covenant Spring. More to follow, as time and pipes allow. The music is “Flowered Knife Shadows,” by Harold Budd, from his CD Lovely Thunder. Blows me away that more people don’t know who he is. I’m pretty certain the esteemed Mr. Budd is a genius.
Listen. Read Covenant Spring in serial form or download it here.
As always, Let me know what you think.
Chris
This is a passage from Covenant Spring, a straight read over music. The protagonist, Danny, is walking down a dirt road in the scorching late morning Carolina sun when it happens. Read the book to learn what it is but for shorthand’s sake, call it a Meursault moment from The Stranger, with less existential disassociation and more spiritual angst, and a heroic dose of fuck-it-all-ness riding the swell. Also, no one goes to jail.
This one’s pretty basic, just a read over music. I didn’t take a lot of time to prep it. The words came in a single session and, as near as I can recall, the performance is the first take, with maybe a couple of lines re-cut to polish.
I’m inspired by music in my writing and production.
I realize this is no novel declaration. But as an audio producer, my sensibility is keyed to sound. I find myself looking away from speakers as I listen, a habit that I imagine may appear disrespectful. It’s just the way I intake and process information. I’ve learned that I can ingest more meaningful data this way. It’s about listening less to what’s said, more to how it sounds.
I don’t meditate as much as I used to. I used to meditate daily, though usually it was a few times a week (ooh, bad seeker! Bad!). I’ve sat in seiza, contemplating my breathing, or in comfortable chairs, relaxing, descending into that delicious alpha state. Mowing the lawn works well for me, too, though the consequences of drifting off into sleep are somewhat elevated.
I wrote and produced this piece back in 2003, when there was much clashing of spears on shields on the geopolitical stage, and most of it, it seemed, coming from my side of the line in the sand. The vibrations went straight to the base of my skull, crawled over the top and sank its claws deep, right above my eyebrows. I existed with teeth and fists clenched, wondering why, why we were so damned eager to rush into war.