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after: Orpheus- Gottfried Benn/ translated: Michael Hofmann)
And now the stones
Are cladded in moss,
No longer echo the voice
Of the singer, (twice all)
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The branches grow heavy with leaves,
The hatchets soothingly gleaning
Naked blows (X3)
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And now the stones- these objects,
Far from obvious
And now the stones
No longer following the voice,
The singer enveloped in moss,
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No more obedient to my voice,
No more swaddling themselves in moss,
The boughs, the ears of corn.
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My heals are southing – ears of corn
I am appeased in foliage
Naked axes naked blows (X3)
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And now the stones, and now the boughs,
And now the ears of corn
Naked axes naked blows (X3)
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After Monique Wittig’s novel Les Guérillères
(1969),
The little girls search in the bushes and trees for the nests of
Goldfinches Chaffinches Linnets.
They find some green canaries, which they
Cover with kisses, cover with kisses, cover with kisses-
which they hug to their breasts-
They run singing
They run singing, they bound over the rocks-
A hundred thousand of them, return to their homes
To:
Cherish their birds, cherish their birds, cherish their birds in their haste, they-
Cherish their birds in their haste, they
Clasped them too tightly to themselves.
They ran. They bent down to pick up pebbles-
Which they cast far away over the hedges,
They took no notice of their chirping, and climbed back
climbed back up to their rooms, to
Cherish their birds, cherish their birds, cherish their birds in their haste, they-
Cherish their birds in their haste, they
Clasped them too tightly to themselves.
They removed the birds from their garments, breathing hot air on them-
lifting the limp heads, touching their beaks with their finger-
Cover with kisses, cover with kisses, cover with kisses, which they hug to their breasts,
They remained inert.
Then,
A hundred thousand little girls, bewailed the death of their green
Canaries.
In the hundred thousand rooms of a hundred thousand houses, they,
Cherish their birds, cherish their birds, cherish their birds in their haste, they-
Cherish their birds in their haste, they
Clasped them too tightly to themselves.
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Flowing-texture-surface-commodity, parts of body floating information
Your face is getting disconnected, from your voice, from your body, becomes an element
Face mixed with phone, ready to be combined with any other item, x2
guttural sounds.
A vast library that contains everything –captions, textures, Palm Trees, you and me
A person montaged, dubbed assembled incorporated- everything is possible, you, you and me.
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The air here was dark too,
And the creepers dropped their ropes
Like the rigging of foundered ships.
The tree trunks and the creepers lost in green dusk
Thirty feet above and all about was the undergrowth
Shrank at the cry with a hiss X3 eeeeee
Of an indrawn breath,
2:20 (the Whine)
2:30 Like the rigging of founded ships/insects
Becoming less a hunter than a furtive thing,
and his breath…
3:16 Aaaaromatic bushed a bole of meat and light
03:25 the promis the promis… of meat/Ape-like among the tangle
Ape-like among the tangle of trees
Hard patter of hoofs, castanet sound, (uncommunicative forest)
And the surge of blood:
The promise of meat
04:29 more oppressive than the heat, the whine of insects,
04:43A harsh cry that seemed to come out
05:00
More oppressive than the heat, X4
the whine of insects,X2
Dark aromatic bushes, a bowl of heat and light.
uncommunicative forest
more oppressive than the heat, the whine of insects,
The air here was dark too, and the creepers dropped their ropes like the rigging of foundered ships. The whine
The tree trunks and the creepers lost in green dusk
Thirty feet above and all about was the undergrowth
Shrank at the cry with a hiss X3
Of indrawn breath,
(in the afternoon sunlight)
07:15
Ape-like among the tangle of trees
Hard patter of hoofs, castanet sound,
And the surge of blood
The promise of meat
08:42: among the tangle of trees
million million…
A harsh cry seems to come out of the abyss
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Surface immortal after Hito Steyerl Art in
Human and things intermingle, human and stuff, in an ever-newer constipation.
Human and things, feeding into subject face-number lurking in the dark.
Human and things humans and stuff
Humans and things- nothing in particular, a person montaged face-number lurking eyes and mouths and mixed with product and more convincing than the flesh and more newer than ever before and more surface then surface
Information becoming surface immortal immune to the passing of time
Humans and things intermingle humans and stuff, an ever-NEWER constipation
Algorithm feeding into subjectivity
Face lurking in the dark
Humans and things, human and stuff
Mixing with product,
and more convincing than the flesh, and more newer than ever before
humans and things more surface than surface.
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The Promise of Meat features songs that take as their starting point a text by a different author, the new compositions bringing out a shared theme: the interaction of humans and the natural world and the assimilation of technology into our being. As with previous works (the 2016 opera Kairos and the 2019 album Tzipora), The Promise of Meat ignores the divisions between ‘classical’, ‘pop’ and ‘electronic’ music, which seem like increasingly artificial categories.
