Karloff and I were invited to perform at the Orange County Center for Contemporary Art in the heart of Santa Ana’s Artists’ Village. Opening the show were “Between Ravens and Crows,” followed by Ain Soph Aur and, closing the show, was Madamn Grislee.
Due to an oversight on my part, the audio recording captured ambient sound where Karloff and I were seated, but not the sounds the audience heard. While not capturing what I intended, it still produced several nice sections, one of which I’m including here:
Last night Karloff and I were joined by Jeremy Morelock and Nial Morgan. We opened a wonderful show at Koos Art Center. We were followed by John Schneider’s breathtaking performance of microtonal music for refretted acoustic guitar, written by legendary American composer Lou Harrison. Following John’s performance, Master Ho’s Pin Peat ensemble performed Khmer Classical Music with intensity, precision, and passion. The room was thrumming with the energy flowing from the stage.
Ain Soph Aur’s performance was 30 minutes, but I excerpted two parts. The first is from the beginning, and the second from the end.
On April 5th 2008, Ain Soph Aur performed at Zero Point Space as part of Thee Dung Mummy 5th Anniversary Experimental Music Festival. In keeping with the organic fluidity of the group’s performance philosophy we, at the last minute, included a third artist in our performance. The artist known as ‘Catastrophic Mermaids on Parade’ joined us.
Here’s a flyer I made for the show:
I am offering up a room recording of our performance, which I decided to call “The Quality of Volition.” It is actually an excerpt, but a fairly long one. (About 15 minutes) The entire performance was about 25 minutes long.
During my many years as a musician, I’ve performed in a variety of contexts. In 6th grade, for example, I sang a solo in Hebrew as part of The Chitchester Psalms, a piece for chorus and organ, written by Leonard Bernstein. In rehearsals, the feeling of singing with so many voices was thrilling and euphoric. I felt myself open up in a way I’d never experienced before.
The night of the performance, I was filled with confidence. I remember walking out onto the stage in my new electric blue wide-wale corduroy pants, feeling the enthusiasm and support of the musicians behind me. The choir director remembered that the translated words were in the program and asked that the house lights be brought up so the audience could read along.
All of a sudden, hundreds of people emerged from the darkness and, much to my surprise, they were staring at me. In an instant, all that joy and confidence evaporated and, in its place, arose a new feeling: Terror. The music began, and I felt a bit heartened but, as my moment to sing approached, my body felt like it was going to split in two.
