A DECENT RUN

“My idea is to go the other way, you know. And to be completely empty and then see what sounds.”

(Tom Raworth)

Tom Raworth there’s always a little pause between thought and action Franco Beltrametti it’s called reflection, and it’s contemplative, and it gives detachment like an inexhaustible spring TR it’s the concept of understanding what’s there, revealing what’s there rather than creating something with the intention of creating FB attention is the thing that counts, and chance is the other angel, and they’re both good, concrete angels TR and the muse? FB I always keep the door open for her; if she comes, welcome, if not, I wait with patient impatience

(from CHOSES qui voyagent, Mazzotta Editions)

TOM
The first time I met Tom was in February 1992, and the last time was on 21 November 2015, in Venice.
During these years, we kept in touch regularly and saw each other two or three times a year. We collaborated in various contexts — poetry readings, exhibition openings, concerts, performances — as well as smaller, more intimate events.
In 1995, Tom participated in the recording of Il Grande Quarto d’Ora, a work of mine based on texts by Franco Beltrametti, in which he read both Franco’s poems and Absence, a poem dedicated to him. The record features one of his collages on the cover.
I thought — and still think — about Tom every day. About Tom, about Franco, about Steve, and about all those people who remain present in what I do, in what I listen to, in what I find.
The passing of time is the substance in which music reveals itself. Tom observed this, and spoke of it in many of the poems I set to music.
Tom died on 8 February 2017.
I miss him.

FROM WHERE

Everything stems from encounter, assonance, and patience.
Like a thread stretched through time and space, the encounter repeats itself — whether real or virtual, by telephone or by letter, or even through intermediaries.
It all begins with the pleasure of conversation and laughter around a table, from the bond of friendship; from shared tastes, moods, and attitudes; from a shared practice of doing. From the patience of knowing how to wait. From the trust that when things have to come, they come. We could also call it slowness. In this apparent surface stillness, one stays vigilant until realizing that something is finally passing — and then, quickly, one grasps it.

THE POETRY

“The writings in this Tottering State (O Books, 2000) are ardent, wry, wise, brilliant – they are subtle and momentous. They are responsive to the minute as to the massive pressure that language and life exert. They are explorations, not outcomes. And yet they make demands, and consequences continually occur. Some of these consequences are funny (Tom Raworth. has a tragedian’s sense of the comic as one of life’s fated inevitabilities), some are frightening or sad. These are among the greatest writings of our times.”
(Lyn Hejinian)

THE STRUCTURE

Within the same piece of music, two versions of each poem are presented wherever possible — one spoken and one sung.
In one case, Translation, the text of the sung version was specially rewritten by Tom.
In each piece, prepared and unprepared sounds, structured and improvised parts, extreme organization, and chance coexist.

THE MATERIALS

Listening. Sound. Voice. Noise. Speech. Singing. Relationships. Listening again.
Relationships between:
spoken voice and sound / sounds and spoken voice / voice and singing / sounds and sung voice / spoken voice and sung voice / a group of musicians — instrumentalists, improvisers, composers — working with prepared and unprepared material, with precise and completely free indications, with discipline and total freedom.

THE TITLE

The first concrete idea for a work co-authored with Tom appeared in my notebooks in 2000, under the title Testo a Fronte. I had forgotten about it.
The first title I remembered was Transmutation. We knew from the start that the whole thing would deal with transformation, transmutation — from English to Italian, from spoken to sung, from word to sound, from sound to song, from the written word to the spoken word; from the rhythms of one to the rhythms of the other; from those who play to those who listen; from graphic signs into sounds, and beyond.
Translation, transformation, variation, transmutation, mutation, trancemutation, chancemutation, permutation.
Between the lines, there was also the echo of so many Coltrane titles: Expression, Meditations, Ascension, Impressions.
One day, however, sitting at a table while Tom was telling me about a proposal he had made to a bank — to finance a short film in which he went to a counter and gradually changed a sum of money through every possible currency — we stumbled, laughing, on the idea of the most useless thing in the world and therefore the most interesting and amusing: The Alphabetical Index of the Dictionary.
The title of the work changed, and from then on we referred to it as our Index.
When I read the last message Tom left on his website, I realized that without him, the work would have been something else, and that our Index was no more.
So I decided, again, to change the title — and to use his last three words. Words that still resonate, that summarize his thought like a slap in the face:
“Bits of it all have been fun, and it’s been a decent run.”

THE MUSIC

The work begins with the sound of the text read by the author’s voice.
It develops from the investigation of sound and the relationships between sounds — from their overlapping, from the interplay of voices and sonic planes: not only high/low, soft/loud, slow/fast, but also near/far, here/there.
It becomes a desire for polyphony in space — a polyphony of polyphonies — a continuous shifting of perspectives, turning toward the infinitely small, then toward the infinitely large, to the past and simultaneously to the future.
A process of discovery whose ultimate goal, as well as its beginning, is listening.

CARILLON

During poetry readings, performances, and concerts, Tom often brought his ribbon music box. He would write down a name, a word, or a term that was important to him in relation to the event, then punch holes in the paper ribbon following the writing. The resulting sound was, for him, the music of that moment — an aural tribute to a person, an idea, a theme.
Following his example, I wrote the song titles in a random process, without foreseeing or organizing the results. At the end of the residency, I recorded these music boxes/titles and later edited them into the various pieces, trying to use them differently each time — placing them temporally and spatially in ways that felt richest to me.

CLANDESTINS

At one point, Tom sent me a list of people who might be interested and/or interesting for our “work.” Among poets, publishers, and friends, there were also about fifteen musicians.
Many years later, whether I knew them or not, I invited everyone I could reach to contribute a sound signature — a musical gesture to add to the recording — a gesture of friendship and presence.
I always like to bring the distant closer, to include “other” voices that modify, surprise, and change perspective. I did the same with Gabriele, Gianmaria, and Paolo, three musicians who were part of the ensemble at different times.
Some interventions last only a few seconds; others are longer. I called these presences Clandestins and added them, along with the music boxes, during editing and before mixing.

CARLA KIHLSTEDT

It took me a long time to find someone who could sing the songs I had written based on Tom’s lyrics. The waiting and patience paid off beyond all expectations.
I cannot imagine these songs being sung by anyone other than Carla.

PIPELINE

Following oblique associations, I connect the term pipeline to the Japanese idiom ishin-denshin: “what the mind thinks, the heart transmits” — that is, silent understanding and nonverbal communication.
Pipeline is a mobile and heterogeneous group dedicated to musical discovery, bringing together artists from different generations who work across diverse artistic and musical worlds — jazz, classical music, radical improvisation, rock, noise, experimental ambient, electronic music, and poetry.
Pipeline is an ensemble, but it is also a project of coexistence and acceptance — one that carries a social and political meaning, as it calls on its members to put into practice their desire for community and mutual understanding.

“Many people might say, on reading these pages, that we are only able to laugh. They do not know the power of laughter, or the promise of escape it holds.” (Tom Raworth, letter to Hans Arp)