wildernish

A speculative score In response to a series of carte de visites curated by Dr. Orla Fitzpatrick, originating from studios in the town of Drogheda, late 19th cetury.

Arrangements for the harp:
Tara Baoth Mooney
Sonic aesthetics and production:
Diarmuid MacDiarmada
Compostion and arrangements for harmonium, video editing and production:
Conor McMahon

SEE ALSO
The Book of Common Senses Vol.3

A dwelling for modular synths, harmonium and harmonica. Recorded live 23/09/2020.

I had to go back to the house that evening for my camera, even though I knew I’d miss the bus. I spent about a half hour photographing the sunlight captured in the grooves of these markings and within a month or so, these perspex panels were replaced.

Throughout Christmas 2020 I subsequently processed those images through filters and animated them to a live, improvised recording I had made with my friend Diarmuid shortly before.

Compostion and improvised arrangment and performance: Diarmuid MacDiarmada
Conor McMahon
Modular synths, live audio, audio fx, mixing and production:
Diarmuid MacDiarmada
Harmonium, harmonica Live audio, video concept, fx and production:
Conor McMahon

SEE ALSO
The Book of Common Senses Vol.3

Serendipity takes us into the woods the last true afternoon of summer, to end a season of grievious loss and to begin the winter of rememberances.

Compostion and improvised arrangment and performance:
Tara Baoth Mooney
Audio Fx, mixing and production:
Diarmuid Mac Diarmada
Live audio, video fx and production:
Conor McMahon

SEE ALSO
The Book of Common Senses Vol.3

A single 10 minute shot over a piano improvisation - also all in the one take. The words resolving the composition after observing a child anticipating a forthcoming flight, as we all prepared to board. A personal reflection on mortality at a time I was reconciling impending personal loss.

SEE ALSO
Film Freeway

I remembered after all this time, and suddenly - from out of nowhere. A cake which never got eaten. Will it be like this?

A 'last ever' thought - for when the time comes.

On bedside watch I photographed the cosmetic fantasies projected out at us from a wall-mounted TV. All the more skin-deep as they illuminated the fragile human reality in that hospital room.

Lie yourself down under nothing but sky. And for all those times you just don’t have the time - let yourself lie down. Let no-one stop you, not even you.

A walk along the canal, late on a dark winter evening. A swan - oblivious to the cold - dives to feed in the still waters, the white of its plumage devouring what little light there is in the night.

Less than a minute, almost gone.
I still thought about it after.
An actualised reflection upon every tiny existence.

Go lie in the grass
no-one can stop you.
Listen to the city close your eyes
rivers flow from your republic
wherever you lay yourself down.

Close your eyes
or keep them open if you want.
Go lie in the grass
no-one can move you along.

An epic for that caterpillar. And I wonder about the butterfly it may have become, fluttering about in the early autumn sun, still. Or maybe just eaten not long after by a bird or, crushed under foot where we found it.

From the time when the national anthem was broadcast last thing at night. I'd look at the waves and think, how anything human could ever claim to rule such a magnificent raging.

A woman all dressed in white, and - as waves of icy dust rise up all about us - a conversation about the cold sea. A dream of death but not a nightmare, because I knew I was'nt coming back.

SEE ALSO
Film Freeway

A fine bodhrán perfectly pitched, makes me feel as though I'm fused to the very rocks of this land. I play with knuckles alone in honour of the hands that built it, and the beast used for its skin.

SEE ALSO
Film Freeway

That evening I never really got round to switching on the lights. A friend suggests we sit under the full moon at the piano and leave our fingers just do the rest. Like nearly all improvisations I did’nt think much of it at first, but a listen back three years later and I hear resonances. Sound waves reverberating off strings, bouncing off walls, off the moon itself, and beyond to infinity, still reverberating today.

Originally released on the lp 'If I speak False' . From the cassette release - Selected Songs on thirtythree-45 (2018). Visuals by Conor McMahon. www.thirtythree-45.com

SEE ALSO
Film Freeway