Listening
to Jorge's UVA.MIX_351, a re-mix made up of various works of his
This is a clashing of two continents, a riding up of the tectonic plates over
each other one is precisely notated European new music, the other hot,
erupting extemporized even free jazz. Under the surface a sax
growls, a drum set caressed by brushes laps at the shore. Then out of nowhere
the instruments surge like a big turning up of the electricity supply
and the music goes over into a rabid mix of mood and detail. Behind the
jazz sounds' fizzle there is an inner world, a Viennese gloom that understreams
the bright, raucous rude sax - the horn as they say - and the prowling drumset.
This inter-tangle passes. Now I can only hear semitones, reaching out for the
shaky ladder of intonation. The music is starting to fade down, to loosen itself
from the listener's grasp. It quietens to become a wispy, smoky evening, something
only slipping through the speaker like a ghost. It is all in recession. There
is a retreat from us, the audience, leaving us wary of its stealth and its purpose.
Now at the end, the tape is defying the laws of musical endings. Without a wave
it has gone, the event is over, the music is out.
Sehn Fruon