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Re: re: Interesting...

>Date: Thu, 09 Mar 2000 13:47:07 -0800
>Subject: Re: Interesting...>
>Todd Madson wrote:
>> All I know is that in various musica situations time has seemed to
>> stand still and it feels like you're flying in a dream or something.
>> I've read that Fripp says once you experience that, you'll do almost
>> anything to get back to that.
>> Anyone experience this? ----

>Yup, both with and without drugs ;-) And you *can* plan and force it, it
>just takes time and dedication. This is called magick or mysticism, and
>there are many, many systems that train how to do it: Zen, Taoist
>Internal Alchemy, various forms of Yoga, Tai Chi, the Sacred Magic of
>Abramelin the Sage, etc.

I lost my first version of this reply, trying to read back on old entries,
in case I was covering old trodden ground,  then deleted w/ no save.  But I
still wanted to tell about my experience playing "Castor and Pollux" on the
original Harry Partch instruments.   --Mostly because, inspired by the 
response,  I'd like to add that I think it is the job of the composer to
make the music reach the state that is referred to here.   (It's not a job
that is often fulfilled, but the attempt should be made in earnest.)

While rehearsing Harry Partch's piece, I exprienced the feeling of having 
head "blown off".  The beheading happened so consistently that it was
 It was the combination of the repeated rhythms evolving and revolving  
the very carefully chosen microtones. The development in the piece created
profound dimension in the sound and created a gravity-free zone in the 

(plus, the conscious mind was kept so busy being fooled by accepting/tuning
out the repeated rhythms :the jackhammer effect:  and perceiving/staring
unbelievingly at the weird  ..almost recognizable.. pitches put in
expected/unexpected order- - (approx.)three strings for each pitch going up
up up -Down- Down- up up up up etc in one fluid stroke (the Kithara and
Surrogate Kithara, and as one musical gesture on the diamond marimba) so
Space and Time were indeed an altered perception since the conscious mind
was directed right past what the music was actually doing. It would have to
continually backtrack if it wanted to do its analytical thing.  By then the
music had moved on and there goes the old "timekeeper and yardstick 
running the wrong way. Instead, it just sort of does a slow backstroke. 
Meanwhile the rest of the mind and body are totally getting it, startled 
wooed by the pounding ostinato-type rhythms, grooving in the ecstatic way 
the phat beats made on these huge and tiny pieces of wood tuned to
"other-dimensional" pitches (poli-topal pitches? borrowing from 
The pitches are minute enough and the rhythms agreeable enough that there 
a constant slight of hand done on the conscious mind.  Like the pitches 
a quick turn just before the conscious mind can lable them...

  (What was that T.S. Eliot quote about the qualities of a great poem...? 
  That a great piece of art must act as a theif in the night, feeding 
  the watchdog first (the consious mind) before entering the house to 
  grab the jewels within.)

Anyway, its dazzling and you feel like your neck is a plate of oil, your
head floating on it, effortless and expanded.   
Its as though all  the resistance is removed in the air and from then on,
its pure conduction.   I call it a "spark gap".

Meditation instructors refer to the "spark" when people encounter an 
enlightened being  --groundlessness?  (undoubtedly others would know more, 
so I tread lightly here.)  I think its a similar phenomenon, microrhythms,
frequencies, etc.

Surely the ancient rhythms relate to our dna. I've spoken to health
professionals who routinely use ancient rhythms to pinpoint neurological 
stimuli that release endorphins in their patients.   And it is known,
through bloodtests before and after the experience, that endorphins are
through meditation, similar to the experience of long-distance running.  
Playing music that can "go in" past the conscious mind must be like that.
No wonder it feels so homey and great, its taking a shower in our own dna. 

                                 Christine Bard

      Whoever controls the media - the images - controls the culture.  
      - Allen Ginsberg, 1926-1997