sounds  like  tree

On September 13, 2012, while hiking in Tilden Park, I came upon a bunch of thistles that had just released thousands of fluffy, white seeds. They were covering the ground, clinging to the plants and being whisked away by the wind. It was an enchanting scene – like the forest after a fresh snowfall. I took a bunch of pictures. I thought about how many people would watch one of these seeds drift by and all the children that would run after one hoping to catch, make a wish, and release it again. Here I had found a nest of wishes.

Walking onward and ruminating, I had a thought: I’m like that nest of wishes. My computer’s hard drive has so many musical ideas lying around – each of them the seed of an experience with its own intentions to grow further – not yet knowing its relationship to the world, not yet seeing the landscape where it will root itself and find deeper meaning. I fuss over them, trying to figure out how they fit into some bigger context – a project, a record, a live performance. So often, I get bogged down in this process, failing to understand how it all fits together, unable to foresee how each wild, new lifeform will find its place in the world. Yet… how effortless is this process here: these seeds just fall, then the wind takes them. Nothing is foreseen.

So, I’m going to release some of these seeds. One at a time. I’ll free them, and in the process maybe I’ll free myself a little. I’ll just let each piece be itself – however raw or polished. I’ll exempt everything from “finishedness.” No version is final. Everything is evolving, part of a conversation, capable of being viewed from various angles at different times. These are snapshots of musics and the world between the musics. Each one is free to have its own journey and establish its own relationships over time. Let go, not held back only to be forced into some possibly commercially convenient yet artistically arbitrary collection.


Nest Of Wishes #1: Seedfall

This first installment, Seedfall, is a conjuring of that realm of possible musics – the in-between-seeds space.  Within its 4 1/2 minutes are a few dozen references to older works and foreshadowings of compositions yet to be released.  We float between the musics, timelessly suspended, experiencing past and future intermingled.  My hope is that the listener experiences some of the wonder with which I behold this simple, natural process.



© 2012 Eric Oberthaler