It's been exactly 1 month since I last blogged. Many things have happened, which in normal circumstances should have made me happy, but am still having doubts about those changes in my music. I even have doubts in doing something so easy, such as "cutting and pasting" my music to make my Dance Remix no.1, to be performed in Meloritmos Festival in Palencia, next July. That involves "revisiting" my old pieces, and though the task is just reworking them for a new instrumentation, I can't help doubting my previous works.
I am this kind of composer which one normally can call "prolific", and many times I do set aside the issue of "repeating oneself", since I see that all composers of the past did repeat themselves anyway. And all this change in my music is not my intention. It just happened. Just like when you reach puberty, you know what I mean ?
Anyway, am totally immersed in Pramoedya Ananta Toer's "Mangir" these days. I can identify my musical language with his "colour", somehow. Can't help admiring him more and more.
Well, I AM repeating myself about "change". What a bore, eh? I guess this is my speciality, trying to say something new with the same old words.
So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years—
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l'entre deux guerres
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. (TS Eliot, Four Quartets)
Now, just change "words" into "notes" and you'll know what I am going through ...
