Jail, house of pleasure, complex machine interaction, micro-organic farm, receptacle of the spirits, embodiment of mysterious beings, the body, the corpse (as a corps) is our first point of reference in relation & mediation towards this world. In these relations we find all those beings, we are every part of ourselves, we are joy and suffering, we are the micro-life that “grouille/fourmille” in us, we are the shouting, singing, corporeal complaining, breathing, movement and rhythms of the heart. We are the input and output of innumerable sensations and relationships to our surrounding micro-activities. Welcoming and ingesting food, liquids, drugs, smells, sounds, vibrations, gases, electromagnetic emissions, speech and moreover languages in general. We emit our dejections, ideas and thoughts, smells, sounds, heat and our embelished beings. All of this an incarnate beautiful, strong, delicate and violent explosionsof inter-relational politics between the body and our world.
With SONICorpse is an exploration of the body through sound, we ask artist to address, extend and interrogate the questions of:
How we see the body?
How we live it?
How sound translates the intimate and under perceived sensations of the self?
Can new insights and understandings appear from a sonic investigation of the body?
Ipswich. Buffer dropout. X said to me one night, “I’ll show you everything there is to know about street-life”. I looked up to him when I was younger. He was with Y. They had three kids called a, b, and c. M disappeared for a few months. Then he came back. He looked healthy. I cut my ties with of them not long after. Next time I saw M was on the front page of the paper. Three photos showed his disintegration. Heroin overdose. R and his followers drag me into a car at knife point. I was scared. M2 stole my Dad’s cards and ran away. Columbian drug trafficker now repenting his sins on YouTube. Illegal immigrant sending death threats. NSPCC were involved. Had to see CID. They knew everything that was happening. It was a drug’s den. Didn’t and couldn’t hang around there or with them. W was good. He tried to make me see, but I was too arrogant to listen, or more correctly, I just simply didn’t understand. Conversation repeats. Saw Y standing outside their place with short skirt waiting. I just drove by. Saw here in town with her mum. She smiled at me and I just stared back at her. BBC news. Y is murdered.
All tracks recorded live at The Surgery, South London. By Ryan Jordan 2010. no edits no mastering. PureData voice and dodgey cabels. Http://ryanjordan.org
also available as:
USB KEY – 15€ (included 3 released : JULIEN OTTAVI / RYAN JORDAN / PHILIPPE ROUX)
CDR – 10€ (Limited edition)