There is the cremation fire. I watch the dogs fighting among themselves for a piece of arm or leg. Just in front, the pilgrims advance by hundreds on the ghats to dive into this opaque water. I advance with the others in the Ganga’s sacred liquid and my feet slide on the slimy stone. I try not to lose my balance with one arm, while the other holds a microphone to record the p...(展开全部) There is the cremation fire. I watch the dogs fighting among themselves for a piece of arm or leg. Just in front, the pilgrims advance by hundreds on the ghats to dive into this opaque water. I advance with the others in the Ganga’s sacred liquid and my feet slide on the slimy stone. I try not to lose my balance with one arm, while the other holds a microphone to record the prayer of the devotees. Some of them have travelled from the south to get here. Often on foot and as stowaways on trains, with their only baggage being an old rag. Their devotion is total. Everywhere loud speakers give orders. A crazy beggar eats his dahl on the floor in the middle of the temple. He talks to himself and I discreetly record him. I don’t understand anything that he says to me, but I love his low and grainy voice. The other night I got lost in the small unlit streets of Benares. I sit here, next to this silhouette sleeping on the side. It protects me from the packs of stray dogs who fight for their territories. The night belongs to the dogs. Every day, I have very striking dreams. This city makes me hallucinate. Some months of wandering in North India carried me through the sounds and ambiance in which the cities known as sacred such as Haridwar, Pushkar or even Benares (Varanasi) immersed me. The daily religious fervor of the population was tangible. A fortunate coincidence allowed me to be present at the moment of the Kumbh Mela, the religious gathering organized every twelve years. After pouring out of trains, hundreds of millions of devotees are packed together on the banks of the Ganga. The religious fervor becomes a collective, excessive and extreme fever. My travels continued in the Thar Desert to the border between India and Pakistan. “Loud speakers are at war between Allah and Shiva.” I am prohibited from going to Pakistan so I leave for Varanasi, considered one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world. Known as the “City of death”, the place doesn’t leave anyone unscathed. In view of everyone, the bodies are burned by the hundreds. The cremation ceremonies give rhythm to the days. Here smells and sounds of death, strangely, are part of life. Back in Montreal, I reimmerse myself in the sound recordings like one would in a travel journal. I listen and relive the experiences of these past scenes. The musical writing comes into being by itself, I just have to let the recorded sounds exist for them to suggest their musical development. The inspiration that I received from the sacred and intense experiences in India is so strong that I have the feeling of being at the service of a work that doesn’t completely belong to me.
0 有用 不在线🔇 2024-06-30 22:01:44 江苏
92.5恁好呢？
1 有用 simon 2020-02-27 14:05:43
我窒息了 太牛逼了
0 有用 不在线🔇 2024-06-30 22:01:44 江苏
92.5恁好呢？
1 有用 simon 2020-02-27 14:05:43
我窒息了 太牛逼了