Winter Solstice has long been inspiration for some of the most amazing music; certain (ahem.) commercial labels have made entire series and millions of dollars on it.
Here at Stillstream, we’re fortunate enough to have a pantheon of musicians who are grandly inspired by the season to create some of the most stunning ambient music available, and make it available via Creative Commons. Windham who?
Today’s program will feature a brand new release from Altus, called Orion–part of his seasonally inspired Sidereal Cycles series. In addition we’ll hear from usr/sbin–who these days knows from snow, having just moved to Alaska! Lots of other great sounds as well, so please come join us for Winter Solstice.
1. - 2008 (6:29)
Fellirium is the project of Andrey Vasilyev, a music composer and sound producer from Moscow, Russian Federation. Although he has stopped producing under this moniker, the project comprises some really great works in the field of experimental, ambient and other forms.
For more music, information and news, visit: fellirium.com
2. Altus – “Orion” - The Sidereal Cycle 3 – 2012 (55:28)
Brand new this week, Free Floating Records. Altus is without doubt one of the masters of the ambient genre, and very generously releases very nearly all of his work under Creative Commons.
Brad Ross McLeod, the brains behind the Free Floating Music netlabel, has this to say about the latest from Altus:
“…there is something about winter that brings out the best in Mike’s compositional and performance abilities…
“This release ranks among his best and I think is probably his greatest long-form work. It is probably, as he mentioned to me, his most ‘ambient’ work in that it is more minimal than some of his orchestrally inspired pieces. I think it’s true. There is such a beautiful and delicate simplicity that he captures here.
“It is a gorgeous wintery landscape that he has captured in sound for all of us to enjoy.”
The Sidereal Cycle is a four-part suite of long-form ambient works created by Altus to reflect the earth’s annual cycles as we make our way around the sun each year.
Each release is set to coincide with the Solstices and Equinoxes, beginning with the summer solstice of 2012. The title of each track pays homage to dominant constellations in the northern sky during each of the seasons.
You can find more of Altus’ music at http://altusmusic.ca
Winter Solstice, Camelot Station
by John M. Ford
Camelot is served
By a sixteen-track stub terminal done in High Gothick Style,
The tracks covered by a single great barrel-vaulted glass roof framed upon iron,
At once looking back to the Romans and ahead to the Brunels.
Beneath its rotunda, just to the left of the ticket windows,
Is a mosaic floor depicting the Round Table
(Where all knights, regardless of their station of origin
Or class of accommodation, are equal),
And around it murals of knightly deeds in action
(Slaying dragons, righting wrongs, rescuing maidens tied to the tracks).
It is the only terminal, other than Gare d’Avalon in Paris,
To be hung with original tapestries,
And its lavatories rival those at the Great Gate of Kiev Central.
During a peak season such as this, some eighty trains a day pass through,
Five times the frequency at the old Londinium Terminus,
Ten times the number the Druid towermen knew.
(The Official Court Christmas Card this year displays
A crisp black-and-white Charles Clegg photograph from the King’s own collection.
Showing a woad-blued hogger at the throttle of “Old XCVII,”
The Fast Mail overnight to Eboracum. Those were the days.)
The first of a line of wagons have arrived,
Spilling footmen and pages in Court livery,
And old thick Kay, stepping down from his Range Rover,
Tricked out in a bush coat from Swaine, Adeney, Brigg,
Leaning on his shooting stick as he marshalls his company,
Instructing the youngest how to behave in the station,
To help mature women that they may encounter,
Report pickpockets, gather up litter,
And of course no true Knight of the Table Round (even in training)
Would do a station porter out of Christmas tips.
He checks his list of arrival times, then his watch
(A moon-phase Breguet, gift from Merlin):
The seneschal is a practical man, who knows trains do run late,
And a stolid one, who sees no reason to be glad about it.
He dispatches pages to posts at the tracks,
Doling out pennies for platform tickets,
Then walks past the station buffet with a dyspeptic snort,
Goes into the bar, checks the time again, orders a pint.
The patrons half turn–it’s the fella from Camelot, innit?
And Kay chuckles soft to himself, and the Court buys a round.
He’s barely halfway when a page tumbles in,
Seems the knights are arriving, on time after all,
So he tips the glass back (people stare as he guzzles),
Then plonks it down hard with five quid for the barman,
And strides for the doorway (half Falstaff, half Hotspur)
To summon his liveried army of lads.
Bors arrives behind steam, riding the cab of a heavy Mikado.
He shakes the driver’s hand, swings down from the footplate,
And is like a locomotive himself, his breath clouding white,
Dark oil sheen on his black iron mail,
Sword on his hip swinging like siderods at speed.
He stamps back to the baggage car, slams mailed fist on steel door
With a clang like jousters colliding.
The handler opens up and goes to rouse another knight.
Old Pellinore has been dozing with his back against a crate,
A cubical, chain-bound thing with FRAGILE tags and air holes,
BEAST says the label, Questing, 1 the bill of lading.
The porters look doubtful but ease the thing down.
It grumbles. It shifts. Someone shouts, and they drop it.
It cracks like an egg. There is nothing within.
Elayne embraces Bors on the platform, a pelican on a rock,
Silently they watch as Pelly shifts the splinters,
Supposing aloud that Gutman and Cairo have swindled him.
A high-drivered engine in Northern Lines green
Draws in with a string of side-corridor coaches,
All honey-toned wood with stained glass on their windows.
Gareth steps down from a compartment, then Gaheris and Aggravaine,
All warmly tucked up in Orkney sweaters;
Gawaine comes after in Shetland tweed.
Their Gladstones and steamers are neatly arranged,
With never a worry–their Mum does the packing.
A redcap brings forth a curious bundle, a rude shape in red paper–
The boys did that one themselves, you see, and how does one wrap a unicorn’s head?
They bustle down the platform, past a chap all in green.
He hasn’t the look of a trainman, but only Gawaine turns to look at his eyes,
And sees written there Sir, I shall speak with you later.
Over on the first track, surrounded by reporters,
All glossy dark iron and brass-bound mystery,
The Direct-Orient Express, ferried in from Calais and Points East.
Palomides appears. Smelling of patchouli and Russian leather,
Dripping Soubranie ash on his astrakhan collar,
Worry darkening his dark face, though his damascene armor shows no tarnish,
He pushes past the press like a broad-hulled icebreaker.
Flashbulbs pop. Heads turn. There’s a woman in Chanel black,
A glint of diamonds, liquid movements, liquid eyes.
The newshawks converge, but suddenly there appears
A sharp young man in a crisp blue suit
From the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits,
That elegant, comfortable, decorous, close-mouthed firm;
He’s good at his job, and they get not so much as a snapshot.
Tomorrow’s editions will ask who she was, and whom with…
Now here’s a silver train, stainless steel, Vista-Domed,
White-lighted grails on the engine (running no extra sections)
The Logres Limited, extra fare, extra fine,
(Stops on signal at Carbonek to receive passengers only).
She glides to a Timkin-borne halt (even her grease is clean),
Galahad already on the steps, flashing that winning smile,
Breeze mussing his golden hair, but not his Armani tailoring,
Just the sort of man you’d want finding your chalice.
He signs an autograph, he strikes a pose.
Someone says, loudly, “Gal! Who serves the Grail?”
He looks–no one he knows–and there’s a silence,
A space in which he shifts like sun on water;
Look quick and you may see a different knight,
A knight who knows that meanings can be lies,
That things are done not knowing why they’re done,
That bearings fail, and stainless steel corrodes.
A whistle blows. Snow shifts on the glass shed roof. That knight is gone.
This one remaining tosses his briefcase to one of Kay’s pages,
And, golden, silken, careless, exits left.
Behind the carsheds, on the business-car track, alongside the private varnish
Of dukes and smallholders, Persian potentates and Cathay princes
(James J. Hill is here, invited to bid on a tunnel through the Pennines),
Waits a sleek car in royal blue, ex-B&O, its trucks and fittings chromed,
A black-gloved hand gripping its silver platform rail;
Mordred and his car are both upholstered in blue velvet and black leather.
He prefers to fly, but the weather was against it.
His DC-9, with its video system and Quotron and waterbed, sits grounded at Gatwick.
The premature lines in his face are a map of a hostile country,
The redness in his eyes a reminder that hollyberries are poison.
He goes inside to put on a look acceptable for Christmas Court;
As he slams the door it rattles like strafing jets.
Outside the Station proper, in the snow,
On a through track that’s used for milk and mail,
A wheezing saddle-tanker stops for breath;
A way-freight mixed, eight freight cars and caboose,
Two great ugly men on the back platform, talking with a third on the ballast.
One, the conductor, parcels out the last of the coffee;
They drink. A joke about grails. They laugh.
When it’s gone, the trainman pretends to kick the big hobo off,
But the farewell hug spoils the act.
Now two men stand on the dirty snow,
The conductor waves a lantern and the train grinds on.
The ugly men start walking, the new arrival behind,
Singing “Wenceslas” off-key till the other says stop.
There are two horses waiting for them. Rather plain horses,
Considering. The men mount up.
By the roundhouse they pause,
And look at the locos, the water, the sand, and the coal,
They look for a long time at the turntable,
Until the one who is King says “It all seemed so simple, once,”
And the best knight in the world says “It is. We make it hard.”
They ride on, toward Camelot by the service road.
The sun is winter-low. Kay’s caravan is rolling.
He may not run a railroad, but he runs a tight ship;
By the time they unload in the Camelot courtyard,
The wassail will be hot and the goose will be crackling,
Banners snapping from their towers, fir logs on the fire, drawbridge down,
And all that sackbut and psaltery stuff.
Blanchefleur is taking the children caroling tonight,
Percivale will lose to Merlin at chess,
The young knights will dally and the damsels dally back,
The old knights will play poker at a smaller Table Round.
And at the great glass station, motion goes on,
The extras, the milk trains, the varnish, the limiteds,
The Pindar of Wakefield, the Lady of the Lake,
The Broceliande Local, the Fast Flying Briton,
The nerves of the kingdom, the lines of exchange,
Running to a schedule as the world ought,
Ticking like a hot-fired hand-stoked heart,
The metal expression of the breaking of boundaries,
The boilers that turn raw fire into power,
The driving rods that put the power to use,
The turning wheels that make all places equal,
The knowledge that the train may stop but the line goes on;
The train may stop
But the line goes on.
3. - 2009 (28:48)
Moscow-based artist Alex Tiuniaev released Two Beautiful Days on the Earth Mantra netlabel in 2009. The album consists of two moderately long ambient pieces, 25 December, 1990 and On a Cold Day, the track we hear on today’s program. The former is dedicated to the peculiar Christmas day back in 1990 when Tim Berners-Lee implemented the first-ever communication between an HTTP client and server, thus inventing what we now call the World Wide Web. On a Cold Day, on the other hand, is a long journey through one cold winter day. Alex composed this piece when he lived in a small wooden house in a forest near Moscow. Both tracks are rich in detail and texture, showcasing Alex’s more experimental side as well as his sound design explorations.
4. - 2007 (20:45)
Japanese composer Juta Takahashi was born in Miyagi, Japan in 1959, and then spent his childhood through his teenage years in Aomori. While a teenager, he was introduced to and became strongly influenced by progressive rock and synthesizer music that was considered to be avant-garde at that time. He went to Tokyo for school, and that’s where his music career started.
Although he was originally a guitarist and played rock music along the lines of King Crimson, which valued improvisation, he gradually devoted himself to electronic music. He now lives in Sendai, Miyagi and produces music using synthesizers and computers as an independent musician. Most of his inspiration comes from electronic/ambient musicians such as Brian Eno, Harold Budd, Vangelis and Pete Namlook. Though his music is largely beautiful, calm, emotional and melodious, every so often we can hear a suggestion of the aggressive sounds of his original musical background. He prefers analog instruments to digital ones, and his music composition mainly consists not of programming but improvisation. His first commercial album was released in August, 2007, and he has since released nine more.
5. - 2009 (20:14)
Originally composed and recorded in 2006, Alex at first intended this music to be a “winter soundtrack, minimal and cold, but at the same time emotionally compelling and with a melancholic touch”. Despite his intent, for all the cold and icy sounds that are indeed present, the music is uplifting and somehow consoling to the spirit, quite the opposite of his original goal.
In composing this work, Alex was inspired by the work of Sigur Ros and their () album, as well as Cliff Martinez’s score to Soderberg’s Solaris – and, of course, by Eno’s 1970′s ambient masterworks. The result is a quiet twilight musical journey through a winter’s forest, with sights and sounds fading in and out as we pass by, a journey whose ultimate destination we can only guess at.
Find and like Alex on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Alex-Tiuniaev/80419859597
6. - 2009 (19:23)
Emerald Adrift is an ambient music project of David Herpich, a phenomenal musician who creates an astounding fusion of deep academic knowledge with absolutely incomparable taste and artistic vision. He is one of those rare individuals who feels the music intuitively, who can express unbridled passion in his compositions, and yet his music is more than technically challenging enough to satisfy any purist.
About this album, David wrote,
“The tracks are introspective. They are of epic length, but focused on the internal, and on interaction between individuals.
“There was no attempt at a genre. The music was not designed to be ambient or new age or classical. Instead, it was an intuitive mix of influences.”
You can find more of Emerald Adrift on Soundcloud, at https://soundcloud.com/emerald-adrift
7. usr/sbin – “Rubber and Steel v. Snow and Ice” – After the Road Closed – 2010 (32:28)
This track is from one of the Full Moon Lunacy Concert Series performances, After the Road Closed, one that really was about the coming of winter in Wyoming (which probably feels downright tropical in comparison to winters in Alaska, which Dennis now calls home). The was the penultimate performance in the Full Moon Lunacy Concert Series of 2010 (http://archive.org/details/Fmc11AfterTheRoadClosed).
usr/sbin is Dennis Moser, currently at the University of Alaska Fairbanks Rasmuson Library as Head of the Alaska and Polar Regions Collections & Archives. He is a musician (and usr/sbin is only one of several music projects), photographer and librarian/archivist, not always in that order and not always in that priority.
8. Cold Sun – “Antarctica” – Antarctica - 2003 (24:06)
Cold Sun is UK-based musician Simon Slator; the project lasted around two years, from 2001-2003, producing several albums including 6am, Antarctica, and Four Patterns.
9. Damien Olsen – “Sand and Snow” – Ambient Standards - 2006 (6:52)