germán díaz, lucía martínez
- 1. Vitari nequit melodiam
- 2. Ex quibus generatur motus
- 3. Cave canem
- 4. Tum sonitus
- 5. Aquis submersus
- 6. Festina, mox nox
- 7.Nocte in montibus
All themes are free improvisations except Vitari nequit melodiam, composed by Irene Aranda and Nocte in montibus, improvisation over 13 semanas, composition of Germán Díaz.
Irene Aranda: piano y extended piano
Germán Díaz: zanfona y caja de música
Lucía Martínez: zanfona and music box
Edited and mixed in September 2015 by Ferrán Conangla and Irene Aranda Studio FCM
Photographs and graphic design by Fernando Fuentes, in April 2016, for this new cloud of ephemeral productions, cloud 1013
Opposite me a window, almost as big as my eyes can reach. It leads me to the breadth of the horizon, majestic, of such abig country, sometimes broken, complex, rich, difficultto explain and to understand. You have to go through it, imbibe it and get to know, know so much.
Irene, Germán and Lucía,are three, but they are one, in that sense. Listening to "Tribus",so are we. We feel close to thembecause their sounds build bridges to our ears. They make usas one of them or we make them as oneof us, anywayit doesn't matter. The tribe is communion, understanding, company, sharing the sky above our heads, though it might only be when they intertwavetheir instruments together with the images they make us evoke, with oureyes closed,as we listen.
They lead us, they do...
Lead us to that indeterminate horizon, crowned by a blue and placid sky as the garden of Juán Ramón Jiménez. No, they are not the steeple bells that are tolling this afternoon, in this disjointed and thousandsof times patched land, but the tribes of three musicians who own much of the future of improvised music in our country.
I chew this music, I enjoy tirelessly, like the clay that climbs up my soles when I walk among orchards and forests. It tastes of Mediterranean, of Cantabrian and of Atlantic. It tastes ofgreen and ocher,of rain and sand, ofsuggestion and melody, of imagined Folk, then destroyed and reinvented. Just like melancholy, itgets inside between flesh and bone, into that microscopic space, almost nonexistent, in which the soulkeepswhat it wants to keep, though it may not understand it.
The sun is yet low, almost touching the ground, and the light that bathes the fields conveys a definite peace, the kind of peace coming always with the sunset, every day, when life is simple.
Being part of something, whatever one chooses. Finding our own truth in the reflection of the day and the sounds from others, when they are also ourown sounds.
Yahvé M. de la Cavada, 2016