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personal scratch (1996)

by Fred Lonberg-Holm

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1.
2.
3.
pluck/swipe 04:07
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
whip / pop 01:44
9.
10.
for jimi 01:51
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
fast slip 02:07
16.

about

This recording was first released in 1996 on the now defunct "Eighth Day Music"
These are John Corbett's notes from the original release:
I close my eyes, and in front of the cello I see a small, mounting pile of sawdust. The bow grabs the strings, double stop. The rosin warms, heats up, melts. Friction as musical material. Cecil Taylor's cruel way of using bandmember antipathy to generate sparks. I recall the saying: “He rubs me the wrong way”. Friction as metaphor for interaction To play against the grain. To accept the peril of splinters, without growing callous. Roland Barthes:"..the only genuinely erotic part of a pianist's body, the pad of the fingers whose 'grain' is so rarely heard...” The coarse-grained texture of thought. Momentary flash to Xenakis's"Kottos" or Maarten van Regteren Altena's handicapped bass. Bow-crossed strings ring, sound the harmonic at the point where the hair meets metal. Standingwaves: I imagine the precariousness of the cello-all its calculations of strung force and counter-tension-suddenly, with a mere brush of the hand the instrument explodes. Pressure points conjugate energy. My eyes still closed, the cellist bends down and puts his fingers in the sawdust, then rubs them lengthwise up and down the lowest string. The powdered digits sound a slightly muted harmonic series, while the grating of the wound steel lurks like a growling dog. Scratch beneath. Rubbing my hands together, I hear a small symphony there. Right in the palm of the hands. Listening to the cellist, I hear it amplified a thousand times. The sticky, the smooth. The cello's full landscape explored: simultaneous events at different locales. An outburst of plucks up the neck, meanwhile the bow continues to croak, heedless, down at the bridge. Scratch behind the ears. I have drifted off. As I awake, the cello has vanished. In front of the cellist, the pile of soft wood crests at his knees.
~ John Corbett, April, 1996

credits

released September 29, 2022

Recorded direct to DAT by Lou Mallozzi at Experimental Sound Studio, Chicago. Recorded on January 10 and February 6, 1996. All compositions (except 6 & 11) by FLH. 6 composed by Lewis Allen, arranged by FLH. 11 is a Civil War lament arranged by FLH. Executive producer: Adam Paul Vales. Illustrations and design concept: Danijel Zezeli, Cover layout: Rhonda Pelikan.
Thanks and greetings to Simrit, Fritzi, Karl, Ping, Nirmal, Ardyth, Gwen, Viola, Anthony (B &e C), Búnita,Morty, Gustavo, Al, Michael (A & Z),Adam, Leslie,Chuck, Eric, Mic, Rob, Ed, Kevin, Paul (M & H), Nina, Risa, Alain, Markus and even Orlando.

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Fred Lonberg-Holm Kingston, New York

Fred Lonberg-Holm is an improviser/composer living in the Hudson Valley of NY.

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