Piano Spheres: Charlemagne Palestine - Strumming Music
You can listen to a chord. Standing inside one is a different arrangement altogether, and Palestine has spent fifty years chasing the second thing: sitting at a piano, holding two notes down and rocking between them until overtones begin arriving on their own, unplayed, as though the instrument has started answering back. He refuses to call it a composition, preferring to describe it as a liquid sound continuum, and he has never delivered the same version twice across hundreds of attempts since the early 1970s. He tends to arrive surrounded by his stuffed animals, which he treats as collaborators and arranges across the piano before touching a key. This is a rare Los Angeles appearance, in a room small enough that the harmonics have nowhere to go except through you. Admission costs nothing, though tickets are required and capped at two per person, and holders need to be seated half an hour early. Wednesday October 7 at the Brick's temporary annex, 619 N Western Ave, doors at 7:30.
You can listen to a chord. Standing inside one is a different arrangement altogether, and Palestine has spent fifty years chasing the second thing: sitting at a piano, holding two notes down and rocking between them until overtones begin arriving on their own, unplayed, as though the instrument has started answering back. He refuses to call it a composition, preferring to describe it as a liquid sound continuum, and he has never delivered the same version twice across hundreds of attempts since the early 1970s. He tends to arrive surrounded by his stuffed animals, which he treats as collaborators and arranges across the piano before touching a key. This is a rare Los Angeles appearance, in a room small enough that the harmonics have nowhere to go except through you. Admission costs nothing, though tickets are required and capped at two per person, and holders need to be seated half an hour early. Wednesday October 7 at the Brick's temporary annex, 619 N Western Ave, doors at 7:30.
You can listen to a chord. Standing inside one is a different arrangement altogether, and Palestine has spent fifty years chasing the second thing: sitting at a piano, holding two notes down and rocking between them until overtones begin arriving on their own, unplayed, as though the instrument has started answering back. He refuses to call it a composition, preferring to describe it as a liquid sound continuum, and he has never delivered the same version twice across hundreds of attempts since the early 1970s. He tends to arrive surrounded by his stuffed animals, which he treats as collaborators and arranges across the piano before touching a key. This is a rare Los Angeles appearance, in a room small enough that the harmonics have nowhere to go except through you. Admission costs nothing, though tickets are required and capped at two per person, and holders need to be seated half an hour early. Wednesday October 7 at the Brick's temporary annex, 619 N Western Ave, doors at 7:30.