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Miguel López de Legazpi
B. 1502 Zumárraga, Spain / D. 8.20.1572 Manila
Heart Failure

The chords go through you like a knife—or really more like a sterling silver cake slicer. Cake server, whatever: Thank you, Martha. You’re sliced into eight equal slices of grief and served raw on four plates to an aching void that can’t digest you. You will grow inside it like a pearl—your portioned grief, that is; evolving like a solar system looking for a sun
The goal of vocal music is to affect the human chest—it is in other words a kinesthetic medium. Or kinaesthetic; or proprioceptive, and apparently not even that: Sorry, Gurdjieff. To touch the heart as in cliché is just a fragmentary footnote to a battle for the source of life itself. The source itself: Lights, liver, all, illuminated in connection—by a mating call, actually; one human chest resounding in another’s
Other music is required because accomplished voices are so rare among us—at least in my opinion, which I admit is narrow. Nasal voices move me not at all: Attention, France! Okay for a setting but the music has to be Italian and the singer not from France; you may also keep the Russians. I’ve got a million of them—opinions, I mean; taking shape like waves beyond your reef
The saddest words in opera.

Consolation Site: Global Warbling

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