Sander Roscoe Wolff

I have three new pix taken today in my front yard.

Fresias:

and teeny tiny succulant flowers:

I’m working on a documentary about a friend who is an artist. Amongst the many things she does, she’s been given a fellowship at a local art center where they have a rather extensive printmaking studio. She’s been working there for months, making prints from cardboard packaging, paper bags, etc. In the process of filming her there, I noticed that the space had an interesting acoustical environment, and that many of the machines and other equipment could make interesting sounds. I went there a few weeks back and recorded a whole bunch of different sounds, took them home, chopped them into small segments, and created a piece of music from them.

This is just a rough draft, sort of playing with the various elements, just to get a feel for them. This is, by no means, a final product.

Also, it may be helpful to know that, aside from the parsing of the various sounds, and some basic effects like reverb and delay, the original source sounds have been unaltered.

The tune starts with a metal drawer closing. The ‘kick drum’ sound is a silk screen. There are sounds from springs, a metal sink, a drying rack, an ink roller, etc.

Here’s the link

Please feel free to let me know what you think!

Ain Soph Aur (A Live Video Excerpt)

Before the gig:

During my many years as a musician, I’ve performed in a variety of contexts. In 6th grade, for example, I sang a solo in Hebrew as part of The Chitchester Psalms, a piece for chorus and organ, written by Leonard Bernstein. In rehearsals, the feeling of singing with so many voices was thrilling and euphoric. I felt myself open up in a way I’d never experienced before.

The night of the performance, I was filled with confidence. I remember walking out onto the stage in my new electric blue wide-wale corduroy pants, feeling the enthusiasm and support of the musicians behind me. The choir director remembered that the translated words were in the program and asked that the house lights be brought up so the audience could read along.

All of a sudden, hundreds of people emerged from the darkness and, much to my surprise, they were staring at me. In an instant, all that joy and confidence evaporated and, in its place, arose a new feeling: Terror. The music began, and I felt a bit heartened but, as my moment to sing approached, my body felt like it was going to split in two.

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As I continue to sift through the remnants of my past, I occasionally find a gem amongst the detritus. Here’s an example:

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Some time ago I acquired a hand-made custom bowed psaltery. Recently, I recorded

with it. The tracks were recorded in Cubase SX3, and all the processing was done on the computer. I recorded the psaltery part first then, using an old Brian Eno trick, reversed the track so that it was playing backward, and recorded delay with it. The original track, with the delay, were then both re-reversed so that the original track is now playing forward, but the delay is reversed, fading in rather than fading out. All this was then run through the same delay so it has delay coming and going. I then added the two guitar parts.

by Sander Roscoe Wolff

Once upon a time there was a young woman who didn’t know what to do with herself. She tried many things to pass the time, but nothing seemed to hold her interest for very long.

She learned to dance and was quite good, but all that twirling and jumping about seemed rather silly. She found a singing teacher who helped to develop her voice, and she was wonderful. Children, old people and even animals would pause from their daily labours to listen to her sing. Singing, though, didn’t interest her because all the songs were old and talked about things she didn’t understand.

Continuing her quest to pass the time, she found a master painter who taught her all the subtleties of his craft, from pencil, pen and ink and water colours to the rich hues of the oils. She learned how to stretch canvas, build frames, even mix her own colours, but after a while she tired of painting fruit and trees, so she abandoned painting.

Then, one autumn, a poet came to her village. She couldn’t say if he was young or old because, although he had a youthful countenance, his face seemed weathered with experience. His eyes were a clear blue and they seemed to catch and reflect the light in strange ways. His light brown hair was streaked blond from the sun, and his well made clothes were just slightly worn. His voice was rich and deep, but with a soft tenderness that made all who heard it draw near. She was especially fascinated by his hands, which, while rough in appearance, were as soft as calf skin.

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As usual, I’m obsessively taking pictures of flowers.

Here are some of the results from today’s venture:

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A special request from an LBC Ex-Patriot:

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Here are some more photographs of flowers, all taken today.

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This recipe is the BOMB! It is 1) Super Easy, 2) Pretty much FOOLPROOF, 3) Delicious, and 4) Always a Smash Hit.

The hardest part is grating the cheese.

A friend spent days preparing a perfect “Martha Stuart” thanksgiving feast, with fresh and handmade EVERYTHING. I brought the Corn Pudding, and that’s the only thing people talked about. (I felt terrible, btw.)

Also, this recipe begs to be doubled, tripled, quadrupled, etc. In fact, I buy one of the cheap LARGE rectangular foil roasting pans and make enough to fill it. (that’s 8 times this version, I think)

So, without further ado:

1 can creamed corn
1 cup corn muffin mix
1 cup milk
2 eggs
½ lb chedder cheese
2 sm cans chopped green chilis

grease pan
cook 40-50 min
@ 425