"Searching for the last tracks of life
along dusty prairie streams"
by Eterman (4:40)
This time some new-ageish folk music combined with slight synth pop.
There are various elements in this mixture, but all celtic influence I
must deny. Not only celtic folk music knows accordion.
Somehow this faint touch, this consept of "fantasy music", always
seems to remain in everything I compose; This time even more than I first
planned. (Who am I really cheating, though? As if I ever had any kind
of methodical planning in my mind what comes to composing music...)
.......................................................................
Mixed insights from various scenes. Old, dusky men studying the prairie
lands of North America. Trying to understand. Trying to find trails,
tracks - anything to give them clue.
There was just no indication to whatever had happened there: whatever
happened to that strange, great civilization, which only a while ago
dwelled and prospered.
Only dust and sand greeted them, for grass was sparse and rather brown
than green. They went along empty channels, hostile banks, but rarely
found any water. Still they walked on, knowing that the things they were
looking for would inevitably be found along those empty streams, where
once proud rivers had flown so free and lively. Now all life had
vanished, and still the mystery evaded them.
Answers they did not find, but only more questions. Faint were the clues
this barren land provided. Strange things they remarked: odd structures
and queer records. There were objects of great wonder, revealing
stories of prosper and delight. Yet little more could be made out from
them, and this desire for knowledge, which all of them rather surely
possessed, was not quenched.
Here they had yet another tale to bring back to the tribe. Another
mystery, that would live and change shape as time goes one. These bold
explorers had truly seen so much in those past two years of voyage.
Still, they realized, the things that were left uncovered, the things
they did not see, were so much greater.
However, these secrets time would reveal once. That, they told each
other, was certain, as it had happened so many times before with only a
scant assistance from the imagination a human mind could provide.
For time would always tell its stories. And those were always accurate
enough.
-Harri Kivisto
6.10.2001 eterman@writeme.com
Such a cool thing to notice that my inspiration still flourishes.
I haven't lost anything in spite of my military service. Somehow I manage
to surprise myself over and over again.
Surely I know this song is not perfect; there is no such thing as perfect
music. And even if there was, well, I'm no perfectionist. I just aim for
development. I really don't care that much whether perfection lies at
the end of the road, or not. All that counts is the movement.
And making this song here, this thought sometimes just came to my mind:
It doesn't have to be anything phenomenal all the time. I don't have to
think myself as a visionalist. I don't have to be a reformer. This time I
just made some music. The trick is not in creating something especial.
It's about finding it in your creation.
-But don't take me wrong here. I'm not trying to tell what music is, or
what it is not. I'm not trying to make a statement. These are only
thoughts considering my methods of composing, considering my music.
Analyzing music is a whole different concept.
