4 very short tracks

by tom cesar wolf

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released April 12, 2016

Short songs (vst’s) written for the RPM Challenge 2016 - four ditties without choruses or elaborated chord progression. Their extreme brevity inspired by the ‘short short stories’ literature of Lydia Davis and A.L. Snijders. Fluctuation in sound by design.

Poems written while reading and re-reading - memories of the future - Kafka’s ’Before the Law’, Chris Marker’s essay-films ‘La Jetée’ and ‘Sans Soleil’ and W.G. Sebald’s ‘Vertigo’. And although relevant, I don’t have the stomach for watching Pasolini’s Salo.

‘A little further on, the children inside the primary school were singing, the most appealing sounds coming from those who could not quite manage to hit the right notes.'

'Het mooist zongen degenen die er niet goed in slaagden de lijn van de melodie vast te houden.'

W.G. Sebald - Vertigo

music, words and mono recordings by tom cesar wolf
thanks to jan chantrain for printing on old magnetic tape.
pixivisor-photography by tom cesar wolf




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tom cesar wolf Ghent, Belgium

Folksongs, very short tracks, griffonage. The occasional bazár.

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Track Name: Orpheus (ripped to shreds at dawn)
Cesar Wolf’s throwing a party for the soldiers in his house. To fend off fines, he throws a party much to the mercenaries’ delight. That’s when – like Lucifer came falling from his throne – he comes wobbling down the stairs. One man – mercy taken from his hands – drags him deeper in debt. In fact, it’s Cesar Wolf who’s told me, falling back on wilful songs, it doesn’t help – that’s what he told me: most wilful songs still get it wrong. Remember – privileged though, Orpheus walked the road – how Orpheus drifted on. How in an orgy – raging women, sticks and stones – he was ripped to shreds at dawn. No, I won’t put up the good fight with a soldier or his faith. We’re all poets and told to be quiet if we’re not to rue the day.
Track Name: The apparatus of joy
The apparatus of joy. They sent out reference books and caretakers and escorts. And at the gate endlessly a raving poet garbles travelogs. One guard to the entrance stands tall, at the gate before the law where the raving poet spends it all. ‘Don’t think you’ve failed. Left things undone, you desperate rhymer, I’m glad to take it all’. The apparatus of joy. Make way into a place with caretakers and escorts.
Track Name: Four dromedaries killed
At first, we are a puzzle to one another. But then again, one truly never knows. The farthest place is right down the hallway. That’s why we don’t meet outside my door. Nothing’s easy, you get bored on the nighttrain. And for that money, a split second in distress. When you write about the war - four dromedaries killed - you always ask 'Is home really where you want to be?'
Track Name: Lot's wife
Waking. Does she know that voice? Knows his face? If she falls behind, does a river or will time break down? Asking about the scraps she holds, she is told, half of her is here while the other half is in the past. She knows. No memory without a flaw. Down in limbo. Wide awake.