“this is what we grasp”

Composed by Luke Martin

Luke Martin - electric guitar, field recordings

Noah Ophoven-Baldwin - cornet, field recordings

”closed to me forever closed to me (for Joanna Russ)”

Composed by Noah Ophoven-Baldwin

Luke Martin - no-input mixing board, electric guitar, field recordings

Noah Ophoven-Baldwin - cornet, field recordings

Minneapolis, USA, December 2023

Mixed: Luke Martin

Mastered: Hiroyuki Ura

These two pieces are duos written for each other in summer 2023. We were at a cabin in Cass Lake, Minnesota where Noah was living for the summer - Luke visiting for the weekend. We were finishing up the pieces - sitting at an old wooden dining table in the kitchen, handbooks to the side, bugspray, papers, a plate or two - and hoping to record that evening, by the river. Cicadas, birds, bugs, young wild rice, little fish, slow water, dusk.

This was the second time we have written duo pieces for each other, though playing tons together in the meantime. It is in these moments of writing pieces where thinking about the idea of a duo, and each other, and writing for each other, concentrates, fills with questions and spills into whatever is happening in our lives (or the other way around). We were reading, at the time, a Joanna Russ novel (Noah) and Simone Weil’s writings (Luke), each of which inspired, in part, the pieces - or helped us think about certain questions. Our last set of pieces together was titled “Aperture.” It seemed, a decision arrived at separately, that this set of pieces would have to do with the opposite - something closed, blocked, stymied, stalled, torn. An instance of the aperture eclipsed, the opening a closing. How does the duo, the conflicting ideas of its oneness and twoness, relate to this? What is the relation between aperture and its opposite, between one and the other, this and that, now and not-now? Weil says “when we have learned to hear the silence, this is what we grasp more distinctly.” Russ says “closed to me forever closed to me.”

We, fittingly, did not end up recording that evening. Luke dropped his ebow in the lake, the bugs were relentless, and we ended up being called back to the cabin—Another time! Noah brought out a chessboard and, dog curled up beside, we had a drink and played chess. 

这张专辑里收录的两首都是在2023年夏天我们为彼此创作的二重奏作品。那是在明尼苏达的卡萨莱克的一个小木屋，Noah那个夏天住在那里，Luke周末来看他。我们就在那写完了这些作品——坐在厨房的木头餐桌旁吧，手边放着书，还有杀虫剂，纸张，一两个盘子——我们希望在晚上在河边录音。会有蝉，鸟，虫子，新长出来的野米，小鱼，缓慢的流水，黄昏。

这是我们第二次为彼此创作二重奏作品。其间我们有过一堆演出。在写这些作品的时候我们思考着二重奏的理念，研究对方，并为对方进行写作。聚焦，提出问题，并蔓延到我们生活中发生的一切事情（反之亦然）。Noah 当时在读Joanna Russ的小说，Luke在读Simone Weil的写作，这些作品都在某种程度上为作曲带来了灵感，或者帮助我们思考确切的问题。我们的上一张二重奏专辑名为《孔径（光圈）》，似乎那是很分散的作品，而这一张则是相反的，是某种封闭/紧实/停滞/撕裂的东西。这是一个光圈遮蔽的实例，打开又关上。二重奏，其一体性和两面性的矛盾，与此有何关联？而光圈与光圈的对立面、一个与另一个、这个与那个、现在与非现在之间的关系又是什么？Weil说：“当我们学会聆听寂静时，我们就能更清晰地把握这一点”。Russ说 “对我封闭，永远对我封闭”。

不过，那个晚上我们没能录音。Luke的ebow掉在了湖里，虫子也在无情地骚扰我们，最终我们回到了小木屋里。Noah拿出棋盘，狗在旁边窝着，我们喝了一杯然后下棋。