MOUNTAINS ARE MOUNTAINS
Sometimes it’s all about a journey. No, actually it’s always about a journey.
The journey, which is expected to be endless, or always full of motion has a different nature than we think it does. It is also about stopping. Stopping is an action. So one needs to be aware of time, for time is interestingly aligned with a secret combination that is the key to creation. And one has to put in his pockets many experiences, to become his friends, his tools, limbs to move and dough to shape.
Why are we talking about this? Our protagonist is going through a tough patch. He’s been working as a drummer for many years now, he writes music, records albums with his bands, collaborates with many acclaimed musicians, performs in this and that big festival , tours , but, how can one say… It’s a bit like everything is in a “loop”, and the loop is becoming deadlier everyday. He feels that he’s becoming an old version of himself, outdated maybe. It’s like you are getting old, and the old you becomes less appealing to the you who is still young, so it’s time to align the two.
So he quits his bands, quits his destructive friendships, leaves behind whatever is not genuine in his life. He travels, collects sounds from oceans, forests, cities, trains, water tanks, birds, winds, corridors, swamps, street musicians, kids, church bells, temples, alleyways and so many more. He uses samplers from eighties, old machines that are not even produced anymore, weird recording machines to obtain what he is searching for. The unplanned hissings, hums and rumbles that comes with any gear are more than welcome.
One day, he comes back home. He constructs a small universe by bringing all his instruments together. Gongs, aquadrums, a vibraphone, a steel drum, a prepared piano, a vintage harmonium which smells exactly like a vintage harmonium, log drums, kalimbas, as well as his self-made instruments made of old keys, soda caps, flower pots, bamboos, the most lousy-looking pedestal fan in the world, bicycle bells, straw brooms, old toys, garden hoses and Buddhist-prayer playing machines. He sits inside of his universe for hours and days and studies the sounds -to meet, to get acquainted with them.
Our protagonist explores “loops”. In time he develops the need to be alone and stay in a circular universe. There he concentrates on sounds and experiments to create a musical form where he can combine these collected sounds with performed ones – to attain a personal kind of harmony. It is also a search for ways to add character, colours, make sounds richer not by adding more elements, but expanding what’s already there. He makes many tracks, some of them fading through time, and others glittering. Eventually he has ten tracks in his hands to build mountains.
Berke Can Özcan, our beloved protagonist, presents the sound of ” many moments scattered all over a period of his time” on the planet. He’s still here, and hopefully there are many more moments to be experienced, so the sound is on and ever-changing.
It would be a blast if one could jump from one mountain peak to another. Still, maybe one can, if one closes his eyes and stays still. For long enough. Maybe then the mountains come to him, and they offer their summits just for him to accept.
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