Elizaveta Ephemeris

good things come to those to work

Recently the time gallops by at an incredible speed. I used to be able to put things off and say: oh, I'll do it when....*insert something here*. But now, a day goes by, another one and suddenly a whole week is gone. I am done with my local musical residency and it was a success. It was also sold out throughout the month. And - I got to experiment with my looping station + micro Korg - and I'll be taking them to NYC to perform next month.

July 20th is the iTunes Live Session release concert in NYC! And July 26th in Los Angeles, here at the Witzend. We are going to try and make the Los Angeles concert a web event, too.

We are putting together some video clips from the residency to post online/YouTube, the website is coming together, the Beatrix story, as well, and more things are in store.

I am feeling accomplished. 

I am going to be playing a lot more guitar live and off-stage, as well, in the coming weeks. It's making my shoulder ache, but it's definitely worth it. Something happens when I sing and play guitar - my vocal style changes, and almost dramatically so. Who knows why - but it's a good thing. Tech-wise, I am also starting to incorporate beats into my live set - it's exciting! Courtesy of the Maschine made by Native Instruments.

This is a picture taken at the last live show, as I was looping vocals, the keyboard and the lovely Korg.

I have also been writing up a storm - writing some more for the Beatrix story, which is coming along nicely, and also some other stuff. Not poetry, but prose. Actually, you know, I think my temperament is more suited to a life of a writer... Get up early in the morning... a nice cup of coffee - write - do something physical - write some more - I enjoy watching the words take shape on a screen.

 

When I was seven or so, growing up in Moscow, my favorite thing was my mom's ancient typewriter. It was not working very well, and the ribbon had been changed a few times, one of which being a time when there must have been no black ink tape available. Enter the red ink tape - and then, taken back to the black ink tape normality, the typewriter produced the most fabulous  half red-half black letters. It was perfect for writing terrific and world-changing novels.

I never got past the first two chapters, but if I recall correctly many of these were sci fi stories that had to do with spaceships and distant planets. Others were adventure stories, where the heroine grew up in an affluent household, dressed up as a boy and ran away to join a pirate ship.

I could also see myself as a librarian.. somewhere in a distant Alexandrian city, watching over a library full of extremely powerful and rare texts on magic, science, alchemy and star-gazing. At nighttime, I would change into fabulous clothes, sing at the opera and have secret and dangerous assignations, dealing with state secrets and such. Obviously I would wear a dagger.

I kind of look like a librarian here, don't I?

I could be a Swashbuckling Opera Librarian.

 

summer is here

The acoustic release of the iTunes Live session (videos and audio) I did with string section will be out next month - July 17, 2012, to be precise. I will be in New York then, and do a very special release show July 20th, at Rockwood (main stage).

I have been working hard and trying not to lose my mind, but it's not always easy. The road walked between art and normal life is particularly thorny sometimes. Ah, but here is the trick, if only I was always this wise:

 

Fortunately I have been performing, and that always helps. I have also been getting into live looping and other interesting things, and having a weekly opportunity to experiment has been a huge blessing.

Tomorrow night is the last night of the residency, and I'll have some kids joining me on stage to sing Dreamer (yes, from that same choir that covered it at their recital).

 We are almost done digitizing the Beatrix story picture map - found within the record's physical packaging - launching soon with all the new content within the brand new site. We made it interactive so it's easy to follow the adventure, and also add your own bits and pieces down the line.

Attends! Attends..

Here is the complete demo of the French cover I have done recently, Ma Préférence by Julien Clerc. I wouldn't say that his style of music is very close to mine, but this is a brilliant song and I intend to make it part of my performing repertoire - I love the harmonic changes and the message. I am also translating it into English and Russian.

I added an intro from a classic French film (can you guess which one?) Hint: Gerard Depardieu is in it. Although, fair to say he is in almost EVERY French film of the recent 40 years. That man gets around.  

 

 

Here is the translation, as promised. This is a very literal one because I didn't try to write something here that would be more poetic.. yet.. as in real lyrics, so it doesn't flow well at all, but it is good enough to get an idea. The actual translated lyrics, as I hear them in my head, would carry the message across, but would not be the same words...

I love this song and its basic concept that sometimes, contrary to popular thought, others do not necessarily see better or are able to judge more accurately when it comes to our own lives and who we want in them. Sometimes it's best to withhold judgment, because there may be something there we do not see or would not value for ourselves, and yet it is everything to another person.

The original of the song is about her. When I did the cover, I switched it to him, and I think it makes it almost even more poignant.

 

 

I know that you don't approve of him

and his way of showing that he belongs to me

you fall silent around us

and yet, I choose him

 

Yes, I know - this air of indifference that's his defence

It often offends you

But when we are surrounded by my friends made of porcelain

I know where his failure lies.

Yes I know - you don't believe that I can be faithful to him

and you are already speaking of him in past tense

But he really is what I want.

 

You should believe me when I say

that I am the only one who can tell when he is cold

he only has eyes for me

and incidentally, he loves my uncertainty

while I love his solitude.

 

I know that you don't approve of him

and his way of showing that he belongs to me

you fall silent around us

and yet - he is my lucky charm

I choose him.

He is what I want.

 

 

 

 

I have been performing. Writing. Pondering. Practicing Flower Alchemy.

The digital map of the Beatrix Runs story is coming along nicely, as is the new site.

To stave off anxiety, I have been reading more poetry and working on songs which require a lot of vocals. I find that curiously calming.

Sometimes poetry is ornate like a piece of baroque furniture.

But sometimes it is simple without being simple. It is almost like code. There are some poems that seem to speak to the mind behind my over-active mind. They hypnotize/slow me down and I manage to zoom out from the immediate drama that my brain is chewing over and over.

The one below is from a poet I don't know well - in fact I found him surfing the internet, only to realize to my shame that he was one of the key authors of the 20th century.

Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour

Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.

This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:

Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.

Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.

Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one...
How high that highest candle lights the dark.

Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.

Wallace Stevens