Thursday, January 31, 2008


Interesting sensation in an unheated train this morning amidst the hail and thunder, listening initially on my mp3 player to Lucy Winkett's talk 'Our sound is our wound' to find the next track was John Adams The Wound Dresser (the player is a bit cheap - still good but doesn't come with a lot of control over the play order)
I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand to dress wounds,
I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,
One turns to me his appealing eyes—poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you.

For me, it's a work that's very reminiscent of Britten's Owen Wingrave, not sure whether that's a consequence of both work's meditation on the consequences of war?

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