Notes on the series: PiaGnosis
Dedicated to Anthony Braxton
The CD by the same name only with little g (Piagnosis) is the first and title CD of the series; it doesn’t include other solo piano work also posted here and on Soundcloud, as my Pay2Play series (covers that I pay for a mechanical license to record copyrighted material), knowing no post-cost profits will necessarily accrue.
PiaGnosis is all me, no such tribute proffered--even when theft of intellectual property has in fact occurred.
Two main concepts in both series = Chinese literati (solo music, a là Glenn Gould: for my ears first, then flung out to the rest); and the decision whether and how and when to pay tribute as mine alone.
Liner notes for Piagnosis CD
See cross section of the three meninges lining the brain and spinal cord at en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meninges
III. Tender Mother (spontaneously improvised)
i. pia mater
a round (my brain) and core-dove (spine) re
clines a tender mother. She there su
Pine sheathes heir, where all my
junk resides...the bio of my vitae.
ii. spider mother
beyond (the lining she provides), a spy
(dura) mother weaves our web, where lives the liminal: strands of said junk sur
rounding ( ) holes ( ) of ( ) no ( ) such thing...:
iii. dura mater
Such a tough mother! finely, wombing
both the above in their berths a
round my selfstuff. All inner life tende
Red, all tangled webs woven to ensnare prey,
predators, self...all get their sweet comeuppance
from that one tough mother when she comes up from heirs with their faces for the world just under, just behind--not beyond my skull and scalp and hair--her.
iv. the Three Meninges
this trio of mothers--so named by ancient Mediterranean cosmophysiologists who
saw them as such--trinitize themselves in
t(w)o my Three Meninges. Pealed up art, a
trin I ty
would not be redeuced to a unity thus born;
a YouNut(tea) as much (as a trinity) would be torn.
They (each meninx) would die...I
(unshielded, unsheathed) would dIe.
II. Spider Woman
(improvised from copyrighted property: covers...but taken so far out that I rename and claim them as my originals. Guess their source, threaten or sue me,
and I’ll re
Verse my course.)
iii. Piameter Dolorosa
a soft sorrow? but it sounds so undolorously
happy-light. (?) Well...if one softens the
tragic, does it not thus lean to joy?
ii. WebMaster Weave In
the trinister trick’s stir...: logos, ratio, maya... liminal living, half spirit/matter: morpho
genetic field embroidery: Swiss chi’s...
and the silence is in music, per Cage and Miles, and his twin nemesIs Ms. Monk...: Rag
time to know Time...(should be hard time
tune [o!] time)...raga’s in the middle...
i. Durametrically Apposed
...until it’s just all in, potentia actude.
Tough mama’s no different in kind than
sisters pia and spider; her hardness just
willed itself so, wild and wily, to protect
those two as much as they, with her, Pro
Tech’d my brain, spine, CNS. (A thing is per
FeckTED, Sabbath-ready, when its creator is
sick of working on it.)
is automanic, the place where Toy’ll
cease Is; inTent, strategy, planning,
scheming all cease--the dura part in
Formed by the pia and the spider parts un
Harden in ménAge à throis...
And here is where I salute my dedicatee, Anthony Braxton:
My payback seemed that of a writer, serving your life and work; but hear is more: my music took in your influence, and moved it from the horn blown like you to the keys boarded like me. You did what need not be done by me; I do on piano what...does.
I don’t know how your mind worked its way into my hands and central nervous system on this 10-fingered contraption, but I can feel and hear that it happened. So thanks!
ii. WillKey May
By this time, everything is out, literally (dura = ex); two tracks are covers, but so forgotten and untraceable that they are now mine, mine...MINE! two are originals, but so hard and fast that they are beyond me...objects as detached as covers are...
The Milky Way is what we call that; the WillKey May is what I call the same thing only with its dark matter and energy InClued(Dead)...
Animal lover? Anima lover? Any moll over?
I used to have molls...they mauled me out
of their/my 9 lives. But some femmes remain: daughters,
sisters...images. Memories...new girls born
and coming up, to grandfather well.
I love them for loving animals
like I wished the women I loved had loved me.
Well of course we must pay homage,
while pondering the fleshly annals of womanhood,
to the great Baroness of Monkery. Privilege
scorned so ethically with love, so
far beyond the Pale. I will say more about her
in my soontobereleased CDs of Monk’s music.
I. Chasin’ Jason
The best is last, and now we come to the heart of this abauriginal sonic art. My sister’s son, rock guitar god Not-Dead-Yet Jason Becker (re: the idea of a protective sheath of the CNS, and re: my dedication to Anthony Braxton, my book about whom was dedicated to Jason): like the first track on Angelizing Franya (Franyaphilia), this one spilled out of the depths of my real heart life and soul. Because, all arcane mind/wordplay aside, my fascination here with the physiology of brain and spinal cord is a visceral life-or-death concern, far beyond my little creative self...