Carlos: there is a way to both laughat and pay homage to the structure. Carlos fervently tries to embrace hisCock in hand. The feeling of discontentment intensifies. How would his sex read through the moog?
The moog transcription is a cosmetic one, first requiring a translation in meaning of the composer's role from one body to another. Inside the recording study, Carlos pokes at the buttoned, lit up boxes lining the walls: Is the framing of the older body already made to embrace that of the new? The inner physicality strangely resembles what he desires.
His German love, Johann Sebastian Bach, is revived from the dead through this moog. For his technical command, Carlos reveres the late conqueror of many instruments. Carlos is delighted! The parts all interlock harmonically when played together. Isolated, one part--say, that of the violinist--is independent in its rhythm from whatever the cellist has designed. There are wires all over the floor, so the machinist is hard into his element.
Bach's framework does not have many spaces for players to insert their own ornamentation. Carlos sees potential for a flourish here or there, out of reverence.
Today his Love's compositions are often played through orchestras much larger than his originals. Already, the structure of the concert hall is expanding.
Lightly, Carols pokes the dead into the moog from meticulous, obsessed strikes at the keyboard: love the loss and rediscovery of each phrase, love the surgery and the machine.
A powdered wig, now electric blue. The machinist's sex left out of his trousers. Out of reverence. There is a phrase being transcribed. An incision down the shaft for ornamentation [a little, out of reverence (a little further)]. The dead is switch ed on, the shaft demolished, and the music breathes again. Hot and whirling, but not uncontrollably. Brightblue obeisance.
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