The sound of the cello is considered the most “human” of all instruments. Maya Beiser takes the cello to yet another uncharted terrain; exploring ancient vocal traditions. Almost Human is intended to present the cello from yet another angle: Maya delved into ancient vocal traditions as the basis and inspiration for the pieces. The resulting works give the cello a powerful and haunting opportunity to “sing” the music. The works draw from cultures as diverse as Jewish, Armenian, African and Cambodian. All share rich traditions of communicating heritage and folklore through the chanting human voice. The cello in Maya Beiser’s hands is eminently capable of expressing the complexity of emotions embodied in each cultural tradition.

video:

LIGHT IS CALLING – by MICHAEL GORDON
For solo cello
Film by Bill Morrison

KHSE BUON – by CHINARY UNG
For solo cello

FEIGE (ANTIPHONAL SONG) – by TAN DUN
For solo cello and video
Video by Tan Dun

KEBYAR – by MAYAEVAN ZIPORYN
For solo cello and pre-recorded multitrack cello

Reviewing the premiere at Carnegie’s Zankel Hall on 9/9/06, Justin Davidson wrote: “The world compacted into Zankel Hall. Music gave Beiser the power to pluck the common utterance from regions thousands of miles apart.” (NEWSDAY 03/11/06).

Allan Kozin wrote in his review: ” Ms. Beiser’s rich-hued tone singing out from within a bed of sound loops, ranged from the insistently rhythmic to the meltingly lyrical.”
(NEW YORK TIMES 03/11/06)

I am writing to you from a far-off country is featured on Maya Beiser’s new CD for Koch , “Almost Human”, to be released in April 2007.

More on I am writing to you from a far-off country:

READ:

1. The New York Times Article about the collaboration
2. listen to mp3 samples from far-off. (#2, #4, #7, #8)
3. listen to Maya Beiser’s interview with the Kojo Namdji show in Washington DC
4. audience response from Seattle USA, to Maya’s performance.
5. The Chicago Sun-Times review
6. The Washington Post article

Section 1
Here, we have only one sun a month, and for just a little while. We rub our eyes days ahead. But in vain. Inexorable time! Sunlight arrives only at its own hour. Then we have a world of things to do, as long as there is light, in fact we hardly have time to look at one another a bit. The trouble for us is that we must work during the night, and we really must work: dwarves are born continually.

Section 2
When you walk in the countryside, you may encounter substantial masses in your path. These are mountains, and sooner or later you’ll have to bend your knee to them. Resisting will do no good. You could go no further, even if you were to hurt yourself. I do not say this in order to wound. I could say other things if I really wanted to wound.

Section 3
The dawn is gray here. It wasn’t always like this. We do not know whom to accuse. In the night the cattle send out a great lowing, long and flute-like at the end. We feel compassion, but what can we do? The scent of eucalyptus surrounds us: a kindness, serenity, but it can’t protect us from everything. Or do you think that it really can protect us from everything?

Section 4
I am adding another word for you, a question rather. Does water flow in your country too? (I don’t remember if you’ve told me) and it gives you chills too, if it is the real thing. Do I love it? I don’t know. One feels so alone when it’s cold. But quite otherwise when it’s warm. Well then? How can I decide? How do you others decide, tell me, when you speak of it without disguise, with an open heart?

Section 5
I am writing to you from the end of the world. You must realize this. Often the trees tremble. We collect the leaves. They have a ridiculous number of veins. What for? There’s nothing between the leaves and the tree any more, and we go off, troubled. Could life not continue on earth without wind? Or must everything tremble, always, always? There are also subterranean disturbances, and in the house as well, like rages which might confront you, like stern beings who would like to extract confessions. We see nothing, except what is of so little import to see. Nothing. And yet we tremble. Why?

Section 6
All of us women here live with tightened throats. Do you know, although I am very young, in other times I was younger still, and my companions were also. What does that mean? There is surely something horrible in it. And in other times when, as I have already told you, we were younger still, we were afraid. Someone might have taken advantage of our confusion. Someone might have said to us, “Look, we’re going to bury you. The moment has arrived.” We were thinking, “It’s true, we could just as well be buried this evening, if it is definitely stated that this is the moment.” And we didn’t dare run too much: out of breath, at the end of a race, to arrive in front of a ditch all prepared, and no time to say a word, not a breath. Tell me, just what is the secret about this?

Section 7
There are lions in the village all the time, who walk about without any constraints. On the condition that we pay no attention to them, they pay no attention to us. But if they see a young woman running in front of them, they have no desire to apologize for her anxiety. No! They devour her at once. Isn’t it obvious that this is why they constantly promenade around the village, where they have nothing to do. They could just as well yawn somewhere else, right?

Section 8
For a long time, a really long time, we have been contending with the sea. In the rare times she is blue, soft, we’d believe her to be happy. But it wouldn’t last. Her smell tells us so, a smell of rot (if not her bitterness…) Here I should explain this business of waves. It is insanely complicated, and the sea… I beg you, trust me. Would I want to mislead you? She, the sea, is not only a word. She is not only a fear. She exists, I swear it to you; we see her all the time. Who? We, we see her. She comes from far away to baffle and frighten us. When you come, you’ll see for yourself, you will be astonished. “Hold up,” you’ll say, because she is bewildering. We’ll look at her together. I am sure I will no longer be afraid. Tell me, will this time never come?

Section 9
I cannot leave you with a doubt. [said with a lack of confidence] I would like to speak with you again about the sea. But the obstacle remains. Brooks, streams, go forward; but not she. Listen, don’t be offended, I swear it to you, I wouldn’t dream of misleading you. She is like that. No matter how agitated she gets, she will halt before a little sand. She’s a great falterer. She would certainly like to go forward, but there it is. Later on, maybe, one day, she will go forward.

Section 10
We are more than ever surrounded by ants. They push the dust uneasily at top speed. They take no interest in us. Not one raises its head. This is the most tightly closed society that could exist, although outdoors they constantly spread out in all directions. It doesn’t matter, to realize their projects, their preoccupations… they are among themselves… everywhere. And until this moment, not one has raised its head towards us. It would rather be crushed.

Section 11
You cannot imagine all that there is in the sky, you would have to see it to believe it. So now, the… but I’m not going to tell you the name right away. In spite of their air of weighing a great deal and of occupying almost all of the sky, they have no weight, huge as they are, they don’t weigh as much as a newborn baby. We call them: clouds. It is true that water comes out of them, but not by compressing them, or by Pulverizing them. It would be useless, they have so little. But by reason of their occupying lengths and lengths, widths and widths, depths also and depths, and of puffing themselves up, they succeed at last in letting a few droplets of water fall, yes, of water. And we are good and wet. We run off furious at having been caught; because nobody knows the moment when they are going to let go their drops; sometimes they remain for days without letting them go. And you would stay home in vain waiting for them.

Section 12
The education regarding chills is not handled well in this country. We are ignorant of the true rules. And when the event appears, we are left unequipped. It is Time, of course. (Is it the same where you are?) It’s necessary to arrive a little before it does; you see what I’m saying, just a tiny little bit ahead. You know the story of the flea in the drawer? Yes, of course. And how true it is, don’t you think? I don’t know what more to say. When are we going to see each other at last?