karl berger's improvisers orchestra at el taller latino-americano
peom by loula koundakjian (september 2013), drawings by iancu sorell
Our beginner’s Spanish classroom
converted into a repository of
lonely black instrument cases
– a green room of sorts.
A bottle of Chilean wine,
uncorked, on the table.
Musicians walking back and forth
to their seats, emitting
a cacophony of sounds,
rehearsing passages in their mind.
Karl Berger roams gracefully,
while cameras and microphones are set up.
Finally he climbs on his podium,
his green Melodica at the ready,
and all become silent.
He tunes the clarinets, the Saxes,
then all the other instruments.
“Don’t think it, feel it” he pronounces
as he guides a room full of
musicians to play short notes,
slide ups and slide downs,
then executes on his Melodica
a couple of lines from
a Senegalese folk song,
a melody of successive, single notes.
After the workshop, a short break
for some wine and cheese
before the formal concert.
Poet Ingrid Sertso injects words between
the high notes, the strumming of strings, chicken shakes,
bow movements and plucks.
She pronounces 8th – Avenue – Local – Night – Stop
like a syncopation.
We all listen intensely; inwards or outwards
we are all creating along: I am writing,
another woman is painting on her tablet,
a photographer and a video artist are recording,
while the audience is having a musical high.
peom by loula koundakjian (september 2013)
