Frank Corcoran

A word before I slide even more sidewards into  oblivion : Is my new work some kind of Conversation With Myself ? Why ever not ? My ( gestating, low cooking )  ALL MY ALTO RHAPSODIES` converses ( with me, certainly ,  ) “all about ”  the Contralto´s layers, her registers, her orchestral accompaniment, her eating / swallowing / in- and digesting and uttering my texts; they are lovingly masticated, savoured ,  soothed, sung by her whole body. Forty years ago I was worrying : ” Prima la parola e poi la musica.” –  That´s now gone. Now  it´s all complete cheeks´and glottals , glossolalia and throat´s / lung`s  / diaphragm´s  pumping, forming, moulding my very lovely text-tone-text-phrase lovingly shaped by me long before ; my shards and shoots and shapes (  and, of course, my shadows. ) Oh.  Yes. Before oblivion,okay. Okay, no hysterics in this e-column…  I´ll be damned if I play over coy : ” Is this then death”  vocal clownery, rather cast-iron forms.