Un key d'ones
The voice of these five poets Ramon Mayol, under the name Mon, proposed in this musical tour of the collection Ones de poesia (EDICIONS AÏLLADES): BARTOMEU RIBES GUASCH, Catalina Ferrer, Iolanda Bonet, Mario Riera and Carles Fabregat, It is not the same but, to merge, draw our environment; each with different intensity emerges, singular tone and timbre informer. It is the set of all, his musical declamation, which this orchestra melodic line that emerges gently tracing the outline of a wave, Un key d’ ones.
The sensory and the symbolic time of these poems is their hardware: the sand (that is music) en Hangman, It has been silent. With mystical resonances verses inaugurating his dirge this landscape where polyphonically eventually spinning itself into the chorus of other voices; Salt Mountain, the beach, home, the other beach, more salt, the dark recess, the fire.
A rhythmic dance stops time "here and now" and presents a snapshot mode (I come to put the network, open albums) or spooky droop; Iolanda Bonet celebrates the marriage between past and present (the past lives in the present) unable to prevent the profiles of the house of Pedro Páramo defined, Comala, where once we stopped. (En la moves home).
voices are also perceive where the past is a refuge (lost hands, the old foam years. Immoderate carousal memory); a romantic view -simulacro evasion- to defeat a hungry present which outlines are barely. The single received Mario Riera no refuge, if not installed on it, It is the only thing left: relive that childhood (open like a memory sailing). There is another voice, neither past nor present; It is a voice that rebukes a you that is absent (Dime, Learn, Learn…).
The song of a siren challenges this silent music; Modernists are now essences (underwater palace, reflexes, light, sweetness, salty kiss) this time sung a love song. A glazed ceramic, "Mermaid and fish" which one day declared himself convinced Stoic mind -Gabrielet- It confused with the voice of Catalina Ferrer: a seductive siren emerges, to the tune of a flute that she intones, while fish and possibly lost scales, skip merrily over the waters of the Mediterranean as our.
Finally, spectra Carles Fabregat, poem in which everything will ignite the fire slowly (smolder) without losing the desire that makes us dance mechanically, wiping out the last embers of what eventually will end up being nothing, o sí, something: a spectrum.
If all poetic activity inevitably expresses the sensuality of environment that protects us, the poets of our islands have done so, and his words are notes or lightheadedness of man's spirituality, the poet and poetess.
CAROLINA RIERA.
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