I’m down to two bags.
I use a friend’s address.
I’ve only got one last
recurring nightmare
that forces me to face
my ex.
...
Even our loved
ones are non-essential,
sorry to report.
Everything I have has humps and hooves
— everything rouses and grunts and moves
with stiff resolve from day to day (my loves,
my dreams, my appetites). Away, along the grooves
of dunes, my mornings and my afternoons,
away they rock on creaking clogs of bone
(my prayers, my doubts, my fears of being left alone)
built to endure, and long.
And still, too soon
I know each one will grind the pestles of its knees
into the sand, not far from some mirage of trees,
where I will find it sagging broken where it lies
in a cloud of flies.
Everything I have will stray,
my bundled caravans unstrung and swept away.
And if I try to call them back (my joys, my shames)
I’ll find I can’t recall their names.
– Todd Boss
When I was asked to write a new work for the inimitable Hila Plitmann and the Boss Street Brass Band, I was told to consider setting text by poet Todd Boss (no relation to the band, surprisingly). Initially hesitant, I tentatively dug into Todd’s poetry collection, Someday The Plan of a Town, and found myself almost instantly bowled over his frankness and honesty. Todd was a man untethered, his family recently fragmented and his house gone, and so he had taken to the road quill in hand as he house-sat in cities all around the globe. His collection wove together a near-mythological portrait of a wandering poet, an artist searching for healing in novel places and experiences.
It so happens that I’ve always fancied myself as something of a wanderer, even though I’ve only ever moved out of necessity to get from one academic institution to the next. Silly as it is, particularly as someone not especially inclined toward travel, there remains something appealing to the image of being on the move, whether pursuing some distant goal or fleeing some nameless threat. I was attracted to the bristling restlessness in Todd’s work, and decided to set excerpts of his poems Essentials and Everything I Have Has Humps and Hooves.
The resulting piece, Unstrung and Swept Away, is suffused with running motion. Heavily inspired by Yoko Kanno, Yugo Kanno (no relation) and Janelle Monae, the piece’s first half is filled with syncopated rhythms, energetic blues riffs, and blazing horn rips. Despite this, the music rarely leaves its home key of D minor. In the central slow section, the texture calms down substantially even as harmonies shift rapidly, modulating from key to key in quick succession. Ultimately, the music returns to D minor and closes in explosive fashion.
– Bobby Ge