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A Fragment in the true sense of word, though no more of it was ever recorded on account on the tape running out after less than a minute. I was recording this onto a cassette and couldn't see just how near the end it was. It was a lovely night too, wine, incense, windows open to the stars, and there I was, losing all track of time, each little improvisation shaping up beautifully. This one was no exception, an intuitive calling into the dreaming realms of Ancient Antiquities that seemed to open out into the timeless vastness of our common Indo-European cultural continuity, ringing out as though to touch through the temporal veil and myself there, settling in for the long haul, happy as Larry Lamb that here was one of my best improvisations yet. Then the tape ran out. Silence. Anti-climax. Nothing. Just the stars and the silences there-between. So I left it. Taking it as a sign, I switched off and went to bed.

Strange now, listening to V&A : Fragment S again, it still seems to imply so much more, but it never happened quite that way again. In the organic realm of real-time freely improvised electronics, Sun Ra's words ring true : nature never repeats itself, why should I repeat myself?

Fact is, we never can, not really. All is a struggle against chaotic entropy. I choose not to struggle. That is the nature of improvisation, it comes, it goes, and it only stays if we bother to record it. And even then it's more a matter of taxidermy or some other sort of preservation which feels suitable in the context of music I made specifically to listen to whilst wandering around museums.

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Hermione Harvestman UK

'I feel like Wainwright - we are both hermetic ramblers. He made his books for when he was no longer capable of rambling his beloved fells, and I made my music for when I'm no longer able to ramble the by-ways of Albion - but only to listen, and think "Was that really me? That solitary figure who stood in a landscape dreaming of ages past in dread fear of the future."

Hermione Harvestman
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