Dedica una canzone al tuo amante per nome ... Invia il tuo nome e qualsiasi canzone, e Theater Electrique comporrà e organizzerà la musica solo per te .... Questa offerta è disponibile solo a Roma, Italia ... Musique Mécanique par le Théâtre Électrique :: This theme was written by my good friend, Jamie Horner... We used to spend hours together in the record shop in our village asking the sales clerk to play new classical recordings that just came from the fresh pressings at Mercury Records near the motel in Hollywood where we would frequently stay. Jamie always dreamt of flying when he was a teenager. He was the only person on board when his plane went down over the desert a few years ago now... The wreckage of his plane was found, but nobody on board and still when I visit, some people in the desert say a flock of wild birds was seen in the sky that day... “But music can only ever exist in our memory,” Jamie would always say, and he showed me a diagram he had been working on as a boy and then later at UCLA. I thought I had lost the diagram but I found it today. Holding the drawing to the Blood Moon, I found the outline of Elfin Runes shining through the pulpy paper. The one sheet peeled apart and I held two pages of Red Moon Elfin Runes Jamie had learned the language after the first Lord of the Rings played at the IMAX, so he he fluent. I had one friend from Limelight, the cybergoth nightclub in London, who could read Elfin Runes. We were up all night, and had breakfast at Farmer Brown’s Cafe in Covent Garden. We didn’t talk much at the table as the Cafe was crowded and it was raining outside. We didn’t want to be overheard then, or now. The diagram turned out to be more of a paradigm and the 17 synth modules Jamie had helped me arrange in my studio had each been assigned a coordinate and a locator sequence designed to be read like Ancient Egyptian Holografix, which is roughly translated into English from the more musical Elfin language as “Moving backward in time...” Jamie used to say “But music can only ever exist in our memory,” and I would always say, “...in this moment...? Or is it this one?” and I would reach into the air grasping at the space in between the notes, the space that is silent in between the notes is a real place. It is not memory.” I didn’t think our circular discussion of space, time and music meant much more than banter to him until I found this diagram and reset the sequential order of circuits in the synthesiser modules according to these numbers in the equations from the Red Runes. Suffice it to say, when the sun drifted in through the fog on Old Compton Street, I was still awake and all the electricity in Soho was down with the centrepoint of the blackout, I could only guess, more likely than not, my flat. By pale, orange candlelight, my pen found with a will of its own, more parchment paper from the bark of the same Paper Tree Jamie had saved to piece together two sheets, back to front, two into one. The Paper Tree, in Soho, being several hundred years old, had learned to shed it’s bark as sheets of high quality parchment paper to avoid being cut down by paper makers and crushed into pulp. “Jamie didn’t draw these diagrammatic Red Runes,” I tried to remember our banter whilst we were retiring that late stormy night, but instead I found myself wondering if I had been talking aloud instead of thinking to myself in a paranoid flash, I shuffled up all my notes and locked everything behind me, stepping lively on the cobblestones along Dean Street. The machine had been powered up for 3 minutes exactly before the automatic shut down and reset. Under the flickering candlelight, I noted down there was a new analog recording on the four track tape machine... the recording was 12 minutes long... And then I remembered the “Overthruster.” I had seen my friend slip this paper into his notebook at the start of a movie once, and I asked him what it was. He had said, “Oh, that? That’s nothing...” and the lights cam
