“Ghost” story behind the “Inseparable Opposites”
Album consists of 4 parts/ 14 compositions (post classical, piano & cinematic),
plus – next album “teaser” – song “Go away” (indie orchestral pop-rock).
PART 1 “Ghost” – originally written for the ballet show directed by a world recognized modern ballet choreographer Leo Mujic. Below are some of the music excerpt in a form they’ve been used in the show. On the album they’ll be slightly modified.
PART 2 “Wasteness of the sky” – Ghost from “her” perspective. Five compositions sharing similar melodies/harmony/elements in variations.
PART 3 “Piano Works” – Two piano compositions.
PART 4 “Overcoming” – Two compositions. Epic. Uplifting.
PART 5 – teaser song “Go Away” – my next album teaser song also inspired by the “Ghost” story. Lyrics are written using the lines from the “Ghost” story. Written by Iva Uscumlic Gretic, edited and adapted to a song by myself.
“Go away, disappear, turn into something I cannot love…..”
[soundcloud url=”http://api.soundcloud.com/playlists/3898754″ params=”” width=” 100%” height=”540″ iframe=”true” /]
Composition, arrangment and orchestration by Anita AndreisPiano Anita Andreis Solo violin Krunoslav Maric (Zagreb Solists) & Cello Smiljan Mrcela (Zagreb philharmonic orchestra). Drums Filip Zganec. Vocalists: Sandra Tribuson, Mary Crnkovic Pilas, Anita Andreis Narration Branko Glad & Bozana Peric. Inspired by the story “Ghost” written by Iva Uscumlic Gretic. Singer/songwriter/arrangment on “Go away”: Anita Andreis.
As a main character from the story takes a journey through the metamorphoses, so the music does.
Author : Iva Uscumlic Gretic
Translation: Zvjezdana Kastrapeli
I am trying to remember how it all began, but the colours blend – blue and gold, like wheat fields on a summer morning, that is the image I see and I do not know where it comes from or why I chose it as the first, the clearest, as the opening. Sounds are also mashed into a mixture of songs; songs that are sung and songs that are howled, whispers are mixed with gentle endearments. It is the song of the mountains, sharp and poignant, the song which is resounding and shaking and plummeting into you, like an eagle, and there is also the song of the sea which is humming and moaning, murmuring and sighing like an abandoned mistress in the distance. Everything is mixed, and it is all one, one huge whirl which spins me and sucks me in and spills me out and twists and turns… it all begins here, in a whirl of stories, colours, songs, sounds and everything; in the whirl of the sun and the sea, wheat fields and rocks, and the howling wind; in the whirl of everything that is spinning and turning, everything that carries me and everything that eventually sets me down upon the soft, white hands of the world.
I am trying to remember how it all began but the past is strewn like shattered kaleidoscope glass …and I am trying to find focus, to put them all in some kind of order, to construct an image which can be looked at and understood, but all I get to see are pieces in which I see myself, in which I find myself, in which I get to know you. I am sorry I forgot how beginnings feel and how it is to breathe the air for the first time – and believe me, I have heard or done something for the first time many times. I have let my lungs expand with the first breath, I have let my arms fly for the first time – and I know that I have forgotten something really important. I know there was a feeling that came first, before all inhales and exhales, and exaltations, and arms in the air, and smiles. That feeling came a long time ago and these are only its reflections… I am trying to remember because there must be a moment when I took my first step towards you, I saw you in the midst of people, I caught a whiff of your scent, I looked at you and I knew I had known you and loved you… always.
I sometimes dream that first there was silence. First there was everlasting, soft silence springing like a fountain, undulating like the snakes waiting for the sound of a faqir’s flute, silence that is the sea and silence that is a waterfall… First, there was silence, silence like a blanket, like a large crystal cage, like the scent of rain, like hard ground upon which you lay your head and let the blades of grass caress your face. First, there was silence and that silence was big – imagine a huge flower opening and spreading and growing, reaching out to the sky – the silence was loud and it was talking and bubbling and murmuring and trembling and enveloping me amorously, seductively, somnolently, the way you wrap yourself around someone you love and it was simply alive, alive, alive… At times I dreamed the infinite expanses of silence on which I was floating in between worlds. At times I wish to breathe it in all the way, to dive in it fully and find its bottom, its final point, the point in which everything disappears, in which everything that I am is somehow gentler, softer, warmer.
Sometimes I dream that first there was silence and I went out into the world looking for this feeling of solitude which does not hurt or rip me apart, which does not make me disintegrate and dissipate like moisture’s green fingers crawling along the castle walls (and sometimes I hide there, in the glorious past and grand words, in old loves and withered footsteps). Sometimes in a dream I find a place of rest and I feel that I can breathe (run, fly, leap) and I find the colour – purple – and I find the smell of old stone and an ancient tree, and I sometimes stumble on a petrified sunbeam which somehow got stuck in that forgotten time, in the space between worlds.
… but the first thing I remember – I was a drop. It does not seem like much, I know, but what a wonderful feeling it is to be a drop! First you are everything, dense and sticky mistiness of clouds, floating above the world – a drop among drops, enwrapped in seas, lakes, rivers, enfolded in the morning dew from a meadow where somebody had just dozed off. And more: I was a drop and I was alive, I was alone and I was everyone. The first thing I remember is I was floating alone and I was a tiny, quiet, grey drop among many other tiny grey drops and we were murmuring together – silently! softly! – and we floated like this murmuring and humming above the world.
Was it there that I first saw you? I was a drop and I was the journey and I was life, and you were soft cloud tissue which was holding us. You were a living cloud and I remember your song resounding and winding, carrying with it the fragrance of wild flowers and a song sung by eyes gazing at you high in the crystal blue sky. I would recognize you anywhere, I tell myself, I would recognize the song of dreams that you drew with you, that fragrance of leaves and the wind.
I wanted us to swallow the silence together, to bathe in it, to use it instead of war paint to paint ourselves, to wriggle in it… At times I think that it is only a trick of the light, a reflection of a dream long gone which I really may not have dreamt at all – after all you know those dreams that sneak up on you and stick to the soles of your shoes and you cannot shake them. They are obstinate and determined, and suddenly you start thinking they are yours – those dreams – that you dreamt them and forgot them, that you loved them, kissed them, thought them, felt them, wished them… they slowly, slowly start to spread into you, they sink into your skin, they become lines chiselled into your palm, a sign for those who can read the stars and breathe the sea.
I remember I was a drop and we were floating together in the world above the world, and the wind was playing with us, and I remember – oh, so clearly – when I heard you. I heard your song, I heard the music that was you, and I wanted to be near you, to snuggle close to you and listen. I actually wanted to be the hand which fixed a smile on your face. I wanted to make you laugh, to get entangled in you, to be your dream and your nightmare, I longed for you to see me when you looked up to the Moon and to whisper my name on a pillow by mistake; I wanted to be your sin and your prayer.
I was a drop and then we soared into the sky, into space, into green and brown, grey and red, we dove –fervently! We were gentle, murmuring drops; we were silence and serenity and eternity all at once. We were flying and bouncing off rooftops, meadows, dry soil, heads, hands, roads, thus we bounced and glided until we finally merged into one again in a ditch by the road, in the mud and dust and then I somehow stopped being me, I stopped being a drop. I do not know how to explain it, the murmuring simply stopped and the humming stopped and everything began to fade away and I knew that I was no more, but I somehow knew that I would always be… I remember, I really remember, believe me, I remember that while I was rolling in that ditch by the road, in the ditch where I had landed carelessly, I remember thinking how exquisite it was to float, how free it was to fly high above all this, high above where all is calm… and clean.
The images are broken, torn. The images come and go and you must know that the way I tell them may not be entirely true. I am playing with the pieces of kaleidoscope glass, I am trying to make them obey me, to arrange themselves as they used to be arranged, to put themselves in meaningful order, to talk to me, but they arrange themselves the way they want, they upturn my images joining the incompatible… just like that, just because they like the colours.
First I was a drop and then suddenly – I remember exactly how thrilled I was! – I felt I was flying, I was swirling, I could soar and plummet, I could… I could do anything! I was the wind, I was awakened into new life as the wind, and what a wind it was! In the beginning I was shy because I had no idea what the wind could do and I did not know how to be the wind so I was a breeze. I would creep into girls’ hair and rustle the newspapers. I loved to scurry down the street in the fall and scatter all the leaves while the people walked on, and rarely would anyone notice that I was playing. They would just hurry along holding tightly on to their coats, and I scattered the leaves here and there, I threw them around and played with them my celestial billiards. I crashed into windows knocking down potted plants, and what I liked the most was to rush through freshly hung laundry nestling my head in it so that its fragrance would saturate me whole. And with that perfume inside of me I would run after a child or an old man or some already smiling creature… And then I was bored. I wanted to be a stronger wind. I wished to be powerful and strong, like other winds that I had met and I grew in strength. I was stronger. I was gliding down ravines and cliffs, I was rushing across mountains, I was gathering strength like they told me I should and finally I reached the sea. Oh, how strong I was! I was scattering ships across the sea! Tangling their sails and stopping them before they could reach the harbour! Sometimes I sprawled on the open sea and stretched my limbs; I stretched them far into the distance. We the winds are larger than people might think and stretched like that I caressed the windows, and the shutters on them with my fingertips, and I knocked on them. It was great fun to see people hurrying up and down the coast, terrified, nervous and wary of the wind that they feared, convinced that I was bustling and bashing, not knowing that I was actually lying still, merely knocking on their window panes with my fingertips.
As for me,… I became the Sun. When I had used up all the drops and began to fade away, and while I was floating all soft and ethereal I became an echo of a dream stirring among the tiny crystals of a blue morning. I wanted to be something more solid and bigger. I wished to disperse like the sun, to spread across the sky, to keep scattering my beams and to turn into a big blotch of gold and black, red and blue (if you looked more closely). I wished to have my solitude and the wonderful whiteness of your silence… but, how lovely it was to be the silent sun! It was all I wanted: to shine into a window, tickle some walls, bring a smile to someone’s eyes, draw the children’s laughter out into the street… and then to withdraw to my heights, swim in them, lunge into space with eyes firmly shut, and heart wide open.
I loved you as a drop and I loved you as the wind and I wondered – as soon as I felt my wings – I really wondered how I would find you. But it was easy: you had your song, your song of dreams and your fragrance of the autumn wind; you had the voice that pulled me to you like a fast river, you had the colour which I knew how to touch. I loved you. Then I thought: well, it is enough. I will pursue her every day, I will rise when she shines, I will follow her beams, I will be the hand that fixes her smile, I will be the one who brings her all the fragrances of the world: I will bring her the scent of virgin snow and of the last white patches before spring, when you already know that it is coming only winter had not had time to say goodbye yet. I will bring her swearwords from the markets and pungent smells of spices and vegetables. I will bring her the fragrance of Sunday dinners and Sunday silences. I will bring her sighs and shrieks. I will bring her the fragrance of a flower from the highest mountain and I will bring her a prayer of a sailor from a forgotten ship. I will do all this for her, I thought, that is how much I loved you, and you just stood there, mute and silent, absorbed in play in your thoughts, distant. But I followed you every morning, chasing you across the horizon, I was jumping high, tumbling and charging at the sea from here and there, from this direction and that, every day… till sundown. And every night you turned your back to me and I sank into the sea that embraced me and somehow forgave me for all the nonsense.
But it lasted so long, my love and I got tired, you know. I was tired of running after you, of your constant refusal, I got tired of falling to the sea, of rising every morning – because I could not resist my love – and I simply said – enough! I no longer wished to be the wind. You were so far away and so distant, so unbearably distant from me. I wanted to be someone who would fascinate you. Somebody you could love. Somebody different. Maybe the sea? Or a ray of sunshine trapped in the trees? Still, I wanted limbs with which I could wave and dance, I wanted a smile and hair I could drag my fingers through, I wanted something different. And do you know how I woke up? I woke up as a mermaid, as a sea nymph! What a lovely reversal – I was a mermaid and I was enchanting, I had a body which could twist and turn the way I wanted it to, I had limbs with which I could dance and run, I had a voice with which I could sing.
I became a ghost, a haunted ship, an apparition of drowned sailors on a sunken ship. I was bathed in moss and wrapped in salt, I became imprisoned, a soul lost between worlds. I became someone who slipped between the lines of a story and I lived only beside fires which are lit on the beach, the fires around which stories are told about us – the lost and the cursed- and I was but a whisper, a murmur in the dark, a bluish shudder of horror travelling up to the neck.
And I still loved you. At times I would let myself sink all the way down to you so that I could show you where I had been and what I had done. I told you about the sailors whom I had seduced with song and then pulled under the boulders and cliffs beneath the surface – I did it for you my love, so that you would not be lonely – I told you about how I had kissed them and made them fall in love and how they adored my breasts, my soft belly, my tender limbs. They made love to me trying to tie me down to the ground, to the bed, to themselves; and every morning they woke up and came to alone and forsaken. They kissed me and I kissed them, wrapping my legs around their thighs I caressed them with my hair. And in each of them I was kissing you because I could not kiss you – and each of them had your touch, your scent, your song, but they were not you. You were… you. You were silence, you were the darkness on the sea bottom, and you were sea weeds which sometimes twined around my waist. You were deep greenness and you were so far away. I did it all for you, my love, I was doing it all for you, I kissed them all; I maddened them and then drove them to death. All for you. And I would continue to do it; I would do it till the end of time, always and forever, for you, to you, with you.
But I was peace, I was green darkness in the pupil of your eye, I was the stolen touch, I was a scream in the distance, and the howling of a wolf…
But not like this. I had to be somebody who you would like to be near you, somebody strong and determined, somebody free. I had to be somebody who did not need you, who did not want you. Somebody howling like a storm, somebody strong as the wind and raging like a thousand fire horses from distant stars. I wished to be the fire and the flame and the fear – myself!
I wanted to be strength. I wanted to dash off to the highest peaks and feel the cobwebs of stars on my skin; I wanted to be strength and solitude, midnight black and the empire of shadows before dawn.
I decided to go live far in the north. In the countries of the night and lights in the sky. I decided to live on ice and snow. I decided to become a wolf, and the first time my fangs gnawed through the shimmering polar night I grabbed and greedily swallowed, that is when I first felt the sharpness of the ice which was cutting and screeching and groaning under me. When I first stretched my neck and howled into the silence of the night… I desired blood, I desired rage, I desired vengeance. I wanted to bring back the days when I used to be kindness and the days when I used to be patience. I wanted everything right here right now; I wanted to take without asking. I wanted to grab and tear, I wanted to take everything I desired, everything I liked, and I wanted you, I wanted to crush your silence and your distance.
I was night. I was soft velvet and black silk. I was a sob, a nightmare, and a sigh. I was life and remorse; I was all colours of despair. I was a stolen clock, and a broken promise, I was a vow and a prayer, I was rage and death and fortune.
Night is like a huge blanket, like a mistress wrapping her thighs around you, waiting for you to take her, luring you to be rough, to be wild, to be a beast and a rock, sky and song, but I was a wolf and the night was all mine. Imagine, just imagine, a night, a long, polar winter night and imagine people gathering around the light of their fires, feeling the warmth, disconcerted people who listen intently, look out of their frozen windows and then stop in their tracks because they hear me, they hear my voice, my call, my howls.
That is how I was calling out for you – with howls which rent the dark in two, with rage which froze the stars and made the air retreat to make room for me – I was calling out to you not to come to me but to hide and turn your back on me, to be somewhere else and to be the distance, to be halted existence so that I can abduct you, steal you, rip you apart with desire, and break your futile resistance. I had the power of the wind and the seductiveness of a mermaid. I was as soft as a drop floating through space and I was a wolf, the night was my mistress. I was not your gentle lover but your master and you obeyed me and you did everything I wanted and I wanted everything. I wanted your body, your soft tissue which I tore and scratched and bit into, which I took forcefully and fiercely, the body whose every moment I knew. I desired your sighs and your whispers, I desired all your colours, your promises, your lies, oh, especially your lies.
I was a long polar night. I was a firework of polar lights. I was ice hovering in the air, and the ominous crackling of snow in the distance. I was an echo of your voice, the silence which envelops you, peace in which you find your passion, noiseless sparkling of silver descending upon us from the stars. I was a long polar night, but I was not eternity that you wanted. I was a long polar night and suddenly my dress began to tear along the edges, instead of dark blue and black I became lighter and whiter, I was fading away, dissolving, losing myself thread by thread until I was completely lost in the white light of day…
You left. You just vanished, you slipped through that tiny crack between the sky and the sea, through the invisible line of the horizon, you slipped behind the ice, beyond the sea and the ships, you slipped away and nothing I did mattered any more.
Everything I did for you.
I was softness and freedom. I was yours, I was eternal.
I was the beginning, the end; I was the search and the hope, the stolen moment and desire.
I wanted to drape myself with you, to brandish with you like a flag.
I was all this for you.
I was and I would be, always and forever, eternity and the moment, determination and apprehension.
I did all this for you, I began, I tried, I pleaded, I left.
I wanted you to be the flame of my flame, to be the touch of my fingers.
And so I was. I was silence so that your unease could be heard. I was peace so that you could spread your strength across the sky, across the quiet strings of the world. I was patience and distance so that it was easier for you to find me. I was a fairytale so that it was easier for you to lose your way. I was the chinking change in your pocket, the distant smoke of tribal fires, the elusive rhythm which escapes the drums, the clapping of hands, a picture left forgotten inside a frame, the wandering smell of incense…
Go away, go away, disappear. Go away, disappear, turn into something I cannot love, go away, I will take out of you all that is you, I will claw out of you all that I loved; go away, become somebody I will not recognize. Go away and disappear, I will be the thunder, I will be power and fire and flame, I will be eternity. I will be a force, stronger than you have ever seen. Just imagine how strong I will be when I come to rip every piece of you out of me, I will stomp on the ground fiercely, watching it tremble in front of me, writhing and twisting. You will become a rock, you say, and I will beat on the rocks, I will beat upon them with all my might and main, I will be magnificent and malevolent, I will kill all those who go to you, I will beat them and burn them down, and you will be left alone with your silence, which you love and adore so much. I will burn down your forests and I will burn down your grass, I will throw away from you everything that lives and breathes, I will destroy you, burn you down, turn you into dust, I will break you asunder, I promise you, believe me, I will break you like I broke asunder this wide old oak just to show you what I can do.
Even if you crush me into dust, I will be silence. Even if you split me in two, I will be peace. Even if you make all that is mine disappear, I will be serenity, I will be the highest mountaintop and pure whiteness of the silent sun, I will be the dark green silence of the sea and the playfulness of pebbles on the beach.
You will be whatever I have left of you, you will be dust and you will be flame and you will be a wasteland, and you will be a desert, dry and barren, forgotten desert and I will wipe out all memory of you. If you become a desert, I will be a snake which kills, if you become a cliff, I will be the wave that eats away at you tenaciously and stubbornly, step by step until you cave in, if you become a tree, I will become the sun which will drain you, you will always be mine and you will be what I say.
Now I am light. Perhaps I should rest for a while, learn to restrain my strength. Now I am light so I fall on faces and make them more beautiful. I run across walls and call upon shadows to come dance together with me. Now I am light. I light up the right place at the right time and sometimes, because I wish it so, some of them even fall in love. Now I am light and sometimes in whispers I entice children into doing mischief so they use me in mirrors and draw colourful images on the walls. I do not think of you. Sometimes I hear hushed echoes of brass, a rustle in the fields of bamboo, a mother’s lullaby to her child, the curses of drunken sailors and I know, I know you are somewhere near. I know you are here. But I do not think of you. And even if I saw you, I would quickly go away, disappear, transform into something else. I do not think of you and I pretend that sometimes I do not see your soft fingers bending me to draw multi-coloured rainbows on the walls.
I am light now and I am eternal. I do not know what I will be next. Perhaps a mountain. Perhaps the highest cliff in the world. Perhaps a fisherman. Perhaps his net. Perhaps love. Perhaps a first kiss. But I will be, I will be… I am.