When I was 9 years old, I stumbled across a book in the school library on killer bees. It described their history and breeding. But the part the captured my attention was the loving detail with which it described grown men being killed by millions of ferocious insects, even as they fled, diving uselessly into homes, cars, and bodies of water. Their cries for help were met with mouthfuls of angry, buzzing drones, with bites inside their clothes and down their throats. More than a few little boys were also mentioned as victims. Needless to say, summer was ruined. Ever honey bee, every buzz, indeed every flicker of an insect wing sent me back inside at top speed.
The book ended by describing the slow march northward of their hives, noting helpfully that they could appear in the American Southwest “any day.” For a boy living in West Texas, this was troubling news. Fortunately, my newfound phobia led to a great deal more piano practice. And so, to come full circle, Hive.
The insistent 5/8 rhythm heard throughout much of the work is a sped-up version of a rather different insect sound. As I worked on this piece, a cricket that prefers odd meters came to live by my window, and his eighth-sixteenth-eight message found its way into this piece.
visit www.mooneast.com
No comments:
Post a Comment