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Music by Eveline Causse (voice, cello) & Colin Pip Dixon (violin, voice)
Sung in French
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From the press:
Paris, St. Merri's Church
October 17th, 2003
“.…admirable music – at the same time old and new, contemporary and traditional, clear and passionate, with raw, sensual, and transparent sounds, [...] each instrument bringing its own genius. The poems are said with simplicity filled with fervor and tenderness, manifesting with sensitivity all the different climates of the soul. [...] The words disappear in the breeze of the notes, becoming at the same time both confession and prayer. [...] The communion that comes about is born out of an ineffable tenderness. [...]
Khamush. Silence.”
Jean Mambrino ETUDES – REVIEW OF CONTEMPORARY CULTURE
December 2003
Saintes, L'Abbaye aux Dammes
May 3rd, 2003
“Magicians of music […] a surprising enchantment. [...] Love, peace, beauty, tolerance; the audience was in communion. [...] Such an expression of poetry, music and peace is a rare happiness that one wishes many to experience in the future of the journey of this “Suite Khamush”.
Marc Coester
Le MOIS A SAINTES
4 July 2003
“...The poetry of Jalalodin Rumi, Persian poet from the 13th century, dances on the tightrope of words, taming one’s fear of heights, as light and as delicate as a note placed on page of music, fragile and upsetting [...] the two composer-interpreters of the Suite Khamush have glided seamlessly into Rumi’s poetry with all that they are in order to offer us his word: the notes speak and the words sing: they say in Japan that in order to know what a flower is, you mustn’t analyze it, but become the flower; the Suite Khamush offers us this magnificent and overwhelming metamorphoses...”
Emanuelle Raymond
Journalist
A Note from the Artists:
Why Rumi? He seems to have come to us through his poetry. It was an encounter that went beyond reason, beyond cultural differences, beyond religion, and beyond time. An American and a French musician brought together with a thirteenth century Persian poet. We weren’t very familiar with him when we started working with his poetry, despite his popularity in recent years. We didn’t seek to “set to music” his poems. We didn’t search for a particular style or try to create “oriental” colors. We tried, rather, to let the music be born out of Rumi’s word, out of his universe and out of the moment of the encounter. Singing while playing at the same time seemed strangely appropriate to this poet who allows contradictions to exist without being in conflict. We were moved by the way his artistry and his spirituality encompasses all of the palette of life – from human love to love of God, to ecstatic drunkenness or dance, or madness even – all can be sacred. We tried to remain who we are, with our western, “classical”, musical tradition all in staying true to his vision and experience. In this day when division between peoples and religions appears to be becoming more and more elevated, this poet who testifies to the present moment and an inner world, who touches on the experiences of other great artists and mystics from other times, places, and faiths, can have something important to say today.