Galaverna

Galaverna is a platform for multimedia, sound-and-art productions based in Italy that mainly operates in the area of electroacoustic and experimental music, with a specific referral to the landscape/soundscape aesthetics.

Galaverna comes as a sister label of Laverna, a net label working under Creative Commons licences, active in the field since the early '90s in creating multimedia productions and live performances that combine music, visuals and words.

Galaverna is run by Enrico Coniglio and Leandro Pisano.

Aims

Galaverna is not a record label, it’s not just a net label either and it doesn’t operate in the marketplace.

Galaverna, as a music label, is a digital label ONLY. We decided that our planet is already filled enough with plastic, so, please, do not burn our music on CD-Rs.

Galaverna releases only a work per season (exceptions allowed).

In a world where musical industry is inevitably fading and illegal downloads are taking over, Galaverna aims to be a model of ethical behavior.

In a world overloaded with music, Galaverna aims to be a model of ethical behavior for artists. Our motto is: RELEASE LESS, SAVE MORE.

Please note that

Galaverna’s main goal is to bring the degrowth concept into music (in French: décroissance, in Spanish: decrecimiento, in Italian: decrescita). As we reached a point where the production of material goods seems to be set on a path of ever-increasing growth, and even if an everlasting growth has been the capitalistic systems goal for over a century, it has now become crucial to adopt a more sustainable lifestyle. To bring these considerations into the music field means to curb both the unlimited production of music as well as the consumption itself. We believe behaviours so closely related to the logic of consumerism must be eliminated in order to devote ourselves to the true, caring and deep experience of music making/listening.

Artists involved in Galaverna must agree to this.

Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller “Conexión Rural: Fortore – Maras – La Convención” out now

We are happy to announce that "Conexión Rural: Fortore – Maras – La Convención" by Alejandro Cornejo is out now. Click on the image below to go to the release page.

Next release in Galaverna by Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller

We are happy to announce the next release in Galaverna will be by Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller.  Journalist and docent at the San Martín de Porres University, in charge of the ...
Read more...

Miguel Isaza “Rizoma” out now

We are proud to announce that "Rizoma" by Miguel Isaza is out now. Click on the image below to go to the release page.

Next release in Galaverna by Miguel Isaza

So happy to announce that the next Galaverna release will be signed by the sound artist Miguel Isaza.  Miguel Isaza is a composer from Medellin, Colombia dedicated to the practice and research ...
Read more...
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    Conexión Rural: Fortore – Maras – La Convención Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller

    cat: gal 0126
    date:  21 jun 2016
     
    time:  

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    Conexión Rural: Fortore - Maras - La Convención 

    In the urban environment, acoustic codes are disorganized, without any location or a predetermined sequence: their role is to respond to the urgency, the chaos, often to violence. Even if these codes correspond to the logic of organization within the "normality" of the events, it's true that their grinding, amplified mechanics make them subject of a process that Murray Schafer calls "Schizophonia", like sounds that seem to have lost their natural originality and suffer a constant amplification, reproducing all without an order or a known composition, generating phenomena such as noise. They are sounds that eventually become physically harmful for their intensity and persistence.

     In nature, even though such codes are "biologically" needed as well as in cities, they are differentiated by the perfect organization. They refer to well-structured communication processes by which species interact daily since ancient times. These sounds are not produced only from animal species, but also by local natural phenomena, in the context of situations that the species included in this communicative continuum.
     
    Rural communities, namely those living with and in nature, are formed perhaps by humans who are mostly aware of the fundamental elements that make up the sounds in their daily lives. A logic in some ways lost in urban areas, where the sounds are desperate instincts and constitute a chasm growing exponentially.
     
    Conexión Rural is a project that has compared a series of experiences that I lived in 2015 in the rural southern Peru and the south of Italy: territories which have been re-read through sound according to the same survey method, by comparing two geographically distant areas, but with some similar characteristics, that stand out mainly agricultural production, farming and subsistence products.
     
    The recordings that became part of this work have been extracted from the materials collected during different sound trips conducted in the regions of Maras / Cusco and La Convención in Peru, and in Italy during Liminaria residency in the Fortore rural region. From Ceja de Selvae to Maras, from Chincheros to the village of Baselice, the narrative of this route runs through a series of interviews and soundscapes records and various documents presented here, in these eleven tracks.
     
    The focus of the whole project is oriented on these rural areas with the sound narrative. Places that now seem far from the understanding of the inhabitants of the cities where the automation, the artificiality and the speed does not allow you to understand the fundamental processes necessary for overall survival, such as food production, environmental ecology, traditions and popular knowledge, among the constituent factors of the stories of communities and the world.
     
    My thanks for this work go to the Bianco family in Baselice, to the whole of Liminaria team, to Marco Antonio Moscoso and Julio Montibeller, to the fatigue of all the campesinos and farmers who are the example, the legacy, the life. A special thanks to Leandro Pisano.
     

    Creative Commons License

    Conexión Rural: Fortore - Maras - La Convención by Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
    Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.galaverna.org.

    REVIEWS

    coming.


    Next release in Galaverna by Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller

    We are happy to announce the next release in Galaverna will be by Alejandro Cornejo Montibeller.  Journalist and docent at the San Martín de Porres University, in charge of the Sound Research Workshop on Radio (ISONAR), Alejandro is the creator of the Festival Lima Sonora, multidisciplinary proposal that combines art, sound and communication. His artworks are shown at cultural events related to soundscape and immaterial patrimony on Italy, Spain, México, Chile, Peru and Argentina.

    His work for Galaverna is titled “Conexión Rural: Fortore – Maras – La Convención” and is coming out on the next 21st June 2016.

    Pict above by Andrea Straccini.

     

    Rizoma Miguel Isaza

    cat: gal 0125
    date:  21 mar 2016
     
    time:  42:09

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    Rizoma As the French philosopher Michel Serres has argued, sound, noise, rhythm, music, language, meaning are the elements that move us away from an understanding of the world based only on phenomenological knowledge. This perspective leads to different territories in which sound questions our notion of language and, generally, our way of moving in an environment, a space or a place in the contemporary era.  As another step of a deep research conducted on microsound and vibration, the Medellin based composer Miguel Isaza presents on Galaverna “Rizoma”, a field recording trip located at Iguazu Falls in Brazil and Argentina and thought as a way to “[approach] field recording not as a way of "capturing" the territory but to move, transform and rethink its matter in order to open new listening opportunities".

    Once again, in this work the microscopic dimension of sound becomes a key component of the post-digital listening, above all musical terms, focusing on the possible relations between what is infinitely large and infinitesimal units, as a precondition to analyze micro-events and microsonic processes in terms of a kind of molecular activity of sound materials.

    Exploring the tiny sounds and vibrations diffused in the soundscape through infinite multiple forms (“granular structures and events, spatial articulations, frequency dances and immense reactions of echoes dwelling in the air”), Isaza shows us how it’s possible to delve with a different point of listening into other territories of sound, where the anthropocentric listening can be questioned, opening different critical spaces to be explored through sound.

    To discover once again how "Before making sense – as Serres writes - language makes noise: you can have the latter without the former, but not the other way around. After noise, and with the passage of time, a sort of rhythm can develop, an almost recurring movement woven through the fabric of chance. [...] Whoever speaks is also singing beneath the words spoken, is beating out rhythm beneath the song, is diving into the background noise underneath the rhythm".

    Notes from the artist “Rizoma” was composed in 2016 using sounds registered in 2015 at Iguazu Falls in Brazil and Argentina, approaching field recording not as a way of "capturing" the territory but to move, transform and rethink its matter in order to open new listening opportunities. 

    Therefore, composition can arise from the exploration of certain faculties of the sound masses: granular structures and events, spatial articulations, frequency dances and immense reactions of echoes dwelling in the air. By exploring these relationships at multiple time scales, some particles, objects and groups of them can be obtained and then reconfigured to weave not a representation of the initial place, but worlds resulting from their inner voices, although preserving material essence, but emerging as a new habitat for multiple listenings.

    To organize sound is in that sense not about fixing sound bodies in the timeline but revealing a network of sonic possibilities shaped by time as such, exposing a continuum of inter-connected micro/macro sounds which, without hierarchy, in the manner of a rhizome, spread in all directions to make the ears dream.

     

    Creative Commons License

    A sea without a port by Miguel Isaza is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
    Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.galaverna.org.

    REVIEWS

    coming.

    Next release in Galaverna by Miguel Isaza

    So happy to announce that the next Galaverna release will be signed by the sound artist Miguel Isaza. 

    Miguel Isaza is a composer from Medellin, Colombia dedicated to the practice and research of sound in different fields. He co-directs the Éter Editions, plus other projects aimed to explore territories of sound and listening; with that, participating in concerts, publications and educational processes.

    For more infos on Miguel’s work see at miguelisaza.com

    Stay tuned, the 21st March is coming.

    a sea without a port Joseph Sannicandro

    cat: gal 0124
    date:  21 dec 2015
     
    time:  55:25

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    A sea without a port 

    Though we know it is big, and can see its size on maps, we don’t really perceive its size. Like an ocean, we only see part of the megacity of Mexico, and so Mexico-Tenochtitlan is spoken of as infinite, boundless, limitless. So vast as to be unknowable, beyond comprehension.  In reality though, Mexico City is not infinite. It has a beginning and an end. Patterns repeat themselves throughout the urban fabric. The city’s history is written on its walls and in the rubbish along its storm drains, in the names of subway stations and the little white crosses marking deaths on the street. The way to know something too big to perceive is through its parts.

    This is how Feike de Jong,  a journalist, researcher, musician and conceptual artist, frames his project to walk around the entire 800km-long perimeter of Mexico City. (The Guardian)  De Jong also employs a metaphor of seafaring which resonates with my own approach to the city so much that I’m glad I didn’t come across his story until after I had completed composing a sea without a port.  I tend to approach recording in a casual way, capturing interesting sounds I come across with whatever I happen to have on hand.  But my practice is also informed by psychogeography, and so there is an overarching (if wandering) narrative to this record.

    Mexico occupies a complicated place in the American popular imagination.  As a tourist destination, Mexico evokes beautiful seaside resorts and great food, friendly locals and an opportunity to lower one’s inhibitions.  Then there is the other Mexico, the post-colonial Mexico, the Mexico rocked by the effects of NAFTA, of sprawling slums and terrible poverty, of colonized peoples and traditional ways of life obliterated by the violence of multinational corporations and agricultural subsidies.  But there is also the revolutionary Mexico: Benito Juárez, Pancho Villa, the Mexican Muralists, the Zapatistas, organized indigenous resistance, the many courageous Campesinos, workers, and students with a rich tradition of fighting injustice and on behalf of the oppressed.  As our southern neighbor, there is the uncomfortable fact that so much of what is now the USA was once Mexico, the forgotten/repressed/unknown fact that much of the Mexican-American war was fought because Mexico had outlawed slavery. The fact that European settlement was forced on the indigenous peoples.  Bigots and TV pundits cultivate fear of “illegal” immigrants,  yet ironically  Mexico has long been perceived as a place where American ruffians and outlaws could flee to escape justice.

    And then there is Mexico City (or el DF), the sprawling capital.  One of the world’s great mega-cities, with some population estimates in excess of 20 million inhabitants. Whereas NYC has 5 burroughs, Mexico City has 16, each containing many, many distinct neighborhoods.  Whole villages and cities have been swallowed up by the cities constant growth.   It is by far the largest city in  the Western hemisphere, a cosmopolitan place that runs the gamut from high culture to folk, from Haussmann-style architecture to Modern to the informal dwellings of its slums and back again.  Prior to colonization, it was the site of the Aztec capital Tenochtitlan, the largest city of the Pre-Colombian Americas, rivaling the largest cities of Europe at that time.   Upon first laying eyes on the city Bernal Díaz del Castillo,  a foot soldier of the conquistador Hernán Cortés, remarked that  “Tenochtitlan is a second Venice.”  At that time the city was in the middle of a great lake, a series of islands connected by unique boats.  A distant echo of this floating empire can still be heard in-between the hedonistic celebrations of students and tourists in  Xochimilco. For years before first visiting DF, I had heard rumors of this incredible city, of the vibrancy of the art scene, the active literary public sphere, its cafes, street food, and especially its music.  Finally experiencing the city for myself both confirmed these reports while proving that no amount of stories will ever prepare you for the vastness of the city.  It’s sprawl, the ubiquitous 7-11s, the vendors hawking goods, bustling markets, wild parties, art galleries, boutiques, modern architecture, political posters, cramped metro, dog parks, endless traffic, and music everywhere, from musicians on the streets to kids selling bootlegs with stereo systems strapped to their backs.

    These recordings acknowledge the impossibility of ever truly knowing a place, especially one as rich and complex and contradictory as el DF.  As an American tourist, my relationship to Mexico is even more complicated, as much mediated by imagination as by reality.  Rather than pretend to be objective or scientific, this work embraces these contractions. This is a work about the space of encounter, in all its forms. Untreated field-recordings are rarely left so for long, refracted and looped and processed, moving back and forth between a dream and reality until the two are indistinguishable.  We listen not only to the rich street life, bustling metro trains, and vibrant public spaces, but also, and with great respect, towards the rich literature, music, culture, and history of the city and its peoples.  [Joseph Sannicandro] 

    Credits 

    Most of the recordings were made around Mexico City (especially Roma, Condesa, Zona Rosa, Centro, Tepito, San Miguel Chapultepec, Benito Juárez, Coyoacán, Xochimilco, Tenochtitlan, the Airport, but also many other places)

    Made with: TASCAM DR-05, iPhone 3GS, a cheap portable tape player,  Tape loops, SP-404, Memory Man looper, Effects pedals (chorus, echo, fuzz, freeze), Technics tape deck, and Mackie 1202 mixer.

    Thank you: Ana Lucia Soto, Sergio Su, Marco de la Torre, Daniel Castrejón and Umor Rex, Jorge Amigo, Héctor Ortiz and his whole family, Myrdal SoundLAB, Cam and Alex and their whole crew, Grant Cogswell at Under The Volcano Books, Julian Bonequi, Audition Records, and everyone else who helped us out and showed us around or gave us advice.  And  to  Roberto Bolaño, Juan Villoro, Leon Trotsky, Frida Kahlo, Francis Alÿs, Alejandro González Iñárritu, Octavio Paz, Rufino Tamayo and all the artists and writers who introduced me to DF long before I physically set foot there.

    Photo cover by Sara Mericle

    ------

    Joseph Sannicandro is a writer and scholar currently based in Minneapolis, where he is pursuing a PhD in Cultural Studies. He is co-founder of acloserlisten.com, and runs the Lost Children net label.  He also records under the moniker the new objective and under his own name.

    Creative Commons License

    A sea without a port by Joseph Sannicandro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
    Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.galaverna.org.

    REVIEWS

    FLUID RADIO

    “Life springs from death, just like the sun rises each morning after its nightly voyage to the heavenly plain.” Anyone who knows Joseph Sannicandro from his work on A Closer Listen, will know that he’s not someone who will take anything at face value, but likes to dig around and uncover the background stories behind any releases he might be writing about, outlining motivations and socio-political connections, which allow him to draw up illuminating interviews with artists. He’s seldom off duty and when he goes off to Mexico City (or el DF) he takes his digital recorder with him, much in the same way that a XIX traveller might’ve carried a sketchbook jotting things down, taking notes, outlining the aural world he encounters in a bid to unpack its complexities. And yet he is wise enough to recognise himself as an American tourist with all the cumbersome baggage that comes with it. In the extensive linear notes to A Sea Without A Port, Sannicandro states, “As our southern neighbor, there is the uncomfortable fact that so much of what is now the USA was once Mexico, the forgotten/repressed/unknown fact that much of the Mexican-American war was fought because Mexico had outlawed slavery. The fact that European settlement was forced on the indigenous peoples. Bigots and TV pundits cultivate fear of ‘illegal’ immigrants, yet ironically Mexico has long been perceived as a place where American ruffians and outlaws could flee to escape justice.” It follows that one of the tracks is titled “El tratado de Guadalupe” denying any possibility that this could ever be interpreted as a picture postcard rendition of DF. However, Sannicandro is neither descriptive nor dogmatic in his approach. “The post-colonial Mexico, the Mexico rocked by the effects of NAFTA, of sprawling slums and terrible poverty, of colonized peoples and traditional ways of life obliterated by the violence of multinational corporations and agricultural subsidies” are all acknowledged but never color our listening experience. Rather, it’s cultural filters that are used to ease our way into the complex sonic territory. The opening track, “I dreamt I was dreaming and I came home too late,” is titled after poetry by Roberto Bolaño. Aside from friends and musical connections (Umor Rex), Sannicandro is quick in paying tribute to the work of Juan Villoro, Leon Trotsky, Frida Kahlo, Francis Alÿs, Alejandro González Iñárritu, Octavio Paz, Rufino Tamayo and all the artists and writers who introduced him to DF long before he physically set foot there. And yet A Sea Without a Port never feels like the result of thoroughly researched homework. It is never dry, on the contrary, it sizzles with stimuli. Sannicandro is not interested in adopting an observational stance. He happily tampers with field recordings preferring the textural to the documentary. He clearly has fun with whatever is picked up by both his Tascam DR-05 and his iPhone 3GS and is unafraid to compromise the supposed integrity of the untreated material. Presumably, in order not to be overwhelmed by the task at hand, he breaks down any possible linear narrative into disjointed chapters, often opting for jump cuts rather than cross fades. He’s constantly revising, retracing lines, rubbing out and filling in the gaps with new contradictory aural impressions, abruptly stopping the flow of sound almost mid sentence to introduce startling pauses. Chubby Cheker’s Let’s Twist Again filters through the fuzzy sonic ambience of the title track, snippets of lines from popular TV dramas populate “Ivan Illich”, short tape loops of street hawking play over and over like broken records on “Non-aerial cartography”, reverb blasts through “A halo is antiquated”. Everything is fragmented, shaken up and eventually blended to produce an intoxicating auditory mixture extracted from the city’s nooks and crannies. Over the last 20 seconds of the last track, “The tragic concision of the dream”, Sannicandro introduces another snippet of what could be perceived as quintessentially “traditional Mexican music” but frustrates any expectations one might have of finally having time to savour its melodic quality by unceremoniously dropping the tune after only 10 seconds or so, leaving us with nothing to hold onto, and the impossibility of grasping yet again the “characteristic Mexican spirit” of his chosen location. As Sannicandro explains, “These recordings acknowledge the impossibility of ever truly knowing a place, especially one as rich and complex and contradictory as el DF.” A Sea Without a Port is out as free digital download on Galaverna. [Gianmarco del Re]

     

    A CLOSER LISTEN

    Mexico City always comes up in talks about the largest human populations in the world, and it’s no wonder why – something like 22 million people sharing a common space does already sound like an outlandish 1950’s sci-fi projection of the wonders of city life. Wonder, however, has little to do with it, because great cities are machines for living, a grand mechanism that in the movement of millions of cars and the crackle of electric undercurrents perpetually dreams of us. It is a technological dream, all ones and zeroes, cogs and switches, automations that infuse our blood with the existential affirmation of an ‘I am’. Joseph Sannicandro’s a sea without a port re-enacts the potential boundlessness of such a vitality, using field recordings to explore the intense shadow that the mechanic rationality of such an enormous thing ought to create. Like the title of the album indicates, it attempts to seize that oceanic feeling through which the city’s heart beats inside our every thought, and it speaks of a Mexico City that brims with the static of modernity, always glitching out to reveal the fragmentation at its core. Joe Sannicandro aptly manipulates the noises of the city, from the high-pitched whistle that the sweet potato vendors’ carts make as they announce their presence, to the storms that make people huddle together at the entrances of subway stations, in order to produce moods that often stand in contrast to each other. “En el futuro todas las rutas de México terminarán por llamarse Insurgentes” (“In the future all the routes in Mexico will end up being called Insurgents”), which alludes to the city’s longest avenue, named “Insurgentes” after the rebels of the 1821 revolution, begins with the bustle of car horns and street conversations, soon shifting to a contemplative tone. It is, perhaps, a historical thought, an exercise in projecting to the future all the little, everyday gestures of dissent in a city that proudly displays its progressiveness to the rest of the country, an arrogance that earns it as much awe as disgust. After all, it is not difficult to make a turn in the right street and see that in the here and now such a vast machine demands as much death as the life it provides, to see that the city’s dream is often indistinguishable from its nightmare. A track like “Non-aerial cartography” offers a kind of counterpart: it mixes the repetitive pre-recorded messages of tamal street carts, rhythmically self-erasing their meaning into pure electronic noise, with conversations and cries that build up into sounds that can no longer be thought of as made up of words. There is no possibility of contemplation here, only an incomprehensible immediacy that repeats itself, moment after moment, demanding attention, demanding for you to gaze back. The city stops being a conceptual construct and mimetically turns into something monstrous, something that, curiously, peers into us. Sannicandro portrays this monstrosity with care, juxtaposing found sounds in a way that only someone unaccustomed to listening to the city all the time could do, highlighting its very surface. It is on the surface where the city’s twitches can be best seen, where the songs of an old men’s folk band mingle with the stereotypical recreations of pre-Hispanic music, where the baroque formality of people’s manners is ruptured by the shouts of road ragers, all the histories of Mexico dissonantly clashing with each other. It is in this utterly mechanical juxtaposition where the city finds its most vibrant life, having no true unity of purpose, no innate choreography beyond that of modernity and capitalism, always different, a harmony without an anchor to keep it still. Like the sounds in the album, it is incredibly diverse, and yet it seems like it is one, like it is an organism that grows and breathes and wants, but the truth lies, perhaps, elsewhere, in the transition from meaningful to meaningless (as in the pre-recorded street announcements in “Non-aerial cartography” or “The Spell of a Useful Illusion”). In thinking of its unity we keep the city under rational reins, but it is its oceanic quality what makes it meaningful, a sense forever in escape, its unimaginable scale making small, inevitable tears in the fabric of our understanding. I like to think this is not exactly unique, and that it is entirely a post-colonial phenomenon – something shared not only with the United States’ most cosmopolitan urban areas but also with places like Rio de Janeiro, Jakarta, Kinshasa or Delhi, where historical scars grant a richness of difference rarely enjoyed by the great cities of the colonizers. Sannicandro has done a great job of capturing this sense, this feeling of inexhaustible complexity, and as someone who lived in Mexico City most of his life (and looks forward to eventually returning), I believe this album represents a good point of entry for anyone looking to dive, however briefly, into the inner workings of this gigantic, dreamful machine. [David Murrieta]



    Next release in Galaverna by Joseph Sannicandro

    It’s with great pleasure that we annunce the next release in Galaverna will be by Joseph Sannicandro. With his work he has investigated a hidden side of Mexico.  In his words: “As an American tourist, my relationship to Mexico is complicated, as much mediated by imagination as by reality. Rather than pretend to be objective or scientific, this work embraces these contractions. Untreated field-recordings are rarely left so for long, refracted and looped and processed, moving back and forth between a dream and reality until the two are indistinguishable. We listen not only to the rich street life, bustling metro trains, and vibrant public spaces, but also, and with great respect, towards the rich literature, music, culture, and history of the city and its peoples”.

    Joseph Sannicandro is a writer and scholar currently based in Minneapolis, where he is pursuing a PhD in Cultural Studies. He is co-founder of acloserlisten.com, and runs the Lost Children net label. He also records under the moniker the new objective and under his own name.

    (Pict by J. Sannicandro )