Cover art is hand silkscreened paper from Japan
meruvina: kawala, balafon, hyoshigi, two tanpuras
All music composed and programmed by Michael Robinson for performance and recording in real time without any overdubbing or added parts.
Recorded and Mastered by Catharine Wood at the Planetwood Productions studio in Eagle Rock (Los Angeles), California.
Live musicians are welcome to perform this composition using acoustic and/or electronic instruments.
"Your music has lowered my blood pressure by miles. It's very, very beautiful." - Susan McClary from an email responding to Nagamani and several other CDs
"Your intriguing set of instruments suggests that you are doing something quite new in American music." - Helen Vendler from an email responding to a literary question related to Nagamani
I had been planning the music for Nagamani for at least six months, putting it aside while I composed the four compositions found on Lunar Mansions and Luminous Realms. The challenge I was readying myself for was to compose a one hour alap (no jor or jhala) with sustained musical interest. When I was finally ready to begin, the actual composing and programming took about three weeks. It turns out that the swaras (tones) I used are identical to an obscure South Indian raga, Nagamani, which translates to mean jeweled snake or cobra. But that was after the fact. My actual musical inspiration came from Hariprasad Chaurasia, the Indian bansuri master who has raised the art of flute playing to previously unimaginable levels.
Realizing that some degree of contrast would be necessary for such an extended piece, I decided to set-off the main voice, a Near Eastern kawala timbre, with the gentle struck-wood sound of an African balafon, slightly punctuated with a Japanese hyoshigi, a wooden percussion instrument. Together they swim within the prominent expanse of male (low) and female (high) Indian tanpuras.
While listening to Nagamani, following the composition and realization phases, I had a vision that the kawala was a Tibetan mother mourning the loss of her child, and the balafon was the spirit of the departed child naively attempting to comfort the inconsolable mother.
Soon afterwards, the poem, Oil and Blood, by William Butler Yeats, came to mind. Here are the opening lines:
tombs of gold and lapis lazuli
1998 Michael Robinson All rights reserved