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When I was a child I used to wander along wild waters the color of blond womanhair where the swishing of sedge sliced shadows in the wind and the hustling of tiny earthworms lulled me to sleep in the thick grass and I often woke to the drubbing of a passing rainstorm sixty feet away. A fleeing vole's feet would crack small twigs and at the glimmer of the stars crickets fiddled away in the night. Lying under a broombruch clutching my Tóth Árpád collection I saw all with eyes closed. Where is the unbound sensitivity of our hearing that once evoked visions bright enough to rival eyesight? Where are the sounds of that neoprimitve painting with the red foal grazing in blue grass? Where are the sounds of hay colored, whiskey flavored prairies where a woman and a man rides while orange notes pelt the heads of the Easy Riders? We all long to be there on the Elysian Fields of lost sounds, in sightless Stevie Wonder's powerful inner visions and only the latest ultra sophisticated technology is able to bring back out lost Atlantis. The tube and chip-clad machines are the modern world Rousseaus who lead us back to our real nature, to the secret garden of pure sounds. Poor broken-glassed Piggy made Sound travel to heaven and hell but when it meets us on the way back it hits us clear that it's been a long time... What, then, has become of human hearing under the urban reign of that tortured mob of screeching, wailing, roaring, portable cassette players? Dead crops left by the trampling feet of ferocious elephants. The kingdom of Magic Sound is the green spot in this barren land. After so much abusive propaganda to lifeless products Magic Sound offers the Water of Life, casts the secret spell of Styx. Cross the sorcerous river ye pilgrims and the long lost true sounds shall be returned to thee. Should you merely rest on its banks, you shall be trapped forever, longing for that enchanted melody... Written enthused by the benevolent and professional way of operation at Magic Sound by, Jenő
Bárdos |
Magic
Sound
- 2000 -