score for here

Take a stroll in the Los Angeles State Historic Park and let your desired path determine your wayfinding and sonic experience of the site.
Composer: Jimena Sarno

Sound sample source:
This song, Groung (crane) sung by Zabelle Panosian, an Armenian opera singer, is a folk lament for Armenian emigres far removed from the homeland.
-Marianna Hovhanissyan, Armenia

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 LZ ZBL s3 NTRL)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 D 1 ZBL STT 1 2)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 D2 ZBL STT 2 1 1)

Full score by sound artist Ivana Dama, Serbia

Sample source:
Song by Argentinean musician Atahualpa Yupanqui, Milonga del Solitario.
"Me gusta, de vez en cuando,
perderme en un bordoneo,
porque bordoneando veo,
que ni yo mismo me mando.
Las cuerdas van ordenando,
los rumbos del pensamiento,
y en el trotecito lento
de una milonga campera,
va saliendo campo ajuera,
lo mejor del sentimiento."

Sound sample source:
My kitchen faucet sometimes leaks. When ceramic bowls fill with water and the drops hit the surface of the water, it generates a very particular resonance as if the surface was the skin of a percussive instrument. I recorded this after listening to it subliminally 1000 times.
-Joaquin Gutierrez Hadid, Argentina

I recorded the sound of an old upright piano in my parents' house in Bangkok  There're some birds, cars passing by, a family pooch in the background. I used to take a piano lesson with a lady who lived 2 blocks away from my parents' house, but the lady was mean and uncool, so I quit after 5-6 months. Luckily, I learned how to read notation, so I kind of explored piano that way and played a lot of pop music. We've had the instrument for 25 years now,  and since I left Thailand about 12 years ago, nobody really touched it, and it's obviously out of tune. When I started to explore the instrument, I discovered some nice distorted sounds and resonance of the device; the piano keys are so old that when I press down, they don't spring up anymore -- the piano pedals are super rusty, so when I pack down, it makes so much squeaky sound husky sounds. 
-Liew Niyomkarn, Thailand/Belgium

I recorded the sound of an old upright piano in my parents' house in Bangkok  There're some birds, cars passing by, a family pooch in the background. I used to take a piano lesson with a lady who lived 2 blocks away from my parents' house, but the lady was mean and uncool, so I quit after 5-6 months. Luckily, I learned how to read notation, so I kind of explored piano that way and played a lot of pop music. We've had the instrument for 25 years now,  and since I left Thailand about 12 years ago, nobody really touched it, and it's obviously out of tune. When I started to explore the instrument, I discovered some nice distorted sounds and resonance of the device; the piano keys are so old that when I press down, they don't spring up anymore -- the piano pedals are super rusty, so when I pack down, it makes so much squeaky sound husky sounds. 
-Liew Niyomkarn

I recorded the sound of an old upright piano in my parents' house in Bangkok . There're some birds, cars passing by, a family pooch in the background. I used to take a piano lesson with a lady who lived 2 blocks away from my parents' house, but the lady was mean and uncool, so I quit after 5-6 months. Luckily, I learned how to read notation, so I kind of explored piano that way and played a lot of pop music. We've had the instrument for 25 years now,  and since I left Thailand about 12 years ago, nobody really touched it, and it's obviously out of tune. When I started to explore the instrument, I discovered some nice distorted sounds and resonance of the device; the piano keys are so old that when I press down, they don't spring up anymore -- the piano pedals are super rusty, so when I pack down, it makes so much squeaky sound husky sounds. 
-Liew Niyomkarn

Sound sample source:
I spent most of my childhood with my grandma and she has always been this loving and supportive figure in my life. This sound is a sound recording I made for one of my projects back in 2017. It was the sound of me touching and rubbing a collection of bed sheets that my grandmother kept since my childhood. 
 
Coffee Kang, China/US

Coffee Kang (Z1 SH s2 seq A A spec res new)

Coffee Kang (Z1 SH s2 seq A E spec res new)

Sound sample source: Saadun Jaber, صغيرون
-Mona Kareem, Kuwait/US

Sound sample source: 
Saadun Jaber, صغيرون
-Mona Kareem, Kuwait/US

These are self recordings of my voice singing the refrain of the song Yeuka Munhu Uri Huruva which is a Shona Roman Catholic song from Zimbabwe. It's usually sung on Ash Wednesday and during grieving ceremonies (like funerals). The lyrics loosely translate to: remember you are dust, and to dust, you shall return. 

Although I am not religious myself, I went to a Catholic all-girls high school in Zimbabwe. This is one of the songs I remember most vividly. I find it enchanting and affecting. There's a universalising acknowledgement of the human body as matter that intrinsically belongs to or is in relationship with the land. These are ideas that I explore in my own work, and the spiritual dimensions of this song have a cultural significance that is meaningful to me. 
-Tanatsei Gambura, Zimbabwe/Scotland

Sample source:
Song by Argentinean folklore musician Atahualpa Yupanqui, Kaluyo de Huascar.
-Jimena Sarno

I searched for a recording of a sweets seller in the beaches of Chile, but I could not find anything, so this is Violeta Parra’s song: “Volver a los 17.” It has all that melancholy I associate with Chile.
-Ignacio Perez Meruane, Venezuela/Chile/US

This song, Groung (crane) sung by Zabelle Panosian, an Armenian opera singer, is a folk lament for Armenian emigres far removed from the homeland.
-Marianna Hovhanissyan, Armenia

Sound sample source:
This song, Grounk (crane) by Zabelle Panosian, an Armenian opera singer, is about lost land.
-Marianna Hovhanissyan, Armenia

Sound sample source:
This is a processed sound file for a call to prayer that used to be played near where I was staying in Beirut during the first wave of pandemic lockdown. I was living on the 14th floor, in a very urbanized and congested area. This call for prayer used to play at 5 in the afternoon mostly and at dawn. It was striking for me as it is particularly melodic and very emotional, but also how it reverberated among the silence of the lockdown was very important for my work and research on reverberations. I couldn't get the field recording itself of the prayer as it will never sound like the lockdown anymore, so I did some audio  processing on a recording of the same prayer that  I found online. It is mainly trying to recapture this moment. The call for prayer is called Athan Imam Ali el Reda, it is mainly played in Iran in Mashhad, so it was also interesting that it travelled all the way to Beirut and was played regularly there. 
-Mhamad Safa, Lebanon/UK

Various sources
-Jimena Sarno, Argentina/US

Sound sample source:
This song played on a local radio station but never played fully. Just in bits that fit the intermission of the radio show. The radio show was hosted by a famous Palestinian astrologer with a deep voice. The audience varied from troubled lovers to mothers who want to send their love to their sons in Israeli prisons. This song by Asmahan, or rather the dramatic bits of it, were played in the little breaks between the calls. The song is about distance-physical and spatial. 
The chorus of the song is a mourning of the many written letters sent with no answers or response--"I stay silent, patient, acceptant of your situations/conditions yet my yearning and love are consuming me"--The first line of the song is "lover or dear one, come see what happened to me because/after your distance-I sit and console myself with your shadow/image. I keep it all a secret. I have no father or mother or relative to complain about the burnt of my yearning to." Sighs. 
-Tasneem Bishara, Palestine

Field recording:
The Israeli patrols roaming within Palestinian towns during the first months of the pandemic is taken in the streets of my sister's neighborhood. I remember how the family WhatsApp turned suddenly into a report of how ugly things are. Curfews and arrests were used in the name of public health. The speakers on the patrol repeat a recording of a voice in Arabic but if listening closely it's the Arabic learned by agents in the Zionist intelligence unit: rigid, artificial and entitled. 
-Tasneem Bishara, Palestine

Field recording:
I recorded this sound outside of my parent's kitchen when visiting two summers ago. My mother was convinced her intensive prayers to the universe were met with a miracle. Since all prophets have miracles, my mother was convinced she is being introduced to one: honey bees creating a hive in the inner cracks of the kitchen window in a moment of mass extinction. She would stand there, listen to them buzzing and feel very blessed. My mother called her sister and her sister called another older neighbor and they all agreed it is time to unravel the miracle. To do that, it was necessary to tear down the wall with the kitchen window entirely. After taking it off, they realize these are wasps. The house is left now with a giant hole next to the window. The buzzing in the recording is hiding the muffled sounds of a street seller (I don't know how to call this)-the one who either sells fish, wheat, or shoes or underwear or all of the above.
-Tasneem Bishara, Palestine

This song played on a local radio station but never played fully. Just in bits that fit the intermission of the radio show. The radio show was hosted by a famous Palestinian astrologer with a deep voice. The audience varied from troubled lovers to mothers who want to send their love to their sons in Israeli prisons. This song by Asmahan, or rather the dramatic bits of it, were played in the little breaks between the calls. The song is about distance-physical and spatial. The chorus of the song is a mourning of the many written letters sent with no answers or response--"I stay silent, patient, acceptant of your situations/conditions yet my yearning and love are consuming me"--The first line of the song is "lover or dear one, come see what happened to me because/after your distance-I sit and console myself with your shadow/image. I keep it all a secret. I have no father or mother or relative to complain about the burnt of my yearning to." Sighs. 
-Tasneem Bishara, Palestine

Full score:
This is a processed sound file for a call to prayer that used to be played near where I was staying in Beirut during the first wave of pandemic lockdown. I was living on the 14th floor, in a very urbanized and congested area. This call for prayer used to play at 5 in the afternoon mostly and at dawn. It was striking for me as it is particularly melodic and very emotional, but also how it reverberated among the silence of the lockdown was very important for my work and research on reverberations. I couldnt get the field recording itself of the prayer as it will never sound like the lockdown anymore, so I did some audio  processing on a recording of the same prayer that  I found online. It is mainly trying to recapture this moment. The call for prayer is called Athan Imam Ali el Reda, it is mainly played in Iran in Mashhad, so it was also interesting that it travelled all the way to Beirut and was played regularly there.
-Mhamad Safa, sound artist and scholar, Lebanon/UK

Sound sample source:
It is a processed sound file for a call to prayer that used to be played near where I was staying in Beirut during the first wave of pandemic lockdown. I was living on the 14th floor, in a very urbanised and congested area. This call for prayer used to play at 5 in the afternoon mostly and at dawn. It was striking for me as it is particularly melodic and very emotional, but also how it reverberated among the silence of the lockdown was very important for my work and research on reverberations. I couldnt get the field recording itself of the prayer as it will never sound like the lockdown anymore, so I did some audio  processing on a recording of the same prayer that  I found online. It is mainly trying to recapture this moment. The call for prayer is called Athan Imam Ali el Reda, it is mainly played in Iran in Mashhad, so it was also interesting that it travelled all the way to Beirut and was played regularly there. 
-Mhamad Safa, sound artist and scholar, Lebanon/UK

Sound sample source:
It is a processed sound file for a call to prayer that used to be played near where I was staying in Beirut during the first wave of pandemic lockdown. I was living on the 14th floor, in a very urbanised and congested area. This call for prayer used to play at 5 in the afternoon mostly and at dawn. It was striking for me as it is particularly melodic and very emotional, but also how it reverberated among the silence of the lockdown was very important for my work and research on reverberations. I couldnt get the field recording itself of the prayer as it will never sound like the lockdown anymore, so I did some audio  processing on a recording of the same prayer that  I found online. It is mainly trying to recapture this moment. The call for prayer is called Athan Imam Ali el Reda, it is mainly played in Iran in Mashhad, so it was also interesting that it travelled all the way to Beirut and was played regularly there. 
Mhamad Safa, sound artist and scholar, Lebanon/UK

Sound sample source:
In the old neighborhoods of cities and towns in Iran, in the weeks leading to Nowruz and its extensive house-cleaning rituals, you'd hear the calling of a man on a bike echo in the alley. He would carry a long, wooden, single-string, hand-made instrument on his bicycle. The call was to bring out your thick blankets to the yard so he would squat for hours to, first, tear the linen apart, patiently fluff the cotton and sew each blanket back together. The way to fluff the cotton was to place the instrument by the mound of cotton gutted out of the blanket, and bang a short, wooden mallet on the tring. This caused small pieces of cotton to fly all over the yard: a soft, surreal, and soothing scene which made the most beautiful music!
-Gelare Khoshgozaran, artist, Iran/US

starling

goldfinch

hoopoe

Gelare Khoshgozaran (laaafdoozi rhythm 1.1)

Field recording:
In the old neighborhoods of cities and towns in Iran, in the weeks leading to Nowruz and its extensive house-cleaning rituals, you'd hear the calling of a man on a bike echo in the alley. He would carry a long, wooden, single-string, hand-made instrument on his bicycle. The call was to bring out your thick blankets to the yard so he would squat for hours to, first, tear the linen apart, patiently fluff the cotton and sew each blanket back together. The way to fluff the cotton was to place the instrument by the mound of cotton gutted out of the blanket, and bang a short, wooden mallet on the string. This caused small pieces of cotton to fly all over the yard: a soft, surreal, and soothing scene which made the most beautiful music!
-Gelare Khoshgozaran, artist, Iran/US

Sound sample source:
This is Ceviz Ağacı, a Cem Karaca song. He is very much celebrated by my family and all the revolutionary leftists of Turkey. The 1980's coup banned his music and banished him due to "the political messages he transmits with his music."  
A Nâzım Hikmet poem I know by heart, Ceviz Ağacı, is about a walnut tree. Adopted into a song, the poem became synonymous with my early years, as my father used to sing it repeatedly, insisting that we picked up the tune as well. Similar in melody to the Russian folk song Kalinka, the song’s rhythm accelerates as one repeats the line “I’m a walnut tree in Gülhane Park, and neither you’re aware of this nor the police” over and over again. Gülhane Park is a historical park on the European side of Istanbul. Its name roughly translates to: “House of roses”.
My father once explained the story behind Ceviz Ağacı to me with great enthusiasm: “Nâzım Hikmet went to Gülhane Park to meet with his lover under a walnut tree. While waiting, he noticed the police coming across the park. At that time, he was followed by the police, so he climbed to the top of the majestic walnut tree to hide. When his lover came he couldn’t go down, because the cops were still around. He went back home without seeing his lover and wrote the poem on the spot: “I’m a walnut tree and neither you’re aware of this nor the police…” Contradicting my father’s version of the story, singer Cem Karaca said in an interview that there used to be no walnut trees in Gülhane Park, and that he planted one after the release of his sung version of Ceviz Ağacı to honor Nâzım Hikmet. An important figure in the Anatolian psychedelic rock movement, Cem Karaca adopted the poem into a song in 1987. Since its release, it has been difficult to think about Nâzım Hikmet’s poem without hearing the Karaca’s voice.
-Hander Sever, artist and writer, Turkey/US

Sample source:
Song by Argentinean folklore musician Atahualpa Yupanqui, Milonga del Solitario.
"Me gusta, de vez en cuando,
perderme en un bordoneo,
porque bordoneando veo,
que ni yo mismo me mando.
Las cuerdas van ordenando,
los rumbos del pensamiento,
y en el trotecito lento
de una milonga campera,
va saliendo campo ajuera,
lo mejor del sentimiento.”

-Jimena Sarno

Sample source:
Song by Argentinean musician Atahualpa Yupanqui, Milonga del Solitario.
"Me gusta, de vez en cuando,
perderme en un bordoneo,
porque bordoneando veo,
que ni yo mismo me mando.
Las cuerdas van ordenando,
los rumbos del pensamiento,
y en el trotecito lento
de una milonga campera,
va saliendo campo ajuera,
lo mejor del sentimiento.”
-Jimena Sarno

Sound sample source:
There is something fundamentally South American about South American sonic public spaces, especially in public transportation, where there always seems to be a cumbia playing in the distance. Depending on location, you can sometimes only hear the “chiqui-chi, chiqui-chi” of its rhythm. This is one of my favorite cumbias, called “A decirme que (basta de jugar con mis sentimientos)” by Los Lirios de Santa Fe, which I processed to evoke that unequivocal sonic space.
"Vienes a decirme que no quieres estar conmigo
hoy aquí entre mis brazos
tienes que entender lo que siento por ti
dame una razón para seguir viviendo
o tal vez tienes otro amor
basta de jugar con mis sentimientos
basta de jugar con mi corazón."
-Jimena Sarno

Field recording:
There’s recurring broken water pipe on the street I live on in El Sereno, Los Angeles. It happens so often that we even have a name for it: “The River of Fundament.” This is a recording of its flow on a sunny Los Angeles Spring day, with chirping birds and all.
-Jimena Sarno

Jimena Sarno (river of fundament: broken pipe)

Field recording:
The sound recording was made in the yard/garden of my mother's house located in the Korean countryside, and contains the sound of crickets. This sound has been one of the markers for summer/early Autumn of Korea to me and stayed special in my heart, as (needless to say) there are no crickets or other insects chirping much in the UK/Ireland which is where I mostly reside.
-Una Lee, sound artist, Korea/Ireland

Sound sample source:
I selected “Pearl Song” by Onra from the Chinoiseries Pt. 3 album. I was struck by the hip hop artist sampling 1960s era pop records he collected from China and Vietnam. For one, sounds from Asia are rarely platformed in the West, and even more rare is the mixing of hip hop and Asian pop. Although I never grew up listening to Chinese and Vietnamese pop albums, when I first heard this album by Onra, I was immediately transported to visiting Taiwan with my mother as a child. His synergetic music enabled me to imagine life in a time period I never experienced in this realm.

In “Pearl Song,” the female voice sings in Mandarin. From his sampling, it seems that she is repeating the phrase: “There’s an inheritance…” in Mandarin. Because of its tonal quality, the sound for “inheritance” and “ship” are the same. The homophone evoked the passing of time and of water. When I think of the word “inheritance,” I think of a lineage or a legacy to be lived and remembered, and when I think of “ship,” I think of travel across seas and the movement of people and items to a different location. The action or journey of “passing” comes alive for me in both words.

I chose a song that would evoke the movement and legacy of the diasporas. For Onra to mix sounds of China with beats is a merging of time, locale, and space only transmittable by embodied connection to place and history.
-Iris Yirei Hu, artist, US

Sound sample source:
Busqué una grabación de un vendedor de dulces en la playa de Chile pero no encontré nada, así que una canción será: 'Volver a los 17' de Violeta Parra. In terms of the 'affective quality' que buscas, tiene toda la melancolía que asocio con Chile.
-Ignacio Perez Meruane, artist, Venezuela/Chile/US

This melody is known as Gol -e Pâmchâl (Primrose flower). It's a northern Iranian folk song, calling out to the primrose flower to awaken and rise from beneath the snow, after a long winter, announcing the arrival of spring. There is a connection of this song to land, soil and rebirth. I lost a dear childhood friend a few months ago in Iran, and every time I play this theme, in my heart I dedicate it to him. In this way, this song is very much connected to homeland for me.
-Mani Nilchiani, artist and musician, Iran/US

Performance recording:
This melody is known as Gol -e Pâmchâl (Primrose flower). It's a northern Iranian folk song, calling out to the primrose flower to awaken and rise from beneath the snow, after a long winter, announcing the arrival of spring. There is a connection of this song to land, soil and rebirth. I lost a dear childhood friend a few months ago in Iran, and every time I play this theme, in my heart I dedicate it to him. In this way, this song is very much connected to homeland for me.
-Mani Nilchiani, artist and musician, Iran/US

Field recording:
There’s recurring broken water pipe on the street I live on in El Sereno, Los Angeles. It happens so often that we even affectionately named it “The River of Fundament.” This is a recording of its flow on a sunny Los Angeles Spring day, with chirping birds and all.
-Jimena Sarno

Field recording:
There’s recurring broken water pipe on the street I live on in El Sereno, Los Angeles. It happens so often that we even have affectionately named it “The River of Fundament.” This is a recording of its flow on a sunny Los Angeles Spring day, with chirping birds and all.
-Jimena Sarno

Sample sound source:
This melody is known as Gol -e Pâmchâl (Primrose flower). It's a northern Iranian folk song, calling out to the primrose flower to awaken and rise from beneath the snow, after a long winter, announcing the arrival of spring. There is a connection of this song to land, soil and rebirth. I lost a dear childhood friend a few months ago in Iran, and every time I play this theme, in my heart I dedicate it to him. In this way, this song is very much connected to homeland for me.
-Mani Nilchiani, artist and musician, Iran/US

Sound sample source:
This melody is known as Gol -e Pâmchâl (Primrose flower). It's a northern Iranian folk song, calling out to the primrose flower to awaken and rise from beneath the snow, after a long winter, announcing the arrival of spring. There is a connection of this song to land, soil and rebirth. I lost a dear childhood friend a few months ago in Iran, and every time I play this theme, in my heart I dedicate it to him. In this way, this song is very much connected to homeland for me.
-Mani Nilchiani, artist and musician, Iran/US

Sound sample source:
This song played on a local radio station but never played fully. Just in bits that fit the intermission of the radio show. The radio show was hosted by a famous Palestinian astrologer with a deep voice. The audience varied from troubled lovers to mothers who want to send their love to their sons in Israeli prisons. This song by Asmahan, or rather the dramatic bits of it, were played in the little breaks between the calls. The song is about distance-physical and spatial. The chorus of the song is a mourning of the many written letters sent with no answers or response--"I stay silent, patient, acceptant of your situations/conditions yet my yearning and love are consuming me"--The first line of the song is "lover or dear one, come see what happened to me because/after your distance-I sit and console myself with your shadow/image. I keep it all a secret. I have no father or mother or relative to complain about the burnt of my yearning to." Sighs. 
-Tasneem Bishara, Palestine

This is Ceviz Ağacı, a Cem Karaca song. He is very much celebrated by my family and all the revolutionary leftists of Turkey. The 1980's coup banned his music and banished him due to "the political messages he transmits with his music."  

A Nâzım Hikmet poem I know by heart, Ceviz Ağacı, is about a walnut tree. Adopted into a song, the poem became synonymous with my early years, as my father used to sing it repeatedly, insisting that we picked up the tune as well. Similar in melody to the Russian folk song Kalinka, the song’s rhythm accelerates as one repeats the line “I’m a walnut tree in Gülhane Park, and neither you’re aware of this nor the police” over and over again. Gülhane Park is a historical park on the European side of Istanbul. Its name roughly translates to: “House of roses”.

My father once explained the story behind Ceviz Ağacı to me with great enthusiasm: “Nâzım Hikmet went to Gülhane Park to meet with his lover under a walnut tree. While waiting, he noticed the police coming across the park. At that time, he was followed by the police, so he climbed to the top of the majestic walnut tree to hide. When his lover came he couldn’t go down, because the cops were still around. He went back home without seeing his lover and wrote the poem on the spot: “I’m a walnut tree and neither you’re aware of this nor the police…” Contradicting my father’s version of the story, singer Cem Karaca said in an interview that there used to be no walnut trees in Gülhane Park, and that he planted one after the release of his sung version of Ceviz Ağacı to honor Nâzım Hikmet. An important figure in the Anatolian psychedelic rock movement, Cem Karaca adopted the poem into a song in 1987. Since its release, it has been difficult to think about Nâzım Hikmet’s poem without hearing the Karaca’s voice.
-Hander Sever, artist and writer, Turkey/US

Sound sample source:
This is Ceviz Ağacı, a Cem Karaca song. He is very much celebrated by my family and all the revolutionary leftists of Turkey. The 1980's coup banned his music and banished him due to "the political messages he transmits with his music."  

A Nâzım Hikmet poem I know by heart, Ceviz Ağacı, is about a walnut tree. Adopted into a song, the poem became synonymous with my early years, as my father used to sing it repeatedly, insisting that we picked up the tune as well. Similar in melody to the Russian folk song Kalinka, the song’s rhythm accelerates as one repeats the line “I’m a walnut tree in Gülhane Park, and neither you’re aware of this nor the police” over and over again. Gülhane Park is a historical park on the European side of Istanbul. Its name roughly translates to: “House of roses”.

My father once explained the story behind Ceviz Ağacı to me with great enthusiasm: “Nâzım Hikmet went to Gülhane Park to meet with his lover under a walnut tree. While waiting, he noticed the police coming across the park. At that time, he was followed by the police, so he climbed to the top of the majestic walnut tree to hide. When his lover came he couldn’t go down, because the cops were still around. He went back home without seeing his lover and wrote the poem on the spot: “I’m a walnut tree and neither you’re aware of this nor the police…” Contradicting my father’s version of the story, singer Cem Karaca said in an interview that there used to be no walnut trees in Gülhane Park, and that he planted one after the release of his sung version of Ceviz Ağacı to honor Nâzım Hikmet. An important figure in the Anatolian psychedelic rock movement, Cem Karaca adopted the poem into a song in 1987. Since its release, it has been difficult to think about Nâzım Hikmet’s poem without hearing the Karaca’s voice.
-Hander Sever, artist and writer, Turkey/US

Sound sample source:
There is something fundamentally South American about South American sonic public spaces, especially in public transportation, where there always seems to be a cumbia playing in the distance. Depending on location, you can sometimes only hear the “chiqui-chi, chiqui-chi” of its rhythm. This is one of my favorite cumbias, called “A decirme que (basta de jugar con mis sentimientos)” by Los Lirios de Santa Fe, which I processed to evoke that unequivocal sonic space.
-Jimena Sarno
Vienes a decirme que no quieres estar conmigo
hoy aquí entre mis brazos
tienes que entender lo que siento por ti
dame una razón para seguir viviendo
o tal vez tienes otro amor
basta de jugar con mis sentimientos
basta de jugar con mi corazón
-Jimena Sarno

Modified field recording:
This is the voice of my grandmother remembering a poem in Farsi.
-Shima Tajbakhsh, artist, Iran/US

score for here: LASHP

94 ECHOES

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The Echoes

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 D ZBL MLD 3)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 ZBL MLD D)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 LZ ZBL s3 NTRL)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 LZ ZBL Dx)

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score for here: LASHP

room 94 ECHOES

DOWNLOAD OUR APP TO DISCOVER THIS TOUR AND MANY OTHERS.

The Echoes

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 D ZBL MLD 3)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 ZBL MLD D)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 LZ ZBL s3 NTRL)

Marianna Hovhannisyan (Z3 LZ ZBL Dx)

Discover more geolocated content in our apps.

Are you a creator?

Get in touch

Echoes creative apps

Echoes labs

About us

94 ECHOES