Fammerée

Music:

Member Since: 20/07/2007
Band Website: www.myspace.com/richardfammeree
Band Members: ..Richard Fammerée (poet, singer-songwriter, guitarist, multi-instrumentalist, US/France); Li-Young Lee (poet, US); Alana Grier (singer-songwriter, bass, US); Rachel Webster (poet, US); Francesco Levato (poet, new media artist, US/Italy); Elise Paschen (poet, US); Simon Rigot (keyboards, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, Belgium); Melissa Dittmann (singer-songwriter, violin, US/India); Paul Sihon (guitarist, multi-instrumentalist, US); Carrie Ingrisano (singer-songwriter, bass, US); Kimba Arems (dij, crystal bowl, bells, US); Jeanette Aylward (ballerina, US) * * * * * Even a God * * * * *When all statues are relieved of measure and divinity and fall or do whatever stone finally does, that next morning, we shall have to live, even as orphans of white forms and brass forms, without reference, without bracing, bevel and cut, names without verdigris, without pedestals and pigeons, however first or last.True, I shall miss cold breasts and clean hooves.When the hero on the horse is gone, I shall have to face the sky with eyes that never close and a composure that challenges even a god. * * * * * c 2007 Fammerée
Influences: ..NOTRE DAME * * * * * Our Mother who art in everyone, everything is thy name.Thy garden serene, thy waters green the earth as they blue the heavens.Thank you for our daily bread and the blessing that no one can be satisfied until everyone is fed.Forgive our ignorance as we forgive those who ignore you in each of us.Lead us from fear and deliver us from anger and anxieties,for life is a ripening to return to you, to feed you, to seed you,to be reborn forever and everAgain * * * * *c 2000 Fammerée * * * * * The story of Notre Dame * * * * *I have visited so many sacred sites, by design or fortune, that a singular lesson has been amplified beyond revelation to certainty: each of us is the innermost sanctum. One needs travel no further than the soul to experience the most perfectly proportioned temple and the most daringly elegant cathedral. Still, I shall relate the story of a poem which has already surpassed me and my relatively few years walking the earth. Kato Zakros is the final town at the eastern tip of Crete, an island of famous mythologies (Minos, son of Zeus; the Minotaur, its labyrinth; Theseus) and mythic civilizations (Minoan). I had originally dreamed of living among its fabled palm trees--the first I would have ever had seen--during my two year journey (which I sometimes call my third crusade) which began in County Kerry, Ireland, and ended in Jerusalem. Nine months into the adventure, that first spring, I found a garden house in Mirtos (along the southern coast of the island) and ventured no further east than Irepetra. I finally visited Kato Zakros fifteen years later during my pilgrimage to Mirtos. I found a small room above the pebbled beach which looked directly across the eastern Mediterranean to Acre. It was in that white bed pushed close to the wall the wife of the Lord’s Prayer appeared to me. It began as a trickle of words in the fissures of the ancient, shadowy ceiling, and they puddled into a cloud settling upon my chest and blossoming behind my eyes. I rose and wrote out the Lord’s Prayer and began to construct a new poem--its “lost half”--alongside. Nine months later, I discovered the notes folded into my knapsack among fragments of poems and music and addresses hurried across half sheets and receipts. I left it in my bag as I prepared for a flight to Tel Aviv. I arrived to Jerusalem three weeks before Passover and Easter and decided to begin my Peace Tour of Israel, Jordan and Egypt immediately to arrive back to the Holy City during holy week. Having crossed the Red Sea into the Egyptian Sinai after a fortnight of wandering Arabia enroute from Jerash and Petra to Aqaba, I settled thankfully into a straw hut in a Bedouin camp. A little shade upon the path to Mt. Sinai was a relief. There was another westerner living in the camp, a German woman whose intensely blond hair was always covered in black. A student of mysticism and desert deities, particularly fertility goddesses, this woman without child kept to herself. One afternoon we met in the absolute silence of the desert near a primitive sink. If I were composing a Bible, I would say that we met at a well. I recited the fragments of the poem I would name Notre Dame two weeks later in Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris enroute back to the States. Her eyes were intense as the sky we were hiding from, her skin cured as a person’s twice her age. Hermitic--and hermetic--as she was, she encouraged me to birth the words to the world; and I finished the poem that night walking beside the gentle ripple of the Red Sea, revising aloud with each step. It was a full moon and I recited into its eyes and purity. Distant fires in the desert, I later learned, were Israeli families singing and feasting, for it was also the eve of Passover. I recited Notre Dame into Mount Sinai. I said to Jehovah, “If this poem displeases you, I stand here naked in the place where two apostates (with rather complicated, forgettable names) were devoured by the earth--” The night remained still, benevolent. I recited the poem again a few days later on Easter Sunday in Jerusalem at Christ Church. And again months later at the invitation of His Holiness the Dalai Lama during the World Festival of Sacred Music. I had just returned from the island of Kauai where the music had been born as Aphrodite from the sea. * * * * *Notre Mère qui est en nous, tout est ton nom.Que ton jardin soit serein, que tes eaux verdissent la terre comme elles bleuissent le ciel.Merci pour notre pain quotidien et le bonheur d'être certain qu'aucun ne sera rassasié avant que chacun mange a sa faim.Pardonne-nous notre ignorance comme nous pardonnons à ceux qui t'ignore en chacun d'entre nous.Ne nous soumets pas à la peur mais délivre-nous de notre colère et de nos tourments,car c'est a toi que revient la maturation de la vie, pour te nourrir, t'ensemenceret renaître pour les siècles des sièclesEncore * * * * *Traduction de Richard Fammerée & Catherine Lalande de Choin du Double * * * * *c 2000 Fammerée* * * * *
Sounds Like: ..GENESIS * * * * * In each beginning we create heaven and earth. Now the earth appears unformed and void as darkness upon the face of the deep. And first light says, Let there be life. And there is life. And we live, for it is good; and those who do not believe in life live and act in darkness as if they can not be seen. And the light is called Day, and the darkness Night; but there is always light upon the earth and in heaven. And in the night we dream; and a dream is a parable of light. And we are, as each morning is, the first day. • • • • • c 2007 Richard Fammerée * * * * * B'chol hatchala anu yotzrim gan eden v'haolam tachtav.  Hechalal v'hareikanut yimalu hachashehcha hashoreret al p'nai teiveil vayavo ha'orr vayomar, " Yehiyu chaim al p'nai ha'adomah." Vayehi chen. V'anu chaim, ki tov. V'ailu sheh aynam ma'aminim b'chaim, mithalchim bachashaicha k'adam shehlo misugal lirot u'lehavchin. U l'orr anu korim yom, v'hachashecha he ha lailah. V' ha'orr  yeheeyeh kayam tameed b'chol makom, b'olamot hashonim, hatachtonim eem ha'elyonim. U v'neetzootz zeh shel ha'orr anu cholmim, v'hachalom hareh mashaal hoo l'orr. V'anu chaim kol boker v'kamim k'eelu hayah zeh hayom harishon leevree-ah, ha'eedeet, ha mechadesh b'tuvo kol yom ma'aseh beresheet. * * * * * Translation into Biblical Hebrew by Rafael Zukowsky; transliteration by Yonie & Rena Zukowsky, Jerusalem, 2007"; I edited my profile at Freeweblayouts.net , check out these Myspace Layouts!

Record Label: Unsigned