beyond the drum-insides of this body, beyond that spiralling-spirit-force-of-shape, there is somewhere in the out of memory, the noise of a cumulative pang of heaviness. i am trying to transcribe the noise, but the changes are hard to (b)ear…
listening presents itself as an everyday maintenance, twigwork
an aural auditing of down-up in rhythm heave
but listening from monophonic core is grating
it requires blue pressings of more-ear
there is a serious de-fetishized playability about listening. one does not casually- “pop”- listen to the noise. it demands a farsightedness in the present that can only be played by more-ear.
this is not to exclude/mute. it is to ask of you/me/us to woodshed. it is to ask of us to pre-tune to the beyond. it is to ask of us to adjust our vibrational space/pitch/time –what Anthony Braxton in ‘Tri-Axium writings’ calls ‘affinity alignment’– as necessary.
somewhere, in the range of all this listening, this pre-tuning, i hear Jacqueline Jones Royster’s voice probing, asking:
“ … How do we listen? We need to talk, yes, and to talk back, yes; but when do we listen?”
there is no finality/totality/universality/pinnacle to this listening & its pre-tuning;
it is ‘rhizomatic’;
bendings of tone in brass pail channelled over
under firmament of reciprocated maintenance
circular rites of breath, position syncopations of light-lift and fall
in multiph(r)asic adungu trembling micaceous
here and there, on-goings cross over wide & detouch —
nomadic, like twig of tree autonomously recalibrating solidarities.
on listening to Duke Ellington’s Warm Valley, David Schiff doesn’t hear the geographical /anatomical.
Warm Valley is a broad living contour, stretching
intersecting, eroding (con amore/con alma?)
it does not observe/listen externally
it shoulders within.
—“it turns listeners into lovers.” 
the listenable is singable, is breathable, is danceable, is is : meditation, elaboration
consummation, affirmation, interrupt ion… h e s i t a t i o…
April 20 1971. a rally. the Central Hall in westminster. england, yes, small E.
James Baldwin is jamming — delivering a talk. at the dying of his talk, a black woman interrupts. she’s protesting about the noise, about the (dis)placement of black (“british”¡) children in substandard schools.
crosstalk. the noise)
then, Baldwin, he of big listening eye & blue strophe, speaks:
“Let me say one thing, that woman’s voice , that woman’s voice; is what you have to hear. We are responsible to that & if the people who rule us don’t hear that voice, then something terrible (the noise?) will happen.”
to speak is to listen. to speak greedily, is to silence listening ––is to subdue. to busy-tongue, is to numb the cumulative pang of heaviness
this score scratching creeping opens out possibilities for
(re) modulating $yncretic extensions …
the noise removed
asks YOU to
 Royster, Jacqueline Jones. “When the first voice you hear is not your own.” College Composition and Communication 47, no. 1 (1996): 29-40.
 Schiff, David. The Ellington Century. (Univ of California Press, 2012): 157
 Baldwin, James. The cross of redemption: Uncollected writings. (Vintage, 2010): 125
Peter Kalulé spends most of his time seeking sounds. He tweets at @Peeterol