Earlid | Where voices warp and swell, fall 2017
Song carves out a safe space. Song helps me to remember to breathe. Song can take my rage and my sorrow and transform it into something I can swallow. And song can infect. —Gelsey Bell
A woman’s cathartic scream skewers the foul-mouthed patriarchy.
Sonic artists today traverse the kinetic, tactile and vocal precipices of song. Gelsey Bell and Sky High Diamonds sing impassioned, embodied compositions. Kala Pierson and Kathy Kennedy are like circuits, physical transmitters of sorts, gathering strength in collaboration.
A song rims the edges of violence. Vocalists hum and muse on the mundane; some perform in unannounced ‘theaters’; they extend shrilled vocal techniques to embody mourning.
Vocalized art by women pummels us, exchanging a sense of powerlessness with the livid feelings of rage, anger, sadness, fear, and then, potential satisfaction. An artist can choose to limit words and instead, scream (like Yoko Ono once did, at the wind).