The murmur of sounds

The craft (sic) of transposing the language of sound to the written word poses an impossible challenge. While conscious of music having its own codes, I’ve often questioned myself when writing a review, a commentary or a critique regarding a musical creation; especially when what I was doing was becoming more of an interference more rather than an aid which helped to spread the word or the reach of this particular work. In light of Jordi Gaspar’s invitation to write a few lines on the new work he created, the doubt returns and uncertainty reigns. I pressed play and all the fears came true. It is hopeless… the defeat is complete. Just like trying to find the right words to turn the notes, chords and harmonies - that build such magic and evocative space - into verbs. What adjectives will the precision and the allure of permeating melodic subtlety have? Where are the phonemes that allow sharing an emotion and a pinch that invite researching beauty from the perspective of simplicity and fine taste? Before the infinite language of Gaspar and Bonell’s strings, Blavia’s skins, Raynald’s breath and Ferran Savall’s earthy singing, the alphabet is rendered incomplete. So you are better off pressing play and, just like providential tenants inside a winkle, let yourself be swayed by the murmur of sounds with a Mediterranean backdrop.
Pere Pons (music journalist)