Drei Tage in Berlin

Prelude

"I was in Berlin, in winter. The light had no light, the sky had no heaven. The air was white like wet bread. And from my window a vacant arena, bitten by the teeth of winter.

Suddenly driven out by a man, ten horses surged through the mist. Like waves of fire, they flared forward and to my eyes filled the whole world, empty till then. Perfect, ablaze, they were like ten gods with pure white hoofs, with manes like a dream of salt. Their rumps were worlds and oranges. Their color was honey, amber, fire. Their necks were towers cut from the stone of pride, and behind their transparent eyes energy raged, like a prisoner.

There, in silence, at mid-day, in that dirty, disordered winter, those intense horses were the blood the rhythm, the inciting treasure of life. I looked. I looked and was reborn: for there, unknowing, was the fountain, the dance of gold, heaven and the fire that lives in beauty.

I have forgotten that dark Berlin winter. I will not forget the light of the horses."

Horses, Pablo Neruda

Mette Henriette: A sound that takes you to the places in time and space

I like sound. Because, it is invisible. Just like the sand, it finds its way on your skin and takes you to the places in time and space.

One of the first sounds I remember is the sound of the owl. I remember sitting in my grandmother's post-garden, imitating the different owl calls. In fact the second title on the album is the sound of an owl. Perhaps you noticed.

Another sound that I remember vividly is the sound of my father's stereo. I would wake up in the mornings - I was an earlybird - and have breakfast listening to his records. I guess I was a curious kid. I talk to strangers, train my black poodle, bee balm, hunted, fly fished, made perfume from forest flowers. I wrote letters with my communist grandfather and band them with pots and pans on the kitchen floor.

Then I got a saxophone. The saxophone allowed me to paint with sound colours and tell stories with no words. When I picked it up, time disappeared and we were one. All the people I need, all the places I see… The sense, their smells, and flavours and tastes. Every sensory impression and personal expression influence me as a human being and as an artist.

My name is Mette Henriette. Mette means pearl. Henriette is derived from my Sami grandmother. Because of the impression of the indigenous people of Norway, I am the first generation in my family carry this Sami heritage with pride. I'm sure you can hear this in my music.

Mette Henriette | ECM 2015

Denk gelişler, kavuşmalar ve vedalaşmalar

Trendeyim. Tire’ye giden trende. Yağmur yağıyor dışarıda.

Hayat böyle işte. Denk gelişler, kavuşmalar ve vedalaşmalar var içinde. Ve tüm bunlar, biraz da ihtimaller uygunsa mümkün olabiliyor. İnsan bir ihtimal denk geliyor, bir ihtimal kavuşuyor ve bir ihtimal vedalaşıyor. Hatta çoğu zaman vedalaşmak mümkün olmuyor. Zamansız, hazırlıksız bir ayrılık giriyor araya.


Trendeyim. Tire’ye giden trende. Yağmur yağıyor, ben vedalaşmaya giderken…

İstasyona giderken aklıma No Suprises düşmüş. Bir Radiohead şarkısı, 90lardan. Öylece çıkıp gelmiş şarkı, Basmane garına yaklaşırken ben. Sanki bir filmin fon müziği. Henüz çekilmemiş bir filmin. Dönüp duruyor aklımda.

Gar pek kalabalık değil. Ne ayrılanlar var ne de kavuşanlar. İnsanlar, sakin bekleyişler, anonslar, telaşlı yürüyüşler var sadece. O kadar. Bir pencere kenarına geçiyorum. İnsanlardan uzak. Açıyorum şarkıyı, başlıyorum dinlemeye.