when I lived in the mountains I had a special room built into the studio portion of my house. It was an anechoic chamber1, absolutely soundproof and free of vibrations2. The whole room was bedded on springs and lined with fiberglass baffles that absorbed all echo. There I listened to tapes of my own material, both in transition stage and final form. Music was a liquid presence in that chamber, invisible wine for the ear to taste. I used the room often but not always to play the tapes. Sometimes I just sat there, wedged in a block of silence, trying to avoid the feeling that time is stretchable. The small room seemed a glacial waste, bounded only by solid materials, subject to no central thesis, far more frighten-ingly immaculate than it was when pure music skated from the tapes. If you could stretch a given minute, what would you find between its unstuck components3? Probably some kind of astral madness. A bleak4 comprehension of the final size of things. The room yielded no real secrets, of course, and provided no more than a hint of the nature of silence itself. There was always something to hear, even in that shaved air, the earth roiling5 into a turn, cells in my body answering to war.
Azarian came from Los Angeles to offer condolences. He climbed the stairs, shook hands with me, stood at the far end of the room. Somewhere along the way he had been given official word; her death was natural, coming as a result of unrelenting neglect. An acute pancreatic infection, viral pneumonia6, an intestinal7 obstruction8, a non-infectious kidney disease centered in the blood vessels9 of that organ. I wondered how much pain she'd endured in order to comply with her own cruel rudiments10 of conduct. Attrition. Let the stress of trying to live determine how you die. Ride along and hope it doesn't hurt too much. The intransigence11 of an enchanted12 child. Loving the child, I'd been half in fear of the woman, knowing she was serious, an unbroken line defining whatever it was she'd hoped to gain or lose. Someone to measure myself against. Azarian went on to say that Globke had contacted the family and arranged for the body to be sent back home, air freight express.
"What are you doing in L.A.?" I said.
"Tremendous things. I probably shouldn't tell you about it. In fact I'm determined13 not to."
"What is it?"
"Blackness."
"Black music?"
"Black everything," Azarian said. "Blackness as such."
"What's it like being into blackness."
"I'm not too far into it yet. But I'm making my way, little by little. I really shouldn't be talking about it. It's really deep, Bucky. Deep and dark. It's pressing against me with tremendous weight, practically crushing my chest. A lot of fear is involved. All kinds of fear. It's hard to pick out a single moment when I'm not afraid."
"How do you get into something like blackness? Do you have to shed your whiteness first? Or do you just go hurtling forward, bang, and risk all kinds of injury, mind and body?"
"How do I get into blackness? Is that what you're asking?"
"Can you put it in words?" I said.
"It's a street thing. Blackness is a street thing. It's the self-identification of the people on the street. Watts14 is a whole big bunch of streets. Same with Bed-Stuy. Harlem, it's not so much the streetness of Harlem, it's more the history and the badness of the vibes. Black is baddest in the best sense. I mean that's where you have to go to make sense of the magic of existence. You pass through all that streetness and weight and terror and you come out a more dimensional person."
"But how do you get into blackness, being nonblack?"
"I can't put it in words," he said.
I pointed15 toward a chair but he said he preferred to stand. He seemed to avoid looking directly at me. The curse in the eyes of the bereaved16. I watched puddles17 form under his boots as a series of tiny ice slides occurred.
"How's the band?"
"We're laying down vocals," he said. "Still plenty of contract problems though. I don't know at this point who we're recording18 for. People come in screaming at us. When are you making it back out?"
"Not yet. I've been set back. Have to reassemble myself."
"Bucky, these people I represent. They're real interested in getting their hands on the product we spoke19 about last time I was here."
"Talk to Happy Valley."
"I'm afraid to, Bucky. It's not just fear of being physically20 hurt or maimed for Me. It's the whole idea of who they are that scares me."
"Who are they?"
"You know that better than I do. You've been in touch with them. They hired Opel to deal for them. At this late date you know more about them than I do. In other words you're the one that should talk to them. I know you're in mourning or whatever the hip21 equivalent of mourning is. So obviously you've got other things on your mind and I appreciate the fact that if you don't want to do business right now, there's a time and place. But if I go in there and talk to Happy Valley on my own, anything and everything might and can happen, especially since there's been a split in their own ranks."
"That makes things more interesting," I said. "You can play one side against the other."
"Are you crazy? I wouldn't get involved in anything like that. Are you crazy?"
"Why don't you stick to music then?"
"I am sticking to music, Bucky. Being into blackness the way I am, I'm getting interested in root forms of rock 'n' roll. I'm beginning to delve22 real deep in that area. But I also have this other part of my life that I'm trying to find a place for. There's so much to be afraid of in contemporary society. I'm establishing a permanent relationship with these people I've mentioned on the Coast in order, among other things, to examine and find the sources of my own fear. Together we've come up with a plan whereby you with your influence and mystique can make an offer to the Happy Valley Farm Commune, this or that faction23, flip24 a coin, whoever's got control of the product, and you can do it without letting on that I'm involved or my people on the Coast are involved or anybody's involved except who you say the involved party is. Do you want to hear the details?"
I shook my head and once again pointed out a chair. Azarian wanted to stand, remaining in a far corner, apparently25 trying to avoid the center of the room, an area he seemed to regard as dangerous, if not totally unapproachable, Opel's deathly fumes26 still clinging to furniture and choice belongings27, and he talked of the old days, his uncomplicated fame, the girls who walked in and out of his bed, several every night, coming and going like popcorn28 vendors29 at a circus. We shook hands again. Then he went uptown to be interviewed on stereo FM.
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1
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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components
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| （机器、设备等的）构成要素，零件，成分； 成分( component的名词复数 )； [物理化学]组分； [数学]分量； （混合物的）组成部分 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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roiling
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| v.搅混（液体）( roil的现在分词 )；使烦恼；使不安；使生气 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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intestinal
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| adj.肠的；肠壁；肠道细菌 | |
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obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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intransigence
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| n.妥协的态度；强硬 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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delve
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| v.深入探究，钻研 | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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25
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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26
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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popcorn
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| n.爆米花 | |
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vendors
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| n.摊贩( vendor的名词复数 )；小贩；（房屋等的）卖主；卖方 | |
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