The Channels

from Opera of the War by Hourloupe

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    Album cover (without text) printed on museum-quality paper. One of Frank's pieces, "Members of the Modern Museum Ensemble" (assemblage on sand casting mold). Only 20 printed. Comes with a download of "Opera of the War."

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lyrics

(Before music can be reborn, before the Opera of the War can truly be written, the bodies must reckon with history. In a gallery lit by an immolating docent, the images of history appear. It is a nightmare, a hell. But it also paves the way for a living embryonic mass of notes to come alive, for bodies to build themselves out of the past and out of nothing.)


Water laps the steps of the capitol
I am a habit taking form

A rhythm, a repetition, a norm

Black fungal spores when the waters retreat

Out nothingness my feet

My burning idea like a docent on fire
Runs in the gallery corridor

Lighting the walls, the air
Knobs of knees like pistons appear

I’m almost here, one pulse more

My torso my hips
Between which my penis is kissed
By the soldier who kneels

As the violin reel…drifts

My fingers pink shafts
My bellybutton flange
And the tiny brown aureoles
Around my nipples like microstorms

So I am conceived
By sound and each tone
Is a bone and attached to one is a scrap of a soul

The burning docent runs

The head of John the Baptist
Is held out like a lantern
His eyes bulge

A knob in my pants

I am a body of wants, asks

The fungus spreads along the capitol walls
The fungus is marble
Here from now on but maybe before

Jefferson’s child is sold at market
Sold to a slaver

The son of this constitution’s engraver

A body inscribed

Subject to force

I am a body tuned

I am the violin prodigy
In a plantation barracoon

I am a body hurtling faster

Arrows descend from the corners, all four
An eighth turn and an eighth turn more
And they are suspended and I advance
Straight onto the their tips and stare up, entranced

The docent panics
And at St. Sebastian
Burns and collapses

In a glowing heap
At the Venus de Milo’s feet

The docent smokes
The fungus creeps

The composer opens his eyes
And sees the living proscenium
The frieze of squirming lines
Of the opera in the streets

The bodies which are notes on a score
Spiraling inward, lashing out

Sounding into the future
Echoing before

Amnesiac, historicized, unsure

credits

from Opera of the War, released January 12, 2024

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Hourloupe

Hourloupe: “I associate it, by assonance, to ‘hurler’ (to roar), to ‘huleler’ (to hoot), to ‘loup’ (wolf).”
—Jean Dubuffet

Hourloupe is a collaboration between writer, musician, and artist Frank Menchaca and Anar Badalov.
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