I was listening to recordings from Brazilian cellist Rodrigo Prado improvising. Suddenly, a unique, rough, complex, noisy sound materializes like a scream, though not a human one. Instead, the cry seemed to be reminiscences of dying trees as if the cello’s wood had preserved the memories of the killed trees from which it derived.

 

That bizarre idea must have arisen from the influence of a life-changer book I was reading at that time: For Yanomami people, Trees are sacred beings. They defend trees with their own lives. And after thinking a little deeper on this rather bizarre “sonic vision” I had, I realized how Western music development was indeed promoted at the expanse of the killing of trees. All western music tradition is, somehow, dependent on wood, not only for producing the majority of orchestral instruments but also for preserving and allowing the Western music language development through score writing on paper, a well-known substance derived from trees.

​

Consequently, a very poetic and renewed view of trees emerges, for they have provided us with two of the most significant things we need to survive: oxygen and music. All sounds contained in the composition are tree-related. I utilized sounds of the closing of books, page turnings, instruments made of wood to represent human history. Natural sounds from different birds, wind, and water represent nature. This strategy of dealing with concrete sounds in a still highly abstract musical discourse aims to provide listeners with clues on the originating vision of screaming trees. This piece is a tribute to trees.