The Wimshurst's Machine: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)
• MP3 short clip, lo-fi play (modem)

Soft, Club-Jazzy song with Augusto's brand-new (& amazing) Mason Bari Sax. As soon as Augusto received his brand new Mason Baritone saxophone, and tried it, he did want to add it's amazing voice to our new incoming album's tracklist. Here you could listen to the "demo version" of the acid jazzy track he played for some month, and now you may listen to the album version. The Baritone saxophone you hear here has a "my masterpiece" Maccaferri reed 2,5 (med-soft) and is as Lee sold it, with the original "stock" mouthpiece (is enough good Augusto don't even think to change it, at least for the moment).

The track is part of a "suite" of tracks all dedicated to the same story, call it the soundtrack of a novel we'll put (as for "the traveller") in the CD, so that people may read and listen... Specifically, this track is part 4 of the suite:

THE ALCHEMIST
(modern suite in 8 parts)

1-intro/infinite adventures
2-philosopher's stone
3-intermezzo: captured
4-prisoner
5-meditations
6-intermezzo: the torture machine
7-torquemada
8-the escape/finale

THE TELL TALE BEHIND THE TRACK
(Italiano in coda all'inglese)
THE ALCHEMIST
original story written by Duilio Chiarle
translation by Fabrizio B. Maracich

IV)-PRISONER!
When his eyes got used to the darkness the only source of light got more and more intense. Light was radiating from a torch in the hallway, a resinous and stinking torch. The alchemist was able to smell, to feel and isolate any single component in the resin, in the wood, in the air.
A poor quality torch. The wood components of the gate was tough but ruined, it was possible to feel it by touching the surface, and was punctured by big nails. A big, rusty and outdated lock sealed his freedom.
A distant echo of humanity tore the humid and heavy smelling air from time to time, but it was a rare occurrence and silence was broken only by the light crackling of the torch. The walls of his room, old and wet, were coved by an accretion of saltpeter. “What a pity” thought the alchemist, “with some coal and sulphur this door couldn’t stop me”.

IV)-PRIGIONIERO
Quando i suoi occhi si abituarono al buio, l’unica fonte di luce si amplificò pian piano. La luce che filtrava dalla torcia nel corridoio, una fiaccola resinosa e puzzolente i cui componenti l’alchimista poteva percepire uno ad uno. Una torcia scadente. Il legno del portone era robusto e malconcio, si poteva sentire al tatto, ed era costellato dalle evidenti protuberanze di grossi chiodi. Una grossa e antiquata serratura arrugginita sigillava la sua libertà. Eco lontane di umanità laceravano di quando in quando l’aria umida, pesante di odori. Ma era un evento raro ed il silenzio era spezzato soltanto dal leggero crepitio della torcia. Le mura della cella erano vecchie e umide, al tatto si poteva percepire una vasta formazione di salnitro. “Peccato” pensò l’alchimista “con un poco di carbone e di zolfo, quella porta non riuscirebbe a fermarmi”.