𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

￭ Einike Leppik. And My Body Touched the Dark
"And My Body Touched the Dark" alludes to a drowning incident that happened in my late childhood. As the years have gone by, my memory of this occurrence has become more vivid, and its significance has increased in many ways. It is impossible to overestimate the second chances in life.
In the case of this piece, it is rather an atmospheric and poetic translation of the incident, and in the context of the festival theme – Dance of Composers – I would draw the parallel with Danse Macabre from a very personal point of view. The composition consists of three sections, and the piano part of the middle section refers to some kind of gloomy waltz that suffocates the voice as water blocks breathing and light while drowning deeper and deeper into darkness.

￭ Jovydas Petrėtis. Šokliavoris
I’m so happy to have become a part of this amazing event! Here, I get a chance to hear my piece played for the very first time. I get a chance to hear the story of the lonely spider. It means more than a lot to both of us – the spider and I.
The piece conveys the feelings of sadness and loneliness the spider has to endure. All the spider wants is to have someone to share the joy of dance with. And when it seems like there’s no one to hear the spider’s yearning, the spider’s friends show up at that sorrow-sunken field. All for one more dance. Spiders can – why can’t we?

￭ Leon Clowes. The Wanderer’s Waltz
This piece is a part of a larger work – a lament I wrote for my mother. For years, she had to keep the awful secret of my father’s identity and I wish for this piece to give her a voice from the other side. As ‘The Wanderer’s Waltz’ progresses, the soprano voice becomes submerged through the grinding of the Wurlitzer and piano’s repeated arpeggio, eventually drowned out by the ‘over here’ distractions of the ghostly chorus wail.

￭ Lucette van den Berg. We Grow Accustomed to the Dark
“We Grow Accustomed to the Dark” is a song written in the poem of the same name by poet Emily Dickinson. It’s an ode to those who are courageous enough to fight against injustice and are determined to bring about change in this world, sometimes at the cost of their own lives. The song for soprano, piano, and fixed electronics (on tape) was written a week after Navalny died.
The poem was written around 1862 by the American poet Emily Dickinson. It speaks of the human ability to survive and be resilient in times of hardship and uncertainty. It is a testament to human courage and resilience. Just as eyes adjust to new surroundings after lights go out, people will learn to find their way through dark times, too.
In this composition, the piano plays the first five notes of the fugue from 'Le tombeau de Couperin' by Maurice Ravel. These first five notes are the foundation of the piano part. They develop continuously but always return to the first theme. The triplets represent stumbling and searching. The soprano part is objective, almost detached. The electronics provide the foundation and develop themselves into a sense of threat. It symbolizes the threat we can feel living as humans in the modern world.

￭ Paul Beaudoin. i then, alone
“i then, alone” for voice, piano, and fixed electronics, is part of my “soundfield” series. In these works, a fixed electronic sound is the sonic canvas on which the performers “paint” their sounds. The score generally gives specific pitches but leaves their temporal distribution open to their artistic impulse.
The text for this work comes from a shredded paper found in ancient Alexandria. The paper was torn on the left and right sides as well as the top and bottom. Additionally, because of its age, there were many holes in the middle, leaving only fragments of the poem behind. In this work, I ask the performers to leave “holes” in their sound to represent the potentially lost words and sounds that might have been a part of the original poet's imagination. Perhaps you will find them in your power of creativity.

￭ Paulius Stanulionis. Moteris prieš veidrodį
„The Woman in front of a Mirror“ is my confession of love for jazz and H. Radauskas. While writing this piece I imagined a conversational partner who becomes a sort of embodiment of the imaginary mirror. I attempted to reveal the woman‘s inner drama and a yearning look back. The jazz sound allows one to experience a tragicomic rhythm, full of irony. I hope that the listener will find that partner in themselves, who, for a moment, will sit down with the woman in front of a mirror.

￭ Romuald Chaloin Galiauskas. Plieno sparnų poezija.
Musical fractal composition is the application of fractal geometry principles to the process of music composition, where recurring geometric patterns and algorithms are used to develop musical motifs and structures. As in classical fractal models (e.g. Mandelbrot Set, Sierpinski Carpet), the music is characterised by self-replication at different scales of repeated parts. In the process, unpredictable harmonies and "rich" soundscapes are developed. Fractal Algorithmic Composition is a unique intersection of mathematics and music, where fractal geometry influences evolving and dynamic musical motifs, creating an extraordinary sonic experience.
The composition for vocals and electronics, "Poetry of Steel Wings", was created using Cycling 74, MAX MSP 8's visual programming software, which builds digital instruments from scratch to integrate live sound processing and electronic modules. A metronome rhythm-tracking instrument that records and replicates the sound material was developed to create and perform this composition, which "layers" the vocalist's performance of the main melody in seven sound replication modules.

￭ Jasper de Bock. I, I myself (eu, eu mesmo)
I...
I, I myself...
I, full of all the weariness
The world can give...
I...
Everything, finally, since everything is me,
Including even the stars, it seems,
Came out of my pocket to dazzle children...
What children I don’t know...
I...
Imperfect? Inscrutable? Divine?
I don’t know...
But I, I...
I am I,
I stay I,
I...