Get all 6 William Susman releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Music for Moving Pictures, Quiet Rhythms Live at Spectrum NYC, Scatter My Ashes, Quiet Rhythms Book I, Collision Point, and A Quiet Madness.
1. |
Camille I. Vitality
03:36
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2. |
Camille II. Tranquility
03:04
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3. |
Camille III. Triumph
02:48
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4. |
Scatter My Ashes
02:08
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Scatter my ashes before I die.
Let me blow and fade
in the wind
over water
into nothing.
Watch me dissolve in air.
Scatter my old bones.
I am keeping the young ones
fresh, strong the blood circles
and weaves me into a whole piece
with long slender red thread
buried under my skin.
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5. |
The Night Tree
03:16
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In the distance in the dark
I talk hard to an old tree.
Winding round and round, I am
a flame curling upwards
and the tree welcomes me.
I don’t have to have a reason to be here.
There is time enough to understand.
I don’t have to explain.
My name is the sound of the wind blowing and
my spirit is as old.
Until the sky grows light, I will stay here
wound tightly to the tree and
listen to the way the dark feels.
The fire in my throat burns more quietly now.
I can hear the empty sound of dawn.
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6. |
Even in the Dark
01:51
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The forest breathes in and out as I sleep and curl
like a cat snuggled into a bigger sleeping body.
Even in the dark
I wake and see light from above,
the moon burning into black earth;
stars, glittering chips of glass
scatter in a strange design.
I keep my eyes open until morning.
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7. |
Only Clear Space Inside
01:44
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Take off the old wood and burn it.
I am leaving this part of me here.
And as I light the match
to start this fire, I feel the flames begin
to jump out of me.
I am burning myself up from the inside, and
this fire burns clean, leaves no ashes,
only clear space inside.
Now the wind picks up.
The flames grow higher.
There is no pain.
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8. |
Eternal Light
03:22
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Heart in the darkness
holding on to the light inside.
Inside there is a spark, a light that burns
and never goes out, never grows dim but
burns hard and bright
in the dark void of unending night,
the vast empty blackness of my self
where I can only hear the echo of my cavernous soul and
the simple cadence of my healthy heart
hurting and healing over and over
pumping the life into my veins
pushing it through and around
so that I am always filled with it
so that I am always alive to the light
even when I am lost, cold and wandering
lonely in the dark.
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9. |
Piano Concerto
12:27
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10. |
Hot Time
03:41
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Hot time
this summer in the city
in the artificial light of the street.
At night people scurry and run together in packs.
Too many rats in the cage.
Running towards something in the distance,
in the dark;
something hidden from sight,
something they cannot name.
They come here to hunt and groan
in hot dark rooms filled with sweating, hungry bodies,
dancing with fever into the morning.
And as the music blasts into flashing strobe-lights,
the walls begin to swell and breathe.
There are bodies on the street tonight,
each with its own hidden secret.
You can choose one to take home with you.
You can go on alone.
You can help yourself.
Steal into the night. No one can find you.
You become invisible in the dark,
invisible to others who may want to hurt you;
invisible even to yourself.
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11. |
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She approached me in the supermarket’s parking lot,
a tired-looking woman with a worn-out face,
asking if I had any change.
And as I shook my head,
I felt the dimes and nickels burrow deeper in my pocket,
felt my back stiffen, my hands curl into fists.
I couldn’t look her in the face
and so I hurried on,
shaking my head to lose the fear
that one day she could be me,
talking to strangers in parking lots,
alone in the street, unknown and unseen,
begging the night for change.
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12. |
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Tonight I stood watching the stars
twinkling through the bare branches.
The air is cold and I am alone
here in this quiet faraway place.
And I am at peace, in myself,
still somewhat afraid.
I stood watching the night sky,
as if it would change,
as if the tiny white lights would move
or rearrange themselves
the better to please my eye.
But there was no change; the night was fixed,
immutable and cold.
I am a shifting star, fallen down
from the vast empty blackness
to burn on the earth.
I look up to see where I came from.
And the lights return my gaze.
There is no message, no sound
just the silent reflection of my own face
shining in the night to remind me
that I have always been here.
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William Susman San Francisco, California
William Susman is a composer and pianist.
His music has earned praise from Gramophone as “texturally
shimmering and harmonically ravishing,” from Fanfare, "crystalline . . . and gloriously lyrical,” and The New York Times, “vivid, turbulent, and rich-textured.” Textura describes Susman as “not averse to letting his affection for Afro-Cuban, jazz, and other forms seep into his creative output.”
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