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about

Dutch Futurismo’s Festival of Misfits is a welcome addition to Ektro Records’ series of releases by Hungarian-born artists and musicians Éva Polgár and Sándor Vály. Working with Nea Lindgren and Mikael Jurmu, Polgár and Vály enter the soundscapes of Spanish seashores, streets, flats and ateliers, where their music takes an unpredictable course. The procession of whimsical improvisations, peculiar solutions and impossible circumstances was recorded with a single microphone. Performed on instruments built from scrap materials from streets and dumpsters, Dutch Futurismo brings together Arte Povera and Dada. While impinging the obvious conventions of making music, Dutch Futurismo’s unruly approach also taps into the Cagean tradition of widening the horizons of what is perceived as music in the first place, as each sound on the album lives and breathes according to its own unapologetic logic.

Dutch Futurismo’s Festival of Misfits celebrates the 100th Anniversary of Dada by reciting poems and proclamations of Dadaists Kurt Schwitters, Hugo Ball, Hans Arp and Francis Picabia.

lyrics

Kaspar is dead
Oh no, oh no, good Kaspar's dead!
Who now will hide the burning banners in cloudbraid and daily build a black mare's nest?
Who now will turn the coffee mill in its old, old barrel?
And who will lure the idyllic deerfrom its petrified paper bag?
Who'll blow the noses of ships, parapluies, wind-udders, ancestral bees, ozone spindles,
and who will bone the pyramids?
Oh no, no, no, our good Kaspar is dead! Pious bimbam Kaspar's dead!
The shark will rattle his teeth with heartrending grief when he hears his given name -- so
I sigh on -- his last name Kaspar Kaspar Kaspar.
Why hast thou forsaken us? In what form has your great and beautiful soul transmogrified?
Are you a star? or a chain or water hanging from a hot whirlwind? or a transparent brick on the groaning drum of rocky BEING?


Now our tops and toes dry up, and fairies lie half-charred on the funeral pyre.

Now the black bowling alley thunders behind the sun, and no one winds up compasses
and pushcart wheels any longer.

Who now will eat with the phosphorescent rat at the lonely barefoot table?

Who now will chase the siroccoco devil when he wants to fuck the horses?
Now who'll explain the monograms in the stars?

His bust will grace the mantel of all the truly noble men,
but that's no comfort, no tobacco snuff for a deadhead skull.

Poem by Hans Arp

credits

from Dutch Futurismo / Festival of Misfits, released April 9, 2020
Composed By Sándor Vály, Mikael Jurmu

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Sandor Valy Finland

Sándor Vály (1968) is an audiovisual artist born in Hungary and currently living in Finland and Italy. Vály’s art is characterised by conceptual and philosophical dimension, which he uses to operate in the field of contemporary art. His work ranges from music to cinema, performance art and literature. Vály creates holistic works of art that form extensive entities ... more

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