Appendix II: Spotlight on music composer Gerry De Mol
We first approached Gerry De Mol
out of the blue after hearing a song from his "Kleine Blote Liedjes"
album ("Little Naked Songs") on the radio. At the time, we were looking
for a composer to work with on 8,
having decided that Pergolesi and Beethoven were a bit too heavy-handed
for the game. As it turned out, Gerry was the perfect match for 8.
Not only did he make simple moving songs with minimal orchestration and
unexpected instruments, he also had this entire other life of being a
"world musician" with Oblomow. Gerry is an expert player of all sorts
of exotic string instruments and many of his compositions refer to
Middle Eastern traditions (which 8 referred to as well, in its visual
style).
We were unable to find sufficient fundng to produce 8 at the time,
but when we needed a song for the options screen of The Endless Forest,
we asked Gerry. Then later when we developed Abiogenesis and need more
music for live performances in the Forest, we asked him again to make a
whole bunch of songs. We have returned the favour by creating a 2D game
for his "Min en Meer" album.
The choice for Gerry as composer for the song in The Graveyard
was clear from the beginning. Very few musicians have the courage to
make art about the mundane and even fewer have the talent to be witty
while doing it, and incredibly moving at the same time. Gerry is a rare
artist and the perfect match for the ambiguous atmosphere we wanted to
project with The Graveyard. Let's see how he feels about this...
The song you created for The Graveyard (entitled "Komen te gaan" or "Come to go"), is about cleaning graves. Where did the inspiration come from?
"Komen te gaan" is a quite regional euphemism for dying, means as much
as "arriving to the departure", has a nice paradox in itself. The
inspiration comes from where I grew up. I lived very near the local
graveyard (so we had a lot of neighbors, all quiet people) and as a
kid we used to play in the graveyard.
At one time, when the "old graveyard" was nearly full, they created
a new graveyard with asphalt lanes that meandered round nicely trimmed
lawns, but no grave was dug yet. The place was big and it came out to
be an ideal terrain for practicing rollerskates. My best friend's
grandfather was the gravekeeper at that time, now 40 years ago.
Graveyards are ideal for playing hide and seek as well.
Also, my mother's father died very young, so more than once a week my
mother visted the graveyard. Once a year all family graves where
cleaned for All Saints (1st of November) -- the blue stone was thoroughly
cleaned with a bottle of acid. But my strongest memories are from the
days just before All Saints, owning a pub alongside the graveyard, my
parents and grandmother sold Chrysanthemums in the days leading up to
November 1st, which spread a sweet smell for weeks through the house.
In most cultures, cleaning graves is a way of taking care of memories
and people who are not there anymore. Most people talk to the deceased
when doing that, it's got the power of a ritual which is very personal
and soothing.
Could comment a little bit on some of the lyrics? Perhaps illuminating some things that might have been lost in the translation?
From year eight to year forty
Yes, Irma was still young
‘t Was a German with consumption
Too big a heart, too weak a lung
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Van ‘t jaar acht tot het jaar veertig
Ja die Irma was nog jong
‘t Was een Duitser met de tering
Te groot hart, te zwakke long |
|
What was "a German"? What are you referring to?
She reads from the grave, the girl Irma died in 1940. Germans were all
over this place then, apparently she knows the story. Irma (about her
age, I suppose) met a German, she had a big heart, fell in love, but
the German had consumption, she caught it and died from it because of
her weak lungs. Apparently very swiftly.
|
Renée, she had fibroids
Auntie Mo, while she was asleep,
Fell down into a dream
And was never picked up again |
Renée, die had een vleesboom
Tante Mo is in haar slaap
Doodgevallen in een droom
En nooit meer opgeraapt |
|
Just
a list of how they died. One is mysterious, Auntie Mo. By lack of
information or vocabularly, when people walk the paths in a graveyard
commenting on who they pass by, use expressions like "he fell dead",
"he suddenly died", "she never woke up". It struck me as quite possible
that, the old lady can think that someone dying in her sleep for no
apparant reason might have died from something that happened in a dream.
|
Look that's Emma, stillborn,
Take care you don't step on her
Her portrait is long lost
A little blue cross, never baptized |
Kijk da's Emma, doodgeboren,
Zie da' j'er nie' over loopt
Haar portret al lang verloren
Een blauw kruiske, nooit gedoopt |
|
Why a blue cross?
I remember a very touching place in a hidden corner of the old
graveyard at our place. There were some light blue crosses lined up, no
photo, just a name and one date. Not two. They were the little babies
that were stillborn, they had no right to a proper grave or a proper
funeral because they were not baptised in time. Maybe this made me see
very early the cruelty of religions to people.
|
And Roger, that was cancer
grew too big for his own good
When ivy gets too tall, there's
Too much shadow. Pruned away. |
En Roger, da' was de kanker
die heeft zichzelf overgroeid
Als een klimop te hoog wordt hangt er
Teveel schaduw. Weggesnoeid. |
|
Roger
is the only persona who really existed. Cancer happens when we overgrow
ouselves literary.. and sometimes also in a figurative sense.
|
Acid on granite
White bubbles, yellow foam
Steel wool to clean the rust
Scratch away the year and date
And a chisel for your own name
For when we come to go |
Zoutzuur op arduin
Witte bubbels, geel schuim
Staalwol om het roest te wassen
Jaar en datum weg te krassen
En een beitel voor je eigen naam
Voor als we komen te gaan |
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"Acid on granite" is not exactly a correct translation is it?
No, I have a Brother who is a geologist, here's what he had to say on the subject: "Arduin
seems to be called Belgian Blue Stone in English, a kind of Limestone.
The specific kind of acid is hydrochloric acid or hydrochloric or
muriatic acid. The yellow foam is a result of chalk settling on the
blue stone. Therefore the cleaning is caused by the acid taking away
some micrometer from the blue stone. The acid, however, will not bubble
yellow on granite unless someone has peed on your grave". Which is a
soothing concept, I think.
She thinks of a clean grave for herself, the
tools she had to clean the graves she visited, all you need now is
these tools and a chisel to engrave her own name somewhere as she knows
her death is imminent.
|
From between Jesus's legs
I would like to pluck those webs
I'd wipe the sand between his toes
If I could still bend over |
Van tussen Jezeke zijn benen
Zou ‘k die webben willen plukken
‘k Wreef het zand tussen zijn tenen
Als ik me nog kon bukken |
|
Who is the "I" who is speaking?
It is the old lady, she sees a neglected figure of Jesus on the
graveyard with webs between his legs and sand on his toes (happens from
raining) and still would like to clean the guy, but she can't. The
cleaning has become a memory, as well as the people. When the rituals
of death become memories, I suppose we enter a kind of peace.
|
I want a cherub made of china
a black marble bedspread
stone flowers will suffice
to keep me nice and warm |
‘k Wil een engelke van porselein
en een sprei van zwarte marmer
‘t mogen stenen bloemen zijn
om mij aan te verwarmen |
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What are these stone flowers and how do they keep you warm?
Some graves are terribly kitchy as everybody knows. Some people put
little nude cherubs and awkwardly colored stone flowers on graves, it
removes the need for the maintenance by bringing flowers and creates
maybe an aura of indestructability.
She, who has been cleaning graves
all her life, suggests that she is happy with having her monument, but
essentially does not want to be a burden. Flowers are a gift from the
heart, but she is happy with stone ones, to paradoxically keep her
warm. Meaning -- again -- she does not expect too much anymore.
|
Acid on granite
White bubbles and yellow foam
Steel wool to clean the rust
Scratch away the year and date
And a chisel for your own name
For when we come to go
Here is calm, here is safe
Maybe next time
Next time perhaps, I will stay
Then I'll be here no more
No more
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Zoutzuur op arduin
Witte bubbels en geel schuim
Staalwol om het roest te wassen
Jaar en datum weg te krassen
En een beitel voor je eigen naam
Voor als we komen te gaan
Hier is het rustig, is het veilig
Misschien volgende keer
Volgende keer misschien, dan blijf ik
En dan ben ik hier niet meer
Niet meer
|
|
She
finds calm here, I particularly am fond of yet anythor paradox in the
text that next time, maybe she would "stay", meaning she's "not here
anymore".
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You first made another mix of the song but we thought it was too
heavy; now that you can see the finished project, do you agree? Or do
you still prefer the first version? and if so, why?
I do not particularly like the first version more than the other. I
like to blend in projects, so this version works very well with the
game. I'm very happy with the result and like to present it to people
as an empathy machine with old people, so I'm proud of being part of it.
For my MySpace I considered putting on the earlier version, but I
decided against it, so apparently I like this version as much. The
first version would have been okay if the person was a man, it's got more
coarse singing, it's slower and lower. The singer [in that version] is more a persona, as
now it's more of a storyteller. Therefore this is better for the game, I
suppose.
Is the music of "Komen te gaan" inspired by any kind of traditional music? What other ideas did you have that didn't make it?
It has no specific ethnic roots. It's a bit of a slow death march
for optimists made light and with a deliberately struggling rhythm that
always seems to come too late. It's more inspired by the movements of
an old lady who thinks she will move her foot, but the foot reacts
just a bit too late. So does the rhythm and the little banjo solo.
Things and directions do not react as you would want to any more when
getting older, so the solo gets lost in itself -- as does the lady, I
reckon. I would have liked to keep the harmonium from the first
version, but it swept away all the relative lightness. What I would
have liked to have done -- but time lacking, I did not -- was create a
slow polyphonic seemingly religious yodled version of a very popular
pubsong coming from within the chapel. The text goes: when we're dead,
the grass grows on our tummy. Maybe later.
You work with musicians from all over the world and your musical
inspirations come from many different cultures. Yet you always write
songs in Dutch. Doesn't this limit the exposure of your work?
Maybe, maybe not. But I do not think there is any choice. If you want
to obtain a certain level of significance and subtlety in lyrics, you
cannot but do it in your own language. I learned that you either have
to be yourself or choose a persona and a style and a statistically
measured least common denominator in taste to become famous. Creating
exposure instead of expression. As I'm too old, too ugly, and too male
for the latter, I'm stuck on the former way of expressing myself:
trying to be or become myself.
What projects are you working on at the moment? Any new albums coming up? Any games?
I'm working on a solo album, hoping to release it soon, but I have
no deadlines. I might suddenly make it in a week, or it can stay on the
shelf for years to come. I'm in a writing period now, which makes it
more difficult, with over 40 new songs to choose from. And then there
is this doubt whether printing CDs is still a good idea. Looking for
new ways of creating things and having a bit of an income as well.
I'm touring with a show I created called The Portable Paradise, in
which three singers sing about their lives (from a book I wrote with
migration stories of singers from all over the world). Touring in
November, it's a new way of working with film and live music and
storytelling. The music is from myself, Ethiopia, Armenia, and some
other inspirations.
I'm performing on my own in small theaters and house concerts (great
fun to do) and performing in two theater pieces at the same time. One
based on the poetry of Flemish poet Pat Donnez for which I wrote some
music and perform on stage. The other a new project by theater maker
Michael De Cock with Senegalese actor Younous Diallo about the boat
migration from Senegal to Tenerife, a horrific story in which I use the
sea, some water, a guitar, a rope and a motor as instruments.
Where can people buy your music?
They can hear it on MySpace and I'm planning to put some of the music on iTunes. Older CDs can be obtained on my site www.gerrydemol.be.
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I admire "Tale of Tales" and their achievements, having also played Endless Forest, and state that the postmortem is detailed and enlightening.
It's great to be a fellow indie developer and get a peak at the growth of experimental game design, especially when associated to emotional storytelling. There's still much to be explored and games, as a medium, still have a lot to grow.
Kudos to Michael Samyn and the "Tale of Tales" for pulling off such a peculiar and remarkable experience via such a small game.
Cheers!
http://www.mlive.com/businessreview/annarbor/index.ssf/2008/11/film_act_could_la
unch_games.html
""I think the committee [in Michigan, USA] (that approves incentive requests) or the organization doesn't quite understand the industry, which is understandable, and it doesn't understand how the industry fits into this program," Toschlog said. "In my opinion, the work we're doing is comparable to a film production company and fits into the program, but we have yet to convince the Film Office.""
Thanks for a wide ranging post mortem, good stuff to think about from tools to game design approaches.