This is a piece written to accompany a modern dance movement. The prompt was to consider having/not-having, particularly with respect to the "father figure." In doing some research on this idea I discovered the book "Kristeva, Psychoanalysis, and Culture": "For Lacan, the father [played psychosexually by the phallus] represents a void between two irreconcilable truths, that he [Lacan] believes is played out in language production...Speech acts are an attempt at filling in the void between the subject and the phallus [father], an effort at possessing it. On the other hand, these speech acts can never reconcile the dichotomy having/not having, because to speak to oneself is also to speak to not-oneself [a long footnote then explains this sentence]. This very impossibility sets the phallus or dead father at the heart of human signification" (from https://goo.gl/bZ0utz). I believe you could easily substitute "dance" and/or "music" for the speech act, so I struck out to find themes of irreconcilability, dichotomy, self/not-self, and the "dead" father. The music begins with an ambient soundscape from a Brian Eno app called "Audio Palette". I conceptualize this theme as "father." Entering soon are the voices of the others (iPad/iPhone apps called "Animoog" and "Morphwiz" were used for these sounds), be they wives, children, other relations, or whomever. Conversations ensue. A heartbeat very slowly and subtly develops into the middle of the song as the life forces intertwine, briefly. Another voice appears; it is father again in a different guise. (Actually, it's Slavoj Zizek lecturing about the Lacanian interpretation of Freud's classic dream archetype "Father, can you see I'm burning." Basically, he states that a stimulus that creates a dream, say, the smell of smoke, is less important than what the mind turns the dream into as a result of the external intrusion. Available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAkl4MvXUIc). This voice slowly fades, as does the audio palette, so father is gone. All that is left is the void and two sullen voices whimpering at the end signal a final encroaching silence. Yet the faded memory of father remains.

The desert sands are hot Even the burro’s thirsty I think of what is not A need that must come firstly On the horizon a beautiful sight Palm trees and yuccas too Water for my tongue to excite Too bad this mirage is as fake as you Water, water everywhere But not a drop to drink This blasted sand gets in my hair It makes me hard to think Moving on I think I see A flying ship or two Is this another trick of the light? Too bad this mirage is as fake as you Illusions come and illusions go As we pass through the day We put on fronts in order to hide We face the other way The water runs the water flows Under consciousness’s view But now I see it, revealed by the light Too bad this mirage is as fake as -- Too bad that mirage is as fake as -- Too bad our mirage is as fake as you

Grids goin' down now Feelin' a brown out People havin' breakdown Everybody spellbound Cops have a crackdown Don't stick your neck out Tearin' down uptown Get out, hit the ground What it means to be without What it means in an electric drought Gunfight knockdown Folks gettin' laid out Government clamp down Citizen runaround Darkness downtown Window smash takeout Shopkeeper shakedown Electronic takedown What it means to be without What it means in an electric drought All around showdown Revolution no doubt Color shift dark brown Nervous system breakdown Grids goin' down now Feelin' a brown out People havin' breakdown Everybody spellbound