___Aldus kondigt de in Texas geboren          en in Los Angeles woonachtige          Akira Rabelais,          componist en software ontwikkelaar,          zijn eerste software release in 1997 aan.          Software waarmee geluid willekeurig kan          worden vervormd en veranderd.          De filters die beschikbaar zijn in het          programma kregen namen mee als          Evisceration Reanimation,          Dynamic FM Synthesis,          Time Domain Mutation,          Morphological Disintegration,          en de Lobster Quadrille.          Hij maakte zijn eerste          muziek instrumenten door met          luchtdrukgeweren op metaalplaten          te schieten, studeerde compositie,          elektronische muziek en orchestratie          met Bill Dixon en Joel Chadabe,          en ontving, onder leiding          van de elektronische musicus          Morton Subotnick een doctoraal          bij het Instituut van de Kunsten          van Californië.          Zelf vergelijkt Rabelais het schrijven          van software met het schrijven van poëzie.          Argeïphontes Lyre wordt met open armen          ontvangen door artiesten als Scanner          en Terre Thaemlitz, zeg maar          de ‘elektronische’ muziekstroming. oblique          ___Es gleicht daher einem gewagten          Experiment, wenn Klavier, Rauschen          und Störung gar einvernehmlich im          Verbund sich finden und je für sich          auf eine andere musikalische Ordnung          referieren. Einen solchen Weg geht          Akira Rabelais mit „Eisoptrophobia“          (Mille plateaux label). Wer die Musik          von „Akira Rabelais“ hört, vernimmt          einerseits Bekanntes von Bartok,          Carté und in erster Linie von          Eric Satie - allerdings im neuen,          man möchte fast sagen: aktuellen          Klanggewand.          Elongated Pentagonal Pyramid   Eisoptrophobia    ...bénédiction, draw.    Spellewauerynsherde    Hollywood Boulevard between     Betty Grable's and Rod Serling's stars...   August 26th, 2006. Caduceus    Harold Budd - 'Avalon Sutra'     [cd coda]: 'As Long As I Can Hold   My Breath (By Night)' Björk - 'Drawing Restraint 9'     [track]: 'Bath' David Sylvian - 'The Good Son vs.     The Only Daughter: Blemish Remixes'   [remix]: 'Blemish'          from 'a book of fragments',  summer two thousand five.   Noticing to   confess the days,   rapids were I,   before a glance   forwards and wearisome,      silenced by   language,   here to leave the music   wept across the body,   the wall before it and all   I cannot tell you   must reverberate   through sense,   on eyes window,   imagining and vanishes   with voices for a circle,   windows of grass   in a whispering   at little green   as if   it would   to brightness reach,   and the actual   perceiving   is resolved   to the centre,   here   any moment   remember   and   perish.   I summoned   up the balcony,   mingled with   cloth off   the love   of so far   as dragged down   could scarcely close   my gaze from each other,   were we to this fonder,   any minutes together   and outside looked   steadily   for needed   none,   and   against   the hand   simply to escape   the warmth   from questions   put to the sweet ring   once descended   still remains   where anything   and by it   disappears,   many questions   conclusions reached   before you might   suppose   them.   in a pile of time   ever streams away   you would lightly recall,   words bewitch eyes,   a sweet disorder   in with delight,   and spake, the bodies   of blood,   in a great   fig-tree growing,   in this river   to be dying,   the voice indeed   is a way to reach it,   so hand, so,   there upon   the heavens touch   kinds of fire written,   and hears the sound   of Sirens' voice   never ceased,   but   that asked   how this river   to the truth   was dream, hold had to   much-sorrowing and sheer,   as fascinated tale   with loud voice,   by no greater   than when art   is too precise,   subtlety doesn't want   but the hearth,   the heavens   touch the common   into a great heap   of yet more   bonds,   it haste away   if they will   then let think   necks long   and circumspect.   safe   and warm,   as safe   in a little space   the sensations   of dreams,   a patch   of sleep,   those names   now my only wish,   making significance   of course,   I enter   into obscurity,   loved the likeness   of mineral and substance,   here a day from little   rushing flight   through moths fluttering   among all apart   in what new delights   there were,   a degree   of Earth rise on   and   silver brocade   embroidered,   the music   of its trees,   set in this   that ghost of little   rushing flight,   a crown   of innocence,   almost,   which is life,   yet lifted   to disappear   for naught,   and walked blindly   into forgetfulness   of everything,   thus my sweet thoughts   with distant unseeing eyes,   these haunted bones,   bodies giving expression   to our eternities   turned obscurity,   turned to ash   and the sweetness   of closing hand   on hand,   our shadows broken   on the little in-betweens,   surface of soft steps also are   turned to meaningless,   on of sky pale with stars   left to gardens   and limestone labyrinth,   times more sorry to no alteration   in this out to blessed   nothingness.          as if clinging could save us All colours immediately fell an octave lower, the room filled with shadows, as if it had sunk to the bottom of the sea and the light was reflected in mirrors of green water- and the heat of the day began to breathe on the blinds as they stirred slightly in their day-dreams. The salesgirls now walked up and down between the rows of books, their faces, like grey parchment, marked with the dark greasy pigment spots of brunettes, their shiny dark eyes shooting out sudden zigzag cockroachy looks. I will not argue pro d contra, as do the sottish Sophisters of this town, and other places: likewise I will not dispute after the manner of the Academicks by declamation: nor yet by numbers, as Pythagoras was wont to do, and as Picas de la Mirandula did of late at Rome In all forms of strategy, it is necessary to maintain the combat stance in everyday life and to make your everyday stance your combat stance. Suddenly Psyche sidled up giggling, and whispered something into Quartilla's ear. "A splendid idea," said Quartilla, "I can't imagine a more opportune time for deflowering our little Pannychis."