(Music)
(Mūzika)
(Aplausi)
(Applause)
Paldies.
Thank you. Ooh, I'm like, "Phew, phew, calm down. Get back into my body now." (Laughter)
Man ir tāda sajūta: „Kuš, kuš, nomierinies. Atgriezies sevī.”
Usually when I play out, the first thing that happens is people scream out, "What's she doing?!" I'll play at these rock shows, be on stage standing completely still, and they're like, "What's she doing?! What's she doing?!" And then I'll kind of be like -- (Vvvwow!) -- and then they're like, "Whoa!" (Laughter)
(Smiekli) Parasti, kad uzstājos, sākumā cilvēki sauc: „Ko viņa dara?!” Es spēlēju rokkoncertos uz skatuves un stāvu pilnīgi mierīgi, un viņi sauc: „Ko viņa dara?! Ko viņa dara?!” Un tad es izdaru tā – (Ūūū!) – un viņi atbild: „Oo!”
I'm sure you're trying to figure out,
(Smiekli)
"Well, how does this thing work?" Well, what I'm doing is controlling the pitch with my left hand. See, the closer I get to this antenna, the higher the note gets -- (Portamento) -- and you can get it really low. And with this hand I'm controlling the volume, so the further away my right hand gets, the louder it gets. (Tones) So basically, with both of your hands you're controlling pitch and volume and kind of trying to create the illusion that you're doing separate notes, when really it's continuously going ... (Flourish ... Beep) (Laughter)
Esmu droša, ka mēģināt saprast: „Kā tad šis rīks strādā?” Ar kreiso roku es regulēju skaņas augstumu. Jo tuvāk esmu antenai, jo augstāka ir nots. (Portamento) Var arī spēlēt ļoti zemu. Un ar šo roku es regulēju skaļumu – jo tālāk ir mana labā roka, jo skaļāk tas skan. (Skaņas) Principā ar abām rokām var regulēt skaņas augstumu un skaļumu un radīt ilūziju, ka spēlējat atsevišķas notis, bet īstenībā tā ir nepārtraukta... (Žestikulē... pīkstiens) (Smiekli)
Sometimes I startle myself: I'll forget that I have it on, and I'll lean over to pick up something, and then it goes like -- (Blip) -- "Oh!" And it's like a funny sound effect that follows you around if you don't turn the thing off. (Laughter)
Dažreiz es pati nobīstos, aizmirstu, ka tas ir ieslēgts, noliecos kaut ko paņemt, un tas ieskanas – (Spalga skaņa) – „O!” Tas ir dīvains skaņas efekts, kas visur seko līdzi, ja to neizslēdzat. (Smiekli)
Maybe we'll go into the next tune, because I totally lost where this is going. We're going to do a song by David Mash called "Listen: the Words Are Gone," and maybe I'll have words come back into me afterwards if I can relax.
Varbūt turpināsim ar nākamo skaņdarbu, jo es pilnībā aizmirsu, ko gribēju teikt. Nospēlēsim Deivida Meša dziesmu „<i>Listen: the Words Are Gone</i>”, un varbūt man vārdi atgriezīsies, ja būšu atbrīvojusies.
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(Mūzika)
(Applause)
(Aplausi)
So, I'm trying to think of some of the questions that are commonly asked; there are so many. And ... Well, I guess I could tell you a little of the history of the theremin. It was invented around the 1920s, and the inventor, Léon Theremin -- he also was a musician besides an inventor -- he came up with the idea for making the theremin, I think, when he was working on some shortwave radios. And there'd be that sound in the signal -- it's like (Screeching) -- and he thought, "Oh, what if I could control that sound and turn it into an instrument, because there are pitches in it." And so somehow through developing that, he eventually came to make the theremin the way it is now.
Es mēģinu atcerēties jautājumus, ko parasti uzdod; to ir ļoti daudz. Un... laikam jau varu pastāstīt mazliet par termenvoksa vēsturi. To ap 1920. gadu izgudroja Ļevs Termens. Viņš bija ne tikai izgudrotājs, bet arī mūziķis. Viņš nāca klajā ar izgudroto termenvoksu, šķiet, viņam izstrādājot īsviļņu radio. Un pārraidē bija šī skaņa, gluži kā čīkstoņa. Un viņš nodomāja: „Ja nu es spētu šo skaņu regulēt un pārvērst to instrumentā, jo tam ir skaņas augstums?” Kaut kā to attīstot, viņš galu galā radīja šādu termenvoksu.
And a lot of times, even kids nowadays, they'll make reference to a theremin by going, "Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo," because in the '50s it was used in the sci-fi horror movies, that sound that's like ... (Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo) (Laughter) It's kind of a funny, goofy sound to do.
Bieži vien pat bērni mūsdienās, runājot par termenvoksu, saka „vū-ūū-ūū”. Jo 50. gados to izmantoja šausmu filmās. Tā ir tā skaņa... (Vū-ūū-ūū) (Smiekli) Tā ir tāda jokaina, neveikla skaņa.
And sometimes if I have too much coffee, then my vibrato gets out of hand. You're really sensitive to your body and its functions when you're behind this thing. You have to stay so still if you want to have the most control. It reminds me of the balancing act earlier on -- what Michael was doing -- because you're fighting so hard to keep the balance with what you're playing with and stay in tune, and at the same time you don't want to focus so much on being in tune all the time; you want to be feeling the music.
Dažreiz, kad sadzeros par daudz kafijas, mans vibrato iziet ārpus rāmjiem. Šī ierīce ir ļoti jutīga pret ķermeni, kad esat tās tuvumā. Lai to labi regulētu, jābūt ļoti nekustīgam. Tas man atgādina Maikla līdzsvara priekšnesumu, jo ļoti jācenšas, lai saglabātu līdzsvaru ar spēlēto un tai pašā laikā spēlētu tīri. Nedrīkst arī visu laiku koncentrēties tikai uz skaņas tīrību. Jāizjūt arī mūzika.
And then also, you're trying to stay very, very, very still because little movements with other parts of your body will affect the pitch, or sometimes if you're holding a low note -- (Tone rising out of key) -- and breathing will make it ...
Un tad, protams, jācenšas būt ļoti, ļoti, ļoti nekustīgam, jo mazākās ķermeņa kustības ietekmē skaņas augstumu vai, ja spēlējat zemu noti... (Augstums mainās) Un elpošana to...
(Laughter)
(Smiekli)
If I pass out on the next song ... (Laughter)
Ja nākamajā dziesmā noģībstu... (Smiekli)
I think of it almost like like a yoga instrument because it makes you so aware of every little crazy thing your body is doing, or just aware of what you don't want it to be doing while you're playing; you don't want to have any sudden movements. And if I go to a club and play a gig, people are like, "Here, have some drinks on us!" And it's like, "Well, I'm about to go on soon; I don't want to be like -- (Teetering tones) -- you know?"
Tas man šķiet gandrīz kā jogas instruments, jo tas liek apzināties katru mazāko, jocīgo ķermeņa kustību, liek apzināties, ko negribat, lai tas dara, kad spēlējat, jo negribat pēkšņas kustības. Ja es spēlēju kādā klubā, cilvēki saka: „Iedzer, mēs izmaksājam!” Un man jāsaka: „Bet man drīz atkal jāspēlē, un es negribu, lai ir tā – (Šķības skaņas) – saprotiet?”
It really does reflect the mood that you're in also, if you're ... it's similar to being a vocalist, except instead of it coming out of your throat, you're controlling it just in the air and you don't really have a point of reference; you're always relying on your ears and adjusting constantly. You just have to always adjust to what's happening and realize you'll have bummer notes come here and there and listen to it, adjust it, and just move on, or else you'll get too tied up and go crazy. Like me.
Tas tiešām atspoguļo noskaņojumu, ja esat... Tas ir līdzīgi kā vokālistam, izņemot to, ka tas nenāk no rīkles, bet to regulē gaisā, un tā īsti nav tāda atskaites punkta. Jūs vienmēr paļaujaties uz savām ausīm un visu laiku pieregulējat. Vienmēr jāpielāgojas notiekošajam un jāsaprot, ka šad tad būs greizas notis, un jāklausās, jāpielāgojas, un jāturpina, citādi iestrēgsiet un sajuksiet prātā. Kā es.
I think we will play another tune now. I'm going to do "Lush Life." It's one of my favorite tunes to play.
Domāju, tagad nospēlēsim vēl vienu skaņdarbu. Nospēlēsim „<i>Lush Life</i>”. Tas ir viens no maniem mīļākajiem skaņdarbiem
(Music)
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(Aplausi)