“When words become distorted and fall apart in pieces, and you find yourself right in the middle of a sea of writing and sound debris that you listen to attentively, without discovering anything that makes any concrete sense, then you have entered the territory that both Cova and I inhabit.
“There we pick up those fragments of speech, which seem to serve to say nothing, and we glue them together, without hardly thinking about it. And so we produce an amalgam of sounds, built between consonants and vowels, which perhaps have never been pronounced or heard, and which seem to belong to a remote language with primitive features. Our voice opens up and expands along untrodden paths, escaping the established linguistic codes and producing unexpected articulations and sounds. And then, paradoxically, without wanting to say anything, we probably say much more than if, at that moment, we had wanted to say something with the words we all use every day.
“What Cova and I do is to speak and speak with that other fragmentary language, made up of lumps of letters, while walking in a straight line or tracing a circle. In order to do so, we require ourselves to have developed a special attention to our own inner drive. The dialogue, which sometimes turns into an argument or a phonetic anger, is sometimes surrounded by vowel caresses. And if at times the voice clots jump all over the place, full of energy, at others it seems as if they have fallen asleep between cushions and are breathing deeply. Everything is unexpected. Even we don’t know what might happen, but we believe, on the other hand, that our spoken concert will be able to make you feel and produce sensations you have never experienced before. That is our wish”.
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