Air Cries – Red Thread

This is the passion tale of a body thief, who needs no cover, and who brazenly comes and tears apart the lives of those we love. The angels which float as the sky rains upon our heads. Red, covers the sidewalks, offices, homes and the money we exchange. It could never happen to us, the umbrella shades some from the downpour. They walk around with a bad coppertone tan. All these angels / all of us must be as one or there is no redemption. A perpetual body with no spirit is the fate to those who say it cannot happen to them. “Death like life, has its own music and in the convulsive ‘Plague Mass of Diamanda Galas’ all that is holy and unholy, pure and defiled, beatific and profane, is woven together on the loom of demoniac celestial hymnody and incandescent hate. Galas’s unearthly instrument – her own spectral multi-octave voice – is fueled by febrile seething hatred and brutal compassion. In her Plague Mass, Galas gives voice to an army of tortured souls, the ones who can no longer sing for themselves: the infirm, the insane, the dead who will not rest in peace.” – Tim Holmes, New York City, Dec. 1990 Sound: The Plague Mass, Diamanda Galas Funded by the Canada Council for the Arts.