vigilia means watch. The fourth day, the day the lights were set in the sky so the dark could be divided and counted.
A watch is what you keep when there is nothing to do yet. From high enough up you cannot tell a vigil from ordinary waiting, and neither can the person keeping it. You stay awake, and the staying awake is the whole of the work.
This is the first track on the record where a human voice shows up, and it never once carries the melody. Wordless background and harmony vocals sit as texture against keyboards and synthesizer, softer than anything else here so far. Nothing in it arrives. It stays a hush and goes on being a hush, and the piano underneath agrees not to resolve it.
The artwork is by Wanda Almira, printed as its own negative. That is on purpose.
It is the fourth of seven, and it is being released second. The game is not played in order.
Otta Tarrega is a pianist, composer, and producer whose work sits at the intersection of classical, jazz, and contemporary electronic sound.
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