Brad Rose of Foxy Digitalis interviews with me about Marginals and the weight of memory. I talk about the Halifax explosion, and the words from a telegraph dispatcher that have haunted me since I heard the story.
Marginals unfolds through the patient architecture of memory itself. Laderas’s cello traces these elegiac territories like careful cartography, sometimes drawing precise lines of sorrow, other times mapping vast territories of reflection that seem to hold entire histories within their borders. The compositions breathe with generative processes that introduce elements of chance: moments where the predetermined dissolves into something more organic, more alive to possibility. There’s a tenderness here that feels almost unbearable at times, as if each note carries the weight of all those unnamed casualties, all those stories that risk being reduced to statistics. This is music that doesn’t so much console as it acknowledges, allowing grief to exist in all its complexity without demanding resolution.