The Wulf, Deleuze and the Songbirds of Finland I am haunted by a woman facing South. I see her standing at the edge of an open field, eyes fixed on a distant road. I know very little about her. She died over a hundred years ago when her husband, August, my great-grandfather, rode off South across the Comancheria toward Mexico, his wagon loaded with the bulk of the family’s possessions. This woman was a lover of music, and I was thinking about her last week when I went to see some composers and sound artists present work at The Wulf in downtown Los Angeles. To avoid divulging more about my ancestry I could divert this post into a description of what I experienced at The Wulf, but I actually don’t want to tell you much more about ... [Read more]