Opil Lorbin and the Sound Virus

Opil Lorbin and The Sound Virus

An excerpt of Opil Lorbin was performed at Saint Pancras Tower Clock in July 2020.

A story about music, healing and power. A music journalist, David Colcroft is contacted by Sylvie Lorbin, who wants him to write the biography of her brother a child piano prodigy, Opil Lorbin who died in 1969 after performing the works of a composer who had encoded his mental illness into his hitherto unplayable piano pieces. He succeeds but his performance of the pieces paralyses the audience. David at Sylvie's request pieces together Opil’s story, from his early life in the Tatra Mountains in Poland to the music and sex clubs of the Lower East side of New York City to his stardom, song writing and death in 1970. Despite completing Opil's biography, David, senses an a dark mystery as he follows 60s guru Sheikh Ibn Harrington Himm Himm Himm who believes that Opil holds the key to a knowledge of Sound Healing. David and then Sylvie uncovers Harrington's true messianic intentions,the Institute of Psycho Acoustic Healing, the story ends in an epic confrontation high in the Tatra Mountains.
Set in Poland, New York, Scotland and Western Australia the story explores the twin themes of Healing through Sound and the battle between spirituality and egotism.

Excerpt:

I rang the bell, and looked through the letterbox. A dull, dusty, rusty tinkle came from the bowels of the building. No answer. I rang again. An old man hooked a bony finger round the edges of a torn lace curtain behind a grimy window-pane, and squinted at me. The finger let the lace fall across the man’s face. He left the window. I heard footsteps in the hall, fingers on the catch, and then the front door creaked open.

“Who are you? Who sent you?”
“David Colcroft ... Sylvie ... Sylvie Lorbin sent me. Are you the caretaker?”
“Oh its you. Hello David” He eyed me and I, him. Both cagy. but he knew my name I didn’t know his. He said “Come this way” as he turned his shoe squeaked on the old linoleum floor. Brown suede

shoes, I noticed. “I didn’t think you’d come” he pushed past me and took 3 plastic sacks out of a battered tin dustbin on the sidewalk, and brought them inside. “Yes its these, take them” he gave me the sack and led me along a hallway that smelt of cabbage, cat’s piss and candle wax. A dull throbbing drone came from the depths of the building. I knew that if it drew my attention it would set off my tinnitus. So I turned my attention back to the old man, “Yes I threw nearly them out. Didn’t think you’d come. This place is nearly clear now- the builders will be in next week.” I was about to leave when the old man glared at me “I was there on the 21st of May 1971, you know. I saw it happen”. 21st of May 1971? He was there? Where? I didn’t have a clue, but I noted the date, and looked at him. He ushered me towards the door. On the window sill nearby was a wooden box, he saw it and quickly stood in front of it. I was sure I could see a slight cruel knowing smile flicker into the corner of his mouth.