Of course things end but others end with their feet and soul in the air – and thus keep moving

Thus not ending always pick them – never take

Thus keeps being be.

People live and thus don’t end

Morton Feldman: Spring of Chosroes 

Chosroes was someone. This work is someone – its scale is ours and thus our ears need not listen to an object. But and idea growing phenix-like on the humus of time. Strange work, even for Feldman. Doesn’t hide it’s exuberance its certain chaos – chaos is certain. Does the logic of contrast that is in music reach out to life, or to its own life? It seems that experience is confirmed through other experience, that life is given to oneself when another life is being being (glosing on Parmenides), expiated through another life is a life.

Such is the world here, with resonance unknown, echo certain, giving both form and chaos to the ‘out of time’ that is the score. Onto our next…

Iannis Xenakis : Mikka, Mikka<<s>>

By putting time on, by inscribing it through memory and writing, memory lifts us up from time, from the flow in which I am droplet and fish. His music can only be perceived fragmentarily , which is a condition of the consciousness of activity, passage allows forgetting, passage and transversal of objects and subjects. Any flow in Xenakis is a means to survive against permanence of flow and betting into presence, prescience, what comes before sense. This world to us remains wrongfully known, erroneously learned – this prime world. Into the primal weight of the world – the weighing of the soul.

Last page of “s”: fury, let molecules speak of you, of your unmotion, of your stasis. Thus is not you being weighed, but these strains are  yelling, these plates of silver and lead are shouting out to you, like the hinge of the unworked heel of the walking bearing hearing world. Parmenides is I.

Anton Webern: 4 Stücke for violin and piano. Hinges too, many gestures like eyes opening, many things here are as many ways different of being woken up. Trial of endurance through smallest gap of time and information – compression, like Xenakis, but still expression – impression – Xenakis is all out, Webern bears a cocoon, a sieve. Stillness not guaranteed yet it’s there.

Pierre Boulez : 12 notations pour piano seul. Shards. Slices of unmemorial immemorial immoral stances, clashes united, unmuted, of greatness captured with a laugh. Austerity? Affirmation. ’tis done. Rules and play.

Debussy: sonata for violin and piano. Rules and play. Jumps, differentiality, inference, induction, pressure, rules at play. Fantasms, leise töne, bleakness of greatness, like ozymandias. Fear the simple for it brings the new. Fear motion, for you can’t resist it. Fear and love. Love most. You can’t say this is music. You must evoke that it was gone as soon even before it was written: how could there have been a trace anyway?

Voici ce qu’il écrit à son frère Pelléas:
(simplement et modéré) […] (D’une voix étouffée)

si profondément qu’on a peur

Livret de Pélléas et Mélisande


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