Thursday, January 12, 2006

Mozart reconstructed - a letter to Ars Acustica

The trio is a quartet, but hardly anyone knows it. I join in from my kitchen with an old radio on my lap. it transmits a program from 'studio akustische kunst', that started its transmissions in the year of my birth: years will pass; the unlived memories form an interval of rooms with a view.

Rembrandt is the oldest one. He was born four hundred years ago. Go to Amsterdam and visit his house. Everything is there as he has left it. Maybe it is put in a different order. Still, the objects that made up his composition are all there. They know. They know because Rembrandt went bankrupt. He had to sell his house and posessions and that's why they had a list.

Mozart is a bit younger. He was born two hundred and fifty years ago.Go to Austria and listen, or eat, because his name is also linked to a chocolate ball. There will be chandeliers burning in the concerthouse. The radio will turn itself of, after having to play 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik' for the one thousandth time that day.

Mozart liked best when his house was full of guests, that were shouting, drinking, singing, telling jokes, playing billiard, run the stairs and chase the maids. He needed this acoustic disorder to enter in the silence of composing. Maybe, by reconstructing these rumours, his music looses its sacricity and becomes a portrait of a young man as a composer.

The third guest is Albert Hoffman. It's his one hundreth birthday. You don't have to plunge in the deepest parts of your mind to take a trip to Amsterdam or Austria. Nor do you have to take acid to turn on the radio, tune in with the audio flow and drop out of everyday's acustic reality.

And that brings me back to my kitchen. I wait. My radio suffers from a loose contact.

ars acustica:

Studio Akustische Kunst:


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