The Watchman #3: Save Our Souls
Save our souls, still up to date?
VENI ensemble: Save Art, Stay Libertine!
VENI ensemble: Save our Souls, Concert Review
The Eternal Return of Form: Ruins, Art, & Metaphysics
Schubert Schwanengesang from New York: review
Chopped Story by Irene A.
Preview for next issue: Liliana Kostrzewa
Save our souls, still up to date?
When we speak of any sort of savings we tend to think of saving money, health, followers, but the soul is not our first priority, is it?
What is the soul? Is it a liquid, a powder, or just an imaginary part of our body?
After an amputation, people seem to still feel the parts which are no longer there.
By watching political events, one can believe that we’ve had a collective amputation of the soul, unnoticed in a trance of overconsumption which quietly mutated to the cancel-culture, the execution made a comeback, but this time in digital.
The gallows and the guillotine replaced by stickers, the rolling heads, and the convulsing bodies by: “that one is cancelled”.
Whether a hate train is less disastrous than an execution is to discuss, but it didn’t often take some people’s dignity, careers, and even their lives.
Like any other amputation, the amputation of the soul needs anaesthesia.
The anaesthesia contains muscle relaxants, and the social media trance relaxes the thinking muscles to the level zero by the misuse of it, while our sense of right and wrong is on standby mode.
In order to relax we love to follow other people, putting likes or dislikes, discussing celebrities and their private lives – and judge without limits. “To be or not to be” became “to be liked or not”, “to love or hate”: to follow or unfollow or further-cancel-up the wall!
We seem to value tolerance and the equal rights of every human being, to live, to love and to die up to our giusto but in reality that’s not the case.
Facebook offers numerous stories, edits and posts named like celebrity couples with a controversial age gap, or: these stars have cheated on their spouses, the LGBTQ celebrities you haven’t known…
These sorts of contents give a sense of the medieval persecutions instead of the progressive tolerance in a society which made it to globalization, which could become a pre-Babylonian united nation but instead we seem to approach Gilead.
Brilliant writers are not imagining, they’re describing reality, utopian, dystopian whatever’s up to date. Margaret Atwood has seen it coming, it’s happening right in front of our eyes. We’re entering a time of gloom and grief.
And here again, the darling Facebook is at hand with posts like: selection of books you must read and life wisdoms from the AI Messiah, our Master – Elon Musk.
This reaches back to ancient Egypt; did Mr. Musk already start building a pyramid? Of course, on Mars the burial conditions must differ, but the Pharaoh must be buried properly, with all his wives and mistresses in this particular case. The AI Messiah might face some difficulties, his women (and they are not few) prefer to pay and run. Well maybe a robotic version is more promising.
If no living woman loves you, why not to make one on demand?
Pygmalion succeeded, so why not fix a few for the mission: occupying Mars with an e-uterus, a charger for the vagina and all what’s needed for the reproduction of the hybrids: jerk-machina.
But it’s even more important to secure slaves. No worries, already in progress.
X is bought and with other platforms on the shopping list, there’s only one message the pharaoh wants to spread: Democracy to hell! Long live the AI Messiah, we want to be enslaved for God’s sake!
The good old Bible is at hand when going “right” needs vindication, but if we read the holy book according to our neo-traditional mindset, we would’ve cancelled the same amount of people that have died in the global deluge, but without Noah’s ark in the deep blue of Facebook.
Let’s see: Abraham and Sarah became parents at the age of 100, they’ve got a son Isaac, .. At this age they had sex?? Ick!! They better had scheduled their funeral and pre-ordered their tombs, a kid shouldn’t be distressed with such a thing, he needs his space, poor boy. Healthy boundaries are in, responsibility and care for the parents out, the Exit international is here too, so what’s the big deal?
Following happens on social media: Abraham and Sarah – cancelled; Isaac signing a Netflix deal, the story of a traumatic childhood has potential, traumatic experience of parents over 100 having sex, it has to be a book!
Exploring the Bible further: Maria under 18, works as a nanny in Joseph’s (90) household, gets pregnant …
Oh boy she’s cringe, she loves old men, she’s got some daddy issues, she needs therapy – Unfollowed, but not cancelled because it’s all on Joseph. Paedophile, sugar daddy. You are cancelled! No star, no Bethlem no dreams, no angels and no kings or gifts for you!
And their boy Yeshua Ben Joseph, a long haired, bare footed hippie, who loved to party with his fisher’s fellows, converted water into wine, was high and walked on water, was eager to wake the dead.
He wanted the reforms, protested in the temples, fought for women’s rights, the gossip or the apocrypha are saying that he might’ve been together with a former sex worker and that they might even have been an unmarried family! let’s cancel him!
Oh! There’s no need to. He’s already been crucified.
damned, unfollow!
The former sex worker aka Maria Magdalene was lucky and could escape, she grabbed the kids, boarded a boat and sailed in hope to find refuge, and she found one.
The British Island was on hand to welcome, so the rumours or Apocrypha are saying.
She was lucky that Brexit was quite far ahead, otherwise she might have heard: Oh Madam, we are genuinely sorry, but you are only allowed to stay for the next thirty days. So are the rules, we’ve voted for our national integrity, no matter Christ’s family or any other foreigners who want to stay alive, unless you pay enough to buy a British passport, then we might offer other rules. Equality is cancelled. Thievery is the new smartness. Enjoy the stay and the sight-seeing!
Let’s take the version of the rumours, she stayed. The Island has been blessed, King Arthur raised by sorcerer Merlin, released the sword out of the stone and founded the knighthood of the Round Table.
But taking the table people through the TIKTOK filter of today, let’s face it, they would be in trouble.
King Arthur – cringe
His wife, Queen Guinevere, is in love with Lancelot, but Arthur has not posted anything about it. Brutal. Not even in his status, nor with X opening up, sharing his story about what it feels like and, thanks for your support my dear Camelot you’ve got my heart, you made my day.
...
This queen, a marriage breaker – stone to death?
In digital we’ve got the hates; a few posts and she’s cancelled!
Back to the freak of King, who didn’t feel offended nor traumatised, he’s got his sister pregnant and was then betrayed by his own child. Well, that’s what happens to these namby-pamby leftist wokeness twinks.
Who knows, maybe Merlin was his true love…
This pack should know that they are nothing for our kids, and we won’t let them infiltrate the proper male population with their softness and decay.
Let’s better cancel all of them, these perverts, God knows, what they did under their round table, at least we still have our monster of Lochness!
We want to be great again, we grab the dung fork, a crucifix, put on the tinfoil hat and go vote conservative, for God, for families against abortion and human rights!
Oh Elon sweet AI Messiah, save our families and our traditional values let’s go on the crusade against the wokeness – to hell with our souls!
Homophobia is used to culminate when society turns brown.
And it is in again!
One smells the familiar sense of hate and feels the sticky texture all through the screen and microphone.
The fragrance is quite familiar, the bouquet full-bodied: Top according to the texture –organic; Mid: blood, steel, smoke and fire; Base: tears and grief, the label of the fragrance – Fascism.
This one is very in, foes of democracy, not rarely by men with strong inferiority complexes and a lack of sexual fulfilment.
Who knows, maybe AI Messiah’s Hitler salutation lately has been no more than an attempt to make his thumb look longer?
At last there were a lot of blond, blue eyed female individuals to impress.
Good old uncle Adolf had some similar issues, but that was not the length of his limbs, it was the lack of one of them.
In fact, it doesn’t matter which of the symptoms of the illness called narcissistic personality disorder paired with megalomania leads men to spread the lies and do the evil by infiltrating the fascistic fiver into the masses.
Or is it grief and pain, rejection and a lack of love?
Most probably it is the case, to lose a child, be unloved, rejected, all of it makes grief and hate, to be driven to vendetta on others and on God himself.
Who is this God, to say to the AI Messiah what’s right and wrong?
He is the richest man on the planet and holds the reins of power in his chubby little hands and he is gonna taste the victory over it all on Earth, on Mars – in the entire universe!
None the less the Holy script is saying that we are free to choose either to follow Job in taking whatever Fate has got on offer and to obey, or join Lucifer and protest against nature, and make strong decisions that turn the earthly paradise into a hell on earth.
AI Messiah wants to desalt the seas, build tunnels from one continent to another, conquer Mars, Oh Jesus Christ, Yeshua Ben Joseph, just please return ASAP, convert desalted water into wine or gin this time and that will be salvation.
Traditional values, shame and blame, let’s cancel love, be paired by the AI genetically optimised and only those who are fertile.
No age gaps or LGTBQ, strictly following racial cleanness, under the big fat swastika with Elon’s blessing and permission we will be married until death will part us. Oh, merciful death, please hurry up!
And when it’s done, we are a new population, brain optimised by Tesla, body polished ad perfectum with new methods developed in China…
One day our kids might ask: what’s love? Is it some sort of food? Or a pin code? Does it make one rich or fat?
And we will maybe say: Oh darling, it is a code to freedom, it opens up gates to heaven and it blocks the fear of death.
But alas it’s out, cancelled.
But instead, my darling, SpaceX, guns, misinformation, and good old uncle Adolf are in.
Save our souls? – We better try.
Hana Gubenko, Editor
Save art, stay libertine!
Never before has the market for classical music been so versatile, the supply so rich and the demand so questionable.
The Covid-19 pandemic was a favourite scapegoat for the lack of enthusiasm to keep the music playing – no matter what – among the masses, but the virus which has so masterfully played the role of this bogeyman could not be the primary reason for the re-evaluation of the classical arts scene.
In fact, many preferred to stay at home and enjoy Netflix and chill over attending concert venues long after the last covid restrictions had been lifted.
The question of what caused the devaluing of art stays unanswered and very up to date; because in devaluing cultural activities and the arts we lose the values of togetherness, and with it we lose the abilities of personal communication and regular live interaction.
In losing the ability to interact the tools of the media are playing the scapegoat; without any reason the phone or tablet is blamed as the source of harm, whereas actually it is a tool to uplift communication and to overcome the obstacles to get together and enjoy life.
If not a tool or virus, what makes framing an avatar with a slogan like Art is Work?
Most probably the fear, that it’s not, at least not any longer.
We could have lost the validation of art and along with that each other.
The wish to interact is decreasing, it has become too complicated, scary, destabilizing.
An avatar, a non-binding chat, is giving an illusion to stay safe from real life experiences, one is online but not available.
Attending cultural events in person pushes one out of the comfort zone.
Out of the digitally well-equipped, but pretty lonely, rabbit hole – a cage of pseudo-safety.
Art is work and Work Is Life! And hopefully this remains so today, tomorrow and after tomorrow. Contemporary art, in particular, could’ve been called a life’s essence; saving it might save our lives as cultivated individuals and libertines, and therefore it pushes us to explore new, unfamiliar terrain and feelings.
Exploring it, witnessing the birth of masterpieces, does beckon out of the whole and lifts the trap of the regressive state of mind.
It can be scary, but exciting, inspiring, and invigorating: it’s like falling in love again after a midlife crisis.
I had the pleasure to discover the VENI ensemble (Slovakia) which was founded among the VENI Academy project by composers Marian Lejava and Daniel Matej and pianist Ivan Šiller with the aim to enhance the interest and knowledge of 20th-century and contemporary music among students of professionally oriented musical institutions, as well as young music enthusiasts outside of those.
I enjoyed a live video recording of an inspiring and multifaced performance of works by Karlheinz Stockhausen, Salvatore Sciarrino, the Ensemble co-founder Daniel Matej, Lenka Novosedlíková, and Adrián Demoč on their live recording of the concerts which took place on the 11 and the 12 of February 2025 in Bratislava and Banská Bystrica and had the chance to briefly chat with Daniel Matej and the ensemble members, pianist Ivan Šiller and flutist Ivica Gabrišová , about all that matters.
H.G: Daniel, I’m strongly impressed by your Save our Souls as well as by other pieces of yours which have been amazingly played by the VENI ensemble on the 11 and the 12 of February 2025 in Bratislava and Banská Bystrica.
The title catches the eye while the music gets quite under the skin.
D.M: I am happy to read this (J).
H.G: You start the piece with a dotted piano bass which reminds me slightly of the Aksak and a heartbeat. It feels like you want to make one feel reflective. Do you?
Is it a plea to the supreme power or a wake up knocking for the surrounding?
There is a fascinating counterpoint between the piano bass line, which beats the imperative of fate and the begging whispers of the flute for mercy from above or to be heard by fellows. While working on that piece: did you had a clear narrative in mind or is it a rather intuitive association?
D.M: I will try to answer all these few questions at once: since about 2008 or so I was interested to put some irregularity in the rhythmic articulations in my structures, reminding a “stuttering”, Morse-alphabet rhythmic chains or a similar rhythmic line… The piece SAVE OUR SOULS is thus rhythmically based on an S.O.S (or similar) Morse codes and its variations…. In the piccolo and piano (piano structures being augmented, e.g. slowed down by a half or else, thus possibly reminding also a heartbeat) these structures at most places play a key role.
Another characteristic of my music since I started composing is an interest to quote, “steal”, “plunder”, vary, remix (of all possible kinds of) already existing music with a special focus to baroque era. Thus this piece is a kind of “tribute to” the Concerto for recorder RV 445 in A minor by Antonio Vivaldi, of which I put a short quotation at one place in my piece. Another element used here is an application of famous intervallic structures based on the name B-A-C-H: As for a narrative, there is surely no direct one, but I am aware that the piece with its title surely might evoke some…
H.G: I tried them and they were all ROTTEN reads strong as well, the solo piano piece has an interesting structure combining the romantic flavour of Chopin’s scherzo in B-Flat minor, a bit of a fugato and a touch of impressionism.
D.M: I wrote the piece in 1995 for the international composition project “…morceaux en forme de poire” (btw, first being performed by the legendary British piano player John Tilbury), celebrating the 70th anniversary of Erik Satie´s death, who belongs to the “Pantheon of my musical heroes”… It is based strictly on the material taken from his piano four-hands piece Trois morceaux en forme de poire”…, but also to the element of dada or punk movements (which, although being separated by several decades I think are quite closely related by their strict critical view on an mainstream or traditional arts)… So I “tested the pears and they were all ROTTEN” (this of course referring also to a punk icon Johnny Rotten from Sex Pistols).
H.G: How do you bring together being rooted in the past and none the less stay modern?
D.M: I do not know, it is just natural for me…
H.G: Your style in your own words?
D.M: Possibly polystyles
H.G: Modern and contemporary music, what is the difference?
D.M: It is a very complex question which I cannot answer shortly and simply. But I will try: there is no difference (J). All music had been once modern and contemporary and over the ages became old… But the notion of avant-garde (e. g. “being modern”) I think started with L. van Beethoven as a result of the Age of Enlightenment …
H.G: Is music and spirituality inseparable?
D.M: In some music it is separable, in other no (I prefer the latter one J).
H.G: How can we save our souls despite the fact, that we’ve possibly reached a climactic point of no return and probably started WW3?
D.M: I believe for sure that our souls can be saved always, even if our bodies (or our lives) might be gone by any reason (like the ones you mentioned above).
H.G: Thank you for your work, can’t wait to hear more!
H.G: Ivica, Ivan, congratulations on such a strong performance, I’m impressed for days and weeks to come and I’m sure the rest of the audience feels similarly.
H.G: You’ve chosen almost a shocking title for a concert program, whose idea was it?
I.S: This title was Daniel's idea. The SOS signal (played by flute and piano as well) is part of the first piece – Save Our Souls for flute and piano. The title is provocative, but I think it grabs attention, and at the same time, it fits perfectly with the themes of these compositions, which deal with serious topics.
I.G: The title of the concert program was the idea of the artistic director of the VENI ensemble Daniel Matej, and at the same time the title of one the premiered pieces for piccolo and piano.
H.G: I can imagine it’d be super catchy on a CD cover, are you planning a recording with some of these pieces?
I.S: Yes, we definitely want to record them. We plan to record all the pieces from the concert program. During the performances, we saw that they work very well with the audience. We feel that it could also appeal to a broader audience, so we’re planning to create a recording that captures the energy of the concert.
I.G: Maybe one day comes also the recording on CD. This dramaturgy is very original and could attract many listeners.
H.G: How do you feel about this program?
I.S: This program is very challenging, both technically and emotionally exhausting, but also very refreshing. The compositions are new, modern, and bring interesting musical challenges. It's something we, as performers, really enjoyed. Sometimes it’s difficult to cope with the intensity, but that's exactly what makes it so enjoyable.
I.G: This kind of program is challenging in many fields - changing instruments, listening to each other, good pitch and catching a mood of the piece. I am that kind of person who likes challenges so I feel very well with this kind of program especially when the concert goes well. We all hope in the future concerts with this program.
H.G: Ivan, what was the biggest challenge of this program for you?
I.S: The biggest challenge was when I wasn’t playing – keeping my concentration. Sometimes it's tough when you need to prepare for your part but still stay attentive to the rest of the program. Another challenge was adapting my piano technique. Daniel’s piece requires a completely different technique than Stockhausen’s. Daniel's music is very raw, full of forte, somewhat similar to Bartók’s style, while Stockhausen, in contrast, is very colorful and mostly subtle, which demands a different approach.
H.G: Ivica, Ronald, what about you?
I.G: For me the biggest challenge to switch from SOS piece played on piccolo in a very soft piano and pianissimo register to Obraz 1 – a solo piece with a lot of forte, jumping intervals and extended techniques played on flute. Especially extended techniques require focused work with a relaxed embouchure.
H.G: Memorable moments during both of the concerts?
I.S: A truly memorable moment was when we played in Bratislava, and suddenly we saw a huge crowd. That really surprised us. And the fact that so many professional musicians – composers, instrumentalists, and others attended, which is not very common, and they enjoyed it. That was very encouraging for us.
I.G: For me one of the moments was a huge smile on the face of Daniel Matej after the second concert. And I admired a lot Tierkreis by Stockhausen especially those parts played by Rony. I like his absolute dedication in the piece. This was my first but thanks to both of my colleagues a very enjoyable experience with Tierkreis.
H.G: Can we save our souls, do you think? If yes, then HOW?
I.S: I believe yes. We can save our souls by seeking deep meaning in everything we do. Music is one of those tools that can help us find this balance and inspire us to become better people. It’s a process, not a destination, but a journey we can take together.
Thank you, you’ve been truly amazing!
I’m convinced, we haven’t lost the earthy paradise, at least not yet!
So many are devoted to save what can be saved and the effort is what matters , the work won’t be in vain and passion will remain the driving power ,
¨And tomorrow the sun will shine again¨….
Rihcard Strauss's song Morgen, which begins with “Und Morgen wild die Sonne wiederscheinen”; And tomorrow the sun with rise again
Hana Gubenko
The publication is generously sponsored by Učiteľské Kolégium, N.G.O
(Slovak Teachers Association Bratislava)
Save our Souls: VENI ensemble in Bratislava
Save Our Souls VENI ensemble. Slovak National Gallery, Bratislava, 11.02.2025
Daniel Matej (b, 1963)
Save Our Souls (2015, version for piccolo and piano)
Salvatore Sciarrino
Let me die before I wake (1982)
Lenka Novosedlíková (b. 1989)
Obraz I (2024)
Adrián Demoč (b. 1985)
Trblet (2012, rev. 2024)
Daniel Matej
... morceaux en forme de poire (1995): I tried them and they were all ROTTEN. LA Musica 75 (2014, Slovakian premiere of version for piccolo and bass clarinet). Lullabies: Točivadlo (1995)
Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007)
Tierkreis (1974/5, version for flute, clarinet and piano)
Founded in 1987, VENI ensemble is dedicated to the music of our time via imaginative programming. It is the longest-running contemporary chamber ensemble in Slovakia, and here comprises Ivica Gabrišová (piccolo, flues); Ronald Šebesta (clarinet, bass clarinet); Ivan Šiller (piano), and Daniel Matej (artistic director). Production was by Juraj Beráts.
Previous to this concert, my experience of composer Daniel Matej and pianist Ivan Šiller had been via a disc of Matej’s music coupled with music by Piet-Jan van Rossum (born 1966), released by VENI ensemble, and of Šiller alone via a disc of music by Juraj Beneš (1940-2004) released by Music Fund Slovakia.
The concert began with the premiere of Matej’s Save Our Souls in its version for piccolo and piano; the original was for recorder and piano, a commission from Rajec Musical Spring and premiered in that original version in 2015 by Zuzana Kozárová and Monika Tujvelová. Matej studied with Louis Andriessen, and his music (in the light of that) is unsurprisingly complex, dissonant, and exciting. Ivica Gabrišová and Ivan Šiller were the performers.
Note repetition might not sound too exciting per se, but Matej gives this an insistent quality. The piano works with registral extremes to fine effect. As the music branches out into angularity, so charged silences interject. This is virtuoso for both performers: Matej’s demands are high indeed. In terms of stamina, too: an extended passage solely in the extreme high register of the piano (against piccolo repetitions) requires, surely, ultra-high levels of concentration from both. Gabrišová's rhythmic sense and articulation was textbook, and Šiller is the perfect partner. In other hands this might sound like a composition exercise, or a mere experiment. Here, it blossoms into a valid musical statement. The diminuendo later on, punctuated by star-like interjections on the piano, is remarkably tender, with Šiller's gently pointillist piano offering a thoughtful close.
A piece for solo clarinet by the ever-stimulating Salvatore Sciarrino next. The title of this piece is in English:. Let me die before I awake. Born in Palermo, Italy, in 1947, Sciarrino has always been a free spirit, one whose music most often skirts silence. Written in 1982 for Ciro Scarponi and marked ’Tranquillo e uniforme’ (tranquil and uniform), the title comes from a book by Derek Humphrey (an American euthanasia advocate). Here, registral extremes occur again, but in a whisper. The player, here, Ronald Šebesta, has to negotiate multiphonics and other extended techniques in such a way that one person creates the impression of two simultaneous sound-fields, high and low. The piece is almost impossibly beautiful, and requires total technical control from the player. Šebesta was remarkable: I can pay him no higher complement than to say I prefer his account to that of my previous first place, the characterful Reto Bieri (best known in the UK perhaps for his work with Patricia Kopatchiskaja). Šebesta is even more hypnotic; perhaps the live provenance played a large part. He is also technically astounding. A real highlight.
The name of Slovak composer Lenka Novosedlíková (born 1989) was new to me. She studied composition and percussion at the Bratislava Conservatory and pursued composition at the Bratislava Academy for Performing Arts under Vladimír Godár and Marián Lejava; she has been profiled by the Prague Philharmonia alongside another Slovak composer, Jana Kmit’ová (born 1976). Here, we hear Novodedlíková's Obraz I (Image I) for flute of 2024. Gabrišová again, this time on flute, full-toned, expressive. Novosedlíková‘s piece is markedly more approachable than the Sciarrino, although there is a passage of insistence on one motivic cell that brings back to mind Matej’s piccolo piece (while multiphonics invoke Sciarrino).
Composer Adrián Demoč (born 1985) studied with František Emmet at Brno for his doctoral dissertation. There is an interesting interview with him on the label Another Timbre's website here (along with links to YouTube excerpts of his music). The piece here is called Trblet (Slovakian for ‘Glitter,' or ’Glint’), for flute and clarinet. Šebesta and Gabríšová work supremely well together here, the clarinet actively disruptive against the flute’s slowly oscillating plane. At other times, the one hands the melody to the other like seamless relay runners.
The pre-Stockhausen part of the concert returns rather nicely to more music by Matej, firstly a piece that was part of a project on Satie’s Trois Pièces en forme de Poire (Christoper Fox contributed his Paired Off to that project, incidentally). The piece, “I tried them and they were all ROTTEN” has a simplicity and yet is uncompromising, and in that sense it reminds me of some of the piano works of Cornelius Cardew. A lullaby for clarinet and piano has a sort of insistence about it: Andriessen-fed Minimalism, perhaps. Finally of the Matej pieces, a present to Andriessen on his 75th birthday, LA Musica is heard in its version for piccolo and bass clarinet . Matej revels in the pitch difference between the two woodwind instruments. It is more turntable (as its title implies) than lullaby; for sure ideas evolve headily.
The German word Tierkreis means ‘Zodiac’. Originally for music boxes as part of the ‘musical fable’ Musik im Bauch (Music in the Belly, 1975, Stockhausen 41), Tierkreis (Zodiac, 1975, Stockhausen 41 ½) is heard here in a version for flute, clarinet and piano. One can easily hear the child-like melodies (no wonder it is Stockhausen’s most popular piece!). The opening Aquarius (‘Wassermann) is charming, a lullaby with just an edge to it. (Try the German radio ensemble's performance on Wergo, a realisation for six improvisers to hear a completely different take, although both are recognisably the same piece. Just.). As February 11, the date of the concert, sits within Aquarius, this was the proper starting movement. Pisces next (‘Fische’; it is the sign of the fish after all). This is nice and, er , fluid, Šiller's piano nicely active against the clarinet’ s melodies (if you want to hear a properly submarine performance though, try the one by Dominik Susteck (organ), a live performance from Cologne in 2008 ). Aries next (’Widder’ in German), an appropriately bullish (or is that ram-ish) opening: Šebesta is superb in this movement, with Šiller reacting beautifully, Taurus (Stier) features darkly ponderous low piano (Stockhausen-does-late Liszt) preparatory to bass clarinet in equally ponderous mode. Hints of the lullaby of Aquarius act as a catalyst for change and more activity. Just as the music gets playful, it is ripped away from us to cede to flute and ...
... Gemini (Zwiling, which literally means Twins). Gabrišová is superb here; one can imagine her channeling her inner Kathinka and on-stage in one of the Licht operas (indeed, Stockhausen does reference Tierkreis in Donnerstag). Šiller, when he takes the limelight, with flute offering low-register comments, is similarly congruent with this music. There is the sense of complete immersion and complete alignment from all players. Šiller gives the impression of skilled jazz improvisation (Stockhausen was a fine jazz pianist, remember) before Gabrišová joins him in Cancer (Krebs), a performance of unutterable beauty imbued with the spirit of the dance. The octaves do indeed imply an organ realisation of this works (indeed Susteck in his Wergo recording proves it does).
Leo (Löwe) is quite a playful beast here (clarinet and piano), perhaps the piano's left-hand sequences implying an underlying threat if one 'disturbs the beast'. Šebesta certainly gives his all in presenting the lines with force towards the end, thus offering maximal contrast with Gabrišová's Virgo. This is the finest performance of Virgo I have heard; it comes closest in spirit to that on recorder and guitar by Jans-Martin Linde and Konrad Ragassnig (Wergo) but takes the intimacy just that bit further. How I wish this movement was longer! In a sense, presenting Libra (‘Waage’ - scales – for flute and piano) next does a variant on that; a gentle dance. Gabrišová and Šiller offer a gentle lilting experience.
So how to put a sting in the music’s tail? where’s the twist in this celestial/bestial tale? Scorpio (Skorpion) is here for clarinet and piano, with Šebesta offering wild glissandos and wailing up in his extreme upper register. Petulant pointillism adds another layer before the clarinet’s final, dismissive gesture.
Penultimately (for the star signs ...) here is Schütze (which means 'Archer' and indicates Sagittarius). Šebesta again, but this is a true partnership of equals between clarinet and piano, brilliantly realized. The sense of freedom, of vivacity, is palpable. Finally, a goat: Capricorn (Steinbock), performed on piccolo by Gabrišová. It works perfectly as a finale; capricious. There is an almost Messiaen-moment when the piano takes the foreground and the piccolo sings around in decidedly avian fashion.
This particular performance brings us full circle, though, with a performance of the Aquarius theme. The year is over, another begins; the wheel has turned.
There is an especial poignancy to Tierkreis, as Stockhausen was orchestrating the pieces at the time of his death. The night before he passed,, he finished Fünf weitere Sternzeichen, leaving only two unorchestrated numbers: Cancer and Leo.
A fascinating, invigorating concert.
Colin Clarke
The Eternal Return of Form: Ruins, Art, and the Metaphysics
Oleg Davydov, PhD Research Fellow, University of Strasbourg, France
A swansong? Not quite!
¨And tomorrow the sun will shine again¨
Born in the twilight of Perestroika and shaped by an unceasing dialogue with Western thought and artistic sensibility, I find myself in profound divergence from the mainstream currents of contemporary Russian atmosphere. My inner landscape is woven from contradictions: between the echoes of a lost metaphysical and theological depth and the restless play of deconstructed empty meanings, between the solemn inheritance of a civilization steeped in suffering and the shimmering allure of fluid identities. I do not seek mere opposition but a vantage point from which to reimagine the possibilities of thought and creation. Suspended between worlds, I embrace neither cynicism nor blind faith, but a relentless pursuit of beauty as the ultimate measure of truth.
And yet, if there is one certainty, it is this: history, much like the ruins that haunt our gaze, does not vanish into oblivion, it transforms eternally. The shattered forms of antiquity, the disfigured monuments of past grandeur, do not merely testify to loss; they reveal the secret logic of an eternal return and the Renaissance at once. Every collapse bears within it the seeds of a new ascent, every ruin is but the hushed prelude to a renaissance yet to come. The beauty of destruction lies in its silent promise: that form, once broken, may be reassembled, and that the past, never truly lost, can be reborn in the fragile hands of those who still dare to dream. In the quiet twilight of an eternal past, I wander amidst the ruins of once-majestic edifices, where every weathered stone whispers secrets of bygone eras. Here, amid the delicate interplay of light and shadow, the remnants of human genius stand as silent testaments to a time when creators, in their profound reverence, found solace in the serene beauty of architectural vestiges. It is an evaluative judgment — a luminous tribute to those awe-inspiring episodes in history when the soul of man was stirred by the gentle majesty of ruins, which, far from being mere decay, emerge as portals to a transcendent realm of memory and wonder.
As I stand before these ancient Greek ruins, those sacred vestiges that echo the grandeur of a lost world, I sense the enduring resonance of great pillars of civilization. The fallen columns and weathered arches are not solely relics of a bygone era, they are, in truth, living embodiments of a timeless order of beauty. Their silent testimony speaks of a world where beauty, far from being an accidental flourish, is the inevitable fruit of an underlying cosmic harmony that, even in its decay, offers a glimpse of the eternal. Yet, in the gentle decay of these monuments, there emerges a poignant contrast, a tension between the certainty of classical order and the mutable, often disquieting, dramatic nature of modern existence. The turn of the millennium has ushered in an era steeped in skepticism and fragile hope, where every utterance is subject to the erosive currents of doubt. In this atmosphere, the luminous clarity of classical beauty is both celebrated and mourned, a delicate balance between nostalgia and the inexorable, almost mechanic march of time. The ruins, in their solemn silence, encapsulate this duality: they are both a celebration of human ingenuity and a melancholic reminder of our fleeting existence.
In this reflective mood, the ruins evoke not only the memories of ancient splendor but also the luminous spirit of the Renaissance, when the rediscovery of classical wisdom transformed by Christian virtues ignited a rebirth of human existence in its aesthetic grandeur. The great masters of that epoch sought to capture the ideal form, to embody in their art the sublime interplay between material substance and transcendent order. Their masterpieces, imbued with a celestial light, attest to the belief that true beauty is the harmonious synthesis of the seen and the unseen, the ephemeral and the eternal. Yet, as the modern age unfurled its turbulent tapestry, the immutable clarity of classical form began to dissolve into a fluid, often disjointed, cultural moment. The Romantic poets and painters, with their exaltation of the sublime and the ineffable, unveiled the inherent fragility of all human constructions. In their visionary works, the ruins became metaphors for the ephemeral nature of existence, a reminder that every creation, no matter how grand, is destined to yield to the inexorable passage of time. It is a realization that fills the heart with both sorrow and awe, a recognition that the beauty of form lies not in its permanence, but in its transitory, ever-changing nature.
Amidst these reflections, my thoughts turn toward the avant-garde luminary Marcel Duchamp, whose irreverent interventions in the art world shattered the conventions of form and redefined the very essence of aesthetic experience. Duchamp, with his audacious readymades, challenged the sanctity of traditional art, suggesting that beauty is not inherent in the static contours of an object but is born of the transformative act of perception. By recontextualizing the mundane, he unveiled a universe of possibilities where form is mutable, dynamic, and subject to endless reinterpretation. His work, a sublime interplay of irony and profundity, calls into question the very nature of beauty, urging us to see beyond the superficial and embrace the fluidity of meaning. In the luminous interplay between classical order and modern disintegration, I perceive an eternal dialogue, a ceaseless exchange between the eternal and the ephemeral, the cosmic and the human. The ruins, the classical treatises, the avant-garde provocations, all converge into a single, shimmering narrative of existence, wherein beauty is not a static ideal but a living, evolving force. It is this force that imbues each fallen stone and each brushstroke with the power to evoke wonder, to stir the soul, and to remind us that the journey through time is itself an art form, a sublime meditation on the nature of being itself.
Thus, as I briefly traverse a grand landscape, I am enveloped by a profound sense of humility, a realization that in every fragment of decay, in every vestige of a once-glorious past, there lies a hidden truth about the human existence. It is a truth that transcends the confines of materiality, reaching out into the infinite, where the fleeting beauty of form touches the eternal. In the silent dialogue between ruins and remembrance, between the order of the ancients and the fluidity of modernity, I find a resonant call to seek the sublime in every moment, to embrace the mystery of existence, and to celebrate the transformative power of art. Continuing from the resonant echoes of ancient ruins and the luminous meditations of classical thought, my journey now leads me deeper into the labyrinth of cultural metamorphosis. In this sacred interplay of light and shadow, the timeless and the transient converge, forging a path where every fragment of past glory intermingles with the pulse of contemporary creativity. Here, in the soft murmur of bygone splendor, the impermanence of human creation is transformed into a luminous testament to our ceaseless search for meaning.
As I wander further along this path, I am struck by the sublime duality that underpins our cultural moment, a fragile balance between the certainty of classical order and the restless spirit of anarchic creativity. The grand edifices of antiquity, now turned into tourist attractions, do not simply evoke loss, they speak of a beauty, an eternal harmony that outlives the material decay. Each weathered stone, each crumbling column, is imbued with the spirit of a time when form was perceived as the very language of existence — a language articulated by Aristotle, whose vision of Form still informs our understanding of the union between matter and the mind. Following the serene splendor, modernity brought its own daring changes. The refined clarity of Renaissance ideals gave way to the kaleidoscopic vision of the modern artist, in which form is no longer fixed but changeable, subject to the unpredictable transformations of human perception. The poets and artists of the Romantic era, intoxicated by the sublime, discovered that true beauty lies not in the unchanging order of structure, but in the dynamic interplay of chaos and creation. This profound realization, mixed with existential reflections on the finitude of life, gave rise to a cultural atmosphere of melancholic introspection, a mood in which every gesture of creation is tinged with both hope and sadness.
In this context, the revolutionary spirit of contemporary art emerges as a clarion call to reimagine the very essence of form. With his provocative readymades, Duchamp shattered conventional boundaries, asserting that beauty is not inherent in the static contours of an object but is instead a product of perception — a mutable quality, ever in flux, determined by the viewer’s gaze and the context in which it is encountered. His work, daring and enigmatic, compels us to question the sacrosanct nature of tradition and to embrace the infinite possibilities inherent in the reinterpretation of everyday forms. This ever-evolving dialectic between the ancient and the modern finds its most profound expression in the notion that beauty is a living force, a vibrant, ever-changing phenomenon that defies reduction to mere form or function. The ruins, with their silent testament to the grandeur of a lost age, and the radical innovations of modern art, with their playful subversions of expectation, together form an intricate tapestry. This tapestry, woven from the threads of memory, experience, and creative rebellion, challenges us to see beyond the ephemeral and to grasp the eternal mystery that lies at the heart of existence.
Our cultural journey is not merely a succession of historical epochs, but an ongoing dialogue between the cosmic and the human, the universal and the particular, transcendent and immanent. The dialogue is inscribed in the very core of our being, a dialogue that speaks through the language of ruins and renaissance, through the measured cadence of metaphysics and the disruptive cadence of modern art. Each epoch, each moment, contributes to an ever-expanding narrative in which form is both the vessel and the message, a luminous interplay between what is and what might yet be. As I traverse this winding path, I cannot help but marvel at the profound interplay between the anthropological and the cosmological. The tension between the permanence of the eternal and the transience of the temporal manifests itself in every fragment of decaying stone and every stroke of modern brilliance. It is a tension that defies resolution yet enriches our understanding of beauty as something that transcends the confines of time and space. In these moments of quiet introspection, the ruins become a mirror reflecting the deep complexities of our own existence, a reflection that is at once both melancholic and exalted. They reveal that every act of creation is, in essence, a dialogue with the infinite, a conversation in which the fleeting gestures of human endeavor are forever intertwined with the timeless truths of the cosmos. And so, in the delicate interplay between loss and renewal, between order and entropy, we find the enduring promise of art: that beauty, in its myriad forms, is the eternal thread that binds us to our past, illuminates our present, and guides us toward an ever-unfolding future.
But what is it, truly, that compels us toward these forms — toward the ruin and the monument alike, toward the disciplined contours of antiquity and the disobedient flux of the modern? Is it merely the aesthetic instinct, the inclination to see in shape and structure the measure of human aspiration? Or is it something deeper, something woven into the very metaphysics of being itself, a necessity of the rational soul, ever drawn to the silent language of matter shaped into meaning, into form, into the outward manifestation of an inward necessity? The cultural moment in which we find ourselves is not one of simple decline or dissolution, as some lament, but of profound transformation. If the modern world appears to lack the serene certainties of the past, it is only because we are witnessing the birth of a new relation to form, a relation in which the act of seeing, interpreting, and engaging becomes just as significant as the object itself. This shift, far from being a mere rejection of history, can be understood as its inevitable unfolding: the recognition that every form, no matter how enduring, must eventually give way to new articulations, that the spirit of creation is not a matter of preservation alone but of continual reinvention.
For beauty is ultimately not an object, but an event, not a monument, but a moment of the most intense experience of presence. It is the fleeting realization that for all our insecurities, for all our failures and doubts, we are part of something vast and luminous, something that extends beyond time and space, and something that speaks to us in the silent language of ruins and the restless energy of creation. And in this moment we realize: ruins are not the past, and modernity is not a departure from tradition. They are the continuous history of the form itself: its rise, its decay, and its eternal return.
This performance took place at St Paul and St Andrew United Methodist Church in New York as part of the Carnegie Hall Citywide initiative. Mezzo Shannon Keegan was making her professional debut, with pianist Aaron Wajnberg. Here's a list of the songs:
SCHUBERT Schwanengesang, D. 957 (1828)
-- Abschied
-- Der Atlas
-- Aufenthalt
-- Kriegers Ahnung
-- Staendchen
-- Das Fischermaedchen
-- Frühlingssenhnsucht
-- Ihr Bild
-- Die Stadt
-- Liebesbotschaft
-- In der Ferne
-- Am Meer
-- Der Doppelgaenger
-- Die Taubenpost
Richard STRAUSS Morgen (encore)
There is, perhaps, a more accepted order (beginning with ‘Liebesbotschaft’) but as Keegan points out in her introductory speech, she uses a different order as this is not a traditional song-cycle – there were 14 songs left behind, and are here grouped by poet: Rellstab, Heine, Seidl. This is also an attempt to frame this as a sort of cycle in the manner of Winterreise or Die schöne Müllerin, in an order that reflected the singer's own place in life.
This was Keegan's first professional recital, so Schwanengesang is a daring choice, music composed right at the end of Schubert's life. She begins with a farewell (‘Abschied’, Rellstab), Wajnberg's contribution nice and rhythmic. Wajnberg also finds nice counter-melodies in his part; Keegan characterises each verse slightly differently, as the text determines, in this song of farewell. It is also a song that tracks the various stages of day and night. There is a real parallel, in this placement, to the first song of Müllerin. Keegan almost departs from the line at one point, almost moving (but not quite) to Sprachgesang.
There is applause between songs; many hold strong views on this (myself included), but as the saying goes, it is what it is. Heine next, in surely Schwanengesang's most famous song: ‘Der Atlas’ (starts 7"21). This is an awesome performance (in the true, non-American sense). Both Keegan and Wajnberg convey the idea of a man with literally the World on his shoulders. The shift for “stolzes Herz” (Proud Heart) at the onset of the second stanza is unmissable. Keegan makes this into a monodrama of Schoenbergian dimensions.
Back to Rellstab for ‘Aufenthalt’ (Resting Place. 9"42).No doubting the strength of Keegan's lower register here; nor of the internal dis-ease of the protagonist. But listen also to Wajnberg's contribution, so carefully considered, so technically polished. The repeated note/chord nature of the piano part inevitably evokes Erlkönig.
The move to deepest Schubert territory at 13"17, ‘Kriegers Ahnung’, (Warrier's foreboding, Rellstab) is almost shocking. Wajnberg, in his careful voicing of chords and his spaciousness, persuades me he would be superb in late Schubert piano sonata slow movements (and often first movements, for that matter). Above this, Keegan intones Rellstab's text of stasis before the poet remembers his beloved. Another mini-scena, Keegan and Wajnberg confirm a quasi-operatic take on Schwanengesang. There is daring within this, too: Wajnberg's eschewing of sustaining pedal at one point is most discombobulating. When Keegan moves into her lower register, there is almost a touch of Brigitte Fassbaender about the sound. Marvellous. But the applause seems particularly cruel after that one.
Another famous song next: ‘Ständchen’ (18"22). Keegan's delivery is most affecting; others make much of the line (Christoph Prégardien, for example), but Keegan lets it speak for itself. There is artistry, too, in Wajnberg's piano part; deceptively simple, but so many micro-gradients of tone and dynamic are necessary. Less well-known but absolutely deserving of our attention is ‘Fischermädchen’ (The Fisher Maiden, Heine, 22"21). This is a glorious performance of a lovely song of love: the protagonist asks a fisher maiden to come to him, and likens his heart to the sea, with its sorts and its ebbs and flows. Again, Keegan and Wajnberg pinpoint that case of delivery that masks real genius.
Good for Wajnberg for moving straight into ‘Frühlingssehnsucht’ (Spring longing) at 24"18. This has an almost Schumannesque sense of disquiet in the piano part, and Wajnberg delivers triumphantly (it's not easy). Disquiet is one thing; foreboding another, and the next song begins in those psychologically dark depths: ‘Ihr Bild’ (Heine, 27'49). This is what sorts out the men from the boys, as it were: the sustaining of the long line, the maintenance of the atmosphere. It does segue beautifully into ‘Die Stadt’ though (Heine, 30"35). The defiance of the final stanza (“Die Sonne heat such notch einmal”) is an agonising moment; and one has to also acknowledge the sense of fantasy in Wajnberg's arpeggiations.
The song that often opens Schwanengesang is now heard at a much later stage: ‘Liebesbotschaft’ (Love's message. 33"49). Now, in the light of all that has come before it, the sweet, murmuring brook comes with even more powerful emotions attached as the protagonist asks it to carry their message to a distant lover. Schubert's setting of Rellstab, ‘In der Ferne’ (Far away, 36"46) begins with perfectly placed, tolling-bell octaves from Wajnberg. Keegan works so well with the text's repetitions of line endings; it's like listening to a slowly turning mill wheel, one beset with palpable world-weariness. This song requires great harmonic wanes from both interpreters to work, and it is almost cataclysmic in effect here.
At 43 minutes, we meet ‘Am Meer’ (By the sea), here almost a prayer at its outset but revealing itself as a true cri de cœur. A perfectly judged segue maintains the tension into Heine's remarkable ‘Der Doppelgänger’ (The Wraith, 47"13.) A perfect sense of space, a perfect sense of rhythm from both musicians speaks volumes here. The song also highlights one of Keegan's core traits: her diction is superb, and yet always congruent with her phasing. There is no hint of over-emphasis, but the written text is for once superfluous. The nightmarish central stanza is chilling to the bone.
Finally, a pigeon: ‘Der Taubenpost’ (Pigeon post, the only setting of a poem by Johann Ganriel Seidl). Wajnberg's descents are light-touched and delightful; Keegan’s line is similarly light.
A perfectly chosen encore is not by Schubert but by Richard Strauss, his glorious ‘Morgen!’, surely one of the most beautiful songs ever written. Wajnberg's opening is almost improvised. It is the sense of serenity conjured by Keegan and Wajnberg that is so special.
Chopped Story by Irene A
We have a saying in German: “having a board in front of your head”.
It’s the equivalent of “being a few sandwiches short of a picnic”.
It is used to indicate that you think someone is very stupid or just not being able to understand anything.
Well, here is the story of how this saying developed. (DISCLAIMER: It’s not.)
In the 11th century, there was a king called Drakekan who reigned over the kingdom of Minoria. One day, on a peaceful morning, the citizens of Minoria saw that Drakekan had called for an assembly. He waited until everyone had arrived then he began to speak: “My dear citizens, I’ve noticed that there are some really stupid people among us. I won’t tolerate such stupidity! Not in my Kingdom! People like that don’t deserve to walk around freely. To distinguish the stupid people from the rest of you, I’ve come up with a genius plan. Everyone who is suspected of being an imbecile will get a board nailed onto their forehead. That way, we can easily tell who is stupid and who is not. Stupidity should be punished.”
And that’s how the saying “having a board in front of your head” developed.
Guys don’t come at me if I misspelled something. at least I’m doing something else other than bed rotting. the story is pretty chopped ik. but confidence is key I guess. no fr guys, cuz why do I feel like a millennial rn I swear. kay that’s it. also don’t think that I be feeling myself or sum, my mum made me do this.
(and yes it’s stereotypical on purpose.)
Preview: next issue
Next issue we will be featuring Polish jazz pianist, composer and arranger Liliana Kostrzewa in interview.
From Szczicin, Poland (near the German border), Liliana is the leader of LeeMeet Trio, which in 2014 released the album The First Entrance to the Garden (RecArt0013).
We offer a couple of tracks for your delight and delectation below, including, to kick off with, Kostrzewa's take on some Berio:
... and you can visit Liliana's excellent SoundCloud here.