In Cologne Cathedral


I arrived at Cologne Cathedral as the midday office was coming to an end. A pair of priests in red cassocks stood at the head of the nave, arms folded, like bouncers, only allowing through those who wanted to join the service. The brief ceremony ended with a voluntary from the organ, whose pipes are contained in a cabinet suspended improbably high up one side of the nave. I didn’t recognise the composer; I’m guessing mid-century, but it may even have been improvised. The music began quietly with vox celeste and grew from there. The sound – sinuous, slow polyphony and rich extended-tonal harmonies, darker than Messiaen’s sweet octatonicism – filled the building, which by the end positively rang like a huge stone bell.


I thought of Stockhausen, 20-something, sitting in this space, listening to music something like this (the modern nave organ wasn’t built then), dreaming of Gesang der Jünglinge. The resonance of the cathedral – full, massive – did things to the music’s space and time that surely must have inspired the swoops and swirls of GesangKontakte and all the rest.


Complete MITTWOCH on YouTube

2012 was, for small, cherubic, mewling reasons, not a year in which I saw very much live music at all. A top ten list would be a bit of a joke, since it would have to include the odd school concert just to make up the numbers.

However, I was fortunate that among the few productions of live music for which I did manage to scrub the baby porridge off myself and get out of the house was a genuine game changer: the first complete production of Stockhausen’s MITTWOCH.

Since I wrote my rather effusive review back in August, I have discovered that audio of the entire opera (four scenes, plus a greeting and a farewell) is available on YouTube. Some of that audio even comes with video: scene 4, Michaelion, can be watched complete in its premier performance (1998) by the Sudfunk Chor, Stuttgart. A 20-minute clip of the same scene – the one that bothered most critics (including me) – from the Birmingham Opera production can also be found.

Here, then, are all six parts in order, interspersed with a few of those video extracts recorded by members of the audience in Birmingham, included for comparison and/or context.

(With thanks to Alex Ross, who first drew my attention to the video of Andrew Connington’s aquatic tromboning.)

Mittwoch – the reviews

Here they are – the (English) reviews of MITTWOCH aus LICHT. I’ve listed them in roughly the order in which they appeared online, and given links and my favourite bits for each. More will be added as they come in. I’m also including selected blogs and links to German reviews that I’m aware of.

Igor Toronyi-Lalic, The Arts Desk:

Judge the work on the last 60 minutes – in which we appeared to be inside the head of Tom Cruise – and you’d have to conclude that the whole thing was a self-indulgent and ill-making farce. But look back to the smoky electronic opening, the well paced theatre of the World Parliament or the holistic sound art of the Third Act and you’d have to be pretty mean-spirited not to acknowledge that this was the work of a genius, whose playful innovations have a lot to teach contemporary opera.

Andrew Clements, Guardian:

What saves it all from becoming just a parade of weird images and pretentious ideas is the sheer power and grandeur of much of Stockhausen’s music, with moments that recall his fiercely original works of the 1960s and 70s, and especially the electronic music, which no other composer could have come close to matching.

George Hall, The Stage:

Mittwoch is a characteristically idiosyncratic piece of music theatre, involving actors, singers, instrumentalists, dancers, mimes and electronics, and not least – in the piece’s most famous sequence – the four members of a string quartet flying in separate helicopters with their synchronised music-making screened to the spectators beneath; ironically, this turns out to be the least interesting musical segment, and the hardest to place in the overall vision.

Rupert Christiansen, The Telegraph:

I was both exasperated and enchanted, bored and riveted. Best of all is the World Parliament scene: voluptuous, melismatic and polyrhythmic, it shimmers ecstatically as the delegates debate the truth about love. The helicopter quartet seemed in contrast a banal gimmick, wasting an obscene amount of money and fuel to generate only a hideous amount of pointless noise. The intergalactic parliament also contains passages of dazzling virtuosity for brass instruments as well as voices, but it runs out of steam long before its end.

Nick Richardson, London Review of Books:

The BOC’s production probably doesn’t look as glam as a composer with Fibonacci fairy lights might have imagined. Despite the many thousands of pounds spent and the months of planning, rehearsal and engineering, it feels pleasingly lo-fi. So much the better. Mittwoch exploits a tension between cosmic grandeur and slapstick. And so does the venue, the Argyle Warehouse, a disused chemical factory in the heart of industrial Birmingham: approach from one side and you pass through a recently yuppified enclave of cafés and urban art galleries; come from the other and it’s all factories, forges and scrap yards.

Timothy Ball, Classical Source:

One of the great strengths of this production was the fact that, at times, it was very funny. Much of this scene certainly was, with an endearing, playful quality about it. Something altogether less sinister than the description by Robin Maconie in his definitive book about Stockhausen’s music (Other Planets; Scarecrow Press, 2005) – where the instrumentalists are described as “insects, microbes, small scale living creatures after the manner of Messiaen’s birds.”

Richard Fairman, Financial Times:

It seems clear from everything that Stockhausen wrote about Licht that he intended it to be an outpouring of the ego on an intergalactic scale. Vick’s Mittwoch was not like that at all. With its grungy atmosphere, its band of extras sitting among the audience, its sense of a local community experience borne on enthusiasm and a dash of humour, the brave and enterprising Birmingham Opera Company brought Licht down to earth – apart from the helicopters, of course.

Stephen Pritchard, Observer:

Was it worth the expense? Undoubtedly. This repertoire pushes the musicians to their absolute limits; the score may appear random but it’s extraordinarily controlled and tightly organised, with passages of exquisite tranquillity. The message is resolutely warm, heartfelt and loving, moving in and out of language, space and time. It’s a major achievement.

Anna Picard, Independent:

London Voices replaced Ex Cathedra in the loopy denouement of “Michaelion”, as the pantomime ungulate Lucicamel enjoys a pedicure, drinks champagne, shits planets, squashes a trombonist and unzips to reveal the Operator (bass Michael Leibundgut), a final blast of madrigalian folly before the submarine hum of Pasveer’s electronic “Wednesday Farewell”. Only a composer born on Sirius, as Stockhausen claims he was, could create this.

Mark Swed, Los Angeles Times:

However bad “Mittwoch” was for the back, the event was astonishing for the soul and simply beyond belief. If opera is meant to change your perception of what is possible and worthwhile, to dream the impossible dream and all that, then this is clearly the spiritually uplifting way to do it. And it was funny too.

There might seem a lot to scare people away from “Mittwoch.” The score is based upon complex and intricate musical formulas. It involves vast amounts of electronic technology, and the technical demands on singers and instrumentalists are staggering.

The first scene is an hour-long electronic music “Greeting,” which Stockhausen suggests should be played in the dark and listened to with our eyes closed unless you want to watch someone fly a kite. Hey, it’s Stockhausen.

Vick’s solution was to unpredictably pierce Stockhausen’s multidimensional electronic wonderland with unpredictable, illuminated screwball tableaux vivants, so brief as to seem like afterimages.

Anthony Arblaster, Independent (again):

We need to hear – and see – more Stockhausen. His use of space to complement sound is extraordinary, and was brilliantly realised in Vick’s production. But Mittwoch as a whole isn’t a whole, it’s a hotchpotch.

No one need apologise for playing or performing its best sections separately.

Leo Chadburn, The Quietus:

Not only has everyone involved in this piece staged the unstageable, they’ve done it with generosity, understatement and humility. I don’t imagine anyone who saw this event will forget it anytime soon. More than that, it would be nice to think that this project goes someway to dispelling the idea of Stockhausen as a formidably unapproachable and ridiculous figure. In more than 30 years this is only the second part of Licht to be staged in the UK. May it be an inspiration for a rehabilitation, for more soon, please. Or, at the very least, may it be an inspiration for everyone to start listening to the work of a master with fresh ears.

Some blogs: OperaCreep; Classical Iconoclast; Boulezian (also includes full list of performers).

The view from Germany: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung

Review: Birmingham Opera: MITTWOCH aus LICHT

This review was written within 24 hours of seeing MITTWOCH, and my first Stockhausen opera, for the first time. It feels at the moment like one of the most incredible works of art I have ever witnessed. If there is the tone of religious zealotry in any of what follows, then at least let me say that it comes from what is in my heart, at the moment. Feel free to take issue in the comments. But even so, in a world in which so much – too much – new music sounds the same, it is pretty special to experience something that no one else could have conceived, let alone have written down.

MITTWOCH is the last part of the LICHT cycle to be staged, which I think makes it the last of all Stockhausen’s works to receive a full performance (unless some parts of KLANG are outstanding? nope – Lukas Hellermann tells me musikFabrik have performed all the completed parts). As such, it felt like a pretty good place from which to appraise Stockhausen’s overall life’s work.

The greatest of the postwar serial composers, Stockhausen explored its implications further than anyone, and for far longer. In LICHT, serial thinking – or the parametrical thinking to which it gives rise – becomes the path to a true Gesamtkunst. Set your parameters wide enough and they can encompass the universe. Channel them skillfully and they can shape whatever you want.

Whereas an early work such as KREUZSPIEL uses gamuts of pitches, durations and dynamics (bounded externally by a top and bottom extreme, and internally by the size of their incremental steps), LICHT uses divine principles, rituals, elements, voices, instruments, colours, senses, animals, etc. Some of those that define the dramatic, thematic and musical form of MITTWOCH are as follows:

Divine principle: intuition–harmony
Theme: love–friendship–cosmic solidarity
Element: air
Sound: singing
Voices: soprano–tenor–bass
Instruments: basset-horn with flute–trumpet–trombone
Sense: sight, especially the right eye, pure reason
Colour: bright yellow, iridescent in all colours
Animal: dove–camel

Another continuing thread in Stockhausen’s output, and one enabled by the serial method, is his love of polyphony. Not in a 16th-century sense of the word, but as the simultaneous sounding of multiple things. Early on he had, and evidently retained throughout his life, an exceptional gift for superimposing musical materials without them drowning each other out or losing overall definition.

ETUDE (1952)

A final touch is purely a sonic preference. Stockhausen had an evident love of short, repeating sounds, that when played slow judder like machine-gun fire, and that speed up to scraping and buzzing before transcending their own rhythmic constitution to become pitch. KONTAKTE is a study on precisely such sounds; COSMIC PULSES is another. KLAVIERSTÜCKE IX and GRUPPEN approach them again from different angles. Sounds like these occur throughout MITTWOCH, whether as buzzing bees, disintegrating electronic drones, tremolo strings, shortwave radio signals, helicopter blades or a stuttering singer. The sense of sonic unity that is engendered is quite staggering.

I say all this not because it is of musicological interest, but because it informed my experience of the work, and indeed provides clues both to how the work functions as a piece of music theatre, and how it relates to the rest of Stockhausen’s career-long output.

His is an art of enlightenment, of revelatory transformation through the juxtaposition of objects. So instrumental competitions, bees, the laughter of children, paper aeroplanes, a meeting of delegates from the countries of the world, octophonic sound projections, kites, doves and the cosmos in MITTWOCH are all points within the same space, defined by parameters such as swarming, buzzing/juddering, air, flight.

Family-like, or thesaurus-like, each is partly an expression of the other’s genetic code, partly something new. In isolation they might be ordinary, but collectively they articulate a unique expressive space. The listener/audience’s role is to navigate their own path, construct their own meaning from this (an interpretation of serial music as aleatory that M.J. Grant has delineated through much early serial music). Think of the Google Translate game: pass a single text through enough languages and its meaning will be transformed. However, some unexpected common thread will remain.

At the heart of it all, the sound and theatre of a string quartet (or: a human-responsive tremolo-glissando multiplicity-unity machine) in helicopters (or: altitude-swarming-rotation-judder-vision machines) is perfect. It couldn’t be otherwise. Musically it is probably not the composer’s best work; ecologically it raises troubling questions for the responsible limits for all major works of art. But as a coup de théâtre it is spectacular, and utterly integrated into the themes of the work.

A word on the moderator. Radio 1 DJ Nihal had his critics from the off. After watching the live stream at home I would have been among them. Yet having seen him in the flesh, in his third performance, and with a more responsive audience (fewer fanboys after the first night?), I’m prepared to think differently. His tone wasn’t right on Wednesday, no. But it was greatly improved by Friday – most of the flat jokes were gone, he was more relaxed with the audience and he seemed to have built a real rapport with the players. (Sadly, because of the weather, the pilots had to whisk the helicopters away and weren’t able to participate in the Q&A.)

It’s a peculiar role (possibly unique?), and questions have been asked since Wednesday about why he was picked to do it, and not someone more obviously informed about Stockhausen’s work, someone more in tune with contemporary music in general. (It should be added that his enthusiasm for what he was a part of, at least on Friday, seemed absolutely genuine.)

From what I understand, Nihal was on Graham Vick’s teamsheet early on – before the Elysians themselves, for example – so we have to conclude that this scene was built, to some extent, around his personality and experience. In the end, it worked pretty well for me. So much of the opera is about ascent (towards the cosmos or the divine?) that the presence of the mundane – questions from the audience, etc – struck me as a useful counterpoint. Theatrically, the opera also undertakes a complete demolition of the fourth wall, culminating in the Farewell, and of which the Q&A/reality TV section of HELIKOPTER-STREICHQUARTETT forms a part. On the night I felt this was not unrelated to the ascent image, or to the general theme of change or transformation, processes undertaken by the audience as much as the characters. (Not forgetting that the musicians throughout are as much characters themselves, even if they are just “playing” the role of “violin 1”.) It was also intriguing that the Q&A, despite being completely out of the composer’s hands, kept returning to this theme: how repeated performances of the work was changing the players’ and pilots relationship to it, for example.

Another difficulty shared by many – including myself – was with the final scene, MICHAELION, in which the cosmic parliament chooses a new leader, the camel Lucicamel, out of whom emerges a new president, the Operator, the translator (via shortwave radio) of cosmic information. A series of delegates from distant galaxies present themselves to him before they are dispatched into the universe, singing of consensus and love.

This is the first scene to present anything like a coherent plot, and it is clearly meant to present some sort of narrative resolution to some of the themes of the rest of the opera (as well as to hook it all back into the overall LICHT cycle). However, there is an issue straight away because its dramatic arc hinges on Lucifer’s transformation at the end of this scene – “Mankind, hear: MICHAEL EVE are healing the World, LUCIFER will be around through the music of LIGHT” – but within MITTWOCH at least Lucifer has not yet been a presence (or indeed have Michael or Eve), so there can be no investment in his transformation. The principles of change, unity, perhaps even healing, can easily be discerned in the preceding scenes, but only in a more abstract sense. Connecting them to the character narratives of the overall cycle seems arbitrary when the opera is heard on its own. Strange as it may seem, given the presence of a planet-defecating camel, a president of the universe holding a cheap radio and a series of inter-galactic representatives playing children’s toys, I had the feeling that Stockhausen hadn’t gone far enough here: his weakest scene was the one that came closest to conventional theatre.

There were too many highlights to list. The level of technique and imagination that oozed out of every minute of this 6-hour performance was something to behold in itself. Vick’s staging was engaging, often extraordinary and only rarely incomprehensible. By taking the sensible decision to view Stockhausen’s staging demands as broad indications rather than unbreakable script he was able to strip away many of the complexities on which previous productions had foundered. Indeed, walking into the two vast, unadorned halls of the Argyle Warehouse in which MITTWOCH was performed, simple and endlessly flexible, unlike any opera house, you wondered why no one had thought of this before.

Kathinka Pasveer, Stockhausen’s partner and musical director for this performance, also deserves special mention. MITTWOCH, as is probably clear by now, would be nothing without the spatialisation of its music. As the sound projector for most scenes, Pasveer’s influence on its musical success was profound.

There wasn’t a duff performance all night. The Elysian quartet were heroic (and ashen-faced) in their battles with the inclement skies over Birmingham. The moments of synchronicity as they played, kilometres apart from one another, were amazing. And as game participants in the reality TV show that framed their playing, they couldn’t be bettered. London Voices, who sang the epic, complex and athletically physical MICHAELION from every corner of the space were remarkable. As were the twelve soloists (eleven airborne) in ORCHESTER-FINALISTEN, among whom special mention must go to trombonist Andrew Connington for his frolics in the paddling pool, and bassist Jeremy Watt, for his impersonation of treefrogs and a sailing ship. However, special notice must be reserved for the 36 singers of Ex Cathedra, whose energy and control over the 45 a cappella minutes of WELT-PARLAMENT were breathtaking, and the astonishing solo performance of Stephen Menotti as Trombonut, the trombonist who charms, dances with, fights and loses to Lucicamel, before recovering to play out the remaining 30 minutes of the opera as part of a trio with bassett horn (Fie Schouten) and trumpet (Marco Blaauw). All in character, and all from memory. A total badass.

As MICHAELION ended, the auditorium dissolved. With the stage completely emptied, the action rose out of the audience, as the extras who had been there all along as passive participants in the MICHAELION drama stood to reveal yellow placards on which slogans and imprecations had been written in black marker: “Listen,” “Peace,” “Lucifer is changed.” With the electronic music of MITTWOCHS-ABSCHIED playing behind us, we exited one last time into the first hall where we began, where an after-show party had already started: waitresses served drinks, and the cast (still in costume, but out of character) mingled and chatted freely with members of the audience. The carnival the work had always been tending towards was complete.

Register now to watch Birmingham Opera’s live stream of Mittwoch aus Licht

Birmingham Opera Company’s world premiere of Mittwoch aus LICHT, the till-now only unstaged part of Stockhausen’s operatic heptalogy sold out long ago. But those without tickets need not despair. The whole of Thursday’s six-hour performance will be streamed live from 4pm on the BOC website. (The first performance is tomorrow night, Wednesday, naturally, and the composer’s birthday.)

Importantly, you need to register your name and email to get access to the link.

Thanks to Intermezzo for the notice.

The Elysian Quartet (long-time Rambler favourites, and first reviewed here eight and a half years ago) are one of the big press attractions of Mittwoch, as performers of the notorious Helikopter-Streichquartett. Here’s a little clip of them whizzing about in rehearsal:

Brilliance and Brown: Stockhausen’s Mantra

Mantra formula

Brown. My synaesthetic response to Stockhausen’s music is so often brown. Unlike his teacher and youthful inspiration Messiaen, who began from a metaphor of light, combining and splitting colours in and out of whiteness, Stockhausen mixes a painter’s colours: combination tends towards a uniform brown. Messiaen composes a dazzling transcendence, whereas Stockhausen sticks closer to earthy realities.

That might sound a strange comment to make of the composer of Trans and Inori, to say nothing of Licht, but it strikes at something of the problematic paradox of the mystical music Stockhausen began writing in the 1970s. There’s something tragicomic about this misstep: an all-too human failure at the heart of Stockhausen’s maddening enterprise to construct a home-made cosmology.

And yet … there are the works. That brilliant string of pearls. Mantra, for two pianists prosthetically extended with percussion, electronics and voice, is one of the later greats. A 70-minute magnification of serialism’s two conflicting realities: perpetual change and perpetual homogeneity. The 12-note series (plus a recapitulatory 13th) is blown up to 13 statements of the ‘mantra’ formula.

The procedure, as Stockhausen describes it, sounds, well, formulaic. But in practice the composer uses the almost ritualistic returns to very basic materials in order to open doorways from the prosaic and academic into the real and global. So the ring-modulated drifts surrounding a piano chord might admit a passage of imitation Javanese gamelan; or repeating pulses admit a glimpse of Japanese Noh theatre. At one striking moment those repeating pulses in the piano fracture into both morse code transmissions and ritual chimes.

Holding all of this together, while remaining sensitive both to the piece’s moments of comedy and its seriousness of intent, must be a huge challenge. Chadwick and Knoop were more than a match for it, especially in respect of Mantra‘s extraordinary imaginative scope. It is, still, music of a strange flatness, somehow suppressed even as it explodes galaxies of sound around the monochromaticism of a piano duet. That tension is key: it’s what keeps you listening and it’s how Stockhausen’s music achieves its strange drama.

The short piece by Newton Armstrong that preceded Mantra, Study in Tiled Light, was a more deliberate study in interesting flatness, a series of chords that gained its dimensions through stereoscopic division of the chords between the instruments and a subtle terracing of touch and timbre within.

Stockhausen’s Mantra at Kings Place

Ensemble Plus-Minus come to Kings Place next week for a performance of Stockhausen’s two-piano masterpiece Mantra, performed by Mark Knoop and Roderick Chadwick. The concert also includes a new work by Newton Armstrong.

Here are the details:

Monday 20 September
Kings Place, Hall Two

Part of the Out Hear Series at Kings Place.
Tickets and further details here.

If you’d like some further reading, I’ve reviewed Knoop playing Armstrong before; and Roderick Chadwick features on the excellent Trajectories CD of David Gorton’s music.

Best concerts of 2009: bubbling under

See here for my top 5 list.

Although I’ve isolated 5 outstanding concerts of 2009, many of my more interesting musical experiences this year were in those events that were less flashy, less overtly impressive, or simply less polished.

In their own ways, Vladimir Martynov’s Vita nuova (Festival Hall, 18 Feb | review) and Stockhausen’s Inori (Barbican, 17 Jan | review) are naive, new agey bombast, but they both sort of work. The musical merits of Vita nuova are less clear, for me, but as a piece of drama it still worked – and as a 21st century artistic statement made with apparently great sincerity and fervour it intrigued and baffled to a degree that perhaps only Stockhausen could match.

Clariphonics were a breath of fresh air among the Park Lane concerts I attended (Purcell Room, 7–8 Jan | review): lovely players who actually seemed to care about new music (and programmed some interesting items by lesser known figures to boot). The RCM’s Ossian Ensemble (Royal College of Music, 13 March) were another group of young players who impressed, taking on some difficult repertoire, and matching it up with some beautifully arranged presentation – each piece was presented in a separate room that took you further into the eaves of the college. Atmospheric, but not cheesy.

Music We’d Like to Hear (1, 8, 15 July) was, as always, a beautiful thing, and this year introduced me to the gorgeous music of the Canadian composer Chiyoko Szlavnics. I swooned a little. William Christie and Les Arts Florissants at the Barbican (26 November) were outstanding, and a perfect night off for the working half of my musical brain. ELISION performing Lim’s The Navigator in Paris (8 December | review) were on electric form and would have made the top five in most other years.

Best concerts of 2009

2009 was a really strong year for new live music, I felt, and that’s despite effectively taking 2 or 3 months off in the middle while I was moving house. (During which time I missed all of Spitalfields, all of the Proms, two-thirds of Music We’d Like to Hear and probably more besides.)

Here, in date order, are my top five:

Ian Pace, King’s College, 4 February

B.A. Zimmermann: Capriccio: Improvisation über Volksliederthemen; Konfiguration: Acht Stücke für Klavier; Boulez: Sonata no.3 (Trope, Constellation–Miroir); Henze: Variationen; Otte: Tropismen I; Stockhausen: Klavierstück X

Easily the most thoughtfully-programmed concert of the year. Pace’s selections were designed to emphasise continuities between the pre- and postwar German avant gardes, connections that are (perhaps too conveniently) obscured in the conventional narration of postwar European music. On the purely aesthetic level, Zimmermann’s Konfiguration was the discovery of the evening. What I said then.

Richard Haynes, Shunt, 13 and 14 April

David Young: Breath Control; Richard Barrett: Interference; Chris Dench: The Sadness of Detail; David Lang: Press Release

A complete original. Some of the best playing I’ve seen all year (although I admit I saw Richard quite a lot in ’09 …) and a richly conceived, multi-layered show that challenged but ultimately won over a non-new music crowd. Points too for finding a way to bridge the gap between European post-serial and American post-minimal traditions. What I said then.

Polish Radio Choir Kraków, National Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra, et al, cond. Krzysztof Penderecki, Canterbury Cathedral, 2 May

Penderecki: St Luke Passion

Closure: my first chance to see St Luke live, at the end of a conference on Polish music at which I probably presented my last piece of work on the piece for some time. It is a hugely flawed work, and one that I had lost patience with some long time ago (PhD research will always kill the love), but this performance was much, much better than I had hoped for, and momentarily convinced me that this really is one of the great works of the late 20th century.

ELISION, Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival, 20 November

Richard Barrett: Opening of the Mouth

Another moment of closure (ha ha). Every year there seems to be a piece that occupies my thoughts more than any other; this was never more true than with Opening, which tickled my brain more or less constantly between March and November. The chance to hear it live was another very special opportunity, and ELISION didn’t disappoint. The acoustics of Bates Mill may have messed with the ensemble balance a bit, but this was, nevertheless, the year’s stand-out concert for me.

Geneviève Foccroulle, Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival, 20 November

Anthony Braxton: Compositions no.1, 10 and 32

This was one of the most remarkable piano recitals I’ve ever been to. I only knew a little Braxton beforehand, and most of that read not listened-to. No.10 wasn’t that interesting: sounded like a run-of-the-mill graphic score to me, but No.32 was unforgettable: 30 minutes of relentless fortissimo clusters that overrode any conventioanl idea of sense in favour of an undeniable, and utterly original, expressive force. On its own this was more than enough, but the careful, jazz-inspired unpicking of serial plinky-plonk cliché in No.1 – that nevertheless remained as absolutely serious in its purpose as any Structure or Klavierstücke – was a revelatory exposition of the power of non-thematic, atomised, parametrical musical thought. Stunning.

Update (5 Jan 2010): No.10 from this concert was broadcast on Saturday on BBC Radio 3’s Hear and Now programme, and is available to listen again through iPlayer for the next four days (until 10th Jan).

But this only tells part of the story: see my next post for those that bubbled under.

musikFabrik – Michaels Reise um die Welt

From Anablog:

The video of musikFabrik’s 2008 production of Michael’s Journey Around the World has been posted to YouTube, and it’s well worth watching. WDR did an admirable job of capturing the overpacked visuals, but the DVD still represents only a fraction of what the audience was seeing.

Don’t miss watching these. The vids are all here.