HALBERSTADT, Germany (AFP) - A new chord was scheduled to sound in the world's slowest and longest lasting concert that is taking a total 639 years to perform.
The abandoned Buchardi church in Halberstadt, eastern Germany, is the venue for a mind-boggling 639-year-long performance of a piece of music by US experimental composer John Cage (1912-1992).
Entitled "organ2/ASLSP" (or "As SLow aS Possible"), the performance began on September 5, 2001 and is scheduled to last until 2639.
The first year and half of the performance was total silence, with the first chord -- G-sharp, B and G-sharp -- not sounding until February 2, 2003.
Then in July 2004, two additional Es, an octave apart, were sounded and are scheduled to be released later this year on May 5.
But at 5:00 pm (1600 GMT) on Thursday, the first chord was due to progress to a second -- comprising A, C and F-sharp -- and is to be held down over the next few years by weights on an organ being built especially for the project.
Cage originally conceived "ASLSP" in 1985 as a 20-minute work for piano, subsequently transcribing it for organ in 1987.
But organisers of the John Cage Organ Project decided to take the composer at his word and stretch out the performance for 639 years, using Cage's transcription for organ.
The enormous running time was chosen to commemorate the creation of Halberstadt's historic Blockwerk organ in 1361 - 639 years before the current project started.
That original organ, built by Nikolaus Faber for Halberstadt's cathedral, was the first organ ever to be used for liturgical purposes, ringing in a new era in which the organ has played a central role in church music ever since.
As part of Halberstadt's John Cage Organ Project, a brand-new organ is being built specially, with new pipes added in time for when new notes are scheduled to sound.
Cage was a pupil of one of the 20th century's most influential composers, Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951). Cage's avant-garde oeuvre includes works such as the
notorious "4'33”", a piece comprising four minutes and 33 seconds of total silence, all meticulously notated.
The organisers of the John Cage Organ Project say the record-breaking performance in Halberstadt also has a philosophical background – to "rediscover calm and slowness in today's fast-changing world".
From Yahoo News
More at BBC News
Website of Organ2/ASLSP:
http://www.john-cage.halberstadt.de/new/index.php?l=e
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
cacophony
was listening to Saint-Saens' danse macabre while making my way through the morning traffic. yep, the symphonic poem describing a graveyard of skeletons dancing a spectral waltz. and before you cry "you weird, weird woman, you!" and denounce me from your circle of acquaintances forever, it's (strangely) a favourite not because of the theme, but (1) how deftly the composer depicts the twelve strokes of the witching hour and all the eerieness that goes with an early-morning other-worldly party, and the spectacle and commotion that the music conjures, and (2) i was first introduced to the spectacle and commotion at one of ann's music appreciation classes many many moons ago, at a time when my ultimate ambition was to be a violinist with an orchestra - orchestral works just blew me away, there was something about the grandeur of it all that generated exhilaration beyond words, and for some reason, danse macabre became a piece that would remind me of the excitement of performing with an amalgamation of wood, strings and metal that produced amazing sounds. i never did practice the violin enough after stopping lessons to gain much confidence in attempting to join any ensemble, but i did become a chorister, and the experience of singing with various groups in merry ole england and here has brought with it quite some satisfaction (and war stories - see side rambling below on a particular incident during a university choir performance) so far. and it was good to hear danse macabre performed by the university philharmonia during one of our concerts!
and my point here? nothing much, really. except that maybe, in my next life, i'd like to find myself playing in an orchestra.
[side rambling - a chorister's war story]
disclaimer:
in case you're expecting something spectacular like the roof of the hall falling down on us, it was really a routine boo-boo, actually. my life ain't THAT happening..
the piece:
Constant Lambert's "The Rio Grande".
the story:
'twas the climax of the piece, where the choir's words were basically "by the Rio Grande, they dance no Sarabande". "By the Ri-o Grande" is the beginning of the end of a major upheaval in orchestral sounds, and then to end it all was "they DANCE.. NO.. SA-RA..." [then there is some element of climax, can't remember whether it was a timpani crash or a huge pause].. and then we were to all hail "-BANDE!!!!", together with some brass and percussion. of course, due to the orchestral entropy leading up to it, everyone was totally lost (you know how it is - you think it's a piece of cake when the repetiteur tickles the ivories during rehearsals but it's totally different when you add the actual cacophony of instruments far more powerful than the hammers and keys, blasting away in their full glory), and the people who shouldn't have been lost were eventually led into the wilderness due to the insecurity of nobody around them singing what they were supposed to be singing (sigh, herd instinct). it happened very quickly - there was not much pain - "they DANCE.. NO.. SA-RA-..... [silence from the choir. Maestro's eyes pop out. singers gape and after the sounds from the orchestra trailed away someone whispers, very audibly, "shit."]. you could sense that morale had suddenly shot down to record-low levels but we managed to meander through the rest of the Rio Grande without much catastrophe. even kind Maestro, who was normally full of encouragement even if we completely messed up a piece, was a little aghast after the show.
the aftermath:
thereafter, the infamous "no Sarabande experience" was repeatedly quoted by our conductor for the next few seasons, to remind us all (well, of course, only the Rio Grande survivors who had first-hand experience of the incident would know the significance of the label) to keep our eyes on the conductor at all times, and also, to do one's best to refrain from cursing when a mistake has been made during a performance, cos, well, it wouldn't be very nice for the audience to hear you blaspheming in the middle of melodious strains of gloria in excelsis deo, would it?
and my point here? nothing much, really. except that maybe, in my next life, i'd like to find myself playing in an orchestra.
[side rambling - a chorister's war story]
disclaimer:
in case you're expecting something spectacular like the roof of the hall falling down on us, it was really a routine boo-boo, actually. my life ain't THAT happening..
the piece:
Constant Lambert's "The Rio Grande".
the story:
'twas the climax of the piece, where the choir's words were basically "by the Rio Grande, they dance no Sarabande". "By the Ri-o Grande" is the beginning of the end of a major upheaval in orchestral sounds, and then to end it all was "they DANCE.. NO.. SA-RA..." [then there is some element of climax, can't remember whether it was a timpani crash or a huge pause].. and then we were to all hail "-BANDE!!!!", together with some brass and percussion. of course, due to the orchestral entropy leading up to it, everyone was totally lost (you know how it is - you think it's a piece of cake when the repetiteur tickles the ivories during rehearsals but it's totally different when you add the actual cacophony of instruments far more powerful than the hammers and keys, blasting away in their full glory), and the people who shouldn't have been lost were eventually led into the wilderness due to the insecurity of nobody around them singing what they were supposed to be singing (sigh, herd instinct). it happened very quickly - there was not much pain - "they DANCE.. NO.. SA-RA-..... [silence from the choir. Maestro's eyes pop out. singers gape and after the sounds from the orchestra trailed away someone whispers, very audibly, "shit."]. you could sense that morale had suddenly shot down to record-low levels but we managed to meander through the rest of the Rio Grande without much catastrophe. even kind Maestro, who was normally full of encouragement even if we completely messed up a piece, was a little aghast after the show.
the aftermath:
thereafter, the infamous "no Sarabande experience" was repeatedly quoted by our conductor for the next few seasons, to remind us all (well, of course, only the Rio Grande survivors who had first-hand experience of the incident would know the significance of the label) to keep our eyes on the conductor at all times, and also, to do one's best to refrain from cursing when a mistake has been made during a performance, cos, well, it wouldn't be very nice for the audience to hear you blaspheming in the middle of melodious strains of gloria in excelsis deo, would it?
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