Quentin era mi pez,un pequeño pez payaso,que murió en extrañas circustancias hace unos 6 meses,después de haber compartido con el otros 6 meses de mi vida.

Casi nadie lo tuvo en cuenta,en mi casa parartes de animales no se lleva el luto,pero yo como ser humano y como dueño de mi pez,me senti mal y no pare hasta descubrir las causas de su desaparición.

Como buen Sherlock Holmes que soy,calibre primero todas las posibilidades,que fueron las siguientes:

1-Mi Quentin murió de viejo.
2-Mi Quentin murió por falta de sueño(no me creo que los peces no duerman).
3-Mi Quentin murio por que se le hincho el estomago y le exploto,lo cual explicaria los restos de comida encontrados en la pecera.
4-Mi Quentin murió por estress,convivía con el pajaro y tenía que competir por el amor de la familia con él(el pajaro murió hace dos semanas,aunque eso no me interesa).
5-Mi quentin murió de estress pero esta vez por el agobio que le debía provocar que yo me pusiera a hacerle caritas.
6-Mi Quentin fué asesinado.

Una vez investigadas todas y manteniendo el cuerpo a buen recaudo de posibles “borra-pruebas”,me dispuse a realizar los interrogatorios a los sospechosos posibles cuyas respuestas mas destacas y elocuentes fueron estas.

Mi madre:”¿quieres ponerte las zapatillas de una vez que me estas pisando todo el suelo con los pies,y ponerte a estudiar y dejar de hacer el bobo?,¡que parece mentira que tengas 22 años!”

Mi padre:”Grrrrrrrr….¿y pa´ eso me levantas de la siesta?…vete a la mierda…grrrr”.

Mi hermano:”¿teniamos un pez?”

Como veís todas las respuestas fueron evasivas y poco concluyentes,en vista de que nadie estaba dispuesto a colaborar fuí descartando posibilidades por pura lógica.

La del stress provocado por el pajaro,descartada,había malas caras entre ellos,pero de ahí al suicidio,no creo.

La del stress provocado por mi,tambien,yo era el único que le daba de comer,era un pequeño sufrimiento que era compensado con creces.

La del sueño,mientras escribía compruebo en wikipedia que si,es cierto que no duermen.

De viejo imposible,solo tenía 6 meses y su agua era cambiada regularmente.

Con lo cual nos quedamos con dos posibilidades,o murio por “explotamiento de buche” o asesinado.

Mi mente detectivesca y agil me llevo a pensar que quiza no fueran tan descabelladas,es más podrían estar intimamente unidas.

Podría ser una,o la otra,o las dos,quien sabe,el asesino pudo hincharle a comer para que acabara con un colico que le llevara a la muerte,¿quién podría sospechar?,solo es un pez,no tiene amigos,ni familia,ni siquiera habla.

Llegados a esta conclusión,vino el momento de plantearse a los posibles sospechosos.

El pajaro:imposible,no sale de la jaula,y con las uñas no puede coger un bote de comida para peces.

Mi hermano:ni siquiera sabía de la existencia de Quentin.

Mi madre:es demasiado sentimental,lloró cuando llevamos el coche antiguo al desguace,descartada.

Queda mi padre,ese hombre tranquilo,que nunca grita ni dice nada fuera de tono,que mimaba al pajaro siempre con esmero,cuidando su jaula,siempre atento a que no le faltara de nada,ni agua,ni comida.
¿Pudo ser él,en un ataque de celos,al ver como el encantador Quentin,que ademas vivía en la cocina a diferencia del pajaro que pernoctaba en la terraza,capaz de asesinar al pequeño,para que su protegido volviera a ser el rey de la casa?

Una vez llegados a este punto,decidí que algunos de los maestros a la hora de resolver casos me ayudaran,me hice un maratón,con las que representan para mi sin duda algunas de las mejores historias a la hora de adivinar casos,”Asesinato en el orient express”,”Se ha escrito un crimen” y “Una rubia muy legal”.

Avido de conseguir conocimiento,las devore,busque puntos flacos,estrategias,pero ninguna a pesar de ser obras maestras consiguieron ayudarme.

No podia acusar a mi padre sin pruebas,pero tampoco podía dejar la muerte de Quentin impune¡¡¡

Así que me eche a la calle y pensé,en todas las posibilidades,repase todo,hasta que volví a casa y cansado de tanto pensar me acosté.

Soñé con conspiraciones del gobierno porque Quentin tenía información fraudulenta sobre Marbella,con una venganza por el robo de unas perlas o un “caballo de mar-padre” queriendo defender el honor de su “caballo de mar-hija”,vi que todo esto no llegaba a ninguna parte y que además,ya me habia entretenido bastante con todo este rollo para no estudiar.

El puto pez se murió porque si,porque le salió y punto pelota,y ademas voy a tirarlo por el retrete que empieza a oler,que van a pensar que tengo Auswitch en mi habitación.

Burlington Choral Society

Bach (Cantata #140 – Wachet, auf!) was bouyant; Fauré (Cantique de Jean Racine & Requiem) sang in sweet simplicity. A fine concert tonight from the Burlington Choral Society.

Here’s a different perspective. In the hours and days that followed the horrific events of September 11, 2001, radio programmer listserves were jammed with the same single question that prompted similar urgent flurries of e-mails and phone calls among concerned colleagues internationally. We reached out for each other’s suggestions and insights on how to ‘get it right’ for our listeners.

As you listen to the radio in a time of unusual or extreme world events, you may not realize how much furious activity is happening on the working end of your radio to make it the best, most thoughtfully-created experience possible for you and everyone else in the audience. That’s just as it should be. You shouldn’t have to think about those things, that’s why we’re here.

When the world outside is suffering as it was that day in a conflicted mix of disbelief, disenchantment, raging anger, calls for retribution, and utter, inconsolable grief – it does call into question how any communication service can best respond to external events and serve its listeners. Arts-focused organizations, like music radio stations, take that concern a little further to see how they can possibly offer beauty and expressions of human achievement that transcend the awfulness to offer messages of hope and assuage the pain.

The single question on all of our minds that day was, “what are you playing”?

At the time I was working as a classical radio station music director in Southern California, and on September 11th alone – not to mention the many days that followed – I remember talking to friends and fellow programmers in places as far away as Minnesota, North Carolina, London, NY City, Colorado, and Alabama. Amid the more appropriate, if predictable, suggestions like Barber’s Adagio, Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus and Lacrimosa, and Strauss’ Metamorphosen, came more unusual choices like Gorecki’s Symphony #3 (“Symphony of Sorrowful Songs”), Liszt’s ruminating Les Funerailles, and  and Puccini’s somber Crisantememi.

Personally, I always find that Dvorak’s Symphony #9 (“From the New World”) hits all the right chords of hope, solace, and forward-looking optimism that offer comfort in tough times. In fact I went home from work early that afternoon and laid on the floor near the stereo, closed my eyes and listened to all 9 recordings of that piece I owned, one after another. And Coltrane’s A Love Supreme lived in my car stereo for several weeks. That’s all I wanted to hear. It helped.

"In Paradisum" from Fauré's Requiem manuscript

Of all the suggestions and ideas that came from those conversations, only one piece of music was unanimously agreed upon as having just the right sound and feel for an occasion like the aftermath of September 11th. It was the Requiem, by Gabriel Fauré.

In many ways it is a conventional setting of the traditional Latin requiem mass…except that Faure omits the fiery Dies Irae (“Day of Wrath”)/Lacrimosa sequence, and ends the work with the upifting Libera Me and In Paradisum – texts taken from the burial ceremony, not typically incorporated into the Mass itself. This is a Requiem about transcending into the light of afterlife and solace, not dwelling in the dark discontent of grief and loss and unreconciled faith.

This evening the Burlington Choral Society performs Fauré’s serene Requiem as the centerpiece of their annual fall concert, in a program that also includes Bach’s Wachet, auf! Cantata #140 and another of Fauré’s lovely choral favorites, his student composition the Cantique de Jean Racine.

Life is challenging. Take a deep breath and allow yourself to be transported to a place of deep peace and beauty for a couple of hours. In Paridisum, indeed. There is nothing like the Fauré Requiem.

The program starts at 7:30 this evening, at the North Avenue Alliance Church (901 North Avenue) in  Burlington.

Eine schöne Perle habe ich heute auf dem Video-Portal “Gloria.tv” gefunden.

Einige werden es wohl schon gesehen haben, denn dieses Video ist vom 16. Oktober und somit schon ein paar Wochen alt. Wer es noch nicht gesehen hat und gerne mal wissen möchte, wie ein levitiertes Requiem zelebriert wird, der klicke bitte auf das unten stehende Bild:

MISSA PRO DEFUNCTO

Dieses Requiem wurde in Polen im Jahre 2003 zelebriert und zwar von Pater Bernward Deneke von der Petrusbruderschaft, den ich persönlich sehr schätze.

Man beachte die Verschmelzung zwischen Liturgie und Musik! Es ist nicht ganz ungefährlich, denn die Musik, als großer Bestandteil, darf natürlich trotzdem nicht überhand nehmen. Doch hier sehe ich wirklich ein sehr faszinierendes Zusammenspiel.

Wir Menschen lieben das Schöne, dass hat uns unser Herr und Gott in die Wiege gelegt und hier erkenne ich Schönheit. Mitten in der Trauer ein großer Hoffnungsschimmer. Das heilige Messopfer. Weihrauch, schallende Stimmen und Instrumente die Gebete zu Gott tragen und für den jeweils Verstorbenen bei Gott bitten.

Heute kennt man Mozart höchstens noch in der Neuauflage für den Soundtrack eines Blockbusters. Aber für was diese Musik ursprünglich gedacht war bzw. für wen, dass wissen nicht mehr viele Menschen. Höchstens geht man heute noch in Kirchen und hört Konzerte, deren Kompositionen in Wirklichkeit für die Heilige Messe entstanden sind.

A flurry of excited e-mail exchanges with co-Resurrectionists Cheryl Pickering and Richard Chew confirms that our music-theatre opus Vesalius-a Requiem is closer to being restaged. Rick and I created the piece for The Old Operating Theatre Museum, at London Bridge, in 1996, having previewed it in mac’s intimate Hexagon Theatre a couple of months earlier.

The experience of creating and delivering Vesalius was profound. It became an obsession, a love affair –  and one that we knew would be properly revisited at some unknown future time. In ‘97 I presented extracts amongst the specimens of the Hunter Museum and in ‘98 a version of the show travelled to Bologna, sometime workplace of Renaissance anatomist Andreas Vesalius (courtesy of The British Council). Only now though, after intermittant romancing of the idea, do we have the opportunity to re-investigate the material and make a new work. Plans are moving forward for a new show, in collaboration with the Royal Institution of Australia – Science Exchange, in Adelaide (RiAus) in May or June next year.

Date: 1823
Location:Naousa

It didn’t actually hurt anymore. Probably not a good sign since he was lying in a pool of his own blood. The wound was deep, and if it opened again he wouldn’t last long. On the other hand it was surprisingly comfortable here, lying on the corpse of a largish Janissary. The sun was too bright in this land, even the air smelt wrong. So strange that he could smell anything above the stench of voided bowls and violated flesh of the soldier underneath him. Still wondering about the smell he watched the sun split into three, spin about the sky, and then blink out.

It was dark now. Not good, he’d lost hours; no idea how many. Next time he slipped into sleep he might not wake again. For a moment he considered taking out the small knife he kept in his sleeve and finishing the job the Turk’s sabre had started, but really he didn’t have the will. Not that it mattered, he was starting to see and hear things now. Not far away he could make out clearly a French nobleman, resplendent in decadent refinery, calmly sifting through a pile of dead Greeks. The French had gutted his city less then a decade ago before being driven off by the viciousness of the Russian winter, and now they were here. Typical bloody French.

He giggled to himself and the apparition spun at an alarming speed to look at him. It said something, no doubt in French, and he responded with a rude phrase he’d picked up from a particularly angry whore back in Moscow. The man scowled and, no doubt picking up on his accent, said something in broken Russian. That was simply hilarious. The apparition tried a few times more, but he couldn’t reply even if he wanted too, he was giggling too much, well more of a croak then a giggle, lubricated only by the blood from cracked lips. Darkness took him once more in mid chuckle.

It was light again, far away he could hear others scavenging the dead, but right now he was fixated on a small skin on the Janissary’s belt. He apologised to the slowly swelling man, it wouldn’t be polite to upset someone nice enough to act as his pillow, even as he struggled to reach the skin with its mouthful of water. It was amazing how much effort this was taking, and in small moments of lucidity he realised just how pathetic his efforts to sustain his life just a little longer really were, yet he couldn’t stop.

Dark again. Not sure how that happened. The skin was empty and the Frenchman was back, looking down at him. They icy blue eyes above him were dead inside, and around the mouth of the man was dried blood. The mouth was moving, but all he could pay attention to were the teeth, pointy, vicious. Even in his state he knew a Voordalak stood above him, he didn’t care about the odd words that penetrated his fogged mind “survivor”, “tithe”, “toy”. The monster was bending over him now, forcing its mouth onto his. Cold hands held his head motionless, an obscene kiss forcing his mouth open. There was a vile taste as something gushed down his throat, something cold, sticky, and foul. The blood of the dead and dying, regurgitated by a monster from his grandmothers bedtime tales, poured into him, burning his soul even as it revitalized his flesh.

“Stand up and walk”, it commanded :“I’m not carrying you”.

He rose from his putrefying deathbed, a dying man newly filled with stolen life, and a damned vampire in a lace collar. He couldn’t help it, he laughed even as he followed. Laughed at the absurdity of it all, laughed at how foolish he had been to scoff at the old tales, laughed at the site of a bloodstained Frenchman standing outside the walls of Naoussa.

“Oh yes, you’ll be perfect for the bitch” the monster muttered as he eyed his new acquisition with disdain.

Audience at "Kenneth MacMillan's Choreographic Imagination and Psychological Insight" Symposium. Photo: Charlotte MacMillan ©

Earlier this month we attended the Kenneth MacMillan Choreographic Imagination and Psychological Insight Symposium at Imperial College London. Celebrating the choreographer who would have been 80 this year, this full day event was held in association with The Royal Academy of Dance (RAD) and the Institute of Psychoanalysis and drew on psychoanalysts, scholars and dancers sharing insights into MacMillan’s ballets, along with rare archival footage and live masterclasses. A full register will soon be available through the new Kenneth MacMillan official website (which goes live December 11) but here are some of our own notes and thoughts.

To backtrack a little, my first exposure to MacMillan was a televised performance of his Romeo and Juliet Balcony Pas de Deux with Natalia Makarova and Kevin McKenzie. I remember being quite taken with the lifts where Juliet expresses her delight as Romeo tries to take her to the stars. So much could be said about young love and the feeling of one’s heart brimming with happiness with such economy of movement and no mime. I didn’t know much about MacMillan then but his work struck a chord with me. Later I had the opportunity to move to London and discover, via The Royal Ballet, the extent of his choreographic vocabulary, from full-length to short works, realising that MacMillan’s ballets were all about human emotions conveyed via eloquent steps.

At the time when MacMillan quit dancing and ventured into choreography, ballet was a decorative art form which provided an escape from reality. He set out to do exactly the opposite, turning reality and human suffering into compelling dance works. Putting this into context MacMillan’s biographer Jann Parry introduced the session speaking of how he eventually became the “outsider”,  the most common leitmotif found in his works, first seen in female characters (Laiderette, Anastasia) but later appearing as males (Mayerling, Different Drummer). Kenneth had not been bullied or lonely as a child, but the death of his mother when he was 12 and the difficult relationship with his father and brother set him on a constant search for a surrogate family and for his own identity. Parry also remarked that these events led MacMillan to search for psychoanalysts to help him understand his fears and anxieties and to deal with depression. Whilst he was fascinated with Freud, MacMillan also worried about what would happen to his creative spirit if he dug too deep into his sources.

Edward Watson as Crown Prince Rudolf and Iohna Loots as Princess Stephanie in a Masterclass of Kenneth MacMillan's Mayerling. Photo: Charlotte MacMillan ©

We saw the practical extent to which MacMillan’s work and his creative sources provide rich psychoanalytical material. A panel headed by Dr. Luis Rodriguez de la Sierra (known to us from the “Connecting Conversations” series) offered links between MacMillan’s life experiences and his creative output. This panel juxtaposed the troubled relationship between brothers with the sibling relationship in Manon, where the older brother Lescaut “corrupts” and breaks her innocence by throwing her in Monsieur G.M.’s way; the fact that MacMillan’s father had been gassed in WWI (during the Battle of Somme) with the war aftermath from Gloria and his mother’s recurrent debilitating fits with Mayerling and Empress Elizabeth’s rejection of her attention-seeking son Crown Prince Rudolf. Another interesting discussion centered around  the fantasy of “dying together as an act of love”, an allegory present in Romeo and Juliet and in Mayerling and which the panel connected to Ernest Jones’s theory of a subconscious wish to return to the mother’s womb.

National Theatre’s Artistic Director Nicholas Hytner, the last person to work with MacMillan (in Carousel), demonstrated via video that MacMillan could convey in 5 minutes of dance “what would take a playwright 3 hours with words”. In a short pas de deux from Carousel we saw  how movement marks the evolution of the main female character, from tomboy to woman in love. Actress Nichola McAuliffe also talked about her experience with MacMillan as a stage director. She explained that British Theatre traditionally had actors “dead” from the neck below and that working with MacMillan made her think about the physicality of her characters.

Former Stuttgart Ballet dancers Vladimir Klos and Birgit Keil at the Kenneth MacMillan Symposium. Photo: Charlotte MacMillan ©

To illustrate MacMillan’s creative methods Birgit Keil and Vladimir Klos, former Stuttgart Ballet dancers who created roles in MacMillan ballets, described how he nurtured his dancers and sought a collaborative process. A fragment of the documentary A Lot of Happiness showed the choreographer rehearsing both dancers for a Pas de Deux based on Orpheus and Eurydice, giving them pointers of the type of movement he wanted and encouraging them to try different things. Royal Ballet Artistic Director, Dame Monica Mason also spoke of her experience. Tracing a parallel between Ashton and MacMillan, she said that the first one always expressed a preference for beauty and the second for reality, no matter how ugly that could be.

Speaking about “MacMillan’s subject matter” the eminent Financial Times critic Clement Crisp recalled audience reactions to the choreographer’s work, their discomfort with seeing “appaling grief represented by agonizing, ugly shapes”. A keen supporter who has seen every single MacMillan work (but for two short pieces made for ABT), Mr. Crisp eloquently spoke of the choreographer as a man of the theatre who knew about human suffering and found a way to show those terrible moments of life via fascinating and true choreography “which is ultimately what ballet is all about”, as well as in characters which “kept living after the curtain fell”.

Begoña Cao as Manon, Fabian Reimair as Lescaut and Antony Dowson as Monsieur G.M. in a Masterclass of Kenneth MacMillan's Manon. Photo: Charlotte MacMillan ©

The final section focused on MacMillan’s “Creativity In Spite of Adversity”, his courage to stand firm and travel to where he could realise his vision. Mr. Crisp recalled masterpieces Song of the Earth and Requiem which were created for Stuttgart Ballet after Covent Garden’s administration worried about the use of Gustav Mahler’s music for choreography and, in Requiem’s case, that sacred music could offend religious sensibilities. These points were illustrated with excerpts from the documentary “Out of Line” where Sir Peter Wright, Clement Crisp and Deborah MacMillan shared their personal views on the challenges faced by MacMillan at home and abroad and his special link with Stuttgart Ballet.

Edward Watson as Crown Prince Rudolf and Iohna Loots as Princess Stephanie in a Masterclass of Kenneth MacMillan's Mayerling. Photo: Charlotte MacMillan ©

In addition to the masterclasses featuring two Mayerling pas de deux (Rudolf/Empress Elisabeth and Rudolf/Princess Stephanie) with Edward Watson, Cindy Jourdain and Iohna Loots from The Royal Ballet, and the Manon pas de trois (Manon/Lescaut/Monsieur GM) with Begoña Cao, Fabian Reimair and Antony Dowson from English National Ballet, the audience also had the opportunity to watch a full screening of MacMillan’s last work for The Royal Ballet, The Judas Tree*, with Irek Mukhamedov, Michael Nunn and Leanne Benjamin. This gruesome ballet (featuring a gang rape) touches upon the theme of betrayal in various ways. Original cast members Michael Nunn and Viviana Durante emphasised to the audience how MacMillan would let dancers discover the character during the creative process which, as Nunn said, “kept you on your toes”.

With so much background and valuable insights into Kenneth MacMillan’s universe, this was an event that will certainly enrich our experience and understanding of his compelling works. We now look forward to what the new official website may bring.

*The Judas Tree will be revived by The Royal Ballet in a Triple bill dedicated to MacMillan’s 80th birthday, together with Concerto and Elite Syncopations. These three pieces represent milestones in the choreographer’s career and different sides to his work. Concerto was the first piece he created for the Deutsche Oper Ballet as Artistic Director. Elite Syncopations, his ragtime jazz ballet, was made during his tenure as The Royal Ballet’s Director while The Judas Tree, his last work for the Royal Ballet, remains one of his most challenging pieces.

Requiem Knabenchor Hannover, Sonnabend, 31. Oktober 2009, Funkhaus Hannover des NDR – Ein Bericht von Sherab

Please, scroll down for an english version… !

Ich habe sehr gegrübelt, wie ich diesen Abend beschreiben soll. Beginnen wir doch einfach mit dem…

- Vorspiel.

Um 18 Uhr waren wir am Funkhaus Hannover des NDR am hannoverschen Maschsee. Im kleinen Sendesaal gab es eine Einführung in das Requiem durch den Komponisten Harald Weiss selber. Schnell war dieser Saal gefüllt. Auf der Bühne war ein Sofa, eine bekannte Moderatorin von NDR Kultur sprach mit dem Komponisten. Dieser erzählte sehr gut verständlich wie es zur Komposition dieses Requiems kam, dass er sich z.B. Schon seit Jahrzehnten mit dem Thema „Tod, und was kommt danach?“ beschäftigt. Einst in seiner Kindheit selbst ein Chorknabe, hat er sein Requiem dem Knabenchor Hannover gewidmet. Zum einen folgt er der Form des alten Requiems, also einer Totenmesse mit ihren lateinischen Texten, zum anderen suchte er weitere Texte aus der Literatur aus, z.B. „Mondnacht“ von Eichendorff, Texte von Hesse, Rilke, Tagore. Der Knabenchor hat ca. 1 Jahr lang dieses Werk eingeübt.

Teil 1 des Requiems: Schwarz vor Augen – dieser erste Teil des Requiems beinhaltet folgende Stücke:

Ein sehr schöner Beginn dieses Werks: ein Knabensopran zusammen mit Röhrenglocken (Tubular Bells). Ein Requiem ist ja eine Trauermusik. Von Trauer halten wir uns gerne fern, wollen so etwas nicht wahrhaben. Und dann Jungen eine Knabenchores mit so etwas „belasten“? Das sind Gedanken, die einem manchmal kommen. Aber es ist weder etwas Neues noch etwas Ungewöhnliches dass ein Knabenchor ein Requiem singt. Was an diesem Requiem anders ist: der Komponist beschränkt sich nicht auf mitteleuropäische Trauertradition, sondern hat in anderen Kulturbereichen geforscht, wie die Frage „Tod – und danach?“ dort gesehen wird.

So ist dieses Werk an keiner Stelle irgendwie bedrückend oder traurig. Gerade die literarischen „Einspielungen“ von Eichendorff, Hesse und Rilke wirken auflockernd, bringen etwas Schönes in die Thematik, rütteln auf, dass Tod kein Feind ist, sondern zum Leben dazu gehört. Wir sehen bei diesem Thema oft schwarz… „Schwarz vor Augen…“

Musikalisch ist dies ein modernes Requiem, aber jeder Komponist orientiert sich an anderen großen Komponisten vor ihm. Ich erlebte dieses Requiem und hörte Teile, die wie klassisches Musik klangen, dann erinnerten mich andere Teile an Carl Orff und weitere modernere Komponisten. Harald Weiss hat natürlich sein eigenes Werk geschaffen, verbeugt sich aber vor seinen Vorgängern in diesem Beruf des Musikers. Dieser erste Teil wird wieder mit dem Knabensopran abgeschlossen.

Teil 2 des Requiems: … und es ward Licht ! Dieser zweite Teil des Requiems beinhaltet folgende Stücke:

Auf den Tod soll man sich rechtzeitig vorbereiten. Das hat nichts mit Lebensmüdigkeit zu tun. Loslassen, sich nicht mit Unnötigem belasten, was man doch nicht mitnehmen kann auf dem Weg ins Licht. Das Düstere der europäischen Trauertraditionen verdunkelt trotz der orientalisch-christlichen Orientierung des Abendlandes immer noch unsere Auffassungen vom Tod und danach. Dem wird textlich ein Beitrag des weltberühmten bengalischen Dichters Rabindranath Tagore entgegengesetzt, der genug Weisheit besaß, über den Tellerrand einzelner Religionen hinauszublicken, die Wahrheit hinter kleinräumigen menschlichen Religionskonstrukten zu sehen.
Musikalisch ist dieser zweite Teil in der Mehrheit ruhiger als der erste, die Seelenaufruhr im Angesicht von Tod weicht einem Aufstieg ins Licht, dass der Mensch nur dann sieht, wenn er endlich seine Augen öffnet. Es waren in Weiss’ Werk wieder klassische Anklänge zu finden, einige „moderne“ atonale Anklänge, dann aber auch Passagen, die mich sehr an die Musik eines Leonard Bernstein erinnerten, in dessen wohl schönstem Werk, seiner Messe(„Mass“). Auch Bernstein als Weltbürger jüdischen Glaubens komponierte weit über die kleinlichen Grenzen unserer Welt hinaus.

Nach meinem Verständnis ist der Höhepunkt des zweiten Teils im o.a. Lux-aeterna-Block zu finden. Drei Texte werden hier zusammengeführt, Gedanken werden von verschiedenen Sängern gesungen und von Instrumenten unterstützt. Der Tod ist keine Horrorgestalt, kein Sensenmann, keine billige Halloween-Figur… NEIN! „Dein Bote ist es“ singt der Knabensopran. Eine Klangpassage aus wenigen Tönen, musikalisch noch einfacher als ein Kinderlied. Aber ungeheuer einprägsam. Diese kleine Tonfolge mit den Worten“Dein Bote ist es“ wurde bei mir zum Ohrwurm. Ein paar Male erwischte ich mich selber dabei, wie ich bei verschiedenen Tätigkeiten diesen Satz vor mich hin sang. Der letzteTeil des Requiems ist dann nur noch der Ausklang, nachdem die Zuhörer eine einfache Weisheit präsentiert bekamen.

So, es ist geschafft. Obwohl ich mir nicht sicher bin, ob alle Leser meinem Bericht über diese Uraufführung folgen können. Ich finde es sehr schwer, über ein solches Werk zu berichten, weil man „dabei“ gewesen sein muss um die Botschaft dieses Werkes zu erfahren. Ich zumindest kann nur Bruchstücke weitererzählen. Dieses Requiem ist nur ganzheitlich erfahrbar.

SCHWARZ VOR AUGEN UND ES WARD LICHT !

The english version:

It was not easy to write about this. Therefore my report appears here with a great delay.

Prelude. At 6 pm, we were in the broadcasting centre Hannover of the NDR near the Hanoverian lake Maschsee. In the small broadcasting hall there was an introduction to the requiem by the composer Harald Weiss. Quickly this hall filled. On the stage there was a sofa, a well-known presenter of the cultural station „NDR-Kultur“  spoke with the composer. He told in a very comprehensible way how he came about to start composing this requiem. Already for decades he was involved with the theme of „Death, and what comes afterwards?“. Once a choirboy himself, he dedicated his requiem to the Knabenchor Hannover. On the one hand, he follows the scheme of the old requiem with Latin texts, on the other hand he selected other texts from literature, e.g., “Mondnacht(=moonlit nigh)t” by Eichendorff, other texts by Hesse, Rilke, Tagore.

The boy’s choir had practised this requiem for approximately one year. Part 1 of the Requiem: Schwarz vor Augen( Black In Front Of Your Eyes) – this first part of the requiem contain the following pieces:

A very nice beginning of this work: a boy’s soprano together with tubular bells. A requiem is funeral music. We normally prefer to keep away from grief, do not want to admit the existence of such a thing. And then confront boys of a boy’s choir with something like that? These are thoughts which sometimes crossed my mind. But it is neither something new or otherwise unusual that a boy’s choir sings a requiem. What is different in this requiem: the composer does not limit himself to Central European funereal traditions, but has done research in other cultural areas, how the question of „death – and afterwards?“ is dealt with. Thus this work is not in any part depressing or sad. Especially the“ inserts“ of literature by Eichendorff, Hesse, Rilke and Tagore have the effect of bringing in some relaxation, introducing some beauty into the topic, rousing us that death is no enemy, but is part of life. We are often pessimistic about this subject… „Black before eyes…“…
Musically this is a modern requiem, but every composer orientates himself towards other great composers before him. With this requiem, I experienced  and heard parts which sounded like classical music, then other parts reminded me of Carl Orff and other more modern composers. Harald Weiss created, of course, his own work and bows to his predecessors in his occupation as a musician. This first part is concluded again with the boy’s soprano.

Part 2 of the Requiem: … and there was Light! This second part of the requiem contain the following pieces:

One should prepare for death in time. This has nothing to do with being tired of life. Letting go, not loading yourself with the unnecessary you cannot take along on the way into light. The gloom of  European funereal traditions, in spite of the Oriental-Christian orientation of the West, still darkens our views of death and afterwards. In opposition to that, a contribution of the world-famous bengal writer Rabindranath Tagore is put into this requiem, by a poet who certainly posessed enough wisdom to „look over the edge of the bowl“ of individual religions, seeing the truth behind small-scale human religious constructs. Musically this second half is quieter in  major parts than the first one, the turmoil of the soul in the face of death gives way to the ascension into light, which can only be seen when you finally open your eyes.
Reminiscence to classical music can be found again in Weiss’ Work, some “modern” atonal moments, also passages which reminded me very much of Leonard Bernstein’s music, in probably his most beautiful opus, his „Mass“. Being a member of the Jewish faith, at the same time a cosmopolite, Bernstein composed beyond the petty borders of our world.

According to my understanding the climax of this second part is to be found in the above mentioned „lux-aeterna-block“. Three texts are brought together here, some thoughts are sung by different singers and supported by instruments. Death is no horror figure, no Grim Reaper, no cheap Halloween figure… NO! „This is your messenger“ the boy soprano sings. A sound passage of a few tones/notes, musically even simpler than a child song. But tremendously impressive. It is this small tune with the words „This is your messenger“ which became a catchy tune for me. In the days afterwards, I caught myself several times singing just this simple tune with its message while being involved in different activities.

The last part of the requiem is only the conclusion, after the audience was presented with an easy wisdom. Well, done at last! Although I am not sure whether all readers can follow the thoughts of my review on this premiere. I find it very difficult to report about such an opus because one has to be present to experience the message of it. I can only pass on fragments. This requiem can be comprehended only in its entirety.

BLACK IN FRONT OF THE EYES…AND THERE WAS LIGHT!

I have to say „Thank you!“to Knabenchor Hannover and its director Professor Breiding, as well as the adult soloists and orchestra musicians for this miraculous performance! Last but not least, special thanks go to the composer Harald Weiss who created a great work. If I take this work as a benchmark, I line him up with great composers of modern and classical times. I am really looking forward to  experience the requiem once again by listening to the double CD which will appear next year.

(c) Sherab 2009

Still the only thing fresh in this town is the manure.   The stagnation of inherited inbred ideology lingers with this aire.  To some, this night of memorabilia is their only experience of a dream.  Long lost hopes, from the gates of a requiem walking hand in hand with a Coors light and some road kill at their side.  For others, it was like the day after their cousin married outside of their race… being careful with their words, afraid to ask real questions…  None the less, no real care to take a step out.

After the bar was spit up on by the drooling outsiders, the classmate’s reunited and separated once again into their old cliques. 

Lacking any real truth, with manipulating, superficial honesty, they go back and forth with attacks on each other and those they feel threatened by.   Curtness and lack of propriety in their values and morals with each breath out, they seem to be warm and cozy in their disgusting dialog.  The pot calling the kettle black.  Gossiping about gossipers.  Tragedy of life being so pitiful is the only reality here that is spoken, though the directors of this play haven’t the faintest idea of how the script is as old as their addicted, handed down, rewinded and rewinded ”original ideas” that they all share and pretend are so original.  Each actor plays the part of enabling this to continue, playing ignorant and growing older. 

 I sit to wait for the tow truck.  Keys in the trunk, sister in His bed.  The one exception I saw all night and I offered her to him, best indeed.  To keep myself from a weakness that could bring this place… this heap of a town closer to me.  I doubt there would be any power from him, but I stay careful of tragedy and a trip into hell.