THERE IS NO ANSWER, BUT YOU WILL HAVE TO FIND IT BACKWARDS
DISCLAIMER: Despite the words that will follow, I want to make clear first and foremost that I did very much enjoy the performance. The writing is critical, an attempt to categorise my perceptions into a coherent view of the world. I believe that I - and everyone else who enjoys music, one way or another - have many subconscious or unarticulated views about what music should be. I want to question these biases, and to do so, one has to find the thing which balances and sometimes trips over the line.
When does a sound turn into music? Does every sound have the potential to be music? What does it mean for music to touch us emotionally? Should music always be pleasant? Even 'sad' music tries to romanticise suffering. It finds beauty in pain, a way to console the self. The sounds create a safe place to look into dark. What if music becomes a source of anxiety? You feel it in your jaw, as if you're grinding your teeth. The sounds bring forth the unrythmic repetitions of life. There is no harmony, a hundred things are happening at once. A brief relief when one sound ceases, only to be replaced by something else in a moment's notice. What, and who, are we listening to? Can the drawn-out sound of a train coming to a standstill be considered music? We talk about bird song, but isn't it more like chatter? If you make someone listen to the sound of rushing, they will experience it differently depending on whether they think it's water or traffic. How do we listen? When is something music?
I arrived a bit late. I'm not completely sober. The room is completely dark, but I manage to find my seat at the far end of the room. It's on the last row, and I have a perfect angle on the musician's profile. He 'performs' but he mostly 'is'. Two spotlights slowly cross on the table where his primary instrument is installed: a meter-long ribbed can that he seems to spray with a waterfloss. The sound is grating. It makes me feel nauseous. I try to relax my body, but the music - or rather the sounds - create an inescapable and unpleasant tension. Perhaps I ought to meditate on the sound? It doesn't make the music better, but slightly more bearable. I wonder how it is that some sounds make you unwell. Like nails on chalkboard. I've read somewhere that the Americans use 'music' to torture people in Guantanamo Bay. I can't compare the experience of this performance to the illegal detention of political prisoners in Cuba. But at the same time, if I wanted to drive someone insane, I would lock them in a dark room and just play the sound from that strange can. Why expose yourself to something so aesthetically unpleasant? Do I derive some pleasure from enduring these alienating sounds? Why is this music making me feel so uncomfortable?
The music stops. I do not know what to expect. Will he play multiple 'tracks', if it's even possible to categorise these sounds into a beginning and an end? He starts again, with the same damned sounds as before. This is one complete experience. At some point, he stops playing the can and touches some metal vases and plates, which make a gong-like sound. A reprieve. Another highlight is a pan flute-like instrument that looks like a spaceship. Then the musician starts making sounds with his mouth - there are no words, and I wouldn't call it singing either. Everything is just noises of various intensities and lenghts. Why did I expect him to speak, to say something? For about an hour, he very slowly cycles between these different instruments. The sounds from the can makes me feel like I'm being sonically stabbed by an unsharpened knife. There is no beat, there is no rhythm. There are sounds, and they force me to think.
I recently listened to Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring with intent. I think it's interesting to read about how people reacted to it at its premiere, and I think I sympathise with some of the critics. When I listen to music, I expect it to have some 'romantic' tension, a harmonised contrast. Light follows dark. The Rite of Spring is full of tension, but there is no space to breathe. You're constantly being gripped by the sound. It's an endless repetition of the same but different. Any chance of chaos is minimised, yet the 'order' doesn't feel safe; it's sterile and alienating. It's a play on the idealism of music. In order to achieve catharis, the piece of art first needs to create a web of tension, but what if this tension is never released? It's as if there is a construction site next to your house which is never finished. Usually, we use music to escape these unbearable mundanities of the world, but the The Rite distills them into music, and forces the listener to listen rather than dream. The music allows you to become conscious of what you're trying to avoid. If this music makes me feel the alienating and repetitive harshness of modern life, why do I try to change the music, rather than life?
I don't know what emotions, if any, this music 'piece' at de Bimhuis was meant to evoke. What is the artist thinking? What is he trying to say, if anything? The lights would switch between complete darkness and awkward spotlights on random people in the audience. Some people had their eyes closed, and I couldn't say if they were meditating or had fallen asleep. The person sitting next to me slowly slouched more and more over the duration of the performance, only to perk up if a sound was particularly 'noteworthy' i.e. harsh and unpleasant. At least I didn't hear anyone snore. I'm perplexed. What is music? What are sounds? Do other people feel the same discomfort at the sounds I do? I am enjoying myself, but it seems more like an unintended effect. I feel like the sounds are trying to drown me in shades of grey. The sea reflects the sky. Can I swim to the shore?
The performance is over. People clap. The performer says thank you and leaves the stage. The lights come on, and people get up. There is no encore. On my way back, I listen to the sounds of the city. I enjoy the chaos, the energy. I feel like I've developed a new perspective. The tediousness and the unpleasantness of the performance make everything look and sound brighter by comparison. Perhaps I should be more masochistic in my listening?
(I've only realised after that I missed the second part of the act, but I was quite tired and confused after this performance by FUJI|||||||||||TA, so alas, I cannot go back in time to see what else I could have experienced.)
