Mouth Of Time is relatively colorful, a patchwork, for it introduces experiments: one „Monk“ (see below); a song, sung on two tracks; a piece with »foreign matter« (Outlast); the soprano played as a flute, without a mouthpiece (Arch Over); finally a theme for two voices (alto & soprano) with an »antiphon« also in the improvisation.

Pannonica: a first trial with the view to a whole Monk-cd: therefore careful, a sort of tune in and rather traditional after I had been enthused in the past by the ostensibly innovative. Besides, the »gentle« doesn´t nudge the Celan.

Mouth Of Time: Paul Celan I only recently redis­covered after I had been engaged with him intensely a long time ago. Oddly enough in a book for climbers, where he had to serve as motto of a chapter. I star­ted again at zero, with Mohn und Gedächtnis and got hooked on the following or rather the other way round: it hooked me. The poem goes like this:


Nachts, wenn das Pendel der Liebe schwingt
zwischen Immer und Nie,
stößt dein Wort zu den Monden des Herzens
und dein gewitterhaft blaues
Aug reicht der Erde den Himmel.

Aus fernem, aus traumgeschwärztem
Hain weht uns an das Verhauchte,
und das Versäumte geht um, groß wie die Schemen der Zukunft.

Was sich nun senkt und hebt,
gilt dem zuinnerst Vergrabnen:
blind wie der Blick, den wir tauschen,
küßt es die Zeit auf den Mund.


In a wise sense a reconciliatory, forgiving exami­na­tion of the past? Das Vergrabene küßt die Zeit auf den Mund (What lies buried kisses time on the mouth): it wakens her, but what a tenderness! So that the perception of time being an illusion seems just one step away.
The scales nudge what they head for, the gesture though stays soft. The doubling of the voices wasn´t actually planned. They are just two different takes. When I then let them accidently play back together, the sound accord wasn´t too bad.

The Clown: brings up what you can´t see: the me­lancholy behind the fun, the gaiety; the poetry of the slapstick; and the hard work on the expression: what about when it doesn´t seem funny anymore?
You have to constantly check what seems to be spon­taneous in regard to its dramaturgical func­tionality. An inner dialog arises (soprano & alto).

Arch Over: plunging into the arches. There is no interface left, no auxiliary means for the breath. It attains the inside of the instrument without mouth­piece.

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