FMP CD 71

Christian Tarting

To cast aside a certain way of the world, no doubt. Not to contribute in any way to anything in this world that might continually work against the body and the mind. To cast aside indifference, asepsis.

So to listen to; the noises of everyday life with their special flavour - the raucuous bustle of the towns with their own particular music made of noise upon noise, shout upon shout, body-close. This surge of feet trampling across stone, of open spaces, this tapestry of laughter, these chatterings and twitterings, the mini-dramas of attention and attentiveness; the salt of urban life settling on the steps of the heart and galvanising it into action - the salt of the world on the body in order to find its true voice.

To cast aside the images of yesteryear, order and command: to leave behind all logic, all expectation. To pay no heed to commands - even to contradict them on principle. To move towards a true opening-up - from body to body, substance to substance, the closest possible, in the most intimate crannies of its verbal form, towards an awakening, tension and awakening, to pit the world against the world, to cast aside its more cowardly aspect.

And for this, so as to achieve this state against the darker side of the world: embrace with fervour the voices that call in appeal, that intermingle in their plea; embrace the single voice, tautly drawn out a tone above the others, that dares to speak of refusal and revelation: to cast aside, by a voice calling itself to life with an unexpected violence, an embodied voice, a voice in a body that surges forward to place it in space and time - and the music.

To cast aside the distance of separation - this is what the very substance of the voice would claim from the world it rejected to bring it to the world it desired. And there, suddenly, what should appear but death - the end of the distance and separation demanded by the body. To cast aside all that holds it back, to end this impoverished understanding, this world of submission. A voice that expresses and embodies all this. And the music would say to it - give me substance. Give me a body. And here it is.

Translation: Delia Morris

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