This is the English version of an Ex Machina talk I gave at the Folkwang University of the Arts, Essen, Germany, on 4th July 2024.
The talk was followed by a workshop on the following day.
The current text
supercedes the original German: I translated the original, and then went through it again, freely making changes where I thought it could be improved.
Additions include notes in blue boxes like this one, and an Appendix that includes further discussion of some of the issues raised by the participants.
There is currently a recording of the talk (in German), on YouTube. I read much of the original German text, but was unexpectedly able to go on-line to demonstrate my software, and was well aware of the need to interact with the audience, so often departed from my script.
I would especially like to thank:
Prof. Michael Edwards for inviting me to give the talk, and for many stimulating conversations before and after the event.
Prof. Thomas Neuhaus, for closely following what I was saying, and for asking pertinent questions during the talk and workshop.
The technicians and students who helped make the event a very special occasion!
The Stockhausen-Verlag and Universal Edition, for kindly giving me permission to use their copyright music examples in this document. (
.
.
.
. )
Good evening!
I´d first like to thank Michael Edwards for the invitation
to talk about my work. Its the first time I´ve ever been asked to do something like this! Many thanks!
This talk is about the future of written music. Written music won´t have the same role to play as in the 19th or 20th centuries, but writing is a key cultural technology that should not be neglected.
The talk has four chapters, and is self-referential:
Prologue — Some remarks about “Media”
Retrospective 1971 — About my roots as a composition student
Retrospective 2000 — About my time with Stockhausen
Retrospective 2024 — About the software I´m currently writing
There´s quite a lot to get through.
I´m mostly going to just read my script, but want to leave it during Chapter 3 (about Stockhausen), in the hope that that chapter will be more interactive, with your comments and questions.
Of course, questions and comments are welcome at any time, not just in Chapter 3.
I´d like to know more about who I´m talking to, so hands up please, those of you who are:
Composers
Programmers
languages: Javascript, C++, C#, Java, Python
SVG, MIDI, WebAudio, Web MIDI API
Who knows who Marshall McLuhan was?
“The medium is the message”
As I was preparing for this talk, I re-discovered Marshall McLuhan, and realised that he was more important than I had imagined:
We all knew about McLuhan in the 1960s, but we composition students and
our professors didn´t really know what to make of him. It was an exciting, perplexing time. He was just one of the unsolved riddles...
I think we didn´t understand him, and more or less ignored him, because we thought he was talking about popular culture, and that popular culture had little to do with the problems that we were facing in serious music. But
his insight “the medium is the message” is still very important: Cultural development is closely related to media technology.
But what are media exactly?
McLuhan´s media theory is concerned with the effect media have on the recipient of the information. In contrast, I´m more interested in the media themselves: how they are constructed, and what´s behind them.
Media are, for me, objects that contain or transmit information.
They are
objects that transmit information directly to the human senses.
interfaces between pure information on one side, and human receivers on the other.
either storage-media (like paper), or machines (such as radios, CD-players, computers etc.) that use storage-media.
Storage-media store information in space, and thereby overcome time.
In other words, this talk is fundamentally all about information, space and time.
To solidify that idea, and get us on the same page, here´s a very rough sketch of how I view the development of Western music after Gutenberg — and where I am now.
If something isn´t clear, please ask.
(1440 Gutenberg)
Gutenberg invented the printing press (movable type) in the 15th century (around 1440). That meant that information stood outside both time and space, and could therefore be distributed at arbitrary places at arbitrary times — which lead, a few decades later, to drastic systemic changes (the Reformation). Paper is the interface here. Paper only stores spatial information (the graphical symbols), and needs people who have learned how to extract the abstract information from that:
In normal text, those are people who understand the language, and who have learned to read it.
In music, they are people who understand the performance practice, and how the most important information has been preserved.
Printed text or music is always a reminder of something that has already been memorized.
Writing was, of course, invented long before Gutenberg (see History of Writing).
Writing preserves information in time relative to a particular object (the medium).
Gutenberg´s invention made the medium spatially reproducible, thus delocalizing the information.
(1877: Edison)
Edison invented
the phonograph in the 19th century (1877). This froze temporal information in a similar way, making it similarly available at arbitrary places and times.
The (analog) temporal information was stored in a long groove wrapped around a cylinder. Contrary to paper media, one needs a machine (a gramophone) to extract the temporal information. Whether the person listening to the information understands it or not, still depends on the person´s memory. A recitation in Chinese is meaningless unless one understands Chinese.
Edison´s invention lead, a few decades later, to similar drastic, systemic changes.
In the 20th century, gramophone records replace paper as the most important medium for distributing music. This lead not only to industrial and commercial changes, but also to changes and developments in the recordings´ content. Performance practice is freed from spatial and temporal restrictions.
(1900-1950: Development of Jazz, Big Band etc.)
In the first half of the 20th century, new traditions of performance practice (Jazz, Big Band etc.) begin to develop around the new audio recording industry, while the market for scores and sheet-music fades away.
(1950-2000: Development of less commercial performance practice traditions.)
In the second half of the 20th century, performance practice traditions for various Ancient Music types begin to revive.
Neither of these developments would have been possible without audio recording technology.
The reason that the two musical cultures drifted so far apart, before 1971, has, I think, to do with the commercial success of a popular culture that does not require its participants to have learned to read.
In contrast, we students of "serious" music belonged to a print-culture. So we failed to understand McLuhan — and ignored him.
Pure oral traditions are beautiful and important, but human short-term memory has its limits.
For me, writing is still very important. It has always been the prerequisite for the development of higher cultures. It enables writers to think about and (re)consider their ideas while writing, before the ideas are finally made public. Also, its impossible to tell stories without using symbols. A Brückner symphony is unthinkable without writing.
At this point, I´d like to say something about Walter Benjamin´s 1935 Essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”. This famous text stands at the beginning of modern media-theory.
My impression now, 89 years later, is that Benjamin and his contemporaries underestimated the importance of the commercial interests of the printing industry in the 19th century. Scores and sheet-music were goods which were sold.
The 19th century (music) printing industry played a major role in supporting a star-cult: Big names sell books and scores. But it was also in the publishers´ interest that there should be a wide public that could read and play the scores. Great heroes, like Beethoven or Brahms, sold printed scores that had to be played live by the customers because there were no recording devices. The publishers therefore promoted musical literacy.
Benjamin´s contemporaries read not only music, but also ordinary printed text (novels, history, other non-fiction etc.). Printing and reading were simply taken for granted.
Of course, Benjamin was writing under the overwhelming impression made by the new medium film. Possibly he was afraid that print-media, live Performing Arts (whose roots are in print-media) and the educated middle-class would even become superfluous.
Printed Media have always been mechanically reproduced. That´s the whole point of printing. Copyright laws were introduced in order to allow publishers to continue in business, but those laws are now in
a mess because computer files cost nothing to copy - making large publishing companies obsolete.
We no longer need big printing presses, master printers, and the staff and managers to go with them, but we still need (filter, aggregator) systems that help us judge the quality of the information.
Benjamin´s term Aura is closely related to commerce: Star musicians have it, and so do unique objects. Musicians earn their reputations (Aura) the hard way, by writing and/or performing well. They can then sell scores or concert tickets. Unique objects are worth more, simply by the law of supply and demand. But the term Aura now seems questionable: For me, non-unique objects or events, such as exact copies of Greek sculptures or (the performance of) a recording of electronic music, can contain all the relevant information without being commercially valuable.
Remember that Benjamin was writing at a time when (analog) mechanical reproduction always involved a loss of information. In digital Art (stored in computer files) that is no longer the case.
(ca 2000 Internet, “False Facts”) Internet: The drive towards interoperability lead to the standardization of file formats such as SVG, and programming languages such as Javascript. This, in turn, lead to easier and faster programming. (The trend continues with the advent of AI assistants.) Social structures continue to change drastically: Commercial strategies change, universities lose their monopoly on higher education.
As users, we no longer have to be passive consumers of information.
Anyone can now use a text editor or Digital Audio Workstation to create a computer file and publish it on the internet. And we can now interact with such files in real time. For example in social media or video games.
Software changes our relation to data processing machines. A software synthesizer can be arbitrarily reproduced. So it costs nothing. False Facts: Institutions that help us judge the quality of the information we receive are still developing, but individual education is just as important: Institutions that distribute information can concentrate on building trust, or reputation, but individuals still have to (know how to) choose their sources.
This means re-evaluating the role of individuals in society, and organizing education systems accordingly...
(ca 2023 Artificial Intelligence, Deep Fakes)
Artificial Intelligence arrived a few months ago: I´m
hoping that it will help me revise my old software, but don´t think it will lead to an Apocalypse:
Firstly, I think the ability to make mistakes is essential for creativity. So human control (and responsibility) will always be necessary. Control assumes the use of sense organs that enable a direct connection to complex reality, but current AIs (LLMs) don´t have sense organs, so they can´t experience qualia. Qualia are our direct connection to external reality, but we have no idea how they come to exist (see The Hard Problem of Consciousness).
Secondly, I think that systems trained on a particular context will eventually be unable to provide relevant help when the context has changed sufficiently. As with people, it periodically makes sense for old intelligences to make way for fresher ones. Remember “code rot”?
There seems to be no way to predict the ways in which contexts might change... Deep Fakes are an extreme form of False Fact, and require similar treatment; even more so because they call our assumptions about previously unquestioned media (photographs) into question.
(pause)
Are there any questions or remarks, before I
move on to my own story?
Chapter 2
Retrospective 1971 — Transcendence
So: Back to my student days. What were we thinking in 1971?
Remember that personal computers were still at an early stage of development in 1971. Through Birtwistle, I knew Zinovieff and his experiments with the PDP-11. We had analog synthesizers like the VCS3, but there were no personal computers. Commercial audio recordings were still analog...
As composition students, we were especially concerned with music notation, which is all about space, time and information.
It was therefore a great pleasure to discover McLuhan´s attitude to time:
“We look at the present through a rear view mirror: We march backward into the future.”
That has a lot to do with my 1971 projects.
In my lessons with Birtwistle, we talked a lot about musical form: establishing context, contrasts, preparing surprises and so on.
Notation wasn´t one of Birtwistle´s great concerns. He often went beyond the boundaries of standard notation, but theorizing about it wasn´t his thing. Like many successful composers, he was simply pragmatic.
In spite of that, I was very concerned with the state of music notation in 1970. After all, the 1960´s had been very exciting...
As composition students, we knew all about the notation experiments of the 1960s Avant-Garde:
Scores not only by Stockhausen, but also by Boulez, John Cage, Terry Riley, Christian Wolff, Earle Brown, Morton Feldman and Brian Ferneyhough. Ferneyhough was five years older than me, and already well-known in the new music scene.
In 1970, I played electronically modulated Horn in a performance of Stockhausen´s text composition Oben und Unten from Aus Den Sieben Tagen, which had just been published.
I heard the first London performance of Stockhausen´s Mantra (Promenade Concert, 1971?).
It was obviously a move towards old-fashioned performance practice, with the Kontarskys dressed in tails, but I didn´t immediately realize that he had completely turned his back on experimental notation.
Stockhausen wasn´t the only one to revert to standard notation in 1970. Many others did the same. Without any explanation, the Avant-Garde had suddenly collapsed.
Research into sounds and timbres continued of course, especially in the digital domain with John Chowning and later IRCAM, but notation was simply pushed onto the back burner.
It was a problem that was generally thought too difficult to attack, — which was, of course, a red rag for an ambitious young student:
As I remember, we were wanting to develop new musical grammars, and that can´t be done if the notation is badly understood and the symbols are out of control.
Of course, the social systems in which music is embedded tried to continue as if nothing had happened, but that could not be the long-term answer. There are many reasons why the universities, composers, concert promoters, publishers, and research foundations have achieved nothing in this area over the past 50 years.
Composers and performers of new scores are still having to contend with half-understood 19th century concepts.
1971 was a dreadful time for young composers who wanted to write scores. Their ambitions drove them into a systemic Juggernaut. Many were crushed and never seen again...
It was a huge, well-known problem, that didn´t just affect composers. It also affected performers of New Music... (See, for example, “Das undankbare Geschäft mit neuer Musik” — “The Thankless Business of New Music” written by the prominent singer, Carla Henius in 1974.)
We were obviously a lost generation of composers. So, what was to be done?
I was highly suspicious of all the social systems, but wanted a long-term solution which would allow me to stay close to the interesting problems. I suspected that they were so deeply rooted, that research grants, regardless of their origin, would dry up before the problems were solved. So I had to finance the project myself, ideally by working on the front:
Through Birtwistle, I was already working for Universal Edition as a copyist, so I decided simply to continue doing that when my days as a student came to an end.
For UE, I made printed (notasetted) scores by Birtwistle, Earle Brown and Morton Feldman. But I also copied and/or corrected orchestra parts. Also for other publishers. In this way, I had my nose deep in, for example, Boulez´s Éclat-Multiples and Ferneyhough´s Transit... (I well remember doing corrections to the piano part.)
So: I decided to remain as independent of the existing social systems as possible, to turn my back on standard 19th century notation, and to rethink music notation from scratch.
My dream was to let music breathe again. To write music that neither sounds nor is improvised. (As with earlier written music: Palestrina, Monteverdi, Bach, Brückner, Ravel, Prokoffiev, Stravinsky...)
Still a Birtwistle student, I nailed my colours to the mast in the scenario for a chamber-opera called Retrospective. It was a stocktaking, a final reckoning, and a statement of intent.
The piece embodies my thoughts on time, and explains much of what happened later, so I´d like to say some more about it:
We talked a lot about musical form during Birtwistle´s composition lessons: How to tell stories. How Hitchcock did it in Psycho. (Every time more is revealed about the plot, something dreadful happens...)
And that there is no way to tell stories without using symbols. Symbols can be characters in a drama, or words or symbols for events in music notation. Symbols are important. They are the prerequisite for any higher culture.
The five scenes in this piece are also symbols: Scenes 1 and 2 correspond to “eternal truths”. These are outside passing time.
Then come the two Acts: These correspond to the experience of running time: Act One is context, the experienced past (memory). Act Two corresponds to the future (which will be experienced).
The border between the two Acts is the present (or now). Scene 5 is another “eternal truth”.
By the way: Once this project had begun, I often forgot about it for long periods. That was inentional. The future had to be able to unfold freely...
Scene 1 (1971)
Prelude to Act One: The observer and the observed. “All the world´s a stage”.
Transcendence, Flight. On Stage: A figure (the Protagonist) with a white face behind a desk or table. Figure and table are draped in black. Is it human? Is it a machine? Lighting: Dark, fluctuating Music: Six-part text, whispered live, coming from a loudspeaker under the desk. Single Event: The protagonist´s head explodes at the end of the scene.
The six-part text was composed in 1971. It was constructed using Markov chains so that more-or-less coherent, but arbitrary meanings emerge. The whisperers try to coordinate their separate texts, so as to create more meaningful sentences.
The Protagonist has a secret: He knows that he is a character in a theatre piece. He tries to make the audience forget this, so that he can escape. Today, one might say that he knows he is in a simulation. But, in spite of his attempts, he cannot escape.
Scene 2 (1971)
Prelude to Act Two: Machines On Stage: noisy machines (different in different productions) Lighting: (different in different productions) Back Stage: Four Percussionists, with unpitched instruments. Musik: Machine noises and a six-part, endless round for arbitrary, unpitched instruments. Single Event: At some point, a mannequin (window dressing dummy) lying in a bath on large, heavy cast-iron wheels, trundles noisily across the stage.
The percussion parts were written in 1971. Each player has 9 instruments. Each part has a different (fairly large) number of bars, so that when they repeat, they never synchronize in the same way.
Scene 3 (Context, The Past),
Act One (1971) — Clytæmnestra (The Past in 1971)
(The connection to McLuhan´s rear-view mirror is very clear.
)
On Stage: A square, black tent (theatre in a theatre). The scene starts with the sides of the tent being raised outwards and upwards to reveal a large female singer (femme fatale) standing in front of a string quartet. She is Clytæmnestra, a dramatic alto, extravagantly made up and dressed for an opera production from about 1900. She is in the wrong theatre, and knows it. But she can only use the words in her original text.
At the time, I was looking for a character from the past, who kills and is then killed.
This has to do with the theme of patricide, that we know from both politics and Art: Boulez wrote “Schönberg is dead.”
Clytæmnestra was a good choice, since she is for me also a time-goddess. For me, the Oresteia is a parable about time: The killing begins before the story begins, when Agamemnon killed his daughter Iphigenia.
Agamemnon is killed by his wife, Clytæmnestra. Clytæmnestra is killed by her son, Orestes.
I think the men represent day, and the women night. The deadly cycle represents the eternal interchanging of day and night. At each change, the sky turns red.
The killing actually never ends, but Athene intervenes, Ex Machina, while time is suspended, to pass judgement on the situation.
It turns out that the Furies are to be highly honoured, since they hold the whole framework together. They must chase Orestes, so that time keeps going. The new day must begin...
Music: This Act consists of five songs, parallel to the five scenes of the Retrospective. The texts were
assembled from various 19th century translations of the original Greek that I found at the British Museum. This is deliberately antiquated and flowery language!
Most of the text comes from the translation by
John Dunning Cooper: “The Agamemnon, Choephori, and Eumenides Rendered into English verse”,
but I also used E. D. A. Morshead: “The House of Atreus: being the Agamemnon, Libation-Bearers, and Furies, of Aeschylus Translated into English verse”, and A. Swanwick: “The Agamemnon, Choephori, and Eumenides Translated into English verse”
The music that I wrote in 1971 was a strong as I could make it, using standard music notation with ad hoc extensions. The notation was experimental and pragmatic. I was deliberately not calling it into question.
One of Clytæmnestra´s characteristics is her ambiguity, and it plays a big role here. What she says often relates strangely to the Retrospective as a whole. It is a hall of mirrors...
Song 1: A beacon appears in the east. (Sunrise) “The Greeks are in the streets of Troy” Song 2: Agamemnon (The Sun King, day) arrives. Song 3: Clytæmnestra kills Agamemnon. Song 4: Clytæmnestra gets two voices, one of which is mechanical. Song 5: Orestes kills Clytæmnestra.
At the end of Act One, the sides of the tent fold back down, smothering Clytæmnestra, while the Protagonist from Scene One uses part of the scenery to destroy her completely.
With that, I had put standard music notation behind me.
Scene 4 (The Future)
Act Two (1971)
On Stage: Three female singers enclosed in a high, smooth white plastic towers (like impossibly tall nuns). Only their white faces are visible. Are they the Norns, after the rope of fate has broken?
During the scene, a loudspeaker covered in a pile of thick rope is dragged across the stage. From it come the voices of three male singers.
Music: The music for this scene has not yet been written. I will probably never be able to write it. I tried several times in the 1970s, but nothing seemed to work. In a real performance, the music could have been written by several composers, including me. An experienced composer or director would have to take control of such a project.
Paradox 1: Act Two is gradually swallowed by Act One. It therefore never ends.
Paradox 2: Nobody is alone in the world. Others also have their context. Relativity and intersecting stories exist...
When I looked at the original Retrospective again in 2024, I saw that the Protagonist never dies in his virtual world. He dies in the real world at the end of Act Two, but this event never happens on stage. On stage, he re-appears (reluctantly, uncomfortably) in the Postlude. In the real world, his spirit lives on. He can´t be both on stage and off stage at the same time. He can´t escape.
The end of Act Two is the end of my time, not the Protagonist´s.
Scene 5
Postlude (Song Six)
At the temple of Apollo: Time is at a standstill. Clytæmnestra (The Night) is dead. Orestes (The New Day) is hiding. The Furies, who are supposed to be chasing him, are asleep.
Clytæmnestra´s ghost appears. She wakes the Furies, urging them to chase Orestes. The New Day must begin. Time must start up again.
On Stage: All the objects on the stage are slowly dragged off, revealing the Protagonist behind his table as in Scene One.
Protagonist and table are then also dragged off (as if they are part of the scenery), but end up awkwardly, a long way away, against the back wall of the empty stage. There, he vaguely mimes Clytæmnestra´s song while it is sung live off-stage.
Music: The music for this scene has not yet been written. The latest technologies can and should be used.
Clytæmnestra should be ghostly and sovereign. Not acid or biting as she sometimes is in Act One. But she gradually becomes more excited. In the end, she should be able to show how beautifully she can sing.
After all, that was the dream...
There was no going back. I gave up on a conventional composer´s career, preferring to understand.
I wanted to find out why music notation had collapsed. Why had the 1960s happened?
From this point on, I decided only to use symbols when I really understood what they meant.
At some point, I thought, I would find some answers.
So my time immediately re-started: The first piece I wrote was The Probability of Harmony.
(See Compositions preceding Act Two.)
This piece, for Alto Flute, Clarinet
in A, Conductor and Tape, has neither a composed beginning nor a composed end. The piece´s duration is decided by the tape,
which is so quiet that it can only be heard when the instruments are not playing. The flute and clarinet parts have different lengths, and can be aligned in any way that has coinciding barlines. A performance starts somewhere within the first 15 bars of the flute part
when the tape has begun, and ends when the tape ends.
There is a noticeable development in the relation between the two parts, but it is cut off before “arriving” anywhere.
Here´s a close-up of the beginning of a possible alignment of the score, with the flute´s bar 10 aligned to the clarinet´s bar 103. Both parts are in the treble clef, and sound as notated here. The instrumental parts are, of course, transposed.
The performed durations are very free and extremely flexible. They result from a cooperation between the players and conductor. All three players should try to make beautiful phrases. The conductor, especially, should concentrate on the large scale form.
This is a non-mechanical time-paradigm. There is no tempo.
The piece
has been performed quite often, but there are, unfortunately, no recordings...
Two years later, via Universal Edition, I was in contact with Karheinz Stockhausen.
Any questions?
Chapter 3
Retrospective 2000 — Stockhausen
My first personal contact with Stockhausen came in late 1973 when UE Vienna sent me some of his D-Momente, asking me to send him a few demonstration pages to see if he would agree to them being printed using Notaset. A couple of months later, after much correspondence, many adjustments to the typefaces, spacing and line thicknesses etc., and the printing of special, large Letraset dynamics, I got the contract.
But before I could start properly on that, I got a panic call from Kürten (July 1974): He urgently needed an experienced copyist to help with the instrumental parts of Inori. Of course, I flew over to Germany as soon as I could. The rest is history.
I´ve divided the time into five periods here, roughly corresponding to the Five Songs in Act One of Retrospective 1971.
Song 1 begins “The Greeks are in the streets of Troy”. A Brit arrives in Germany in 1974. Song 2 is the scene with both Clytæmnestra and Agamemnon on stage. The scene is superficially friendly, but she is planning his downfall. Song 3: Clytæmnestra kills Agamemnon. Song 4: Clytæmnestra reveals who she really is.
Ambiguously, defiantly triumphant, awed at what she has done, she splits into two, getting two voices: her human voice and a super-human, mechanical one that comes out of loudspeakers. Is she human, a machine, or both? Song 5: Orestes kills Clytæmnestra
After successfully rescuing Inori in 1974, Stockhausen and I made a gentleman´s agreement that was to last for the next 26 years: I would work for him as a copyist for 6 months a year, and have the other 6 months to work independently on my own projects. This was exactly what we both wanted. He was away on tour half the time anyway.
After 3 years, in 1977, Stockhausen wrote Jahreslauf. This was the first part of Licht to be written.
The title Licht refers, I think, to Einstein´s idea: “If I ride on a beam of light, time will stop!”
Jahreslauf is actually part of Dienstag aus Licht — the confrontation between Michael and Lucifer.
In this piece, Luzifer tries to stop time, while Michael tries to keep it going.
Here is the final page (in my handwriting):
Luzifer: “Bravo Michael, your time runs on!”
Michael: “Luzifer invents strange games.”
Luzifer: “Mi-cha, get ready for a much harder fight!”
Michael: “Michael has no dread, no fear, Luzifer!”
Stockhausen is dealing with something very abstract here, and one of his techniques for doing that was to think of real people, including himself, to identify and isolate the abstraction.
Eva — transcendent love, outside time — who is not present in Dienstag, is strongly related to Suzanne Stephens.
Stockhausen was perfectly capable of analysing his own motives, so I think he is himself Luzifer here.
He is the one trying to stop time — trying to defend his reputation as the most advanced composer against the inexorable passage of time. He is the one who is, with Goethe´s Faust, saying to the moment: “Verweile doch, Du bist so schön” (Stay a while, you are so beautiful.)
He knew about my agenda, but not that it had been anchored in the scenario for a theatre piece. As I said, I wanted the future to develop freely, without trying to force it into a mould. The Retrospective would be more powerful if it could be viewed dispassionately in retrospect — like a scientific experiment whose outcome is not prejudged — so I didn´t mention it to anyone, and was doing my best to forget about it by concentrating on other things. Stockhausen knew nothing about my relation to the Oresteia, or the subject of stopping time... At the time, even I didn´t notice the coincidence...
I have to admit that I never thought I had anything to do with the characters in Licht until well after being thrown out of heaven at the end of 2000. I was far too concerned with media: paper and ink — later digitalization, computers, computer languages and files.
Note that Stockhausen uses different aspects of different people at different times. So he can be both Luzifer in Jahreslauf and Michael in Donnerstag or Sonntag aus Licht; I could be both Michael in Jahreslauf, and Luzifer in 2000, just before Sonntag aus Licht .
Stockhausen shouldn´t be underestimated. He was by no means as naïve as is often alleged.
And he at least succeeded in delaying the inevitable until after his own death.
Nevertheless, in the end I agree with Athene: Time must eventually move on.
I got two composition commissions through my connection with Stockhausen: Vectors (1974-76) for Donaueschingen (performed in 1978), and beyond the symbolic (1978-82) for the ensemble intercontemporain (performed in 1982).
The latter piece is my largest paper score. Apart from The Innocent Bystander, written during the AIDS crisis 1986-87, it is also my last.
It
is a single data structure, composed algorithmically using krystals, on my first desktop computer — which was an Apple II, bought for the purpose with money borrowed from Stockhausen. I never actually paid him back, but his investment paid off handsomely later: My engagement with computers after 1981 meant that I was well prepared for the introduction of desktop publishing at the Stockhausen-Verlag in 1993.
Page 1 of 77 looks like this:
I wanted to develop a kind of counterpoint, in which similar and contrary movements can be heard.
The flutes, clarinets and vibraphones enter later: Here is page 30:
I was quite happy with the notation,
as far as it went: Inner restrictions on the positions of event symbols are removed. Duration classes are defined by the amount of space taken up by the symbol, whereby each duration class is responsible for a range of widths. For example: on a particular page, semiquavers might occupy any width between 3 and 6 millimeters; quavers would then have any width between 6 and 12 millimeters, and so on.
Nothing is said about the players’ notated durations.
There is no tempo: each conducted quaver should be approximately in the range mm70 to mm140 (ca.0.86sec to ca.1.72sec).
The conductor´s job is to hold the players together, and to be responsible for the overall performance timing.
beyond the symbolic is prefaced (1982) by a small poem:
that more is
but beyond words
is will be misunderstood
In my later scores, stored in computer files rather than on paper,
the symbols obey spatial rules that are much more like standard practice — which aims for legibility while maximizing the amount of information per system — but bandwidths of duration control the symbols’ duration class.
See
,
,
,
.
Unfortunately, the first public performance of beyond the symbolic was its first run-through.
All the performers were, of course, top-class experts who had rehearsed the piece for a week, but I nevertheless had the feeling that the conductor took real control of the timing and phrasing only after about 10 minutes.
An earlier run-through would have helped.
The piece didn´t sound like anything the audience wanted to hear, and was loudly booed.
Birtwistle, who was sitting with Stockhausen and Boulez in the audience, said “Very un-French!”.
Stockhausen said that it was like walking through a forest. Boulez said nothing.
The performers were the only ones who actually needed to look at the score.
There was no second performance. After that, I got no more commissions. I didn´t want them anyway.
Copying the instrumental parts, with ink on paper, had cost me a whole season of what could otherwise have been productive work. There was, of course, no software for doing that. Today, there is still no software for writing unconventional notations that are not financed by mass markets.
That could change, as Artificial Intelligence makes programming less time-consuming and therefore cheaper. But one still has to know what one really wants. We will see...
Digital technologies really broke through at this time, during the early 1980s: the first PCs; the first CDs. The world had to adjust accordingly.
The stress and apparent failure was initially quite hard to take, but the frustration fairly soon turned to defiance: I decided to go on the offensive.
I decided to directly attack standard notation´s conceptual weaknesses, no longer thinking of my work as just developing an alternative. With this mindset, I suddenly made progress. The result was an epiphany (see Appendix 3 below) that culminated in my essay The Notation of Time (1982-3).
The main conclusion in that essay is that tuplets of any kind—even triplets—are meaningless if there is no perceptible tempo. The 1970s avant-garde had specifically avoided perceptible tempi, and tempi were especially shunned by New Complexity scores containing nested tuplets.
Later, I was able to consolidate this idea:
A clear distinction has to be made between spatial and temporal information: Paper can only store spatial information. In print media, all the temporal information is stored in the reader. Reading has to be learned. Writing, especially musical notation, is fundamentally an aides-mémoire, which presuppose prior experience. The meaning of musical symbols is, as with ordinary words, context-dependent. Their precise meaning changes, even within a single score. Musical symbols are not like mathematical symbols, which have the same meaning regardless of where they appear in a proof. Their meaning depends on local context, and they require a performance practice tradition in order to be understood.
Stockhausen read and understood an early version of the essay, but it was clear to him that he couldn't just stop using tuplets. It was too late for that, so he came to me and explained very seriously, even rather awed, that this was the case. Neither of us wanted to break with the other, so we had to be very careful.
The Superformel for Licht had been composed in early 1978 with several different tuplet types — including 5-, 7-, 9-, and 11-tuplets, and nested triplets.
(The above link uses my hand-copy of the Superformel, printed in the score of Licht-Ruf in 1997.)
But he also knew (though didn't say) that The Notation of Time would disappear into obscurity a few months after publication. Back then, with print media, this was normal. He only needed to ignore it publicly, and everything would turn out fine. He was right.
We soon returned to our old,
professional, working relationship, but we both knew that, while something had fundamentally changed, everything would be fine as long as I remained invisible to the outside world.
He dedicated the score of Invisible Choirs to me a year after The Notation of Time was published (in Contact Magazine, 1985).
After that, I devoted my time to studying the emerging programming languages. In other words, I began talking to machines.
Stockhausen began composing Freitag aus Licht in 1991. (Friday is the day of Lucifer and Eve, without Michael.) He didn´t like digitalization, and connected Lucifer with human-machine couplings. Friday turned into something dreadfully/wonderfully perverse.
In the end, all the human-machines — so-called 'bastards' — are burned in an auto-da-fé, with Luceva urging them to repent... But everything is so beautiful that no one notices or understands the message.
The Stockhausen-Verlag went digital in 1993. This was unavoidable because the whole world had switched to desktop publishing, and the analog hardware we were using had ceased to exist. In particular, the golf-ball typeheads for the IBM Selectric Composer typewriter, which was primarily used for writing the forewords, often broke and couldn't be replaced. Even the nibs for my Graphos ink pen
( ), which I had been using since my student days, ran out.
There was no choice. We had to
go digital, whether Stockhausen liked it or not. Unfortunately, there was no suitable score-writing software at the time that could cope with his demands, so I had to do the initial input with an early, awkward, bug-ridden version of Finale, and export the result (as soon as possible) to a general graphic design application (FreeHand, which was similar to Adobe Illustrator). A couple of years later, when it became possible, I wrote some specialized FreeHand plugins.
This experience with programming graphical data came in handy a few years
later. But I’ll come to that...
In 1999, the internet arrived, and I published my first website. This naturally included The Notation of Time. I showed the website to Stockhausen at the beginning of 2000, explaining that the whole world could see it. I could no longer remain hidden.
Later that same year, I was ruthlessly mobbed and eventually thrown out. It was Lucifer's Fall, but in real life, not on stage. Lucifer was cast out because “Er wusste zuviel!” ( “He knew too much!”).
Is it just a coincidence that the last opera in Licht takes place without Lucifer? Had this long been planned? Or was it just inevitable?
Transcendence is a motif that Stockhausen had used before towards the end of a work. Think of Spiral, think of Inori. Maybe Licht was so vast that it required something even more drastic...
(pause)
Stockhausen and I went our separate ways at the end of 2000. He died in 2007, having written a special composition, LICHT-Formel, for his gravestone. This is related to the Superformel for Licht, but the long tuplets have been simplified to triplets, and texts have been added for the three protagonists:
In system 2, Eva pleads for Luzifer to be forgiven. Michael does not agree specifically, but in system 3 they all three remember MITTWOCH, the day of unity, and synchronize through God´s eternal Light.
The piece ends with the three protagonists syn-chron, temporally united by love.
Art and love transcend time and death.
LICHT-Formel on Stockhausen´s gravestone in Kürten.
(To view this image at maximum resolution, see Frank Vincentz, 5616x3744px)
Questions or comments?
Chapter 4
Retrospective 2024 — Act Two, Current Software
As a reminder, I think of media as data carriers, including carriers of temporal information.
They are the interface between stored information and a human recipient's senses.
It is up to the recipient whether he or she can process the incoming information. One must be able to read writing on paper (in space), and understand the spoken language or music (in time).
In other words, media are either spatial — like paper, CDs, or computers displaying text files — or temporal, like radios, gramophones, film projectors, televisions or computers playing sounds or videos.
I'm interested in creating scores that can be written and/or performed by both computer applications and people, so I´m developing a hybrid data format (SVG-MIDI) for that purpose.
In contrast to paper scores,
people will usually write SVG-MIDI files using a dedicated editing application, not by hand.
But humans can interpret printed SVG-MIDI scores directly in real-time.
In that case, people become the medium that transmits the temporal information.
But where is this information stored? I don't know. And for present purposes it doesn't matter.
As I read (aloud or not), I am extracting graphical information from the piece of paper (or screen) in front of me. For me, the medium is the paper (or screen).
But the temporal information that you are receiving (when I read aloud) is coming from my voice and its associated hardware. My body is therefore the medium. But where does the hardware get the information it transmits? It comes from my memory, which has been trained with lots of prior knowledge, including how the graphical symbols that the hardware reads should sound.
So, in this case, my body is the medium, and my memory provides the information. What you hear is information coming from my memory (wherever/whatever that is). As with computers, where desktops shield us from the underlying hardware, we can only process information efficiently if we are not being distracted by the internal details! (See Donald Hoffman´s Interface Theory of Perception.)
Interestingly, the word “medium” is also used in the context of spiritual séances!
My “spirit” or “mind” is communicating with you in real, experienced time...
(pause)
But I'm actually concerned with something very concrete: the development of ideas that can be instantiated and tested in software.
What the programs do is much more important than how they do it.
My software is freely accessible on GitHub. I'm very interested in others either joining me or developing their own projects from it. The best way to understand why my software does what it does is to follow its history. So...
I had a very difficult time after Lucifer's Fall: The outside world had moved on, and changed completely, since I moved to Germany in 1977 ( ).
Composers were now expected to produce their own performance-ready scores and parts using standard software. The development of new music notations was even more difficult.
I had been thrown out of a time capsule.
Publishers were struggling, and
I was too old, at 52, to start an academic career. Neither did my very specialized experience fit me for any other musical profession.
The state job centres thought I was too old to retrain for the software industry. They said it didn’t make sense because, at my age, I wouldn’t get a job in that area anyway.
I got a few final commissions from Peters Edition, but they were in trouble too, and couldn´t keep it up. Those commissions quickly dried up as well.
Fortunately, I had
the support of my partner Heinz, with whom I had had a stable partnership for 14 years. In spite of gay marriage being impossible at the time, the state refused me any financial support because we were sharing a flat. In the end, Heinz kept his nerve, and we are still together. We married in 2010.
I also began to make contacts by attending conferences.
In 2005, I met Hartmut Ring, Professor of Mathematics and Computer Science at the University of Siegen. He was also the founder of capella software, which still publishes a widely used score editor.
Hartmut hired me as a freelance consultant and, together with Hans-Ulrich Werner, bought me a Windows laptop to get me going. I slowly realized that I wasn’t finished after all. Lucifer had discovered his hidden wings and could fly. A new day began.
The first fruit of this collaboration was my Study 1:
Since I was able to go on-line during the talk, I displayed and played Study 1live using the AssistantPerformer application.
Study 1 was originally written in Python as an exploration of Hartmut’s CapXML — capella´s native file format. CapXML describes the durations of successive chord symbols as fractions of a fundamental time unit. This allowed me to demonstrate additive time because consecutive, fractional durations didn’t need to be parts of tuplets. The piece could be played back on the desktop in the capella editor.
In 2016, I re-created it in SVG-MIDI format using Moritz so that it could be played online in the AssistantPerformer.
As a result of working for Hartmut, I
moved from Apple to Windows, and began learning C# and Visual Studio. I had had some experience with earlier versions of C++, so that wasn't too difficult. As always, there were new versions of languages and editors to deal with. This is still true today but, back then, the software was much less mature. Important standards were still not fully developed.
Moritz was actually 'born' in 2005. I named it after Max's terrible twin.
Max is a desktop program specialized in processing information (sounds) at the MIDI level and below. Moritz is also a desktop program. It is written in C# and deals with the MIDI level and above; in particular, with chord symbols and musical form.
At this time, significant progress was being made with the SVG standard. I don't think it was advanced enough in 2005 for me to consider storing MIDI information in it but, by 2010, it was ready: In response to a question on the W3C website, I learned that the problem would best be solved using an SVG namespace. This allowed me to store MIDI information directly, as text, inside the chord symbol definitions. The SVG-MIDI format was born.
Here´s an example showing the structure of the first chord symbol in Study 1 (a simple middle C with a dynamic).
Each chord is a group (<g class="chord">) of graphical and temporal data. The custom “score” namespace is defined earler in the file, allowing temporal, MIDI information to be stored in one (or more) <score:midi> element(s) in the chord.
Information in a custom namespace is ignored by browsers but can be read by JavaScript.
Since multiple time tracks could be stored next to the same graphical information, scores of this kind can contain different interpretations of the same written chords — meaning that multiple, precise performance examples for newly written scores can be known at the first rehearsal.
This possibility did not exist for the 1960s avant-garde, whose scores were written on paper. Paper and computer files are simply different types of media. It was not possible back then to teach players a specific performance practice within the economically constrained rehearsal time. Ensembles founded by specific composers had a chance, but orchestras simply couldn´t provide enough rehearsal time to create interesting new performance practices. Much of music´s interest lies in unique, low level performance details.
My ultimate goal is to develop an SVG-MIDI format that can be written and read by many applications. The current state of the format is not final, but it is as future-proof as I can make it.
I don't want to be constantly changing the software I write for testing it.
The SVG-MIDI format
can be used for scores of arbitrary graphical complexity, including Stockhausen´s Klavierstück I and all the later New Complexity scores (Ferneyhough, Finissey, Barrett etc.)
See Klavierstück I in the Appendix below.
can, in principle, be used to store any of the world’s music notations, including those that read top to bottom and/or right to left. All that is necessary is that the notation contains event symbols. Switches in the format tell a reading application how to move the cursor.
does not assume that absolute time exists or can be perceived (milliseconds are just a convention used in connection with concrete mechanical devices).
can describe tempoless music.
allows durations to be context-dependent: The same duration symbol can be associated with different durations at different times — in either the same or different performances.
(Music notation symbols are not like mathematical symbols which mean exactly the same thing wherever they appear in a proof.)
allows performers to concentrate on their actual performance rather than thinking about non-existent and therefore incommunicable tempi. They can concentrate on expressing the relationships between real, perceptible events.
I started Study 2 in 2010 with the aim of identifying future problem areas.
Moritz had begun quite chaotically: Its user interface initially looked like Max or PureData, with modules that could be linked in various ways using cables.
There was a lot to learn, and many concepts were still rather unclear. It was a rather rough start — but it was a start.
After 2010, Moritz was thoroughly revised and streamlined. Its structure became much clearer, and it became a pure score generator.
It currently works, but still contains much old, redundant code that originated in failed experiments.
It needs a thorough revision, and I´m hoping that AI (Copilot in Visual Studio) is going to help with that.
In Moritz, each composition now has an algorithm module (written in C#) and a file containing various parameters needed by every score,
but which don´t belong in their algorithm. These parameters are read and written by Moritz in the following dialog.
Moritz´s score generator (the Assistant Composer) is more fully documented here.
Graphical parameters are set in the left half: At the bottom, there is a button that opens another dialog to determine the page size and margins. There are also inputs for the appearance of the staff lines and default clefs, as well as system parameters: the number of lines per staff, the height between staff lines, staves, etc. Additionally, the number of staves per system, how the barlines are drawn (through or between the staves), and so on, as well as the bar number that begins each new system. These settings can be adjusted for a particular score algorithm.
The settings on the right relate to data that is used by the algorithm. This is data specific to my own algorithms, so we don't need to go into detail about it here.
So, Study 2 began in 2010:
Since I was able to go on-line during the talk, I displayed and played Study 2 live using the AssistantPerformer application.
The first three systems look like this:
The third voice from the top has similarities with Study 1.
( )
There are 12 different chords that are individually repeated exactly during the course of the piece. The algorithm controls their occurrence as the piece develops. Each chord is characterised by its duration, pitch, dynamic and ornament: multiple MIDI moments can occur consecutively within a single chord symbol.
As in Study 1, the time is additive. The chords´ durations are defined in milliseconds in the score. There is no perceptible tempo. The first three measures look like this:
The (millisecond) duration of each bar is found by adding the durations of the chords in the third voice. The durations of the chords in the upper voices are then calculated so that they are distributed as equally as possible across each bar while remaining whole numbers of milliseconds. This is not simply floating point division. The result is that each voice has the same integral millisecond duration within each bar.
As usual, the score is read from left to right: Temporally earlier chords are positioned spatially to the left of temporally later chords, and simultaneous chords are aligned vertically.
The chords in the upper voices describe wave motions, as in beyond the symbolic — the piece I wrote for the ensemble intercontemporain in 1982.
(
,
)
Moritz optimizes the horizontal spacing between chords automatically to avoid
collisions and make things as legible as possible. (As in standard notation, identically sounding chords don´t always take up the same amount of space, so that systems can have the same width despite varying content.) Moritz also optimizes the vertical spacing between staves and systems to avoid overlaps. Such graphical optimizations are entirely independent of the temporal MIDI information stored in the symbols.
Study 2 was developed alongside Moritz until I was ready to start work on the AssistantPerformer. Starting in 2012, all three were developed together. The AssistantPerformer is a web application that plays SVG-MIDI scores. It is written in HTML and JavaScript and sends MIDI commands, synchronized with a cursor that moves through the score, to a software synthesizer.
The AssistantPerformer, like Moritz,
began rather uncertainly with concepts that were later changed or discarded. Originally, I wanted to make it more interactive, like an automatic accompanist. Those ideas currently survive only in the two 'conducting options'.
The documentation for the AssistantPerformer was updated in August 2024, after the original version of this talk was written. It now contains some thoughts on how the application could be developed still further...
Since I was able to go on-line during the talk, I demonstrated the AssistantPerformer´s controls live rather than just showing/explaining Slide 32.
After a score is selected on the start page, it appears under a playback control bar. From left to right, the controls in the central block are:
The Start button, which becomes the Pause button during playback.
The Stop button, which becomes active during playback.
Set Playback Start Position Tool.
Set Playback End Position Tool.
Send Start Position to Beginning.
Send End Position to End.
Conducting Options 1 and 2.
With the conducting options, the cursor is controlled in various ways with the mouse. In this screenshot, I have set the playback start point to the second quaver in the third bar of the second voice, and the playback end point to the end of the fourth bar.
Playback voices can be toggled on and off in the control on the left. Here, I´ve turned the first voice off. It is shown in gray. Playback speed is adjusted using the slider to that control´s right. In this screenshot, it is set to 57%. The speed can be set between 10% and 999%.
On the far right, there is a 'Set Options' button, which returns the user to the start page where the score to be played is selected.
Originally, a software MIDI synthesizer for audio output could also be selected on the start page.
The Microsoft GS Wavetable Synth (part of the Windows operating system), and the third-party Virtual MIDI Synth plugin (which produced a slightly better sound) could be used.
Unfortunately, I managed to crash the Chrome browser and the entire operating system at some point. Unable to trace the bug, I contacted Google, who isolated the problem inside the Microsoft GS Wavetable Synth. I had broken it by sending it a particular sequence of commands. As a result, Google decided that the synthesizer was a security risk, and banned it from use in their browser. They also gave me a generous reward for the bug report! :-)
This meant, however, that I was dependent on the plugin, making it significantly less easy for third parties to use the AssistantPerformer. Not everyone can be expected to install a plugin. Thus, the idea was born to program a resident synthesizer. This would be a software MIDI synthesizer installed next to the AssistantPerformer on the same website.
Initial attempts began in 2015, but things really took off in 2021 when the Web Audio API was released. The ResidentSynth is now working. It has a MIDI interface but no GUI (Graphic User Interface), since the AssistantPerformer already has one.
To develop the ResidentSynth, I also needed a separate host application for testing. Thus, the ResidentSynthHost was created. Its GUI looks like this:
I demonstrated the Resident Synth and ResidentSynthHost extensively at the workshop on the following day, when I was able to use it (on-line) connected to my MIDI keyboard.
The ResidentSynth is a separate piece of code, installed
next to the ResidentSynthHost, and which can be relatively easily copied next to the AssistantPerformer (or any other web application). This has now been done, and the AssistantPerformer has become much simpler to use.
The Resident Synth has become very versatile. It is much more powerful than necessary for my Study 1 and Study 2 scores. It supports various tunings. I won't go into all the details now, but there are three points I want to highlight:
Firstly: The Resident Synth uses the Web Audio API and audio samples that I found on GitHub.
The Web Audio API is structured similarly to Max. Chowning's FM synthesis
would, of course, be possible, but I don’t currently use it: It was originally more important, when sorting out the concepts, to have many different sounds rather than to worry about their quality.
Secondly: Since the synth is always installed alongside its single host, it
is not restricted to the standard MIDI commands.
I have,
for example implemented several non-standard commands: for tunings, mixtures, and ornaments.
And thirdly—very importantly! Since the ResidentSynthHost uses a hardware MIDI input device, it is possible to capture incoming MIDI commands in real time. These commands can be saved to a file that can, in principle, be read by Moritz. So Moritz could easily transcribe this information or integrate it into an existing SVG-MIDI score. Until now, all of Moritz's algorithms used durations that were machine-determined, leading to relatively weak informational content. Much of music´s interest lies in the performance details...
Questions or comments?
I originally wanted to end the talk
as follows, but there were quite a few questions and, in the heat of the moment, I forgot.
I did, however, display and read Slide 35 during during the workshop discussions on the following day.
Writing has always been an enabler of cultural development, so written music can´t be written off completely.
Here´s the final text sung by Clytæmnestra's ghost at the Temple of Apollo after Act Two:
Its all relevant, especially the first line.
photo:Grunst/Ingram
Sunburst inside the dome of the Temple of Apollo at Stourhead, Wiltshire, England.
This is an example of a well-known optical illusion:
Time stands still, but the image seems to rotate slightly left and right.
The effect is very strong at Stourhead, probably owing to the lighting and distance from the viewer.
Apollo, leader of the Muses,
links culture to eternity. Transcending the flow of time...
This appendix includes further discussion of some of the issues raised by the participants in the talk and workshop.
1. Time notation
Studie II (1954)
This score is very important in the history of space=time and electronic music notation. It has been quoted in many articles and encyclopaedias since it was written in 1954.
The notation describes how to create a tape, it is not for real-time interpretation by humans.
I made a new edition of the score, while still with Stockhausen in 2000, because the original plates had deteriorated so much by being repeatedly re-photographed. There were a couple of mistakes in the original score, which we corrected.
The row of small numbers in the middle of the score denote lengths of tape (in centimetres) that will be played back at 76.2cm per second, so space and time are indeed equivalent here, but note that the space on each page in the score is not necessarily proportional to the tape lengths: I sometimes had to distort the time axis on a page to make space for the numbers.
Stockhausen preferred his original version of the tape (in which the faders were adjusted by hand) to the computer-generated versions which he heard later. This shows how important fine performance details are: Equating space in the diagram to performance time does not improve the listening experience. Temporal perception depends on subtle temporal relationships, not on the way the events may have been notated.
Remember the shock when we first heard Bach played literally in the 1980s?
Klavierstück I (1952)
Stockhausen and his contemporaries thought of time as being equivalent to a dimension of space. They inherited this idea from physics
and standard 19th century notation, but it does not apply where human memory is involved.
20th century neo-classic composers assumed that performers (and audiences) would be able to perceive smoothly flowing time in the form of accurate,
memorizable tempi, and that they should therefore be able to divide time arbitrarily in the way that space can be divided. This is, however, incorrect.
Usefully accurate tempi only exist when the durations of the individual beats are shorter than the durations that can be accurately estimated by short term memory (without “subdividing”) — i.e. ca. 2 seconds per beat (30 beats per minute).
Tuplets whose outer duration is greater than ca. 2 seconds are therefore meaningless.
Stockhausen´s final thoughts on Klavierstück I´s nested tuplets were that the outer tuplets should be replaced by tempo changes, and that performers should be able to play tempi accurately. This means learning to play accurate tempi from regular click tracks (or metronomes).
As described above, “accuracy” with respect to a diagram does not result in the best performance, so I would prefer to replace all the tuplets, and create a synthetic (machine) performance of the score using the
exact notated durations (to the nearest millisecond), and learn those, rather than an abstract tempo that nobody can experience. A performance then becomes a communication between the memories of the player and audience.
This approach was not available in the 19th century because there were no recording devices that could store arbitrary durations. All they had were metronomes. This is the obstacle that the SVG-MIDI score format is designed to overcome. (See above)
Ensemble Music
In practice, scores for more than one player, such as Zeitmaße (1956) or Gruppen (1955/57), are coordinated using visual cues and/or memories of previous performances (performance practice).
Conductors are, in this respect, simply silent performers who take responsibility for the major durations and relative dynamics.
Performers relate longer duration symbols to counting rather than to absolute time. This is especially true when they are being conducted: in this case they synchronize by counting the conductor´s gestures, and do fine coordination using memory and more precise visual cues.
Music notation doesn´t just contain duration symbols:
Barlines, for example, are useful for orientation during rehearsals. They can also improve legibility by breaking the score into smaller chunks. Clefs, staves, systems and pages have similar functions. (Its well known, that chunking is important when reading: words and standard chord-symbols are read as chunks, not character by character.)
This is a companion piece to The Probability of Harmony — see
,
and Compositions preceding Act Two.
Its interesting that, without looking at the score, a British national newspaper critic thought that Possible Developments was an epigonal rewrite of Stockhausen´s Zeitmaße that he had heard in the same concert.
He can´t be blamed for having been unable to hear the difference between what we wrote.
2. Technology
These are the writing implements I used to copy scores until the Stockhausen-Verlag went digital in 1993.
I started using them (and a standard A1 desktop drawing board with a movable parallel bar) to write my own scores in the late 1960s.
These tools are part of a much wider history of printing technology and its relation to our institutions.
When working for Universal Edition in the early 1970s, the originals of the scores were always made on transparent paper so that orchestra parts and the proofs for printed scores could be cheaply reproduced using a large diazo, (whiteprinting) machine in UE’s basement. (We called it a “dyeline” machine.)
When I arrived in Germany in 1974,
Stockhausen didn’t have a drawing board, but he did have
a small but very heavy movable-type printing press that I never used. It had been used to create text-snippets with different typefaces for the score of Mikrophonie I.
a small (desktop sized) A3 wet-process photocopier. This was, I think, an Agfa “copyrapid” machine, but I can't remember the exact model. It was being used to copy Stockhausen's correspondence, and was used later that summer to create the first scores and set of parts for Inori.
As I remember, using this machine meant first exposing the original to a
special, chemically treated, negative page, then feeding the copied (negative) sheet through a bath of chemicals with the future positive sheet to develop it. The positive and negative sheets eventually passed through rollers that removed most of the liquid, stuck the sheets together, and transported them out of the machine. After waiting a minute or so, the two sheets could be peeled apart and the negative thrown away. The machine could only do one-sided copies, so binding the Inori parts meant first sticking thousands of pages back-to-back... (The Inori material consists of 89 separate orchestra parts, 2 parts for the solo dancers and at least 2 scores. Each orchestra part has about 30 pages.)
The wet photocopier was quite reliable but highly impractical for large projects, so it was replaced in the following year by a large, dry, standalone A3 (Xerox) photocopy machine that could print on both sides of a page. That was a considerable improvement, but the new machine needed patient handling and mechanical intervention. Double-sided printing was especially tiresome: paper jams, powder streaks... A service technician came regularly...
1975 also saw the acquisition of an A1 drawing board (with drawing machine) and an IBM Selectric Composer typewriter. These were used, in the same year, to create the originals of the first Stockhausen-Verlag score (Pole/Expo).
Those originals were, of course, printed and bound professionally by a commercial printing company.
All this belongs in a history of how institutions were affected by the new printing (space-recording) technologies. There is a similar story that relates to audio (=time) recording.
3. Epiphany
(copied, for convenience, from On Being Invisible, Footnote 1)
For me, all music written since 1970 (e.g. the New Complexity or the Minimal Music of Reich,
Riley etc.) is, as it were, the answer to the question: "What can be achieved with standard notation, without calling its 19th century interpretation concepts into question?"
Since the interpretation concepts were left unchallenged in 1970, written music stopped developing.
The development of written music depends on getting beyond the 19th century's Newtonian, mechanical
paradigm for absolute time. Stockhausen remained embedded in that old tradition, as can be
seen from his use of metronome marks (see the examples above).
This all became clear to me in the summer of 1982, a few weeks after the performance of my beyond the symbolic in Paris (22nd March 1982), when I suddenly realized that I had to attack the standard notation of music, not just develop an alternative. János Darvas noticed my excitement, and wasted no time in capturing the moment... Many, many thanks!