[lit-ideas] Re: Wednesday Poem and Goodbye Gyorg
- From: Eric Yost <eyost1132@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sat, 17 Jun 2006 10:55:54 -0400
>>O, Ligetti's dead. Again.
_________
SCENE A heath near The Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest
Enter Karlheinz Stockhausen
Karlheinz Stockhausen
The worst returns to laughter. But who comes here?
Old Man
O, my good lord, I have been your student these
fourscore years.
Luciano Berio
Away, get thee away; be gone, grow up, matriculate!
Old Man (grabs diploma and exits)
Luciano Berio
How now! Who's there?
Karlheinz Stockhausen
[Aside] O gods! I am a worse composer than e'er I was.
'Tis poor dead György Ligeti.
[Aside] And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
So long as we can say '9/11 was a thing of beauty.'
Fellow, where goest?
Luciano Berio
Ay, my lord. I' the way toward Carnegie Hall,
do it for ancient love.
'Tis the times' plague, when dead men lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure.
Listen! Extraordinarily dense polyphony!
Karlheinz Stockhausen
Poor György Ligeti's a-cold.
Luciano Berio
Come hither, fellow.
Karlheinz Stockhausen
[Aside] And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet ears, they bleed.
Luciano Berio
Know'st thou the way to Carnegie Hall?
Karlheinz Stockhausen
Both stile and gate, N-train horse-way and foot-path. Poor
György hath been scored out of his good wits: bless
thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five
fiends have been in Poor György Ligeti at once; of
Ravel, as
Ondine; Paul Williams, prince of dumbness; Mahler, of
stealing; Modo, of an alternative to post-Webern
serialism; Electronic music
of mopping and mowing, who since possesses chamber music
and concerti. So, bless thee, master!
Luciano Berio
Here, take this sheet music, thou whom the heavens' plagues
Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
Dost thou know Carnegie Hall?
Karlheinz Stockhausen
Ay, master.
Luciano Berio
There is an upper balcony, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confined deep orchestra seats:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost hear
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no conducting need.
Karlheinz Stockhausen
Give me thy arm:
Poor György Ligeti shall lead thee.
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