[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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