one year passes...
You hear a very high sound. It sounds like Indian bells, very dense. And then I bring it down in curves and then naturally by bringing it down it becomes more transparent. This time pitch is related to rhythm.
And one discovers that these Indian bells were the voices of young boys shouting in a courtyard. And then I bring it up again, and then in between I stop for a moment and we discover that the voices of the boys sound like ducks. And then I have faded in some real swamp ducks and they sing the Marseillaise - ga, ga, ga, ga, ga, gack, gack, a gack, et cetera. Then it goes down again. And then the boys go down and down and are transposed until finally the voices become very, very dark like bears. And then finally, in the Marseillaise which is eight times slower than normal, extremely broad and black as sounds.
And after this extremely low Marseillaise it goes bah, bah, bum, bah, bop, yeou, yup, rup, rup, rup, rup, rup. That's it now. But this is where the Marseillaise ended in the extremely low register and slow movement. And then that ends in a small airplane flying above us, which is a moment of my childhood when I was watching cows and laying in a meadow and hearing the insects in the grass and there came this small airplane circling above me. And I've never forgotten this atmosphere. And this is then in Hymnen, in this bridge.
― Milton Parker, Friday, 7 December 2007 20:11 (seventeen years ago)
four months pass...