Manafonistas

on life, music etc beyond mainstream

2021 8 Jul

Frühstücksgeschichte mit Eno und Mondrian

von: Michael Engelbrecht Filed under: Blog | TB | 1 Comment

 

 

Neulich hörte ich mir das Gespräch zwischen Brian Eno und Rick Rubin an, in dem Eno quer durch sein Schaffen befragt wurde, und natürlich auch einige „Repertoire-Stories“ erzählte, unter anderem, wie sehr ihn in der Kindheit die Gitterbilder von Mondrian berührten, als er ihnen das erste Mal begegnete, und wie etwas so  Minimalistisches einen so immensen emotionalen Eindruck hinterlassen konnte. Genau diesen Aspekt verfolgte er ja auch mit etlichen seiner Alben. Was ich nicht wusste: er erzählte Rick Rubin auch, dass er als Kind unendlich viele Bilder malte, in denen Rot und Blau sich vermischten, weil ihn diese Zwischenzone (nennen wir es violett, es gibt sicher noch andere Namen) besonders faszinierte. Als hätte er irgendwann, bewusst oder unbewusst, den Entschluss gefasst, das Blau und das Rot der Mondrian-Bilder aus ihren schwarzen Umrandungen bzw. Einkastelungen zu lösen, zu befreien, um eine andere Zwischenwelt zu erforschen. „Instead of clarity / The  colors of rain / Bittersweet wooziness / What a romance“, ruft E.E. Cummings in einem berühmten Gedicht aus. Ein kreativer Akt, auch wenn meines Wissens keines dieser frühen Bilder erhalten geblieben ist, oder von besonderer Bedeutung gewesen wäre, ausser eben, einer ganz eigenen Fantasie auf die Sprünge zu helfen. Auch in seiner Ambient Music werden ja Sounds aus gewohnten Begrenzungen von Zeitmass und Melodie gelöst! Ich erinnere mich auch, wie Brian, als ich ihn nach seiner frühen Kindheit befragte, von seinem Grossvater erzählte, der in einer ehemaligen Kapelle lebte, in der ein Priester Suizid begangen hatte. Und die Räume waren,  statt von Tapeten,  von Orgelpfeifen umstellt, so dass man dort immerzu von (der Vorstellung von) Klängen umgeben war. Schon dieser Raum der frühen Kindheit versinnbildlicht die Idee der „Ambient Music“, lang bevor Brian im Krankenhaus, ans Bett gefesselt, die viel zu leisen Klänge walisischer Harfenmusik hörte, sie sich mit dem Licht des Tages und dem Regen mischten.

This entry was posted on Donnerstag, 8. Juli 2021 and is filed under "Blog". You can follow any responses to this entry with RSS 2.0. You can leave a response here. Pinging is currently not allowed.

1 Comment

  1. Michael Engelbrecht:

    From an old interview of mine from 1990:

    Early experiences with sound

    ME: … I’m especially interested in the story about your grandfather living in this chapel and repairing old instruments.

    BE: Well the first place I ever lived was in this old chapel, because when I was born, my parents didn’t have their own house. And he lived in a chapel that had been deconsacrated – it had been a small catholic church and the priest had committed suicide in there, so it couldn’t be a church anymore. This is a rule in the catholic religion. Once somebody has committed a sin like that in a church, then it can’t be a church. So they sold the place and he bought it.

    He played many instruments himself, particular saxophone, but he also played bassoon and organ and so on. And he specialized in mending mechanical musical instruments. This old house, this chapel was full of mechanical organs, that type with fountains and with huge brass sheets that turn round, and mechanical pianos with piano rolls. So, yeah, the first instruments I ever saw, were the early synthesizers (laughs). That’s what they were, they were synthesizers, really. Or sequencers, should you say, something like that.

    Apart from that, this place, where he lived in, was a rather spooky place. Because it had a tiled floor and a lot of the tiles were loose. So everything squeaked as you walked and at night you’d here squeaks going on everywhere. It was one of those old buildings that crackled and creaked a lot at night, you know.

    Plus he had a lot of skeletons. He was a guy who collected everything, you know, all sorts of rubbish that he found: swords and flags and suits of armour and skeletons and old instruments. And the place was full of — every corner had something strange stuck in it, some piece of old stuff. And he had seventeen cats, and parrots, had a jackdaw, which is a type of bird, who steels things.

    It was a great place – for a child, it was a fantastic place.

    ME: And that way you were surrounded by these strange instruments. I found it very interesting that when I read the liner notes to DISCREET MUSIC, it was really a similar story, because you told you tend to be not a performer, but someone who is surrounded by sounds. And it was a very analogic story to your early experiences …

    BE: Quite interesting. I never thought of that before. It’s true. Well there’s actually a very good connection, which I hadn’t realized before: For the last 15 or 20 years of his life, he was building an organ himself. And he built it in the house, he didn’t build it on a frame. He just would put the pipes on the ceiling and hang some more pipes over on that wall, and in the end, the whole organ was all around him. It had over 600 pipes (laughs). And when he died, they just broke it up, because they sold the house, when he died. It was a great shame. But he had made an organ that he could sit inside, actually, that’s what it was. It was all around him.

Leave a comment

XHTML allowed tags: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

Mit dem Absenden akzeptiere ich die Übermittlung und Speicherung der Angaben, wie unter Datenschutz erläutert.


Manafonistas | Impressum | Kontakt | Datenschutz