1998, Stimme, f, vb, Cimbalom, 20′
This is a complex subject, despite it doesn’t seem at all. It is a story from my father’s childhood. I wanted my sister to read the text. She is a great jazz singer but not so great in reading. But it is her, which counts more, to me, as she seems to me having more in her of all those past events and stories. The drama itself was more in-depth developed in my piece Der Rorschachtext, following some of my father’s accounts in his memory, now faded. Also earlier on I think he bettered it up a bit. Don’t we all do this? No?
It was played on the occasion when I got a prize for composition from the Vorarlberg Land. Where I was born and spent my childhood. Quite proud was I, but in those days the right-wing government was in rule and a many artists who received prizes or scholarships refused to shake hand with the minister of culture of that period. I wasn’t sure what the hack this had to do with my piece, but around ten years later I was doing my series of music theatre pieces about the „Third Reich“ period and looking into that „barrel without a ground“ you understand the uncanny undercurrents between arts and politics. There isn’t really a plan A how to react.