I don’t think there is anything to “believe” in the Licht mythology. Stockhausen personally may believe in the Urantia book, but Licht is not a direct translation of the book into opera; it is just one of the many sources of inspiration.

As I wrote elsewhere:
“The message of Licht does not appear to revolve around particular religious beliefs. Rather, it is concerned with universal concepts regarding human nature, the relationship of humans with God and the battle of spirits and minds. As the framework for this message, the opera cycle uses a specific spiritual mythology, created from familiar religious elements – as an example, the "mystical union of Michael and Eve" from Sonntag has parallels in the teachings of "mystical union", e.g., of the soul with God, in several of the major world religions, but is not found as such in any religion (and, by the way, not in the Urantia Book, either).”

That mythology may be viewed as somewhat similar to Tolkien’s mythology in Lord of the Rings which is also not a “belief system” (Tolkien was Catholic).

I agree with you, the sonic/structural genius of Stockhausen’s work has never gone away. And those who find Licht mere spiritual mumbo-jumbo now have the chance to go beyond that and explore the new cycle Klang (Sound), the 24 Hours of the Day.

Last year at the summer courses in Kürten we had the opportunity to experience the first 4 works of the cycle (“First Hour” through “Fourth Hour”); three of these are now on CD.

The 1st part (the “First Hour”) is called Himmelfahrt (Ascension) and is for organ, soprano and tenor (or synthesizer, soprano and tenor). The two hands of the keyboard player play in different tempi (Antonio Perez-Abellan’s performance on the synthesizer was a remarkable achievement). The music features concrete motivic signposts, yet at the same time quite a bit of abstraction in the rise and fall of the melodic lines (contour is more important than “thematic variation”). The work has quickly become a favorite of mine, in fact, something of an ongoing addiction (it is on CD). The variation of the material is of the highest, most engaging quality, and I consider this one of Stockhausen's strongest works.

At this point it does more for me than the “Second Hour” (also on CD), called Freude (Joy), which however has quickly become the favorite of several of the course participants, and the performance of which also was the greatest public success during the courses. It is for two harps, and the two female players sing as well. The sung text is “Veni Creator Spiritus”, an ancient hymn of the church to the Holy Spirit (talking about more established spiritual traditions here). The two harps join up to one chromatic instrument, as it were. It is very good and appealing music, for sure, but it is just that I personally have not yet warmed up to the level of enthusiasm that I experience about Himmelfahrt.

The “Third Hour” is called Natürliche Dauern (Natural Durations) and is for piano solo. During the courses, two pianists played in alternation with one another the first fifteen pieces of the set (there are 24 in total, but the last nine still have to be premiered, as a Lisbon commission]. The first half of those fifteen pieces is more of an experiment on the inner structure of sounds (not unlike Weltraum, the electronic music of Freitag aus Licht, but naturally quite different in character). The second half features more “conventional” piano playing (if one can speak of conventional with Stockhausen, that is), and to my considerable excitement some of the pieces there clearly seem to be among the very best piano pieces of Stockhausen’s output (at least, as I can judge from one performance, the CD will come out later this year).

The “Fourth Hour” is called Himmelstür (Heaven’s Door), and is for a percussionist and a little girl (she has not much more to do than walk through the door once it opens). At first, during the courses, I thought it was clearly the weakest of the four Klang works that we heard, an opinion shared by others – it seemed too repetitive, and the dramatic, even theatrical gestures of the percussionist seemed at odds with the music’s limited content (he “bangs” with sticks on a door made from several wood plates of different timbre, and finally he performs on a set of cymbals and hi-hats). Later I heard that the piece came to Stockhausen in a dream – oh nice, I thought, this explains why I don’t enjoy it particularly: one of Stockhausen’s “dreaded” dream pieces that so far have not done too much for me (I love most of the composer's output though). I kind of like, but not that much, Musik im Bauch, Trans has never clicked with me (I know, Richard, you mentioned it was one of your favorites), and I do not yet find the Helicopter Quartet entirely convincing, even though it does have its fascinating aspects. I guess the perceived lack of self-reflexivity that Ian mentions, and which is rarely a problem for me, does become somewhat of an issue in the “dream pieces” where Stockhausen claims to simply write up what the dream told him.

I ordered the CD of Himmelstür only because I was already in the business of ordering the other two, Himmelfahrt and Freude. At first I made a few half-hearted attempts to listen for a few minutes, but the music did not really grab me. Then, after listening to a jazz-rock drum solo by Bill Cobham, I put it on as a contrast, and at once I was able to listen into all the rhythmic and timbral subtlety with ease. The patterns are intricate, and far from repetitive, really – on the contrary, I find it now thoroughly fascinating how varied the superficially so alike patterns actually are. It is just that this work is one of the many instances where Stockhausen goes to the extremes of what music can be, and in this case he tries to squeeze the most out of a limited set of musical gestures. Once you get into the music, it is hypnotizing – the work now has fast become one of my favorites as well, and at least from this music the issue of the Stockhausen “dream pieces” has shifted into a more favorable light. In fact, I now find Himmelstür truly outstanding music.

Welcome, Al. Good to have a report from Kürten. What I've heard so far of Klang, that is to say the excerpts posted on stockhausen.org, has been quite interesting and I expect I'll be utting in an order before long.

Agreed, the "philosophy" of LICHT isn't a "belief system" as such, but I've never had any time for Lord of the Rings either, or in general the idea of human archetypes, either in religious or astrological or (post-)Jungian contexts, and Stockhausen clearly is very interested in these things.

I agree, ultimately the result is the important thing. While I do not deny that a perfomer may need to understand the serial structure of a work, as Richard suggests, as a listener I could care less about serial organization if the music wouldn’t simply sound that great. I was always under the impression that Stockhausen’s music was just an academic exercise, like so many others, and I was shocked when in 1999 I started to actually listen to the music and discovered that it was so colorful, immediate and viscerally gripping.

Stockhausen himself clearly sees the essence of his music in what can be experienced by listening, not in the theory behind it. In a conversation with me in the summer of 2001 he was not impressed with music theorists who are “only interested in numbers” – apparently, with “numbers” he meant the serial proportions (of course, there are music theorists who are excellent and enthusiastic listeners as well).
 
In the Q & A session following one of the afternoon composition seminars on Sirius (July 31) during the 2000 summer courses in Kürten, I asked the composer how important it was that the listener recognizes the formulas. I said that at times the melodies are obvious, and at other times I do not hear them at all, for example in Unsichtbare Chöre (Invisible Choirs).

Stockhausen answered that sometimes he composed the formulas in such a way that they stretch over a long period of time, an hour for example. He said if a single musical event lasts more than eight seconds, the human mind has difficulties in putting a sequence of such events into connection. Therefore it was no surprise if we cannot perceive the formulas anymore when they move so slowly. Our ears have to get accustomed to go beyond the normal scheme of exposition, development of a theme and so on. He intended his music to help expand our awareness beyond that and in some works he had composed the formulas over such long stretches of time, not for present listeners, but for future generations to be heard. If you can compose a formula over a period of one or two minutes, you also can compose it over the length of an hour. He commented on his own statement: “Why not?” He added that Unsichtbare Chöre, which I had mentioned, is a work where the superformula of Licht is stretched over the entire duration of the music, about 50 minutes.

Furthermore, Stockhausen pointed out that in his everyday life he was surrounded by all kinds of persons, ranging from musicians, who can recognize every detail in his music, to people who cannot hear any formulas at all, but who all like his music.

After the evening concert I asked Stockhausen (in German): “Does your answer in the afternoon imply that any music lover can appreciate your music sufficiently even if he or she does not hear the formulas at all?” With vivid facial expression and voice, his firm reply was: “Ja selbstverständlich!” (“Of course, absolutely!”) Then I asked him, but what about the symbolic meaning of the formulas? As an example I mentioned the episode towards the end of Michaels Reise where Michael (trumpet) and Eve (basset-horn) kind of learn each other’s formulas. Being able to hear the formulas would be necessary to grasp the symbolic meaning of that passage. Stockhausen answered: “Yet you can also understand the symbolic meaning intuitively.”

For me personally, emotional impact and intellectual understanding go hand in hand to a certain extent*). My favorite example, out of many possible ones, to explain why this is the case: If you do not intellectually recognize a variation of a melody as such, that is, in its relation to the original melody, how can you emotionally appreciate its beauty (as variation, not just as melody in itself)?

Understanding of music thus can considerably heighten its emotional impact. Yet I do not pursue intellectual understanding for its own sake.

(I am just a listener, not a musician, not even one of the amateur kind; my profession is biochemist.)

*) and yes, in Stockhausen’s case that includes for a few works – yet not always – some very basic understanding of the serial organization. However, I had already enjoyed many of the works before I had any clue about serial organization at all.

Well to-day we wish to delve into the Stockhausen phenomenon in rather more detail than has hitherto been the case. Long experience has taught us that a man's choice of trousers provides an infallible indication of his whole character and world-view. And in reply 39 above http://r3ok.myforum365.com/index.php?topic=1166.msg35580#msg35580 we have already had occasion to bring out the meaning of Stockhausen's startlingly courageous all-white outfit.

To-day we find him at Belfast, a city where his music is evidently much revered:
But here too his trousers worry us! Just look at them! Not all crackpots wear funny trousers - that is logical - but we can say can we not that every one who does wear such funny trousers must be a kind of crackpot. And many crackpots have their followers and their cult we know, who "all like" their productions.

Be that as it may, we have hitherto in this thread read interesting and sometimes illuminating analyses of the Eleventh, Tenth, and Ninth Piano Pieces. So let us now drop the subject of trousers and turn to a detailed consideration of the Eighth Piano Sonata (or "Piece" as he will have it). In passing we may observe that the piano is a well-designed instrument, in that it is difficult for musical crackpots to pervert its use in too extreme a manner. The worst they can do just about is to play it with their fists or elbows. (We discount those loony Americans who attach clothes-pegs to the strings.) But no matter what they do to it it retains its character of the struck string and its melodious sound. Silly people have contrived to do much worse with other instruments such as the violin, flute, clarinet, trombone, etc.

So the first aspect then of this Eighth Piece which strikes us is its extreme brevity. Only one minute and forty-nine seconds! Can that be enough for anything of a worthwhile musical nature, even for a disciple of Webern?

And indeed at a first hearing the piece does sound rather like Webern, but (surprisingly) less organised than Webern's productions rather than more. There are many isolated notes in extreme registers, very few chords, and (this is the point) no melody to speak of, no harmony to speak of, and (therefore) no counterpoint to speak of.

Let us listen to it a second and third time in an attempt to make sense of it. Let us in particular try to retain passages in the mind and look out for relationships with other passages. And let us look out too for passages which are in themselves and in isolation beautiful.

Well we hear that at the thirty-second mark a passage of a character rather different to that of the opening begins, and it continues in that same rather different vein for all of ten seconds. We also hear the suggestion of "ding-dong bells" at one minute fifteen seconds; they last for at least ten seconds, so here there is a resemblance to Bax's First Piano Sonata (an infinitely greater work of course).

We are making a little progress are we not, so let us listen a fourth and a fifth time. What wonders might we not hear! Well during the first ten seconds we gain the distinct impression of something turning round and if not of a dashing off backwards in a Webernian way at least of notes repeating (in the same register). That is another step forward - or perhaps not, because with only twelve notes they are almost certain to be repeated sooner or later. But when they are repeated in the same octave that is perhaps significant - or of course perhaps not. There seem to be a number of sections, seven to be not precise but more probably imprecise, and separated from each other by either violent flourishes or long-held bass notes:

1) (0:00 to 0:25) a sort of double exposition, mainly in isolated notes. There is a hint of 3/4 time; even of an old German nursery-tune.

2) (0:30 to 0:45) two variations, or perhaps a second subject, but definitely a style different to that of the first section. There is a more flowing line, with a sort of accompaniment, even.

3) (0:46 to 0:59) a sort of coda (to a sort of exposition).

4) (1:00 to 1:15) rather like the first section again, but this time with chords instead of the single notes.

5) (1:15 to 1:25) this is the ding-dong bells section, quite violent too in parts it is.

6) (1:26 to 1:35) this section is the most lyrical is it not, and while we have not yet detected any absolute beauty in it that may come with twenty more hearings as everything begins to come together.

7) (1:36 to the end) a short coda again, rather in the style of the beginning.

Although the thing is indubitably rather extraordinary it is not entirely unpleasant. Can piano music ever be unpleasant? But we have just one criticism: we do wish this curious composer had paid more heed to and learned more from the late piano works of his great German predecessor, Johann Brahms.

Well can those Members who know the work well tell us what more there is to be got out of it should we decide to persevere?

You beat me to it RB, that was what I was going to suggest...! 

We tend to find Member Grew's description of Stockhausen's eighth piano piece of somewhat greater interest than his aesthetic musings on the latter gentleman's trousers (and would kindly request that Member Grew also factor into his account the issue of the particular industries producing trousers for Stockhausen and others, and indeed the working practices that may have been involved in such a process, especially in out-of-town factories situated in India, Mexico, the Philippines, and elsewhere; Member Pace wishes to suggest that the aforementioned composer's choices in relation to this aspect of trouser production may be of greater consequence than the aesthetic sense which is a priority for Member Grew).

But we are somewhat struck by what Member Grew chooses to define as the 'ding-dong bells' passage in Stockhausen's eight piano piece - in light of this description, may we ask to which of the various settings down of the piece to disc Member Grew has been listening? Member Pace would like to point out that in the score the perceptibly recognisable pattern first of an A# followed by an F# below, in varying right-hand configurations, then an F# followed by a C# below, is embroiled within certain slightly gnarled figurations, as well as being tempered by some parallel left-hand writing, in which one may partake of an upward pattern of a G# followed by a G above, repeated twice, then similarly for a B, followed by an A# above, then afterwards an A natural above that (which occurs in both iterations). We have never to date heard a 'ding-dong bell' that produces a regular pattern of three tones. Moving on from this troublesome matter: these figurations, we would like to suggest, emerge of their own accord from the more complex gestures, a simple process of pitch fixing which those familiar with serial and post-serial music will have often encountered. But does the performer on this particular recording foreground such patterns more than is indicated by the dynamics in the score, so that they might assume the role of a pair of Hauptstimmen? Through the use of additional pitches and figurations, we would like to suggest that Stockhausen achieves the affect of a form of distortion or interference, as if the bells in question had been processed as part of the composition of a work of musique concrète. This startling achievement is not, we believe, something we would find in the music of Arnold Bax, or other composers active during the twilight years of the British Empire. But with respect to the evocation of 'ding-dong bells', we wish to ask Member Grew if he is familiar of the conclusion of the work ...den 24.xii.1931 by Mauricio Kagel?

We are led to wonder whether the passage Member Grew presents from the Bax Sonata in reality amounts to much more than simply a filling out of a static harmonic field, in a manner enacted with much greater subtlety and detail by Mussorgsky, Debussy or Messiaen? Is this not what is sometimes known as the 'spatialisation of musical time'?

As regards Member Grew's comments on Mauricio Kagel, we would like to suggest he re-explore such works as Transicion II or Anagrama or Musik für Renaisance-Instrumente, and tell whether a purely comedic interpretation could ever do justice to such works? On the other hand, it is possible that Member Grew may have had the misfortune to encounter too many British performances of these and other works which have a tendency to do what is known in the acting profession as 'hamming them up'?

Indeed so, but usually for the effect of caricature or presenting the grotesque, rather than simply to elicit giggles (as a certain individual currently resident in the former Soviet Union would seem to prefer with respect to Handel ). Also, rarely to the exclusion of all else, which this member has found in some of the aformentioned performances.