"The Human Reality of Continuous Music"

The first question: is it possible or even necessary, to generate the real act of continuous playing before an audience? Because in the real act, the idiot player falls asleep to time, and what audience is interested in that? For the activation of a continuous playing, the most necessary elements have been fixed to constitute a "piece": already the full material has been notated from which the player must shape the singing of the music. The only fundamental element left unspecified is time. But time is the essential construct within melody. Melody is manifest in time, and for this continuous music, the player is singing by his time, tiny repeated melodies created within time. It is not a handing over of the decision-to-act, to a random occurrence principle which we yet do not understand nor even can ascertain. The player retains the will of "timing", the time of the action upon the melodic's motion. This Will simply accepts its Chance. Accept it, desire it, and as we are so close as to feel its presence, long for what is given from Chance. This art lies in the manufacture of ourselves as tools to fashion Song.

We the tool also have will. Let our will unite with that which generate this chance. As our organic reality, continuous music is the affirmation of the human will. It is our human consciousness as one more voice, singing gently without separation from the wind that moves us in our freedom. We are moving with it, even we who generate this motion as we are moved by it. Here if our interaction with it: we are shaping this music through time; the performance in private or in public of this act draws breath from the source of the player. Perhaps this tapping of the existence is necessarily a private act for the player. From within is released the wind of our Time, and we are sailing on it. By such penetration and giving of our time, the act shall know itself to be without time. We are using the fact of our being in all its elements to become music. The player's body and this beingness have turned to be the vocal chord of this singing voice. The body, empty and devoid of matter, becomes the transmission of the mind, singing in simple repeating melodies. This song of continuity is a free-song, for we are singing most simply. And in this simplicity belongs both intellect and emotion, fulfilling each other. The evident necessity remains that the two create together, in the overpowering and the succumbing of the form, that being given, is available for recognition.

Coming in this way to us through time, unaltered by noise, it requires effort to believe it; the belief lies in finding it. By acknowledging Chance Operations, there can be no use in analysing these events, for what is created is so self-evident that any analysis only leads one away from the nature of the created fact: and the nature of our song belongs to Nature, singing as given form from our natural environment and our physical existence. Striving away from this nature, the source of our present-day popular music struggles on the surface of music's nature. This surface only leads us into passages of known melody and definitive time. It inevitably takes one away from the reasonable pleasure of moving toward the new depths. We must take care in touching it. And the other formulation of music - what is referred to as "classical" Western music - it is true that this Beethoven's music has sung the melody of its key. This has been the nature, and will remain so, of that music and all its adherents: that only the key itself must be sung, devoid of psychology. There lies its beauty, and its supreme self sufficiency. How wonderful that we have been given this knowledge and capacity.

And here, I myself have found it unknowable. This may be called Inability. I confess that my music is unaccustomed to sing a given key: that the essential form of my work has been to sing the song of all 12 key at once. Together they form their own taste in this kitchen. And it is this, taste that I pursue and remain fixed to as my breath of life: that the music must be the product-resultant of the entire series of our key structure. Backwards and forwards, it moves static without essential change. The elements of a beginning and an end are without consequence, and meaningless to the form. The form is always as a slice taken from an eternal song, going on endlessly. It resides inside us as part of our living source: it is permeated by our being while itself permeating us. Just so, fulfilling the laws of its own perfect form, the geometric source of Chance formulation, melted into the time of its playing, is operating within the full scope of our being's Space, filling us as conceivable and factual. Life-made, it comes as a painless organism playing inside our occurrence of perception manifest in the living organism of our space, given Life, to be touched as by a cloth of no earthly fibre known yet in music. Uniting with its time, the translation from geometric form, embedded in Nature, will yield its perfect result.

Because they are so deeply rooted in our organic reality and in the refreshment of time, this continuous playing with its simplicity of tonality, and its technique, and geometric music, remain outside the interests of technological developments. Without negating human work with these electric machines, it is vital to retain the creation of this music within the human activity,  directly within our human intelligence and scope of thought. We must take part in the act of generating this music with our thought and technique, our whole living element. Modelled to our perception within geometry and mirrored in our capacity for the mathematic, this living reality of our organic thought can now be given an irrelevant shape on one plane: irrelevant because only through translation is there direct relationship between the geometric shape, harmony, melody, chance, and time. It is impressionistic only in that the shape and concepts within it already bear an emotion and this emotion remains as an indefinable dimension to the music. By the form of its geometric coherency and structured of controlled possibility and regulation, the music is the confiscation of its time elemental by key, melody and existence. The whole as unity, prosecuted to make actual Chance within time by performance, will never yield the same perception of melody and supporting harmony as found in the more prevalent music of our day. Instead, the melody, given freedom within time, is neither attached to nor supported by the surrounding elements of the music. All the sounds shall occur together as thrown in succession of their order by Chance and time, releasing time, melody and coincidental harmony from the direct psychological planning of the composer.

In this freedom, the listener and player are united together by one acknowledgement: that what will event from the "concert" will surprise both of them in time - by their own presence with in it. This organic union would be impossible without setting each tone free from the historic key structures and from the psychology of music as manifest until now. Impossible, too, without recognising the unique value and free existence of each of the 12 tones in all their possible registers. This music involves all pitches as 12 distinct entities, rooted into each other not as 12-tone systems, but as disparate unities component to the complete enharmonic systems: the 12 modelled after the one perfect generality available to all. Each key contains in it the reference to each and all of the other 11 keys. Each tone already contains in it all the other possible tones of this system. Given this harmonic tonal system united with technique, we have so much left to say with it. This is simply the unity of our tradition that is the foundation of my work, the element that is let loose to roam freely over time so that this cloth of unknown fibre can flutter openly throughout the reaches of our existence, kept in motion freely in this wind of our source. In this whisper there are elements unspoken of: that being given this life to each of us, is the essential element unspeakable, and we, sharing in its voicelessness, perhaps can grant to each other room to share our time.