What would you say if you were given the opportunity to watch a performance of a pipe organ in Berlin’s most profound architectural building? I was given this chance on a recent Sunday. I wandered in, out of the chilly gray morning cold that hovered around 5 degrees Celsius (or rather, just over 40 degrees Fahrenheit). On the inside of the concert hall, which was plastered on the outside with a gold-plated aluminum, the temperature returned the sensation to the hands. The hall was modeled after a nouveau version of an amphitheatre including separate decks orienting the gaze towards the central area of performance. I was reminded of walking into an enormous egg that was lying on its side. A number of wooden-panel sails hung from the ceiling in order to improve the acoustic effect.
The actual performance was quite impressive, not only because of the massive size of the pipes in the organ, but also due to the unconventional tune played by the aficionado. He continued to exercise the different pipes as though they were muscles, running them through a mixture of classical genres that reminded me of the night on bald mountain, to surprisingly atonal junctures that might have been played in Space Odyssey: 2001. He played for just over 90 minutes, and although I was surprised to be intrigued for so long, I gave myself a pat on the back and walked out afterwards.
The very next Sunday, I made my way with a few classmates over to the Berliner Dom, built of stone, in the downtown (Mitte) portion of Berlin. The building itself had outlasted a fire which had given the facade a new appearance, and although one might have thought it to be appalling, the construction which is consistently refurbishing blocks around Berlin had recently restored the gilded dome on top. The sun had set long before we entered, but we quietly made our way up the stairs as the songs were sung for advent.
Throughout the semester, I also did my research on which bands would be appearing in the city. As mentioned in a previous post, I happened to catch Animal Collective playing at a deactivated power plant in East Berlin, early in the semester. Soon afterwards I saw TV on the Radio play at a small venue in Kreuzberg. In December I saw Ratatat playing at a bar on the banks of the Spree River. This, I eventually came to realize, was a bit of an insular tactic. I was hiding myself from truly drinking in the music, the lifeblood of the Europeans. Now this is not to say that people in Europe cannot live without music - I am sure there are plenty that do. Nor do I claim that music can be judged objectively. But music is also one of those conversation-starting topics, like food or weather. The point I am trying to make is that you need to show interest in the boring oxygen that floats around, because if you were to just take it for granted then our world might be a very different place. Where the hell would you be if it wasn't for Beethoven? Lennon? Sting? Bono? (Insert favorite musician here).
On that 'note', I also caught up with a bit of the Russian opera. The name of the Musical escapes me, but I will be certain to look it up if you see me and ask me again. In Paris, there was a Techno Club really that really introduced me to an interesting electronic variety. In one of our classes, as we placed emphasis on the underground rock scene of Berlin in recent decades and the contemporary era, we spun a record as would a regular Disc Jockey. It was very fun. Out of the whole experience, I came away with a deeper understanding that the United States may hold dominion over my musical choices for the time being, but with the vast diversity of peoples around the world it is only natural that they would have their own tale to tell, and their own song to write.
"I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and I crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see." ~ Jimi Hendrix
