teilmöbliert, fünftes stockwerk. fensterblick in einen grau geschichteten himmel. drei-farben-herbst und dunkelheit, die sich ab vier uhr nachmittags hinter die horizontale der dächer senkt. das siebte zimmer in elf monaten. man glaubt sich die anfänge nicht mehr.

An der Fischtheke versuchte er, sein Deutschsein durch eine Frage an den spanischen Fischmann zu verbergen. Er fragte etwas in der Art "Du Schuppen hinter Fisch machen?" und erfuhr "... klar, die Schuppe mach isch Ihne wech." Danach beriet er in der Auswahl eines geeigneten Käses und ließ an der Kasse den Vortritt.

"geschichte des politischen timing"

"Fashion is not part of our contemporary photography world," Ropac says. "If you take the top six German photographers, their work is all about nature, architecture and portraiture. Clothes don't play any part, not even as a pattern."

At the entrance to the auditorium, ticket-holders were greeted by the usual legal-release placard: “This event is being taped for broadcast on television. If you do not wish to appear in this broadcast”—with your hair a fright, mistress in tow, brown necktie, or playing hooky from your business dinner, the implication goes—“you should not attend this event.” Before the show started, a disembodied voice asked the audience to ignore “the call of nature” during the speeches and musical numbers, so that shots of the hall would not catch people getting up and sitting down. What ensued was a sort of half-Surrealist, half-Cubist musical presentation: widely interspersed songs (the “concert” lasted four and a half hours); sepulchral silences; informal banter among the participants; TV cameras on booms repositioning themselves like mantises; artificially produced fog, which protectively humidified the acoustic instruments, shrouding long, eerie blank periods onstage while the TV crew readied itself for the next number; flubs by Tim Robbins that he redid on the spot (he kept pronouncing “phone” as “feunne,” like Inspector Clouseau). At one point, Robbins had to deliver a phantom re-introduction of Jones, Kristofferson, and Nelson, who had started the show, with “Big River,” and the audience, without being cued, gave a standing ovation to the arrival onstage of nobody at all. Like so many extras, people knew what they were supposed to do.

sander, from butt 8

Ludwig Wittgenstein's only known musical work had its world premiere last week in Cambridge. It is called, according to the title that he had pencilled above his two-line score, Leidenschaftlich (in English, "Passionate"). At four bars, it lasts less than 30 seconds and is little more than a powerful, fiery flourish.

lvmh wird nervös

"es wird zeit, dass deine knechte dir den rücken kehren. den guten herrn, den finden sie geschwind, wenn sie erst ihre eigenen herren sind." - erwähnte einer vorhin eine inszenierung von brechts herr puntila und sein knecht matti, in der verschiedene puntilas und circa 15 mattis auf der bühne gestanden hätten, undeutlich aufgelöst in brachialgeschrei, kakophones klassenkampfgemache. so in etwa könnte ich mir auch ein konzert der slavoj zizek big band vorstellen.

The upshot of all this is clear enough. Even with George Harrison rapidly turning into a seething ball of anti-McCartney resentment, John Lennon momentarily lost to heroin, Yoko Ono sitting threateningly next to him and a film crew recording their every argument and belch, The Beatles were brilliant. Oh, and one other thought: this is the last thing Phil Spector needs, eh?

stimmt alles, brilliant.