Music And Texts For Festive Demonstrations

  1. Introduction
  2. Expulsion Of Water From The Windpipes
  3. Catatodine Wail
  4. Song Of Anxious Youth
  5. Hebephrenic Waltz
  6. Catatodine - 2
  7. Old Time
  8. Little Islands Of Joy And Sorrow
  9. Little Bourgeouis Waltz
  10. P.S.
  11. Coming Back From A Walk
Certain diversity of colors of music material, characteristic of this program does not create, however, a feeling of excessive stylistic surcharge; because all pieces are very exactly dramatistically lined and from within the space of 80 minutes a whole musical stage happening. The introduction, recherche in its harmonic contours, dying away in an infinite pianissimo, does not foreshadow whatsoever the further burst of catatonic fury and raging peristaltic paroxysm of catatodine, which sobbing and panting, disappears among monstrous conglomerations of grinding sound spaces, which lead us to "The Song of Anxious Youth", a monumentally pig-ironed (as all statues of the Father of All Peoples) Waltz of Great Empire, 1937 model, which in the course of many decades was whisking with its boots the ground for the future posterity. On the whole, this part of the program represents a psychiatric gallery of waltz-like types, from the Great Depressive Waltz and Hebephrenic, with its wriggling and typical flat-mindness to the quiet romantic dreaminess of "Little Islands of Joy And Sorrow" with hypnotic sound of ordinary little glass bottles for baby formulas.

A little aloof stands "A Little Bourgeouis Waltz" with bass part performed on green bottles of hungarian champaigne and with a certain dose of lucious prettiness of several songs by no longer young P. McCartney. "Coming back from a walk" (lyrics by G.Lorka) concluding the program is the only (at least for the time being) NAE's piece, where there is no negative palette of the group at all. The music is simple, genuine, of a real noble hallmark.

Song of Anxious Youth

banners banners banners
in accordion blood-stained bellows
of iron constructions
of pre-holiday vigils
of order
of badly-bruised and kid-gloved palms' brutal slaps
of polished high boots
of grand-piano's cover
of gala and festive steps
rejecting the paleness of stooping gait
of down cast eyes
of jail walk slowly rotating
the globe turning grey
with bitter net of wrinkles
girdled with even walls
in the cube of oblivion