DRAHT 4
(1989)

Möslang / Guhl
by Ralph Hug
[…]
What is particularly interesting at this point is the “Konzert für 1 Draht, 2 Spieler und
Tonabnehmer” (Concert for 1 Wire, 2 Players, and Pickups), which took place at the
Grabenhalle in St. Gallen on January 30, 1987. Reference is already made in the title to
the primitiveness of the instruments used—nothing more than a string with pickups.
And on that concert evening, there was indeed little to see at first. Only on second
glance did one notice that a thin piano wire made of spring steel with a length of over
twenty meters spanned the room from wall to wall, mounted at head height with two
supporting fixtures held by tensioning screws. The long wire ran over two pickups at
each end; however, unusually, they were the tiny loudspeakers of those inexpensive
electronics in the well-known singing birthday and congratulation cards available in any
department store, in which programmed chips play back an electronic melody when
they are flipped open. Alienated from their original purpose, the pickups transmitted
the sound of the vibrating string to four loudspeakers distributed in the space via a
small amplifier. This was the only instrumental equipment for the concert, which would
nonetheless have remained soundless without the actions of the two musicians, who
stood on a platform and were able to constantly alter the vibrating of the string using
their shoulders and hands. Simultaneously, they also made the string vibrate using pieces
of wood and metal and conventional violin bows, and through plucking, hitting, rubbing,
and strumming. Norbert Möslang and Andy Guhl faced each other on the platform at
varying degrees of distance, engaged in dynamic movement as freely improvising musicians,
yet linked in direct interaction: the wire could not be manipulated autonomously, rather
the output of sound remained mediated and dependent on the simultaneously performed
actions of the other. The wire not only created a direct connection in the hall,
it also welded the two musicians together in musical communication for better or worse.
The dynamic movements of the two players were possible precisely because
the wire was so exceptionally long. They were able to move back and forth
from one wall to the other, directly affecting the sound and turning the play
of sound into a theater piece at one and the same time. Among the most
confusing aspects of the concert was the great difference between what could
be perceived optically and what acoustically. It was only by surrendering
acquired habits that a meaningful link could be established between what
was heard and what was seen. The soundscapes from the vibrations of the
string developed in such a complex, multilayered, and dynamic way that it
seemed nearly impossible to trace them back to a mere wire as their source.
One would more likely have thought of elaborate, complicated electronics.
But it was not so: the spectrum of sounds and noises — with the finest of
nuances from dull reverberations to high-pitched whines in thousand-fold
overlays — came from a simple string, arguably one of the most primordial
means of producing sound. This bizarre polyphony was made possible at
a fundamental level by the pickups, which were able to give rise to the whole
astounding performance. As an electro-acoustic interface for the concert,
they formed the true gateway to a world of never-before-heard cascades of
sound, which poured forth into the space for about one hour in uninterrupted
succession.
Excerpt from an article originally published in Künstler-Paare II,
ed. Paolo Bianchi, special thematic issue, Kunstforum International
107 (1990), pp. 173 – 175.