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.