Task: You have been fortunate enough to be invited to the 1955 Premiere of 'Le Marteau sans Maitre'.Write a review of whatyouexperience. I was to attend the premiere of 'Le Marteau sans Maitre’ , a new piece by the obscure Frenchman Pierre Boulez. I had acquired a ticket from an estranged business partner of mine, who had no desire to attend. I can’t say that I much cared to go along either but I though I might as I had nothing better to do with myself that evening. I entered the hall at seven o’clock precisely, had a glass of champagne that I bought from the strangest looking of waitresses named Bernadette I wondered if she might have been a little dim. I soon forgot about her when the man himself, Pierre Boulez passed me. I thought it odd that he should be out here before the concert had begun. He was smartly dressed old man; he didn’t look like the musical maverick that I had heard abut. After another glass of champagne I was, along with the rest of the crowd, was ushered into the main hall. I was anxious to hear this new sound, this… surreal serialism. The prospect of music without a set rhythm, without a key, yet notated perfectly… to be frank this notion scared me, was this really going to be music or just noise. Mr. Boulez stepped out onto the stage to introduce the piece. I couldn’t help but think looked rather small stood at the front by himself. He cleared his throat a few times before tapping the microphone to see if it was on. He cleared his throat once more, it was plain as day to anyone that the man was nervous. He loosened his stylish neckerchief and in a shaky voice announced that the concert was about to commence. The curtains raised and he began to announce the musician’s names: “Claude les Mans on ze xylophon, Fifi le Beuf plying ze flut, Jean le Bonne on ze guitar and Jambo DJurjembe for ze violeen.” It was hard to understand his thick French accent though that may have just been the champagne bubbles going to my head a little. He stepped back to the centre of the stage and the extravaganza began… After a few seconds of this atonal rhythmic mess I began to hear cries of discontent from within the crowd: “You are not in tune!”, “I say what have you guys been huffing?”, “I dare say these chaps are on LSD!” It felt as though someone was trying to drive nails into my ears. I, like many others in the crowd with me, had to stand up and get out before these foul tones incited some sort of uncontrollable rage. Mr. Boulez saw what was going on in the crowd stopped the precession and ran backstage. I walked up to the edge of the stage and stared Jambo DJurjembe in the eyes. He looked as though he just realized what type of monster he just birthed, he looked to the roof and shouted “mai gud haiv moosy on maie sool!” Shortly after he fell to his needs and began crying. Upon my exit I managed to catch Mr. Boulez stepping into a taxi. He looked pale and scared. I asked him: “Why? Why would you do this?” he looked at the floor then looked into my eyes, “I am soree monsieur.” He quickly hopped into the taxi and sped away. I sincerely hope that this style of erratic rhythms and discordant tones does not catch on, it certainly didn’t here.
I was to attend the premiere of 'Le Marteau sans Maitre’ , a new piece by the obscure Frenchman Pierre Boulez. I had acquired a ticket from an estranged business partner of mine, who had no desire to attend. I can’t say that I much cared to go along either but I though I might as I had nothing better to do with myself that evening.
I entered the hall at seven o’clock precisely, had a glass of champagne that I bought from the strangest looking of waitresses named Bernadette I wondered if she might have been a little dim. I soon forgot about her when the man himself, Pierre Boulez passed me. I thought it odd that he should be out here before the concert had begun. He was smartly dressed old man; he didn’t look like the musical maverick that I had heard abut.
After another glass of champagne I was, along with the rest of the crowd, was ushered into the main hall. I was anxious to hear this new sound, this… surreal serialism. The prospect of music without a set rhythm, without a key, yet notated perfectly… to be frank this notion scared me, was this really going to be music or just noise.
Mr. Boulez stepped out onto the stage to introduce the piece. I couldn’t help but think looked rather small stood at the front by himself. He cleared his throat a few times before tapping the microphone to see if it was on. He cleared his throat once more, it was plain as day to anyone that the man was nervous. He loosened his stylish neckerchief and in a shaky voice announced that the concert was about to commence. The curtains raised and he began to announce the musician’s names: “Claude les Mans on ze xylophon, Fifi le Beuf plying ze flut, Jean le Bonne on ze guitar and Jambo DJurjembe for ze violeen.” It was hard to understand his thick French accent though that may have just been the champagne bubbles going to my head a little. He stepped back to the centre of the stage and the extravaganza began…
After a few seconds of this atonal rhythmic mess I began to hear cries of discontent from within the crowd: “You are not in tune!”, “I say what have you guys been huffing?”, “I dare say these chaps are on LSD!” It felt as though someone was trying to drive nails into my ears.
I, like many others in the crowd with me, had to stand up and get out before these foul tones incited some sort of uncontrollable rage. Mr. Boulez saw what was going on in the crowd stopped the precession and ran backstage. I walked up to the edge of the stage and stared Jambo DJurjembe in the eyes. He looked as though he just realized what type of monster he just birthed, he looked to the roof and shouted “mai gud haiv moosy on maie sool!” Shortly after he fell to his needs and began crying.
Upon my exit I managed to catch Mr. Boulez stepping into a taxi. He looked pale and scared. I asked him: “Why? Why would you do this?” he looked at the floor then looked into my eyes, “I am soree monsieur.” He quickly hopped into the taxi and sped away. I sincerely hope that this style of erratic rhythms and discordant tones does not catch on, it certainly didn’t here.