SKU: PR.114420410

UPC: 680160687015.

In one of the dedicatory poems to his verse play The Shadowy Waters (1906), William Butler Yeats asks: Is Eden far away...? Do our woods and winds and verponds cover more quiet woods, More shining winds, more star-glimmering ponds? Is Eden out of time and out of space? How do you answer such questions? We have only the vague elusive promptings of our own mysterious, troubled hearts to tell us that the Eden we long for is there, somewhere beyond the physical world which frames our existence, in another realm of different dimensions. And - what is most painful to admit - that it is closed to us in the form in which we live and breathe, even if at times we do have intimations..., Yeats is telling us that this paradise, this Eden we yearn for is here - present even if invisible, palpable even if intangible. In his Second Symphony, Mahler meets an angel who tells him he can't get into heaven, he's locked out. The news is shattering. What follows is an inconsolable sorrowing, the same sorrowing that comes when we wake to the realization that we too are locked out of Eden. Eden is the heaven of our longing and desire for release from pain and suffering. Eden is the image in our restive minds that reflects the reconciled, resolved, quiescent state of soul we hunger for. But Eden eludes -because it is not a place. It is a state of soul which answers none of the illusory, hampering conditions that shape and bind us to the real world of our bodies, our appetites, our passions, and our beliefs. I have turned Yeats' question Is Eden out of time and out of space? into its own answering. However near we may sense its presence at times, Eden remains unreachable, ungraspable, unknowable, unthinkable. It forever eludes us. I wrote this music the way I did to shut out -with quietness and otherworldliness - the clamor and clang of the raucous Garish Day, to turn away its tumult and noise, to negate its stridency and chaos. Perhaps in the cleansing stillness and blessing of this emptied-out state of soul, Eden, through still hidden, may not be so far way; though still unreachable, may be close enough almost to touch.
In one of the dedicatory poems to his verse play “The Shadowy Waters” (1906), William Butler Yeats asks:“Is Eden far away…?Do our woods and windsand verponds cover morequiet woods,More shining winds,more star-glimmeringponds?Is Eden out of timeand out of space?”How do you answer such questions? We have only the vague elusive promptings of our own mysterious, troubled hearts to tell us that the Eden we long for is there, somewhere beyond the physical world which frames our existence, in another realm of different dimensions. And – what is most painful to admit – that it is closed to us in the form in which we live and breathe, even if at times we do have intimations…, Yeats is telling us that this paradise, this Eden we yearn for is here – present even if invisible, palpable even if intangible.In his Second Symphony, Mahler meets an angel who tells him he can’t get into heaven, he’s locked out. The news is shattering. What follows is an inconsolable sorrowing, the same sorrowing that comes when we wake to the realization that we too are locked out of Eden.Eden is the heaven of our longing and desire for release from pain and suffering. Eden is the image in our restive minds that reflects the reconciled, resolved, quiescent state of soul we hunger for. But Eden eludes –because it is not a place. It is a state of soul which answers none of the illusory, hampering conditions that shape and bind us to the real world of our bodies, our appetites, our passions, and our beliefs.I have turned Yeats’ question “Is Eden out of time and out of space?” into its own answering. However near we may sense its presence at times, Eden remains unreachable, ungraspable, unknowable, unthinkable. It forever eludes us.I wrote this music the way I did to shut out –with quietness and otherworldliness – the clamor and clang of the raucous “Garish Day,” to turn away its tumult and noise, to negate its stridency and chaos. Perhaps in the cleansing stillness and blessing of this emptied-out state of soul, Eden, through still hidden, may not be so far way; though still unreachable, may be close enough almost to touch.

SKU: PR.416414480

UPC: 680160611232. 8.5 x 11 inches.

SKU: PR.11442041S

UPC: 680160687022.

In one of the dedicatory poems to his verse play The Shadowy Waters (1906), William Butler Yeats asks: Is Eden far away...? Do our woods and winds and verponds cover more quiet woods, More shining winds, more star-glimmering ponds? Is Eden out of time and out of space? How do you answer such questions? We have only the vague elusive promptings of our own mysterious, troubled hearts to tell us that the Eden we long for is there, somewhere beyond the physical world which frames our existence, in another realm of different dimensions. And - what is most painful to admit - that it is closed to us in the form in which we live and breathe, even if at times we do have intimations..., Yeats is telling us that this paradise, this Eden we yearn for is here - present even if invisible, palpable even if intangible. In his Second Symphony, Mahler meets an angel who tells him he can't get into heaven, he's locked out. The news is shattering. What follows is an inconsolable sorrowing, the same sorrowing that comes when we wake to the realization that we too are locked out of Eden. Eden is the heaven of our longing and desire for release from pain and suffering. Eden is the image in our restive minds that reflects the reconciled, resolved, quiescent state of soul we hunger for. But Eden eludes -because it is not a place. It is a state of soul which answers none of the illusory, hampering conditions that shape and bind us to the real world of our bodies, our appetites, our passions, and our beliefs. I have turned Yeats' question Is Eden out of time and out of space? into its own answering. However near we may sense its presence at times, Eden remains unreachable, ungraspable, unknowable, unthinkable. It forever eludes us. I wrote this music the way I did to shut out -with quietness and otherworldliness - the clamor and clang of the raucous Garish Day, to turn away its tumult and noise, to negate its stridency and chaos. Perhaps in the cleansing stillness and blessing of this emptied-out state of soul, Eden, through still hidden, may not be so far way; though still unreachable, may be close enough almost to touch.
In one of the dedicatory poems to his verse play “The Shadowy Waters” (1906), William Butler Yeats asks:“Is Eden far away…?Do our woods and windsand verponds cover morequiet woods,More shining winds,more star-glimmeringponds?Is Eden out of timeand out of space?”How do you answer such questions? We have only the vague elusive promptings of our own mysterious, troubled hearts to tell us that the Eden we long for is there, somewhere beyond the physical world which frames our existence, in another realm of different dimensions. And – what is most painful to admit – that it is closed to us in the form in which we live and breathe, even if at times we do have intimations…, Yeats is telling us that this paradise, this Eden we yearn for is here – present even if invisible, palpable even if intangible.In his Second Symphony, Mahler meets an angel who tells him he can’t get into heaven, he’s locked out. The news is shattering. What follows is an inconsolable sorrowing, the same sorrowing that comes when we wake to the realization that we too are locked out of Eden.Eden is the heaven of our longing and desire for release from pain and suffering. Eden is the image in our restive minds that reflects the reconciled, resolved, quiescent state of soul we hunger for. But Eden eludes –because it is not a place. It is a state of soul which answers none of the illusory, hampering conditions that shape and bind us to the real world of our bodies, our appetites, our passions, and our beliefs.I have turned Yeats’ question “Is Eden out of time and out of space?” into its own answering. However near we may sense its presence at times, Eden remains unreachable, ungraspable, unknowable, unthinkable. It forever eludes us.I wrote this music the way I did to shut out –with quietness and otherworldliness – the clamor and clang of the raucous “Garish Day,” to turn away its tumult and noise, to negate its stridency and chaos. Perhaps in the cleansing stillness and blessing of this emptied-out state of soul, Eden, through still hidden, may not be so far way; though still unreachable, may be close enough almost to touch.

SKU: CF.CY2207F

ISBN 9780825875526. UPC: 798408075521. 11 x 14 inches.

SKU: PR.ECH0543

SKU: BR.EB-9397

ISBN 9790004188712. 9 x 12 inches.

World premieres:I version for flute: Wiesbaden, 1972II version for piano: Nyon, 1972III version for var. insts.: Cologne, May 29, 1976VI version for accordeon: Fribourg, June 25, 1987VIII version for violoncello Tokyo: October 14, 1989X version for organ: Stuttgart, March 28, 2018This work (A Breath of the Untimely) was first written for solo Flute and dedicated to Aurele Nicolet. Its bears the subtitle Lament on the Loss of Musical Thought - some Madrigals for Solo Flute or Flute with any other Instruments. This serves as a playing instruction but doubles at the same time as an outmoded programme: it refers back to the musical origin of the opening lamenting motif, a tradition which was once of its time but is not of our time - namely the Lamento genre which gave the title to the Chaconne in Purcell's opera Dido and Aeneas. Almost simultaneously I wrote a second version for Piano (for Piano one-and-a-half hands), which already formulates possible approaches for the performer, in some detail, to the indicated, quasi-canonic version of the piece in the programme. The multiple version Ein Hauch von Unzeit III realizes a concrete version of a formal state which floats between strict canon and aleatoric principles: each of the musicians who are spread throughout the hall introduces their own idiomatic translation of the flute part. And so the music exists, omnipresent, not only spatially throughout the hall, but also formally in a sort of fluctuating simultaneity. For that reason, it was my express wish to any potential interpreter that they should construct entirely their own version of the piece. A healthy number of musicians have responded to my suggestion - versions of the piece have now been made for guitar (Cornelius Schwehr, Gunther Schneider), accordion (Hugo Noth), double bass (Fernando Grillo), violin (Hansheinz Schneeberger), viola, violoncello, and double bass (trio basso, Koln), violoncello (Michael Bach), trombone (Andrew Digby) and, created by myself, a sung version for voice (to words by Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel und Max Bense), and for viola.The most important requirement for the whole piece is absolute stillness, which should as far as possible emanate from the performer. The pauses are occasionally in this respect the most important element. These may, if one can find the necessary stillness, become very long.Ein Hauch von Unzeit (A Breath of the Untimely) - time almost dissolves!(Klaus Huber, 1989/2014 - translation: David Alberman)CD:Jean-Luc Menet (Bass flute)CD Traversieres 120.270Jean-Luc Menet (fl)CD STR 37039Bibliography:Zimmermann, Heidy: Zeitgestaltung im Kompositionsprozess bei Klaus Huber - dargestellt anhand von Skizzen, in: Mnemosyne. Zeit und Gedachtnis in der europaischen Musik des ausgehenden 20. Jahrhunderts, hrsg. von Dorothea Redepenning und Joachim Steinheuer, Saarbrucken: Pfau 2006, S. 90-109.