when will we finally disturb each other
I run after a thought
until I have caught up with it.
When will we finally disturb each other is about insecurities, showing people whose inner and outer borders are constantly shifting. Surviving on shaky ground demands permanent navigation and adjustment, beyond one single concept of truth. In nine songs that correspond to one scene, the five performers try to structure their world again and again, like restless engineers. As soon as it seems ordered, it immediately decomposes into a meandering, raging something.
Thus, every song is a new attempt to arrive for a short while, to find answers and certainties within oneself – or in encounters with the other. How can one’s own existence be clothed in words in order to make it accessible to others? How does one get from one’s own universe to that of another person?
When will we finally disturb each other moves along the narrow ledge between scene, music and the decomposition of language: language becomes musicalized material, generating new content. The songs are hybrid constructions made of language, sound and music, scenic elements and action. Therefore, depending on one’s perspective, the piece is a concert performance or a performative concert.
I’ve been meaning to speak to you for a long t
Yes I hear you yes I am listening
Listen Yes I’m listening
I’ve never met an Arab; I always wanted to travel to China
Lajos Talamonti, Beatrice Fleischlin, Andreas Liebmann
Michael Emanuel Bauer, Thomas Friese
Set design, costume
Julia v. Schacky
Ballhaus Ost Berlin, Mai 2008
Guest performances at:
Volksbühne Berlin, Kaserne Basel, Kleintheater Luzern, Schlachthaus Theater Bern
Regierender Bürgermeister von Berlin, Senatskanzlei - Kulturelle Angelegenheiten, Migros Kulturprozent
text example 1
text example 2
“I always had the same question in my head, and it was the wrong one, it was always the wrong question, but that was the one I had in my head, there was no other one, if I had had another question in my head, I would have, but there was no other one, only this question all the time, this question, was that board, this building, made of a question, where I sat around and stared at these walls. If only I had the right question in my! But it was always the wrong one, and the right one, that was, where was it, was it, would it have been? Has this wrong question at least dissolved today? Is it gone, at least? But this question is stuck there, stuck fast and will not be loosened. I have tried with all my might, with my chisel, with my bulldozer, with dynamite; I wanted to blast it out of my head! But the question is not interested in my method.”