Schwarzes Madrigal (1998)
(for choir and instruments)

With the exception of a few German words (wo?, in, ja, nein, und, nach, wohin?), the text for this composition consists of names of African towns, villages and settlements. The title Schwarzes Madrigal is therefore directly related to my intention to limit myself to words of this geographical origin. Pronunciation and correct stressing of these words and also some unusual sound combinations will occupy the interpreter. Should the first, second or third syllable be emphasized? Should a certain consonant be voiced or voiceless? Would it not be advisable to first learn the basic features of the language of the region from which the word originates?

I have already tried to clarify my opinion regarding the correctness of the interpretation in the first bars of the piece. Timbuktu appears there several times, each time with a different emphasis. I wanted to make it clear from the outset that I was not interested in the scientifically verifiable communication of African dialects, rare tribal or Bantu languages, but on the contrary in the sounding testimony to the impossibility of emphasizing all words perfectly or making them phonetically flawless. Even if these names are rendered imperfectly, their beauty is not diminished, but often enhanced.

This composition is dedicated to the Cuban poet Nicolás Guillén (1902 - 1989) in memoriam, whom I heard for the first time in Buenos Aires in 1947. The reading made a great impression on me at the time because the verses were recited with that passion and intensity of expression that one only knows from congenial renditions. They were no longer mere words, no lyrical impressions, no egocentric world-weariness, but ciphers of painful, socio-critical authenticity. Guillén was perhaps the first to write poetry in Spanish in the Caribbean, incorporating Creole, dialectal and folk expressions, in which seemingly heterogeneous elements are on an equal footing. This thematic magma was linked and held together by a strong emphasis on rhythmic periodicities and musically inspired speech sounds.

As early as the beginning of the 1930s, the term black poetry was applied to Guillén's work because he used the hybrid language of the serfs and their descendants who were originally brought to Cuba from Africa. He himself never denied the slave blood in his veins, on the contrary, he was proud of it and combined African as well as pseudo-African or freely invented vocabulary with assonances from regions of the West of Black Africa in a most forceful way. It goes without saying that this stubborn, explosive mixture was politically incorrect at the time of the Batista dictatorship. This was followed by twenty years of exile for the poet.

My focus on names from the African continent reflects today – half a century later – the call to take note of foreign linguistic sounds without fear of blunders or clumsy intonations.
At no point did I programmatically attempt to imitate the rhythmic or melodic patterns of African music. But I have nevertheless created a work in which such echoes can be heard extremely quietly, like muffled sound waves through walls.

Schwarzes Madrigal, a composition commissioned by the Rundfunkchor Berlin on the occasion of its 75th anniversary, was premiered on May 21, 2000 at the Konzerthaus Berlin.

M.K.
(Translation by Edition Peters)