Stop

I could stop more often. Play with silence. Stops make repetition more interesting. They give variation to repetition. Just like pauses. Stops are longer than pauses, even longer than the long pauses. Stops change form.

“Pervasive discontinuities threaten the linearity of musical time.”¹

Is it pervasive if only I stop and the rest of the ensemble continues? Can I stop without compromising the trust and responsibility that comes with being part of the collectivity? Can I stop without compromising coherence? Is void a better term?

Usage

1. From solo concert, Norwegian Academy of Music, 13 October 2014
The beginning of this concert has a lot of sudden stops. It is not working all that well. Why? They seem forced. There is too much variation in the repetitions, too many variations in tempi. Or is it just my recollection of the experience on stage while stopping that is awkward? That I remember the awkwardness of stopping the building process while building? Some stops sound better in retrospect than they feel in the moment.

2. Final Artistic Presentation, solo, 21 April 2015
In the beginning of this concert I am stopping several times, too. Some of the stops are more like pauses. Some are longer and may qualify as a stop. Here, I don’t feel it is compromising the coherence. Why is that? Perhaps it has to do with the fact that what I play already is perforated, it has a lot of holes in it, a lot of space. And that the timing simply is better, that the speed of the touch and the recoils are better linked to rhythm and pace of what I play between the pauses?

¹ Jonathan D. Kramer. The Time of Music, New York (1988) by Schirmer Books, p46