Grobschnitt
Solar Music Live

Wake up! Get up!

1978 will be the year of our journey around the Sun. Are you ready to go? Cosmic space awaits us. The music of the Sun is ready to caress our ears with such tenderness, like delicate hands wrapped in soft velvet gloves made of stars. Gloves of an evening gown and us dancing this mad space waltz. There's not much time left until departure, countdown. We are ready and off we go, up to space. The journey is fast, faster still, ever faster. And the surrounding space becomes increasingly undefined, twisted, and unrealizable. We are heading towards the infinite cosmos at the speed of light. We hear indefinite sounds, never heard before. I still cannot say if they were cries for help or ancestral and primitive chants. And when it seems that we are close to a fatal crash, we slow down and yes, we are indeed in the deepest space.

"Do you hear the music of the Sun? Do you hear the music of the Sun? Do you hear the music of the Sun? Do you hear the music of the Sun? Do you hear the music of the Sun? Do you hear the music of the Sun?"

An invisible painter paints this picture using only black and blue, and their shades. From time to time, he places a little star here and another there, some small planets, a cosmic cloud. Little details that make us believe we really are where we are, even if everything seems too dreamy and ethereal to appear true. I must not think about it, better to resume our excursion in search of the dark side of the planets and their secrets, to understand where this accompanying music comes from, with an ever more pressing rhythm. Slowly, from one star to another, between a comet and a meteorite, I manage to find, perhaps, a trail to follow. Generally, we are peaceful, but sometimes I admit we had to fire to defend ourselves. From what, I couldn’t tell you, perhaps from our hallucinations. The gramophone projects a military march into the ether, and a communiqué spreads into our ears:

"Wir möchten es nicht versäumen Sie darauf hinzuweisen, das der künstliche Nebel, den Sie bereits seit 10 Minuten einatmen, eine äußerst giftige Substanz darstellt, die bereits nach wenigen Augenblicken zur Bewusstlosigkeit und zum Tode führen kann. Wir danken Ihnen für das Vertrauen, das sie uns entgegengebracht haben."

We don’t want to fail to point out to you that this fog, which you have been breathing by coughing for the last ten minutes, constitutes and presents an extremely poisonous substance, which can cause fainting or even death after just a few moments. We thank you for the trust you have given us.

Run, that's all I can do, run as fast as I can toward that trail I was following. I can't do anything but reach it as quickly as possible. It attracts me like a spider attracts its prey with its web, only the latter is unconscious of it. I, on the other hand, know exactly what I am doing, but I don't know where I am heading. The only answer is that music which by now, I am sure, comes from the Sun. And there it is: the Sun. I sit down and admire it, letting its rays flood me from top to bottom and letting its sound echo within my body. On these occasions, there isn’t much to say, you just have to be able to surrender to your senses in a sort of conscious sleep and let the spirit do everything by itself, and once awake, the brain will know what it was and will make us aware, and we will feel better. And so it will be every time you listen to the music of the Sun. Staying here forever is impossible, we must return. But there is a song even for the return, somewhat melancholic perhaps, but a song that has the taste of a farewell, a song that satisfies you but makes you want to listen to it again, to listen again to the music of the Sun.

I get up and turn off the radio.