Ian Crisp writes:

>We've talked about recordings - does anyone have a story to tell about
>how they discovered the Quartet, or what it means to them?

I have a very deep attachment to the Quartet, one that isn't particularly
easy to put into words.  I have had the privilege of performing the work
with three different combinations of musicians.  The first time was in 1980
at the Music Academy of the West in Santa Barbara, where we were coached
by Jerome Lowenthal, one of the most brilliantly and broadly educated
musicians I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  (I'll never forget
the first public masterclass, in which Jerry expounded on the possible
translations of the original Greek text of Revelations 10, the basis for
Messiaen's images.) The second time was for a Juilliard chamber music
recital, and most recently, I played two performances this spring with
members of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  Each time, my appreciation for
the piece grows, and I understand a bit better how the thing coheres and
makes its impact.  (I do understand Dick Hihn's comments about how it can
seem somewhat disjointed, but as I become more and more aware of the
recurring motives and the overall arch-like construction of the whole,
this apparent disjointedness becomes less and less of a problem for me.)

I remember precisely when and where I first heard the piece -- it was
a 1973 faculty recital at the National Music Camp, Interlochen.  (What's
really strange is that I just remembered that I was sitting with Uri Caine,
who was a composition student that summer, and hadn't yet gotten around to
deconstructing Mahler.) I recall being absolutely mesmerized by it, in part
because as a very young Christian, I had never run across a modern composer
who seemed to take very seriously that which was most important to me --
in a sense, a whole new world was opening to me both musically and
theologically.  I have a particularly vivid recollection of being entranced
by the "Abyss of the Birds." There was something about the long, slow
clarinet sounds growing out of inaudibility into incredible intensity
which moved me very deeply.  I think part of the impact of that movement
especially is the way in which Messiaen creates a sound environment in
which one perceives the music not so much in linear time, but as an object
floating in space, which can seemingly be contemplated from various angles,
much as one can contemplate a sculpture.  (For more on this concept, read
some of the essays in George Rochberg's _The Aesthetics of Survival_
 [University of Michigan Press].) Much has been said about Messiaen's
suspension of the traditional Western sense of time in this piece.  As I've
reflected on it, I think part of the peculiar attraction of the Quartet is
that Messiaen does indeed foil our usual expectations, but does so without
sacrificing a sense of direction and goal orientation.  One feels both the
timelessness of eternity, and the longing, the ecstacy and joy which draws
us ever onward and upward towards our final home.  It is this longing that
I feel very powerfully in the final "Praise to the Immortality of Jesus"
every time I perform the piece, and it has unfailingly left me either in
tears or very near it.  Yes, my Christian convictions have a great deal to
do with my response, but at root it's something which Messaien achieves
very effectively through musical means.

As Messiaen himself said in his preface to the score, all of this is mere
stammering attempt at thinking about the enormity of the subject.

DPHorn, waxing somewhat Messiaenic.