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2014-09-21

echoes _ X. Frissek Minifestival - Horváth Ádám Márton by Bálint Orsolya

Is it the same music we are listening to?

Music is essential part of a dance performance, but musicians rarely stand in the spotlight, even if they are on stage with the dancers. Therefore it was a special occasion for Ádám Márton Horváth, a resident of L1 Association and a regular contributor in pieces created by members of the association to present his music – and himself as an artist – in an independent act on X. FRISSEK Minifestival. 
Being his first live performance (in front of a quite large audience), he stepped out into the spotlight a little bit shy, but in the very moment he started playing on his electric guitar, he found his stand and his element. At first we might have been watching him play, his fingers flattering gently on the strings, but soon his music took over our senses and neither time nor space mattered, giving us the possibility of being present and completely surrendering to the moment. 
photo: Szabó Roland
He created imaginary landscapes with his meditative, dreamlike music, pressing the buttons to start a movie in our heads, and let our mind wander where imagination was taking it. Watching a black and white movie without hearing the actors speak... gazing at ever similar fields on a long train journey... walking on empty streets of a deteriorating city, thinking about the passing of times... a lonely leaf dancing in the wind... – a few impressions I wrote in my notebook. It may be too farfetched, but I’ve clearly had the feeling of some kind of movement evoked by the tunes – but of course every listener has their own version.
The organically fluent, melodic sound with a softly echoing rhythm is becoming richer and more and more saturated while Horváth is adding variations to the main theme, building up the song in a classic way. The pace is also becoming faster, leading to a climax where the melody is suddenly broken; the sound becomes distorted, the single notes blend into one thick and powerful sound, shaking us from the reverie and making our pulse race. What is happening to the sound, and what is happening to us? How do we react to change, in this very moment and in general?
At the end he goes back to the main theme again; we recognize the familiar melody, as if we had arrived home. Still it doesn’t feel the same anymore after the journey he had taken us on, because we are not the same. If (according to Hume) we are a bundle or a collection of perceptions (including our memories of our past and our current perceptions), each new experience adds to the collection, necessarily changing the whole bundle, like adding another brick to a pile of bricks. 
Are we really a bundle or a collection of perceptions? If not, what are we? If there is no one enduring ‘self’ that persists through each experience, what is our identity? How can we claim our identity at all? Are these experiences ‘my own’? How do I share this experience as a critic, and what will be your experience of my experience? Does it change you? Does the medium or the act of writing change the experience? Is there anything like a shared experience, even if we are listening to the same music? Is it the same music we are listening to? 
Bálint Orsolya - KÖM

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