On the beach
This Avis de tempête is the music of our time: such was my reflection as I left the Opera de Lille on November 17, 2004. That is to say, music in which questions of the unexpected, entailed by the unheard-of, are put into play at new expenses, in such a way that this very unheard-of is produced by the outburst of all expectancy horizons and by what expectancy remains though when there is no more expectancy.
However, as conscience, temporal by nature, constantly combines retentions and protentions, and is conscience, that is to say attention, only under that condition, there are always retentions serving as expectancy horizons, even when everything is set to make them fail and let the unexpected crop up: where they are absent, attention invents them, fantasizes them and creates them; in this sense, listening is always creative. In a way, the more these horizons are lacking, the more essential they become. And, always, there already or still needs to be some rails in order to derail things in the listening process that is awaiting, guided by its most unexpected expectancies, the unheard-of where things derail.
For one does not not go off the rails just like that (even Achab, above all Achab doesn’t go off the rails "just like that"): to go off the rails is something one can learn (expect), as one can learn, for example, how to fall.