Imaginary Music – Finding Solace in a Radical ‘70s Concept
In 1975, Romanian composer Octavian Nemescu introduced a new idea to the avant-garde: the concept of Imaginary Music, an entirely new genre he created, meant to completely obliterate the very idea of music as we know it. His premise is decidedly bold, describing a scenario where a person longing to express themselves through music wouldn’t have any instrument available to them and would also be forbidden from using their voice. Thus, “their only option would be to pour their sonic inspirations into this secret song, using only their imagination, that nobody outside the practitioner themselves would be able to hear.”
As we scramble to navigate this new reality where everything we knew and loved about live music has moved exclusively to virtual interactions, exploring the more radical proposal of moving concerts to the realm of the imaginary altogether might be a playful solution to transcending our current limitations.
Born in 1940 in Pascani, a small town in the Eastern county of Moldova, Nemescu is no stranger to exhaustive experimentation, constantly pushing the boundaries of contemporary music into unexpected territories, while drawing inspiration from ancient spiritual practices, ecology and contemporary art. During the oppressive Communist regime, he benefited from a period of unprecedented creative freedom in the arts in the mid to late ‘60s, especially in music where it was easier to evade the state-dictated social realism norm. After studying composition with Mihail Jora at University of Music in Bucharest, he soon integrated the resistance group together with Corneliu Cezar and Lucian Meţianu, in direct opposition to the folk-recuperation movement practiced by the Composers’ Union. It was during this period that the spectralist movement developed around the group, a current focusing on the notion an ever-evolving spectra rather than harmony, melody or rhythm. He also developed the concepts of isonic (“drone”) and archetypal spectralism. Other notable names from the movement are Iancu Dumitrescu, Anamaria Avram and Horaţiu Rădulescu, whose work alongside lesser-known Romanian innovators we will present in subsequent entries during the coming months.
Unlike his colleagues, his work was always underscored by a strong spiritual philosophy, seeking a higher calling and trying to align himself with the Cosmic Forces rather than Academia, looking to develop forms of non-spectacular music, in search of ritualistic atmospheres and an awakening to the old mysteries.
In this regard, Imaginary Music is perhaps the most extreme iteration of these tendencies, a place where the return and communion with Nature, non-performance and being connecting to an archetypal entity come together to create a new form of musical expression. The composer has repeatedly expressed his disdain for the pop, pastiche irony of postmodernism, decrying the gradual decline of contemporary society and our disconnection from the Essential Forces. He rejects Cage’s idea that “all combinations of sounds and sonorities make music”, he instead aspires to the “rehabilitation of an ancient musical function, forgotten by history, which might constitute for a minority a possible direction for the future: reopening the channels of communication via sound between humankind and nature.”
For the composer, Imaginary Music is to be perceived as a new musical genre, no different than other iterations such as “chamber music, symphonic music, opera, ballet, electro-acoustic music, choral, liturgical (church) music, ambient, pop, jazz, etc”. At the same time, it being a reaction to the Spectacle, its polar opposite, an anti-Spectacle. He sees Imaginary Music as a form of “white magic”, a form of ritual that would help one communicate with the Great Unseen, designated to the individual rather than a community. Thus, Imaginary Music becomes an intimate form of meditation that uses solely one’s imagination in order to create music that would connect us to our Higher Self.
Over the years, Nemescu has developed various ways of accessing and expressing Imaginary Music, through instructions that would help one open their “eye between the eyes” and produce this inner dialogue. Working within the concept of synesthesia, he first explored using visual sensations in order to create imaginary sounds. In CROMOSON or Song of the Objects (1974-75), the “visual sensations triggered by the color of the surroundings objects are translated into sounds in the imagination of the subject wishing to experiment with such a musical practice. These inner sounds are based on the natural harmonic series, such that colors can be mapped onto particular sets of harmonics.”
The instructions are accompanied by graphic scores, partially on actual music sheets, with a penchant for the abstract that often evolves into images that draw more from abstract expressionism than contemporary music. The wording oscillates between poetic and academic, using basic musical notions to describe the potential sounds, but their meaning leaves enough room for interpretation to render the exercise accessible to the initiated. He talks about the “spectrum of natural resonance” and describes the variation of melodic line according to the lighting. Thus, the melodic line will take an ascending tone in daylight, an ascending-descending direction during the day but under shadow or a descending line in the evening with artificial lighting.
In spite of his focus on the spiritual nature of the work, the texts that accompany the scores have a rather playful quality, often reading closer to Fluxus performance instructions than contemporary music. Just take a look at his directions for yellow objects, who incite “a moderate and ascending motion in the subject’s imagination, within the medium register”:
Look straight into the day’s light (sunlight) and listen carefully (with your inner hearing) to the song of yellow flowers, fruit, birds (or animals), the song of the yellowing autumn leaves, as if their surface, chalice or body would vibrate like this:
Similarly, green objects correlate to a “slow, upward motion within the 6-11 harmonics”, as he invites us to listen to the song of the “grass, leaves, trees etc. as if their branches, the leaves of the tree, the grassy field, the orchard or the forest would vibrate thusly”. He also encourages us to pay attention to our surroundings and compose the symphony resulting from the mix of colors in our mind. The exercise could go on for minutes, hours or even days.
This oneiric form of meditation might not quench our thirst for collectively experiencing live music, but it certainly offers a form of conceptual escapism that could help us find a crumb of inner peace in our hyper connected present.
Over the following weeks, we will continue exploring the possibilities of Imaginary Music through historic, performative and other creative endeavors from an exciting group of Romanian artists, musicians, performers and cultural archivists. Subscribe and read on!