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What are we to do with all those precious pieces of music, which were invented fifty, hundred, hundred and fifty, two hundred years ago? Store them neatly and aseptically behind glas, in overawing temples called concert- or operahouses? Within those holy walls, consecrated priests of the ars divina are accorded the supreme favour of performing delicate ceremonies, aka concerts, recitals or opera performances. The disciples are entitled to listen and watch, from distance, notabene, not too close to the holy altar, aka stage…

However, how on earth do those museum dealings harmonize with the unrestrained buoyancy of any artistic statement – regardless of whether it was made fifty, hundred, hundredfifty or two hundred years ago? Whatever labels we might think of – classical music, serious music, atonal music, rock, pop, jazz, rap – it’s all about one and the same exuberantly flourishing phenomenon, that shouts for absolute embracement: music!

And what is music all about? It’s about you and me, it’s about an exciting journey through our world of joy and pain, it’s about stunning adventures and breath taking views. It’s about humorous pranks, about  mind blowing surprises, about lost games and sweet homes


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