This double CD by the ever-brilliant Hubert Bergmann – only 150 copies, in case of physical attraction – is the result of long months of deep thinking and reworking, both on mental and “manual” level, of an abundant quantity of sociopolitical/philosophical/psychological/harmonic information somehow related to the “transcendental impulse” behind the musical gesture. These topics are dealt with in the accompanying treatise, originally written in German but also translated into English, available at the above link together with the (wonderful) music. Be advised, it is not easy to penetrate what Bergmann is attempting to express in words; as in his playing, pre-determined and improvised are often hard to separate, yet totally coherent in their peculiar dissemination.
Nonetheless, by listening to the “Hymnen” while reading the text – either in continuity, or picking fragments here and there – a special kind of truth inevitably emerges. It’s the manifestation of a concrete reality, usually occurring when the spoken message is subordinate to the intuition of a superior scheme of things, typically regulated by combinations of pitches, instinctual wisdom, creative power and facility in decoding an event on time while anticipating the next frame. A concept that is not really explainable to sensorially disadvantaged individuals who believe to be profound, but hey: the diversity between cerebral intensities – leaving political correctness aside for a moment – is what keeps this fucking world stuttering on.
The keyboard holds no secrets for Bergmann, who conjures up memories, expectations, quasi-citations and impromptu flurries with an uncontaminated ability to pick the exact element needed at a given juncture. As someone capable of observing and predicting events way beyond a circumlocutory superficiality, he merges styles, velocities and colors in an omni-comprehensive jargon encapsulating distant ages and contemporaneity. A vivacious aural kaleidoscope where trained audiences are going to feel at complete ease, savoring each minute as the microcosm of a thousand contrapuntal expansions besides cherishing the sheer gloriousness of pianistic resonance.
Be it via stubborn repetitions of minimalistic/autistic descent, or through melodic contemplations inside landscapes where romanticism and free jazz can get married without problems, Bergmann confirms himself as one of the most sensitive instrumentalists to come out of Germany in the last decades. If you don’t fancy what he plays or writes, no worry: look around, find your own despotic nonentities and bow your heads, nourishing a fossilized evolution with pseudo-intellectual misconstructions deprived of grammatical grounds. After all, “Zeitüberschreitung” means “time-out”; and indeed, the bulk of today’s purveyors of the cryptic are out of the game already, without even knowing.