[fic] where all language ends, BECK
this was supposed to be a scene with koyuki and ryuusuke and lucille, but it sort of become generic taira introspection instead. possibly a good thing, because 'guitar playing as an apology' is probably too wanky an idea for BECK fic.
Title: where all language ends
Fandom: BECK
Sometimes people question Taira's choice to stay in BECK. Perhaps they mention the alleged fights, the so-called cold wars, or the band's unfortunate habit of getting into trouble. Taira just shrugs. Sure, they have their share of problems. Which band doesn't? And yeah, okay, so their arguments aren't even about 'creative differences': half the time it's just Ryuusuke's tendency to be a jerk, or Koyuki failing to get it together, or Chiba being far too ready to take offence - not that Taira actually says any of that, there's no sense in feeding the media - but Taira doesn't think of that as a fatal flaw. The Red Hot Chili Peppers survived far worse, didn't they? Better to have arguments about normal things than indulge in artistic wankfests, anyway.
Taira doesn't clarify, but he would if anyone asked: it's not that he's averse to moving on. He's done it before. They all did, after Greatful Sound 5. And he's been in the industry long enough to know that when words get in the way of the music, or when the talk is of money rather than of songs, or when you realise during a jamming session that you're all playing solo bits that happen to fit together, rather than playing as a band -- well, you have to move on. Simple as that. So whatever keeps him in BECK is more than just reluctance to leave.
And what matters about BECK isn't Ryuusuke's arrogance or Koyuki's clumsiness or Chiba's temper. What counts are the moments when everything works, when everything falls together -- when they play and the music is all there is. Smaller things, too, like when Saku rescues a songwriting session by starting a beat that makes Ryuusuke look up, suddenly alert, and reach for his guitar. Or the triumph in the closing riffs of Koyuki's rare solos. Or the drowsy summer afternoons in Ryuusuke's shack, when Ryuusuke plucks a random four-note melody, over and over, and Taira lies on the floor and listens and thinks that this, this is enough.
Music's a language without translation, and Taira doesn't know how to put any of that into words. He thinks it's just as well that interviewers don't ask him for soundbites.
---
To Music
Rainer Maria Rilke
(translated by Stephen Mitchell)
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
silence of paintings. You language where all language
ends. You time
standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.
Feelings for whom? O you the transformation
of feelings into what?--: into audible landscape.
You stranger: music. You heart-space
grown out of us. The deepest space in us,
which, rising above us, forces its way out,--
holy departure:
when the innermost point in us stands
outside, as the most practiced distance, as the other
side of the air:
pure,
boundless,
no longer habitable.
Musik: Atem der Statuen
Musik: Atem der Statuen, vielleicht:
Stille der Bilder. Du Sprache, wo Sprachen
enden, du Zeit,
die senkrecht steht auf der Richtung vergehender Herzen.
Gefühle zu wem? O du,der Gefühle
Wandlung in was?: in hörbare Landschaft.
Du Fremde: Musik. Du uns entwachsener
Herzraum. Innigstes unser, das, uns übersteigend,
hinausdrängt -,heiliger Abschied:
da uns das Innre umsteht
als geübteste Ferne, als andre
Seite der Luft,
rein,
riesig,
nicht mehr bewohnbar.
Title: where all language ends
Fandom: BECK
Sometimes people question Taira's choice to stay in BECK. Perhaps they mention the alleged fights, the so-called cold wars, or the band's unfortunate habit of getting into trouble. Taira just shrugs. Sure, they have their share of problems. Which band doesn't? And yeah, okay, so their arguments aren't even about 'creative differences': half the time it's just Ryuusuke's tendency to be a jerk, or Koyuki failing to get it together, or Chiba being far too ready to take offence - not that Taira actually says any of that, there's no sense in feeding the media - but Taira doesn't think of that as a fatal flaw. The Red Hot Chili Peppers survived far worse, didn't they? Better to have arguments about normal things than indulge in artistic wankfests, anyway.
Taira doesn't clarify, but he would if anyone asked: it's not that he's averse to moving on. He's done it before. They all did, after Greatful Sound 5. And he's been in the industry long enough to know that when words get in the way of the music, or when the talk is of money rather than of songs, or when you realise during a jamming session that you're all playing solo bits that happen to fit together, rather than playing as a band -- well, you have to move on. Simple as that. So whatever keeps him in BECK is more than just reluctance to leave.
And what matters about BECK isn't Ryuusuke's arrogance or Koyuki's clumsiness or Chiba's temper. What counts are the moments when everything works, when everything falls together -- when they play and the music is all there is. Smaller things, too, like when Saku rescues a songwriting session by starting a beat that makes Ryuusuke look up, suddenly alert, and reach for his guitar. Or the triumph in the closing riffs of Koyuki's rare solos. Or the drowsy summer afternoons in Ryuusuke's shack, when Ryuusuke plucks a random four-note melody, over and over, and Taira lies on the floor and listens and thinks that this, this is enough.
Music's a language without translation, and Taira doesn't know how to put any of that into words. He thinks it's just as well that interviewers don't ask him for soundbites.
---
To Music
Rainer Maria Rilke
(translated by Stephen Mitchell)
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps:
silence of paintings. You language where all language
ends. You time
standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.
Feelings for whom? O you the transformation
of feelings into what?--: into audible landscape.
You stranger: music. You heart-space
grown out of us. The deepest space in us,
which, rising above us, forces its way out,--
holy departure:
when the innermost point in us stands
outside, as the most practiced distance, as the other
side of the air:
pure,
boundless,
no longer habitable.
Musik: Atem der Statuen
Musik: Atem der Statuen, vielleicht:
Stille der Bilder. Du Sprache, wo Sprachen
enden, du Zeit,
die senkrecht steht auf der Richtung vergehender Herzen.
Gefühle zu wem? O du,der Gefühle
Wandlung in was?: in hörbare Landschaft.
Du Fremde: Musik. Du uns entwachsener
Herzraum. Innigstes unser, das, uns übersteigend,
hinausdrängt -,heiliger Abschied:
da uns das Innre umsteht
als geübteste Ferne, als andre
Seite der Luft,
rein,
riesig,
nicht mehr bewohnbar.