Bernard Herrmanns VERTIGO, James Conlon, Chef d�orchestre of the Paris Opera

[Gast suizoscore]

Eher zufällig bin ich vor wenigen Minuten auf den Hinweis gestossen, dass eine nahezu komplette und offenbar auch sehr gute Neueinspielung von 1999 dieses Grals-Score durch James Conlon vorliegt. Ohne lange zu zögern habe Buch und CD bestellt, ist mit rund £25 (exkl. Versand) relativ teuer. Auflage 2'500 Stück.

DOUGLAS GORDON

Feature Film

The most complex and accomplished work that Gordon has made to date. (...) A piece of art to dissect and be swept away by.

The Guardian

Douglas Gordon’s ongoing fascination with Alfred Hitchcock has led to some extraordinary works - from strange letters posted to characters from Rear Window to the well-known 24 Hour Psycho. Gordon’s Feature Film focused on another Hitchcock classic: Vertigo.

Using Bernard Herrmann’s momentous film score, Gordon made a film concentrating solely on the music of the original and featuring James Conlon, chef d’orchestre of the Paris Opera. The result was a captivating film in which the music was played out by the dramatic gestures of the conductor’s head and hands.

This book was published in parallel to the film and reproduced selected movie stills from both Feature Film and Vertigo, along with a CD containing what is probably the most complete recording of Herrmann’s score to date.

Texts by critic Raymond Bellour and Hitchcock/Herrmann specialist Royal S. Brown introduce a critical dimension to aspects of Gordon’s work and the original music of Bernard Herrmann.

Co-published by Artangel, Book Works and agnès b.

ISBN 1 902201 05 1

128 pp, 68 colour images, CD, text insert, 190 x 240mm

price: £24.95

order no: AA 07

Hier der Link: http://www.artangel.org.uk/pages/publishing/pub_gordon.htm

P.S.: Bislang kriegte ich noch keine Mail, die meine Bestellung bestätigen würde.

Ergänzt am 25.05.06: Mail wird keine verschickt. Die Ware kommt mit Lieferschein und Beleg für die Kreditkartenzahlung.

[waldgeist]

Das ist gut zu hören, aber bestehst du lieber nicht auf die Originalaufnahmen von Bernard Herrmann? Es gibt schon längst eine original Issue und die ist bei Amazon.de auch nicht schwer zu bekommen.

[Gast suizoscore]

Das ist gut zu hören, aber bestehst du lieber nicht auf die Originalaufnahmen von Bernard Herrmann? Es gibt schon längst eine original Issue und die ist bei Amazon.de auch nicht schwer zu bekommen.

Die habe ich natürlich schon sehr lange in meinem Besitz. Zuerst die von Mercury, dann die restaurierte Edition von Varese. Auf Vareses Neueinspielung verzichte ich nun gerne, jetzt wo die noch vollständigere (und angeblich eben auch bessere) von Conlon unterwegs ist.

[waldgeist]

Die habe ich natürlich schon sehr lange in meinem Besitz. Zuerst die von Mercury, dann die restaurierte Edition von Varese. Auf Vareses Neueinspielung verzichte ich nun gerne, jetzt wo die noch vollständigere (und angeblich eben auch bessere) von Conlon unterwegs ist.

Heißt das, die hat mehr Musik als die früheren Editionen?

[Gast suizoscore]

Heißt das, die hat mehr Musik als die früheren Editionen?

Ja, scheint so. 74 Minuten.

http://www.soundtrackcollector.com/catalog/soundtrackdetail.php?movieid=2761

[waldgeist]

Ja, scheint so. 74 Minuten.

http://www.soundtrackcollector.com/catalog/soundtrackdetail.php?movieid=2761

Das ist gut, das gefällt mir.

Aber wenn die CD wirklich nur ein Lied hat, welches 74min. lang geht, dann bin ich mir nicht sicher, ob ich eine Neuanschaffung unbedingt nötig habe. Ich schalte gerne mal auch in einzelne Tracks, da habe ich ehrlich gesagt keine Lust, zu gewissen Stellen hinzuspulen...

[Gast suizoscore]

Ich habe das Buch mit der CD erhalten. Die Freude ist getrübt über die dumme Verpackung der CD und das Bilderbuch (eine englisch-französisch-deutsche Koproduktion - wohl ein suprastaatlich gefördertes Programm!). Nun, ich konnte es schon ahnen auf Grund der Angaben auf der Internetseite. Jetzt liegt das Produkt vor mir.

Offenbar hat der Designer des Buchs in einem nicht eben originellen Wahn von Kreativität, welche sich in der Praxis längst als missglückte Idee erwiesen hat, die CD zwischen den Faltumschlag des broschierten Buchs platziert, befestigt durch einen aufgeklebten Gummiknopf in der Seitenmitte (damit ist die CD ungeschützt Reibungen des schwarz bedruckten Papiers ausgesetzt, von den Folgen des Gewichts nicht zu reden, wenn man bedenkt, dass diese Bücher gestapelt gelagert werden). Ein Loch im Buchdeckel gibt den Blick auf die Disc frei.

So weit so schlecht. Die CD wurde durch das bedruckte Papier beschädigt, sie ist übersäht mit kleinen Kratzern und Abwetzspuren, so dass ich sie nicht einwandfrei abspielen kann. Ich habe das Ding auf zwei Spielern getestet. Bei einem sind die Klicks seltener, das ist aber höchstens ein schwacher Trost. Auch bei dem Preis von GBP 27.95 (davon 3 Pfund für den Versand). Ich werde mich dort beschweren und eine Ersatz-CD verlangen.

Die Einspielung an sich wäre natürlich toll, wenn man sie denn ungestört von Klicks hören könnte. Über 74 Minuten Musik sind auf der CD, was in etwa der gesamten Partitur entspricht, genau weiss ich es leider nicht und der Begleittext gibt darüber auch nicht präzise Auskunft. Auf der Buchrückseite wird lediglich dies über die Länge der Einspielung verraten:"...a CD, which contains probably the most complete recording of Herrmann's score to date."

Dass die Aufnahme nicht in einzelne Tracks unterteilt wurde, mochte ich noch als Marotte des Künstlers Douglas Gorden durchgehen lassen. In Anbetracht der angestrengt originell daherkommenden Aufmachung des Ganzen, ist es es einfach nur ein weiteres Ärgernis. Das Bilderbuch ist für mich schlicht überflüssig, denn die Begleittexte wurden als separates Begleitheft von nur acht Seiten Umfang in den rückseitigen Umschlag verbannt. Die Bilder zeigen einige wenige Screenshots aus VERTIGO, sonst überwiegend Bilder des Dirigenten bzw. seiner Hände, Arme, Finger oder Augen. In einem Wort: überflüssig - wäre da nicht die CD.

Ein typisches Kunstprodukt. Völlig am Markt vorbei produziert und eine verpasste Chance.

[Gast Stefan Jania]

Sollten die sich beim Umtausch unkalant zeigen, gibt es aber für solche Beschädigungen an CDs (und DVDs) eine Rettung. Schau mal hier oder hier. Zwar nicht billig, aber wenn sonst nichts mehr hilft... Von CD-Reparatur-Sets für den Eigengebrauch, die man beinahe überall sieht, kann ich allerdings nur abraten.

[Gast suizoscore]

Sollten die sich beim Umtausch unkalant zeigen, gibt es aber für solche Beschädigungen an CDs (und DVDs) eine Rettung. Schau mal hier oder hier. Zwar nicht billig, aber wenn sonst nichts mehr hilft... Von CD-Reparatur-Sets für den Eigengebrauch, die man beinahe überall sieht, kann ich allerdings nur abraten.

Vielen Dank für den Rat. Ich werde jetzt die Antwort des Verlags abwarten und dann weiter schauen.

[Gast suizoscore]

Während ich auf die Antwort des Verlags bzw. deren Ersatz-CD warte, nahm ich mir die Zeit und las die beiden englischen Texte im Begleitheftchen durch. Raymond Bellour, ein Pariser Filmintellektueller, schreibt über THE BODY OF FICTION. Eine Art freundschaftliche Rechtfertigungsschrift zur Wichtigkeit von Künstler Gordons Werk (s. u. Interview). Interessanter ist dann sicherlich die Analyse von Royal S. Brown THE MUSIC OF VERTIGO zu Aufbau, Gliederung und Funktion von Herrmanns Score in Hitchcocks Film (Brown nimmt keinen Bezug auf Gordons Nachschöpfung).

Beim Stöbern im Internet fand ich dieses Interview mit Gordon von 1999:

Douglas Gordon

Are You Looking at Him?

Claire Bishop

The following is taken from an e-mail interview dialogue between Douglas Gordon and myself, conducted whilst Douglas was pumped full of painkillers as a result of a football injury. Through the pain, we discuss Feature Film, his most recent work (shown at Atlantis in London and at the Cologne Kunstverein) and Through the Looking Glass, installed earlier this year at Gagosian gallery, New York, and to be included in the Venice Biennale. Feature Film is Gordon's first film as a director, and shows James Conlon conducting Bernard Herrmann's soundtrack to Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958); in the London version, the Hitchcock film was projected alongside. Through the Looking Glass draws on the famous scene in Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976) in which Robert de Niro addresses himself in the mirror, as if pulling guns on an opponent.

Claire Bishop: Let's start first with Feature Film. Installed in London, I loved the way that the entrance was pushed right to the top of the building, giving the visitor their own vertiginous glance down the stairwell. Was this just a fortuitous accident?

Douglas Gordon: There were two possible ways to get into the room we used at Atlantis, and I insisted that we make people go right to the top, so it was no accident. Even the green gels on the lights at the top of the stairs were specifically chosen. Also, the curtains on the windows at the mezzanine level were open at night and the view across east London rooftops and towards the city echoed the opening scene from Hitchcock's Vertigo. These details, not exactly part of "the work," were very important to me. They act as a subliminal influence or unconscious register for people who visit the space. Maybe not everyone is aware of the influence of these details, but they remain a critical thing for me. On arriving in the space, Vertigo was only the glow of an image, reflected on the side wall. This was important - in that it implies Vertigo as a footnote, or a marginal reference for Feature Film. Art making and installation can be thought of along the same lines as the way we read texts: there is a "main text" and "footnotes."

CB: Have you installed it the same way in Cologne?

DG: The installation at Cologne was radically different to that in London. The London film is also a different edit to the Cologne version - it runs almost exactly parallel to the Hitchcock film, and they stay more-or-less in sync. The Cologne edit, however, is not intended to play alongside anything else. I projected the same film - twice - on wall about 35 metres apart - opposite one another. One image is a perfect mirror of the other. It's very disconcerting. It's difficult when you are standing in the space, to realise that a left hand has become a right hand, and vice versa.

CB: Did you enjoy directing a film for once, rather than appropriating others' work?

DG: I was very conscious of stepping into the world of "the director." I was not sure how I would feel, and was very wary of presenting this piece - both in terms of risking the "purity" of the readymade/interventions that I had made before and simply that the whole thing might fuck up - since the only footage I had shot before this was hand held video.

CB: James Conlon has a very beautiful, bleak, melancholic face - he looks the romantic film hero in every way. His eyes in particular are magnetic - black and wet. Did you "cast" him or "create" him?

DG: Well, out of the hundreds of images I looked at, of conductors, he was by far the most interesting in terms of physiognomy and an intensity of movement and gaze. I wanted someone who needn't necessarily "pass" as looking like a conductor - that's why he was cast in black pullover and not formal theatrical attire. Also, he doesn't use a baton when rehearsing, so that allowed a little bit more ambiguity to enter the frame. Is he a conductor? Is he an actor? Where are the orchestra, if indeed there ever was one?

CB: How did you film him? Was the orchestra there throughout?

DG: We filmed him over two days, one weekend in September 1998. He conducts the orchestra for the whole score. There are clearly, though, a few shots that were done after the orchestra left the auditorium - these "wild" shots were close ups of his eyes, and a few panning shots down his forehead. The rest of the material was shot "live." The lenses were good, long zoom lenses and this allowed the cameras to be 30-35 feet away from Conlon while giving the impression of close range shooting. The cinematographers were brilliant, as you could see.

CB: Do you see James Conlon as a conduit (for the music, or a certain spirit of the film, or your interpretation) - in the same way that in Vertigo Scottie is a set up for other people's schemes, as well as a conduit for the vertigo itself, a neurosis that seems to act through or upon him, against his will?

DG: Absolutely. The atmosphere of the film, I think, reflects the neurosis of the original, and also the tension of the music score.

CB: Would this then form a link between your earlier work (the shorter film pieces that deal with Freudian themes: repetition compulsion, hysteria, split personalities)? Or do you prefer not to force such connections?

DG: I don't think that this is forcing an issue at all. There are clear links, and evident preoccupations.

CB: Which are continued in Through the Looking Glass. I have a feeling that the sequence from Taxi Driver you have used incarnates something absolutely fundamental to the male psyche - going by the number of friends and boyfriends I have heard quoting this passage at least. Did you choose it because it had a similarly compelling effect on you?

DG: Yes, yes, and yes.

CB: Can you tell me about how it evolved, as a piece?

DG: I had heard about Taxi Driver for many many years before I saw the film. I had heard the famous monologue many more times than that. I had heard students quoting it in late night parties. I had heard it spoken, more honestly, in any of Glasgow's bars or clubs - between one guy who saw another guy look at him "the wrong way." It's easy to look at someone "the wrong way." Then they ask you "who the fuck do you think you're looking at?" Eventually I just started watching that scene over and over again. I read an article somewhere which said that the monologue was improvised by De Niro. So I bought the screenplay and checked it out. True enough. So for me, the monologue had already "detached" itself from the film as a whole. Around this time I was also listening to film music every day. It was Bernard Herrmann who interested me more than the others. The Taxi Driver soundtrack included our monologue - so I listened to it over and over, sometimes unconsciously, and it clearly made an impression on me. The next step was to watch the clip in the same way that I had heard the music. I was intrigued by the fact that it is a "mirror" scene, yet we never see the mirror. So, the director knows, and we assume, that everyone else imagines that it's a mirror, despite knowing that it's a camera. This means the scene already works in suspending the viewer's disbelief. Then I started to watch the scene as a mirror of itself. The length of the sequence used from Taxi Driver is about 70 seconds. The two projections start together, in sync. Then one image starts to move away from the other. First it happens almost unnoticeably, by one video frame, ie. 25th of a second. The next time it moves away by two frames, then 4 frames, then 8, 16, 32, 64 etc. When it reaches 512 it starts to move back into sync - having doubled itself away from its reflection. It takes another 30 minutes for it to move back into sync with its reflection - so the length of the whole thing is about an hour. Of course all this is secondary to the main interest of the idea, which is that the violence in the scene is less to do with the gun, and much more to do with the monologue between two parts of a divided self. All soliloquies are addressed to someone. There's always an audience, even if you end up playing for/with yourself.

CB: There is a lot (as you probably know) in Lacanian psychoanalysis about the "mirror stage," a moment of non-coincidence between your sense of your own body and the image of yourself in the mirror. Is this important to Looking Glass? The subjective split is clearly what A Divided Self and Confessions of a Justified Sinner were also about - is the same theme continued this new piece?

DG: It's a similar theme, but there is something different going on because of the physical form of this piece. Whereas the "mirroring" in the other works were oblique or side-by-side arrangements of images and screens, this time the viewer in inside the mirror. In a way, you have to stand somewhere between the silver surface of a mirror, and the glass surface - hence the title referring to Alice and Lewis Carroll.

CB: There's an often quoted passage about your recollection as a child, wanting to see what was behind the cinema screen. The way you install your screens - allowing viewer movement around all sides - is something that marks out your work as unique among artists who work with video.

DG: That comment pretty much sums up the attitude I have. I wanted to install screens in a sculptural way - and reveal the mechanism of how we look. In a sense this is an attempt to simultaneously deconstruct the magic of the cinema yet allow the aura to remain. It may not be the magic that we fantasised about as children, but it still casts some kind of spell.

CB: Is a knowledge of certain key films important for the viewer to "get" the most out of your work? (You can be as elitist as you like here!)

DG: I try to use films as a common denominator. Usually what I'm trying to do is not make a comment on the specific film itself. 24 Hour Psycho was not a thesis on Hitchcock, and neither is Feature Film, nor Through a Looking Glass on Taxi Driver, and so on. The choice of film is critical, but this is only in so far as the choice represents "call" film. It's about looking, remembering, thinking, forgetting, suppressing, elevating, focussing, blurring. This can happen on a real and metaphorical level. Therefore, the films I choose are only stand-ins for other films. On one hand. The contrary statement to this is that these films I use are absolutely appropriate for appropriation because they have a status in the world that allows one person to talk to another about their experience. They are the icons of a common currency (paradox intended!).

CB: Are you as influenced by artists as you are by films?

DG: Without a doubt. But the influence of artist is only as important as that of teachers, writers, rockers, chefs, footballers, d.j.'s, poets, singers, politicians, historians, economists, doctors, nurses, philosophers, deities, psychiatrists, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, lovers, ex-lovers, future lovers, and so on and not in any particular order. Too many people to name - although I could give you 1500 and then you wouldn't have to write anything else!

Quelle: http://www.undo.net/cgi-bin/openframe.pl?x=/cgi-bin/undo/magazines/magazines.pl%3Fid%3D934208970%26riv%3Dflashint%26home%3D

Dann findet sich hier noch ein Text auf Deutsch: http://www.springerin.at/dyn/heft_text.php?textid=360〈=de

Und zum Schluss für den Filmmusikbessenen am interessantesten dieser aufschlussreiche Artikel, in dem man endlich erfährt, wie die Musikaufnahmen vonstatten gingen.

FILM; In Art, Too, The Sound Is Spooky

By ALAN RIDING

Published: April 11, 1999

IT may seem odd that a video artist like Douglas Gordon should be drawn to Alfred Hitchcock's ''Vertigo'' by its soundtrack. But having previously manipulated the images of movies like Hitchcock's ''Psycho'' and Rouben Mamoulian's ''Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,'' Mr. Gordon wanted this time to probe the psychological dimension of music scores. And with ''Vertigo,'' a good measure of the spookiness of the 1958 thriller starring James Stewart and Kim Novak is provided by Bernard Herrmann's music.

''For me, 'Vertigo' was the single most generic sound I could associate with cinema,'' Mr. Gordon said. ''I tested it on people. I played it and asked people to identify it. Everyone knew that it was not written by a classic composer, and that it was a cinema score. But no one could place it as 'Vertigo.' It was what I was looking for. It was the sound of cinema for an entire generation.''

The result is ''Feature Film,'' a cinematic installation in which Mr. Gordon, 32, separates the music from the movie, then brings them together again in an unexpected way. The work, which has been commissioned by Artangel, an independent arts organization that promotes art installations in unusual venues, is on view through May 3 at the Atlantis Gallery in the Spitalfields district of East London. The gallery is, in fact, the loftlike second floor of a former beer brewery. (And, coincidentally, the project has been sponsored by Beck's, a beer company.)

The space is filled with the lush soundtrack of ''Vertigo,'' which appears to be coming from a large screen that almost divides the 150-foot-long room. The only images on the screen, though, are flashes of the hands, arms, eyes, face and hair of a man who appears to be conducting the score. At the far end of the hall, ''Vertigo'' itself is being projected onto a side wall, but without sound. Thus, when dialogue is spoken during the 122-minute movie, there is silence in the gallery. The music, 80 minutes of it, is alone used to set the mood.

Mr. Gordon, a wiry and good-natured graduate of both the Glasgow School of Art in his hometown and the Slade School in London, sees the work as a new step in his investigation into duality. In ''24 Hour Psycho'' in 1993, for instance, he projected Hitchcock's film in shuddering slow motion over 24 hours -- and here Herrmann's score was pointedly missing. In ''Confessions of a Justified Sinner,'' he took three sequences from the 1932 ''Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'' and projected them in slow motion in positive and negative images, like good and evil, on two screens. In ''Divided Self,'' two screens show a hand holding down an arm on a pillow: on one screen, a hairy arm holds down a hairless arm, suggesting a woman's arm, and on the other the roles are reversed (both arms in fact belong to the artist).

These and other video works have placed Mr. Gordon at the forefront of the current boom in contemporary art in Britain. He is not part of the overheated London art scene led by Damien Hurst, prefering to keep his base in Glasgow and to spend long stretches in Germany and, now, in New York. He has nonetheless been gaining recognition at an impressive pace: he won Britain's Turner Prize in 1996, the Premio 2000 at the Venice Biennale in 1997 and the Guggenheim's Hugo Boss Prize in 1998. He currently has two exhibitions in New York: an installation inspired by Otto Preminger's 1949 movie, ''Whirlpool,'' at the Dia Center for the Arts in Chelsea, and a gallery show featuring a scene from Martin Scorsese's ''Taxi Driver'' at Gagosian in SoHo.

Five years ago, he was invited to develop a project by Artangel, which first gained notice when the organization sponsored Rachel Whiteread's ''House,'' the cast of the inside of a Victorian terraced house, and has since worked with Robert Wilson and Hans Peter Kuhn, Gabriel Orozco, Tatsuo Miyajima, Ilya and Emilia Kabakov and other international artists. What appealed to Mr. Gordon was that he was given all the time he needed to come up with an idea.

''I was conscious that most of my work was silent,'' he recalled. ''My principal concern was psychological, and I had always felt the principal instigation for psychological reactions was the visual. But audio also interested me. I had done a piece, 'Something Between My Mouth and Your Ear,' which is a compilation of all the songs that were popular when my mother was carrying me between December 1965 and September 1966.''

For ''Feature Film,'' in seeking out an orchestral sound, Mr. Gordon quickly found Herrmann, who composed for Orson Welles (''Citizen Kane''), Francois Truffaut (''The Bride Wore Black''), Mr. Scorsese (''Taxi Driver'') as well as for Hitchcock. A New York-born conductor and composer who died in 1975 at age 64, Herrmann's roots were in classical music, with the score for ''Vertigo'' showing the influence of both Wagner and Mahler. And long before rock and pop took over the screen, he exercised enormous influence over how many moviegoers came to hear films.

Having chosen ''Vertigo,'' Mr. Gordon then set out to find the ''star'' of the images accompanying the music. He rejected the idea of using an actor because he wanted a real conductor working with a real orchestra, but he also wanted a conductor who looked like an actor. And after weeks of surfing the Internet, he cast James Conlon, the youthful-looking 47-year-old music director of the Paris National Opera. As it happens, he had never before heard of Mr. Conlon -- and Mr. Conlon had never heard of Mr. Gordon. But this proved no obstacle.

''Douglas and James Lingwood of Artangel came to see me in Paris and explained the whole project,'' the mop-haired American conductor recalled. ''I said, 'This is great, what you really need is a guinea pig.' But it sounded like fun. I like experimental things. I love movies, so I said, O.K. I hadn't seen any of Gordon's work. I still haven't. I operate on chemistry. I had a gut feeling that he had something. Maybe it was his Glaswegian accent.''

Working with the Paris Opera Orchestra in a theater in Radio France, Mr. Conlon first recorded the score, with Mr. Gordon testing his equipment and camera positions. Three weeks later, using three Super 16 cameras, Mr. Gordon began filming Mr. Conlon, who was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and stood against the void of the darkened theater. The afternoon session was treated as a performance, with Mr. Conlon following the movie on a small monitor (occasionally faint snatches of dialogue can be heard in the silent sections ''almost like the spirit of cinema,'' as Mr. Gordon put it). Finally, there was a session in which Mr. Conlon did act, conducting the recorded score without an orchestra (''Much as Herbert von Karajan did for his filmed performances,'' Mr. Gordon noted).

''I wanted to strike a line between pure documentary and pure narrative,'' Mr. Gordon explained over a beer in a pub near the Spitalfields gallery, ''to achieve a sort of hybrid between Hollywood fiction and contemporary documentary filmmaking. Since you never see the orchestra, and Conlon is not dressed formally and has no baton, there is the possibility that there is no orchestra and no conductor. Anyone who knows the music world will recognize Conlon, but most people won't get it. They'll just see a great screen presence.''

The cost of hiring the 100-piece Paris orchestra, the Radio France theater and the Atlantis Gallery pushed the project's budget to over $400,000, but the work will also travel to the Georges Pompidou Center in Paris, which produced the installation with Artangel.

''I was paid a very modest fee and get to keep the two turtlenecks I conducted in,'' Mr. Conlon said cheerfully in a telephone interview from New York, where he is currently conducting a new production of Carlisle Floyd's opera, ''Susannah,'' at the Metropolitan Opera. ''Artangel apologized that I wasn't going to make a lot of money. I said, 'I make a lot of money, I don't care. I'm interested in doing something fun and different.' ''

And there was an unexpected extra, too. ''I went back and looked at 'Vertigo' again,'' he added. ''I didn't remember, but it is very good music indeed. Now I'm much more interested in Bernard Herrmann than I was before the project.''

Quelle: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9F07EEDA1F39F932A25757C0A96F958260&sec=&pagewanted=all

[Gast suizoscore]

Ich habe heute eine Mail von Artangel (die verkaufen die Buch/CD) erhalten, in der sie mir die Zustellung der Ersatz-CD ankündigen.

Sollte jemand von euch hier am Board dieselben Probleme haben, wie ich sie weiter oben beschrieb, wendet man sich am besten an diese Adresse:

publications@artangel.org.uk oder sian@artangel.org.uk

Und wenn jetzt dann eine nagelneue CD auch eintrifft werde ich ganz happy sein!

[Gast suizoscore]

Ich habe heute die Ersatz-CD gekriegt und nun erstmals so richtig grosse Freude an dieser Aufnahme. Wer sich also von allfälligen Umtrieben nicht abschrecken lässt, dem empfehle ich die Anschaffung sehr.

[Mephisto]

Weiß irgendwer, wo und ob es diese CD noch gibt?

[Gast Stefan Jania]

Der Amazon Marketplace ist Dein Freund...

Feature Film: A Book by Douglas Gordon

[Mephisto]

Viele dank! Wunderbar! Ich habe es nämlich bei ebay versucht und mal "James Conlon Vertigo" gegoogelt, aber als einzig Hilfreiches diesen Thread gefunden, aber der war ja mehr als hilfreich

[Gast Stefan Jania]

Ich hoffe, dass die Aufnahme einmal als brauchbare Veröffentlichung erscheint. Als miserabel verpackte Bonus-CD in einem zu teuren Buch kann man schon verzichten. Zudem gilt immer noch das oben schon angesprochene absolute "No Go!"-Kriterium für mich: es gibt nur einen einzigen 74-minütigen Track auf der CD. Da kann die Aufnahme noch so gut sein, ich bleibe bei der auch wirklich guten aber etwas kürzeren Varèse-Aufnahme.

[Mephisto]

Die Tatsache mit dem einzigen 74 Minuten langem Stück ist für mich kein Problem, das ist schnell unterteilt und gebrannt und dann bleibt die Original-CD in der Buch-Verpackung

[Gast Stefan Jania]

Zur Unterteilung hier eine kleine Hilfe.

Willow, James Horner

[Mephisto]

Vielen Dank, Stefan! Das Buch habe ich heute bestellt (mal sehen, wann "klausn" das liefert). Ich bin mal so frei und stelle die Liste hier auch mal rein:

Prelude 2:44

Roof-Top 4:16

The Window 4:32*

Madeline 5:41

Madeline’s Car 8:23

The Flowershop

and The Alleyway 9:55

The Mission 10:42

Mission Organ 11:20

Graveyard 13:27

Tombstone 13:45

Carlotta’s Portrait 16:10

The Hotel 17:23*

The Hallway 18:34*

The Nosegay 18:57

The Catalogue 19:23

The Gallery 20:07

The Bay 23:13

Sleep 24:13*

By the Fireside 27:11

Exit 28:00*

The Streets 30:33

The Forest 35:23

The Beach 38:51

3 a.m. 39:20*

The Dream 41:56

Farewell 45:47

The Tower 48:08

The Nightmare 50:35

Dawn 52:09

The Past 53:30*

The Girl 55:09*

The Letter 59:17

Good Night 61:23

The Park 62:06

The Hair Color 63:12*

Beauty Parlor 63:25*

Scene d’amour 67:43

The Necklace 69:38

The Return 73:49

Finale 74:27

* unique to this recording

Viel Spaß beim Schneiden an alle, die die CD schon haben