Vignettes #7

This was about 25 years ago, I had just recently moved into my new apartment. It was a bright sunny and hot summer day, I had my day off from work at the film club's cinema and from my studies at the university. I was enjoying the apartment as it was comfortably cooler than outside and as always I was listening to some music.

I just had a Karlheinz Stockhausen record running, probably his work Kontakte. The doorbell rang, I opened the door. It was an acquaintance, Ingo, with a new girlfriend I hadn't seen before, quite pretty. Ingo is a member of the local independent art scene making short films, creating art and organizing art exhibitions. He had recently attended a meeting of our film club which had been held in my apartment. He said he liked my little apartment so much he wanted to show it to his girlfriend. So I let them in.

We did a round through the 2 rooms and also onto my miniature balcony, quite idyllic on that day considering the weather. All the time Stockhausen was still playing on the record player. We sat down and I offered the two of them drinks, which they gladly accepted.

Then Ingo asked: "What kind of caterwauling ('Katzenmusik') are you listening to?" I told him. He replied: "How can you listen to that? This could drive anyone to try and kill himself!"

I must admit I was a bit unnerved by this attack on my musical taste, and I had no intentions to justify what I was listening to. So I answered a bit provocative: "What's wrong with suicide? If it's a rational decision, it's quite OK."

What I hadn't expected was how fast both of their faces went stone-cold, and within minutes they said their thank-you's and goodbyes and were gone.

For years Ingo would make a weird concerned face every time he bumped into me.