This famous literary quotation, that became the symbol for abstraction and structuralism in modernity, stems from Gertrude Stein, born 1874 in Pennsylvania, died 1946 in Paris. She was one of the most colorful personalities of the Paris artist and writer scene at the beginnnig of this century, and in her Salon she welcomed, among others, Picasso, Matisse, Hemingway and Ezra Pound. Gertrude Stein developed a humorous, ironic work of prose, full of stylistic refinement and personality.

When the living go and lie with the legendary dead, there is often a smell that rises from their rummaging in old corpses. The chill from these cathedrals of false worship makes us shiver. But the trio Fuhrmann, Herzberg, Fuchs reminds me of these lines from Das Bad, by Yoko Tawada: "Something soft touches my lips, sole. It slipped into my mouth and played with my tongue, at first very tenderly, then stronger, finally it bit my tongue and ate it up". Music or literature, who is eating up who? On this very exquisite CD, both survive, to the joy of those enlightened. I feel the shiver of desire in this coming together.
Michael Naura