Liminality is a piece written in the period of 2021-2022. Its material consists of two voices, a narrator and a poet, and various field recordings of trams, cars, commuters, radios and odd, small instruments like kalimba and melodica. The piece is composed for headphones and made in Ableton Live 11.

 

The key concept behind this piece is, perhaps unsurprisingly, liminality. Liminality is a state of transition, of in-between. It was first developed in the discipline of anthropology to describe rites of passage or initiation rituals. Here a person finds himself in between two phases, being simultaneously both and neither. This state can be characterised as liminal.

This idea can be applied to all sorts of things and places. One of the most interesting, I think, is space. The aesthetic known as a liminal space is a location which is a transition between two other locations, or states of being. Think of trains, trams, railways and railway stations. Bridges, roads, and tunnels. Hotels, waiting rooms, stairwells and hallways. These are places we only go in order to be somewhere else; just a necessary byproduct of wanting to travel from place to place, whereby all the places in between are of secondary importance. You could say that we never truly simply exist in these spaces; our minds have already carried us elsewhere. Liminal space may only ever serve as a temporary conduit for our being; such is its nature.

Liminality is set in one of these liminal spaces: the public transportation system of Amsterdam. More specifically: tram 26, riding between Amsterdam Centraal and IJburg. Except that in Liminality, this tram seems to start and stop at one stop: Zuiderzeeweg. The tram seems to leave at this station, and somehow end up in the same place every time without making any other stops. A pointless circle, endlessly stretching itself, becoming more absurd with every moment it continues to exist.

Our main character, represented by the “poet” role, is on tram 26. She does not exactly know why she got on. She does not exactly know where she is going. The narrator functions rather like a translator, keeping track of time and explaining what is happening to the audience. He even goes so far as to tell the audience how to feel. Though the confident narrator enters the story from a removed, almost all-knowing position, though he increasingly starts to feel estranged and trapped in the world he once described at a distance.

This work is heavily influenced by the works of Kae Tempest, whom I would describe as my favourite poet and rapper. Particularly, the album Let Them Eat Chaos, released in 2016, made a big impact on Liminality. To a lesser extent, I think Sartre’s Nausea shaped this piece. I quote from both these works in the text. Partly to evoke their spirit, and partly to show those who are interested where and by whom I was inspired.
 
Rather than a score, I decided to make a script. I made this decision because the more I started to work on the piece, the more I started to think of it as something more akin to a play than a piece of music. I was concerned with its narrative and characters much more than with its sound or music. Below follows the score, or rather ‘script’ of Liminality.















Narrator: It’s 04:18 A.M. The tram is arriving. You remember you are supposed to be on it.

 

Poet: De plekken tussen plaatsen

Weerkaatsen me, verplaatsen me,

Waar ik maar sta te staan

Om ergens anders heen te gaan;

Om de liminaliteit te beproeven;

Mijn tijd te vertoeven;

 

Narrator: It’s 04:19 A.M. You get on the tram. The doors close. It starts to move. Alongside a rattling of the mechanism, an inescapable buzzing sound arises. You feel trapped.

 

Poet: Wellicht voel ik me bevrijd,

Maar daar zijn ze al!

Die donk're donderwolken vliegen over

Dichtgemaakte daken?

Waar ik lig te slapen,

Is de wereld daar nog zacht?

In de onbepaalde diepste diepten van de Nacht,

Tracht daar maar te liggen,

Te wachten op,,, wat dan?

 

Narrator: It’s 04:25 A.M. The tram comes to a halt. A new sound is carried to your ear like a whisper; a radio broadcast is playing somewhere in the carriage. Something about housing shortages in Berlin. What is it doing there?
 

Narrator: It’s 04:42 A.M. You are still on the tram. It squeaks through the streets, wrapping, swirling, going somewhere... You hear some high-pitched electronics, somewhere in the back, as if smothered in some prison somewhere in the wall. It reminds you of that ringing you get in your ear sometimes… That untraceably high pitch… You are unsettled.

 

Poet: Ik drijf verloren, eenzaam op de wind

Ik blijf verstoren, niet te weten waar ik aan begin,

Op zoek naar een rust die ik nooit vind.

Om maar gevonden te worden…

Herkend te zijn.

'T bestaan te porren.

Ook al ben ik nog zo klein

Voel ik de tijdlijn waaien;

Dat wiel dat maar blijft draaien

Om maar ergens heen te gaan.

Ook al ben ik al vergaan.
 

Narrator: It’s 05:18 A.M. We’re on the tram. You try to remember why you’re here. You do not understand. You try to remember where you’re going. Please try to remember where you’re going! You don’t understand. I don’t understand. Haven’t we been here before?

 

Poet: Verdwenen in de lucht

Ontastbaar als in het water 

Verschenen verplaatste zandbanken 

Op een veel te grijze kust.

Ik lust niets meer.

Ik heb al mijn branden geblust.
Ik ben de stilte, de as;
Een overblijfsel,,, van iets dat ik nooit,,, was.

 

Narrator: I’ve lost track of time. Everything is moving and I am going nowhere. I suspect you are dreaming. And what does that make of me? I can’t tell. I can’t sleep. I can't feel. I can't scream. There’s a mist, a certain nausea, clinging to every chair, every window, every traffic light. This must simply be a bad dream. Wake up! Uncurl yourself; stand up and look at your limbs! Where have you landed? Where are you taking me?

 

Poet: Vergaan in ergens heen gaan.
Verdwenen in de lucht.
Vergeten.
Aan een veel te grijze kust.