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Translated from Hungarian:
I have to make it clear that not even for a moment is there a doubt that it is not a technical but a philosophical question. So that the tonal system in question through researches, has lead to us inevitably to a test of faith, in which we ask:
on what do we base our belief that this harmony, the core of every masterpiece, referring to its own irrevocability, actually exists or not. From this it follows, that we should speak of, not research into music, but a unique realization of non-music which for centuries has been covered up and a dreadful scandal which we should disclose. Hence the shameful situation that all the intervals in the masterpieces of many centuries are false. Which means that music and its harmony and echo, its unsurpassable enchantment is entirely based on a false foundation. Yes, we have to speak of an indisputable deception, even if those who are less sure, a little moderate, babble on about compromise. But what kind of compromise, when for the majority pure musical tonality is simply illusion, and truly pure musical intervals do not exist.
Here we have to acknowledge the fact that there were ages more fortunate than ours, those of Pythagoras and Aristoxenes, when our forefathers were satisfied with the fact that their purely tuned instruments were played in only some tones, because they were not troubled by doubts, for they knew that heavenly harmonies were the province of the gods. Later, all this was not enough, unhinged arrogance wished to take possession of all the harmonies of the gods. And it was done in its own way, technicians were charged with the solution, a Praetorius, a Salinas, and finally an Andreas Werckmeister who resolved the difficulty by dividing the octave of the harmony of the gods, the twelve half-tones, into twelve equal parts. Of two semi-tones he falsified one, instead of ten black keys, five were used and that sealed the position. We have to turn on this development of tuning instruments, the so-called constant tempered, and its sad history and bring back the naturally tuned instrument. Carefully, we have to correct Werckmeister's mistake. We have to concern ourselves with these seven notes of the scale, but not as of the octave, but seven distinct and independent qualities, like seven fraternal stars in the heavens. What we have to do, then, if we are aware, is that this natural tuning has its limits, and it is a somewhat worrisome limit that definitely excludes the use of certain higher signatures.
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It is so cold down here, I miss the heat. On soulless feet they dance to the song. The words don't hold meaning but they all sing along. I feel so strange in this deathbed harbor. I once called it home, but I can't anymore. Who are these ghosts? What they are doing here? Sometimes I still can see dead end signs in your eyes. Sometimes I wonder why don't we all take up the nine and make our way out. The day is coming, don't be afraid, and we all will be back to life.
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I in Us, a Love Letter
02:17
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And if I am not fast enough, loud enough, clear enough, what would you do? And if I say that this song is for you, what would you do? Just concentrate in the fact that you'll ever be a minor threat if you're out of step with the world but stay in line with your dogmas. I have a message, specially for you. It was sent by Marx and it says that he's against you. Because you lie. Was this song clear enough for you?
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Ehnay / And I, End I
03:29
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You want more, the best out of me. And when you’re done sucking you’ll just search for another victim. But I’m not one of you. What they said you’ll keep on ignoring and it’s so sad, you’re fated to end up burning and you’ll take us all with you. Do you know my name? Do you know I’m untamed?
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Because he was called young man, he was also called road, travel of gale. He doesn't remember if he looked back at the first step. Because they were called men, they were also called dreams and the dreams never get old. Among so many tear gasses they stay calm. And there goes another day. It's enough to count the pace, it's enough to count on yourself, because the blaze has no wick. Off of everything are made songs. And the heart on the curve of a river, and there it goes, and there it goes. And the river of pavement and people, spills through the slope, blocks the curb. Corner, more than a million. I want to see, so, the people, the people, the people.
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They say that, in this place, pureness at heart doesn't matter anymore, that everything is gone. But I know that still there's life in here. Milton once told me that, because we're called men, we're also called dreams, and the dreams never get old. It may take days, it may take years, but some day flowers will grow again in here, because, bellow the pavement, there are seeds waiting.
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Y's
12:26
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This is our party. It's we who chose the songs and you can't get in and don't do the dance. Because this is our night, it's our fight, it's our dance, it's our chance to feel alive. We’ll make love on the dance floor because this is our revolution. Do the dance with me. Smell the sour and freedom in the air. Every chord will hit us like a bullet. C'mon, feet dangling. Don't miss the beat. Don't miss the heartbeat. Would you join us?
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Campbell Trio Porto Alegre, Brazil
Very early it was too late for the Campbell Trio.
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