Prolog Auf Erden

("Prologue on the Earth")

The time has come. After almost six months of impatient waiting the time has finally come. Every time I try and devote my full attention to something --to really immerse myself-- there's always interruption, always some dumb little thing that draws me away from whatever it is I am trying to indulge in. It's infuriating, and inevitably breaks the tenuous connection I might have been building with a book or a piece of music. But not tonight. I will not stop listening until I'm ready to stop. I lock the door, turn off the lights, and lie down.

I turn up the volume for good measure, and press play.

A tremendous, soul-rending power chord slams through the silence with terrible strength. The bass drum behind the guitar pulses with steady regularity. It is tame, calm- simply warming up for the deluge of furious beats that its slowness portends. In the distance ominous, heavy bells clang as that first guitar chord rings on and the choir sings out in a single octave. The guitar changes chords- down a third to a lower set of notes. The drums, choir and bells stay where they are, creating wonderful tension within the sound that is resolved in another two measures.

The pattern repeats itself, and at the next cycle the guitar shifts into steady eighth notes, staying on the same chord. The choir has moved higher. This is building up towards something dreadful, I can sense it looming on the horizon. I steady myself for what may come, thrilled with the steady, exciting pace the song is revealing itself to me.

And then they appear.

The brass section thunders in, compressing my lungs with colossal force, overpowering the other instruments with the gargantuan magnitude of its sound. Their part is simple, but sweeping, regal, and jaw-droppingly majestic. It is perfect. The drums have switched to a galloping pattern now, and as I lie there, my heartbeat quickening, my entire body chilled, my soul desperately opening its jaws to accommodate the glory of it all, I can almost feel myself on the back of a horse, riding alongside thousands of fearsome, armored warriors across a muddy plain under an overcast sky. Flutes and pipes gently take over from the trumpets, ringing out in a tender, higher octave, elaborating on the musical theme the trumpets introduced. Orchestra hits strike through the sound like flashes of lightning.

And then it all stops. The guitar strikes four deep, resonating chords, complimented by cymbal crashes. My mouth spreads in a fiendish grin as I prepare for what I know is coming:

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.

The drums explode in a violent, thunderous cascade of beats as the distant roar of the vocalist slashes through the air. The sustain in his pained, feral rasp is magnificent. There is a sad, far off loneliness in it, speaking of fury and desire. I slowly sink into the wall of sound as its grip tightens over me. He stops for a moment as the drums and guitar continue on, and then returns with the same long, mournful scream, this time layered with other echoing, indiscernible words. Violins make their entrance, playing a slow, sad melody over the senseless, rushing clamor of the band below. The warriors are dying, striking each other down with malice and spite. Blood and rain is splashing up from the muddy ground, horses and people are writhing in pain. My heart quavers.

And it all stops once more. The guitar returns with the same four chords as the sad screams fade off into nothingness:

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.

The song shifts from 4/4 time into 3/4 time, and a more peaceful melody sweeps in, devoid of the heavier instruments. It contrasts sharply against the furious battle scenery of the last segment; my mind's eye is swept away from the disfigured, bloody corpses of the fallen warriors to mountains, forests, streams. As suddenly as they left, the trumpets return again, blasting out victorious triplets like beams of sunlight shining through the forest canopy. And they're building up to yet another arrival- the pipes. They move throughout the music with elven grace, trilling through almost familiar phrases, tinged with the slightest hint of Baroque. I sink further into them, swaying with the rythm.

The pipes head up an octave and get very quiet as a single voice speaks. I don't know what it is saying, and catch only hints of words as it speaks, but I don't need to understand them. The voice is low, calming, full of wisdom. It comforts me as it tells its story, and as he speaks his last words the volume of the instruments in the background gradually increase in volume. This is it. This is the culminating moment of the entire song. My mind shifts gears, attempting to understand the buildup of sound, frantically awaiting the approaching resolution. My breathing feels tightened, my fingers tingle, and then it happens:

The pipes explode into the forefront, striking out with awesome grace, captivating all of my attention. My eyes literally water as the sheer wonder of it all pours its way into my ears. This is the moment the drums have been waiting for as well, and they return with a blast of sixteenth notes that carries the melody along. The scream is back as well, still far off in the distance, behind the other instruments, but this time the sadness is gone; it now tears through the music with a primal sense of satisfaction, of victory. The wall of sound crashes down on top of me, and I lie there dazed as the music finally comes to an end, the sun shining out onto a green landscape, fresh with rain. I lie there wrapped in darkness, my heavy breathing and blazingly fast heartbeat the only things cutting through the silence, and try to steady myself before the next song comes.

This is what I have been waiting for.

(Part one of two)