Piece for solo flute (or solo clarinet) and tape. It was written for Gudrun Racine and inspired by a poem by her son, Renaud, in which he writes about the time of waking when he is transported from one world to another by a crow. The tape uses Renaud’s voice reading his own poem, flute sounds and crow sounds, and was realized while working with Gerald Bennett at the Bourges Studio for Experimental Music. The proportions of the piece are derived from the proportions of the poem. While working on the formal aspects of this piece I discovered what I call Abelian Form in which the larger sections are sub-divided in the same proportion as those of the whole piece, and in which a small section II/3 for example contains the same material as section III/2. Krähenalles has been performed a number of times as part of the collective piece Das Durchbeissen by Gerald Bennett and his associates, and also as a piece in its own right by Gudrun Racine at the Zurich Conservatory and once in Christchurch by Susan Hayes, clarinet.


Was macht die Krähe, die
ich in das obere Ende meines Schlafturms hineinragen sehe?
Sie holt mich aus der Welt in
die Welt in die Welt aus
der Welt.
Ich bin wo und niergends.
Die Krähe ist dort und sitzt oder fliegt und kräht.
Ich krähe.

Renaud Racine


What is the crow doing, which
I see at the top end of my sleep-tower looming in?
It fetches me out of the world
into the world into the world
out of the world.
I am somewhere and nowhere.
The crow is there and sits or flies and crows.
I crow.

Renaud Racine, translation KP

Kit wrote a perfectly marvelous piece Krähenalles … for clarinet and tape accompaniment, full of crow noises and beautiful, long streaks of sound holding them together. We performed [it] at 11 PM on a summer evening that June (1982) in the large park behind the famous Bourges cathedral…

It was magic: Andres Müller played the clarinet wonderfully from a brightly lit white bandstand, while the accompaniment of crows and exquisite sounds derived from flute and clarinet came from loudspeakers placed near and far all through the pitch-black woods of the park.

Gerald Bennett