Vito Acconci

"This is written before the piece is recorded. What I want is: ten packed minutes (that can be the tile - or, maybe, Ten Minutes to Zero). The beginning is a single voice: crooning familiars as a base for tongue-twisting (after all, this is a record: there's no space to pin down here - now do you get the picture? - so there are games in the air, yes, it's you/me/we/go/come who goes further / the question is, who made somebody come tonight, who among those crowds of people…). But the song drifts off: this is like overhearing a police broadcast: there's a report, from person A, who under the grating, of person B's movements, on top of the grating - have we caught a sneak out of those multitudes of armies? (So the picture becomes clearer, no? But, all the while, there's always the thought: we can go to the movies later.) Say, then, that person C has escaped: there's a bar in another part of the forest: but person C fades away here, person C is just the excuse for the placement of a duel duet: bring back the music, bring on the night.. After a life like this, I come back to you bearing my very first songs: but, now, by this time - oh-oh-oh…. At this point, then the picture should have disappeared right in front of your eyes; but what replaces it is, no, not a thousand words - rather, the sound of the sounding that the words were there merely to prop up."
(From "Airwaves")

Kunst Heute 11.6.1978