A Music-Theatre Investigation in the Age of Infinite Communication
A production by Nico and the Navigators, 2028
Planned as a co-production with the Dresdner Musikfestspiele and HELLERAU – European Centre for the Arts.
In cooperation with Radialsystem Berlin.
How we speak. How we transmit. And what can get lost along the way.
Glory of Glitch explores human communication in a world that is constantly transmitting, sharing and responding — and asks what happens when things go wrong: when communication is disrupted, misunderstood or fractured.
The Self in Transmission Mode
At the heart of this music-theatre investigation is the question of how thought and language change under an ever-increasing frequency of transmission, and how acceleration and abbreviated language reduce complex relationships. At the same time, what new possibilities might this open up?
How does language shift from argument to gesture? From facts to opinions? And conversely, what happens when we deliberately slow communication down and once again allow for silence and spaces of listening?
The performance also explores how human relationships change when communication is increasingly shaped by visibility, reach, click counts and public response.
The work observes, shifts, varies and questions different forms of singing, speaking, listening and transmitting. Through performance, things become visible that might otherwise go unnoticed in everyday life: Does our thinking need time, or do we leave it to reflex? What happens to a question when the answer is already waiting? When impulses immediately press outward, what remains within?
Listening in Order to Let Our Thoughts Change?
Listening: When does it actually happen today? And where? What forms of listening exist?
Does it happen in conversation — or only in the pauses between two of our own sentences? In the concert hall, or perhaps in the theatre, when a sound lingers longer than is comfortable? Or in the digital realm, where we scroll and yet claim to be paying attention?
In a present that is constantly transmitting, the ear often seems to remain in a state of readiness: we listen so that we can respond. But do we also listen in order to allow ourselves to be changed? To risk a shift in our own thinking?
Or is listening itself becoming something fleeting — a brief suspension of the self, immediately overtaken again by the impulse to express an opinion?
We want to find out what is needed for listening to become more than simply waiting for our turn to speak, how much silence it requires, and where that silence can be found. Is silence an acoustic category, or an inner attitude?
How do bodies behave within and in relation to silence? And how do they become legible to an audience through music and on stage?
To what extent is listening a fragile situation — a moment in which understanding can unfold openly between people?
