There were four, folding metal chairs on the stage. I swear I didn't even see them get filled. I turned my back one second, and then everyone stopped staring at each other and started applauding as four young folks were sitting on those chairs.

They were mostly dressed in high Victorian clothing (bombazine, tophats, veils and all) and had their instruments (one cello, one violin and one flute) ready to go. It was like they'd been there the entire time, but were somehow hidden from sight.

The applause died down as if on cue, and without a word they set right into... Something. I think it was Górecki's "Piece in the Old Style 1," except that the speed wasn't constant, and the singer started whispering an eerie poem halfway through.

And the way the flute predominated - the playing of the flute itself, for that matter - was as chilling as a sea breeze from the wrong direction.

From the Dec, 2003 issue of Sounds {see below for full excerpt}