20 TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE Ye gods, but isn’t it here that the music of the twentieth century is supposedly being determined? Can the music of the twentieth century be born of both war and partying? In any case, it would appear that these Roaring Twenties are trying to think outside the box. Here, people say ‘Dada’ because words are beautiful when they are free. So stop tying them together! Poetry lies elsewhere. Apparently, at the end of the last war, a certain Kazimir Malevich painted a white square on an all-white canvas. So don’t bother us any more with your objective realities, we’re going to turn them upside down for you, in an absinthe delirium smelling of these Parisian rains that may lead us into the next war. But until that happens, we’ll have lived, felt, vibrated, tried things out, sung of parties and follies, even if it means spinning through the air like a canvas aeroplane, getting dizzy again and again, trying to extract the soul of humanity and the light of laughter from the intoxication, even if it means deliberately crashing that aeroplane into the ground, so that one day we can rebuild music on the ashes of the drama.
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