The Fifth Stockhausen was a relaxed man. The decree nisi came through in early 1971. No matter, by the fall he had found a new companion, clarinetist Suzanne Stephens, who is still his assistant today. His band had fallen apart. So what? He became the leader of a highbrow Partridge family, including children from both his marriages -- Majella Stockhausen on keys, Simon Stockhausen on saxophone and Markus Stockhausen on trumpet -- and a few other core players who came to stay, notably Kathinka Pasveer (on flute), who would become his second assistant.
Stockhausen's music of the '70s is pleasant, diverting and mostly of a theatrical bent. "Ylem" and "Mantra" are well worth a listen, and "Sternklang" remains a beautiful ceremonial work, an improvisatory composition that can only be played outdoors in August. I asked him if this was determined by the stars, and apparently it is: "These are the dog days. That's when the Sirius light reaches our planet and our sun, and our sun is fed by it -- then we have double light and it's very strong. That is the best period for spiritual performances."
However, it's a far cry from his earlier work. In tune with everyone else in the '70s, Stockhausen had lost his iconoclastic edge. He found it again in 1977 with "Licht." Everyone else rediscovered the three-minute single; Stockhausen rediscovered the four-hour opera -- seven of them, in fact. The Sixth Stockhausen had arrived in full effect.
At each turn of his composing career, Stockhausen mastered new techniques of directing music. For "Licht," which he is still in the process of creating, he took over the whole shebang. He is the librettist, choreographer, sound engineer and set and costume designer, all wrapped up in one Edwardian frock coat (though Mary Bauermeister still helps out with the visuals). Each character in the operas is represented not only by a singer and a musician but also by a dancer. Not content with redefining the physics of music, he created a new mathematics of gesture so as to completely describe and inhabit the human condition within the time-space continuum.
"Licht" is the story of three characters who personify cosmic creativity (rather like a Hindu theatrical cycle): Michael (the generative force), Lucifer (the critical force) and Eve (the nurturing reconciler). Permutations of these three forces add up to seven, the seven days of "Licht," seven huge and, in some cases, all but unstageable spectacles. The most infamous of unlikely theatrical gimmicks is the "Helicopter String Quartet" -- a quartet that plays in four separate helicopters in the most recently completed opera, 1998's "Mittwoch" ("Wednesday").
The first part of "Licht" to be completed -- in 1980 -- was "Donnerstag" ("Thursday"), Michael's story. As it happens, it's also Stockhausen's own story, transfigured into the world of the divine. It's not, however, an entry-level piece. I got to see "Donnerstag" in London at the Royal Opera, and like many of his theatrical productions, it's a spectacle that's better appreciated on the day -- on disc, it can be as opaque as any opera without the subtitles.
If you want to try "Licht" on for size, "Samstag" ("Saturday"), completed in 1984, is much more approachable. A trip through the experience of dying (modeled after the Egyptian Book of the Dead), it's characterized by a light touch and features a standout flute solo that purges you of bad karma like a colonic irrigation for the soul. Since "Samstag" is the day that's set aside for Lucifer, the drama naturally ends in chaos -- the orchestra goes on strike and goes home. That's also from the biography -- the same thing happened during the premiere of "Donnerstag."
The final day will tell the story of Michael's sexual and spiritual union with Eve and it will be, appropriately, "Sonntag" ("Sunday"). By 2002 or 2003 (the projected completion date), perhaps the by-then 75-year-old god of electronic music will be ready to pack it in. Then again, given his predilection for sevens, perhaps there's yet another incarnation on the way.