Sounds stretch, they linger and fill the room. In an ancient building, like the Bern Cathedral, the entire architecture reverberates with sound from dusk until deep into the night.

Three big concert sections with pieces by Zimmermann, Rosenberger and Radigue form the framework of this great time structure. In between, heavenly voices: the vocals from way back when, the electronic ones from modern times. Time folds and unfolds with them in wondrous ways.

Music floats on this night; the room vibrates softly – and, at times, more intensely. Music and time glide and, at times, melt. When does one piece end and another begin? The frame, the timeframe that makes a piece of music a piece of music, dissolves. The improvised, the unforeseen meddles, even though it is often hardly distinguishable from the composed; soundscapes build, traces of sounds pull and extend, move around single notes, swirl around them in smallest intervals, like a Bordun sound, a cathedral drone.

The audience is, accompanied by dancing lights, offered the opportunity to move around and explore the space or to lie down and simply listen to the sounds.