This site’s first continental assignment took it on a short hop to a decidedly sunny and fragrant-smelling Amsterdam to check out events taking place at a cluster of some of Europe’s most architecturally – and culturally – significant venues. This jaunt was all centred around the World Minimal Music Festival at the Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ, five days (typically tardy, I missed the first) of performances of pieces by masters of the genre including Reich, Riley, Cage, Reich, Andriessen, Eno and Reich. And Reich. There was a lot of Reich. Great for those of us who love Reich which, judging by the attendance on Day 2, is about half the population of Amsterdam.

The Muziekgebouw is a stunning modernist pile of glass jutting impudently into the river amongst the city’s Eastern Dockands, just ten minutes walk from the centre of town. I spent an hour just wandering around the venue, marvelling at its crisp clean lines and huge light-filled spaces. And taking photos, obviously. Already people were congregating under the venue’s huge protruding roof, sipping beer on the sun-baked wooden terraces by the IJ: this is clearly one of Amsterdam’s great new civic spaces.

The main event that evening was to be a performance of two important Reich pieces by the Asko/Schönberg Ensemble: his latest, Daniel Variations, as well as what many right-minded individuals consider to be his masterpiece: Music For 18 Musicians. If this sounds familiar, then you are clearly this site’s long-suffering loyal reader; in October 2006 I was in the presence of Steve Reich himself at the Barbican for the London premiere of Daniel Variations, again paired with the longer 18. Two and a half years ago? Blimey. I must say you have aged well. And I like that thing you are doing with your hair these days. Really suits your face.

Daniel Variations was composed in the aftermath of the kidnapping and beheading of US journalist Daniel Pearl, mixing some of his texts with those from the Old Testament book of Daniel. I enjoyed the performance more this time; maybe in London I was perhaps too concerned with the meaning, too hung up on the weightiness of those words to give the music any attention; here I noticed just how wonderful it is. Pianos provide a typically Reichian rhythmic base for the subtle, repetitive melodies of the voices and other instruments. In particular it was the those carried by the strings which hit hardest, jagged hooks which dug deep, clawing at my heart. Even shorn of its words and symbolism, Daniel Variations would pack the emotional punch of a heavyweight. I left in need of a stiff drink; thankfully at the interval Muziekgebouw provide these free of charge (look and learn, London venues, look and learn. Oh, go on)

Music for 18 Musicians is, for me, the sonic equivalent of a warm bath, or a freshly laundered pair of fluffy pyjamas. Not both at the same time, obviously. The performance here was flawless, suffusing the piece with a luminousness; the acoustics of the Muziekgebouw were forgiving to its every rhythmic shimmer and shake. The flow was irrepressible, with each segment adding new textures and shades with a logic that seemed irrefutable – the reasons for the piece’s enduring influence on music (whether it be classical, post-rock, ambient or whatever) were very much apparent. Looking around, I could see people immersing themselves, heads nodding, grinning widely. As was I; in fact I enjoyed myself so much so that it seems almost churlish to point out that a quick headcount showed this in fact to be a performance of Music For 19 Musicians (I suspect that someone should have been doubling up on piano and marimba).

So: how to come down after that? The Muziekgebouw’s answer to the question was as good as any: a free midnight screening of Godfrey Reggio’s visual feast Koyaanisqatsi (“life out of balance”), featuring its renowned score by the minimalist Philip Glass. However, it had been a pretty long day, and it was me who was feeling all out of balance: by about the half way point I was drifting into strange lucid dreams, full of bright colours and strange chanting. I finally stumbled out of the Muziekgebouw into a fresh breeze and the sound of lapping waves, and slowly drifted in the direction of bed.

To the next day…