Self inquiry

 I turn 61 this weekend. That's not significant in and of itself, other than just surviving to this time.

I have been contemplating several issues in my life, as a musician and teacher.

Given: my work takes in a wide variety of areas. There are my various "jazz" groups, such as Thoth Trio, OPEK, Book Exchange, Flexure. 

More improvisational groups over the years, such as Morphic Resonance, Dust and Feathers, Throckmorton Plot, Sound/Unsound.

Groups that interface with tradition: Coal Train, Bombici, again OPEK. And Thoth. And others. 

This is to say nothing of my solo performances, or the Pittsburgh Composers' Quartet, or a variety of other groups I've done over the years. 

Then there are noisier collaborations, such as with Microwaves, Brown Angel, Spotlights. Mark Michelli, pianist for the Pittsburgh Composers' Quartet, asked me how I felt and enjoyed working with these groups. I love it, for one thing it's such a break from what I do otherwise.

My self-inquiry is, what do I do well? Am I offering something to all of these groups, or am I fooling myself?

I'm not passive-aggressively asking for validation through this blog. I'd say it's more self-therapy, though I'm wary of self-absorption.

I have been teaching at Carnegie Mellon University for some 18 or so years now. It's no less than twice as long as any job I've held. Some people (mostly men) hold on to a job for 35 years! Thing is,  I have little enjoyment in the position now. Sometimes it's great, and I get to interact with smart and wonderful people. (My 8am education credit today.) Sometimes I question why I need to be there. (My 9 and 10am classes today, the latter of which fewer than half the students showed up). 

Are they just as well off with an AI chatbot?

I know myself well enough to know that I could never sit in one place musically, my own interests are too broad. 

I can think of two models: Miles Davis and Sun Ra. Miles: he was constantly shifting, constantly moving. If you know his work, you can probably hear a recording of his and place it within a few years. 

Sun Ra is more elusive. His early work can definitely be placed in a particular time frame. When he reaches the early 70s, he draws on everything to that point in his performances. Could be 50s, 60s, 70s, or none of those. 

I'd say I'm more sympathetic to the latter, but I appreciate Miles' determination to keep moving.

I'll add to this, why does anyone need to be one thing? If nothing else, I refuse that. Nonetheless:

What do I do well? And let's assume I can figure that out after all these years. What if that is something that almost nobody wants to listen to?

What am I doing? Why am I here? And am I partially excited that I can't answer those questions? 

I have some serious issues to contemplate this summer. 

VOTD 1 & 2 3/29/2024

Forbidden Overture: Turned On! OST (Dark Entries)

Alden Shuman: The Devil in Miss Jones OST  (Janus)

The former was purchased at The Government Center new; the latter, I don't remember exactly. Possibly a Jerry's Records auction.

I hope I don't regret writing this blog post. 

I've written about the soundtrack albums to Cannibal Holocaust and Cannibal Ferox. I wrote something about soundtracks to disreputable films. Well dear reader, I'm going all in. What's a more disreputable film category than hardcore pornography?

Well, maybe Cannibal Ferox comes close, or exceeds. 

The industry of hardcore adult films is far more interesting to me than the actual product. After the breakthrough of Deep Throat, it grew into its own alternative cinema lane. So much so, that there's a book by Legs McNeil, The Other Hollywood. The adult industry had its own directors, stars, theaters. In the 70s and 80s, some now mainstream producers and directors cut their teeth in the porn world. Wes Craven was known to be one. Abel Ferrera, director of Bad Lieutenant, Ms. 45, and The Addiction, began as a filmmaker by creating the hardcore 9 Lives of a Wet Pussy(cat).* 

I find this all interesting, and as I said, more than the films themselves.

Most so-called adult films relied on library music. Music you could pay a fee to use, without the hassle of dealing with sessions and musicians and composers and rights etc. If the era is the 70s into the 80s, it makes sense that the sound was wah-wah chunka chunka guitar that everyone associates with sex films. 

Far more interesting to me is when the filmmakers decided they need an original soundtrack. It's a night out at the movies, right honey? Somewhere in my looking into these things, I read (or heard, a podcast?) that Gerard Damiano, the director of Deep Throat, thought that the thing that would put the movie over the edge was an original musical score. 

Really?

I can tell you honestly, dear reader, I've never seen Deep Throat. It's not an excuse. I have watched the documentary about the film. I also have a CD copy of the soundtrack to Deep Throat I & II. It's not good. "Deep throat/deeper than deep, your throat" sings someone earnestly. It's a bit...ick. 

So, where does interesting soundtrack music and the adult film world intersect?

I found this vinyl copy of Turned On! at The Government Center under soundtracks. A sticker on the wrapping reads "The complete original from the 1982 gay porn classic...". Well, always on the hunt for vinyl oddities, I couldn't help be curious. 

No, not that way. What was going on with this album?

What I hear when I listen to this with current ears, is the pre-MIDI sequencing going on. Whoever Forbidden Overture is (I think it's one guy), he was definitely listening to Kraftwerk. The mechanized rhythms and lines, the minimalism. There are no vocals anywhere, which might have been distracting to the....activities...of the film. There's an electric piano sound on side one that steps away from the Kraftwerk sound palette. Not out of place, just not part of the syntho-sound world that "Those funky German white boys" (Afrika Bambaata's term for Kraftwerk) used. There's some feeling of Krautrock throughout. 

Contrast that with the second LP of the night, the original pressing (no bragging) of The Devil in Miss Jones soundtrack from 1973. This is dark. Turned On! is upbeat, chugs along consistently in its sequenced manner, underscoring whatever male action was going on in the movie. (Which again, I've never seen it. Really. I swear.) 

The TDIMJ soundtrack has such a 70s vibe to it. If the credited Linda November hadn't sung the main title theme, Joan Baez wouldn't have been too out of place.

I have exactly one LP with Joan Baez, and it's a Morricone score to Sacco & Vanzetti. And even then, I bought it because there was an electronic instrument credited on the cover, the Synket.

The very fact of this LP makes it interesting to me. It's not the only porn soundtrack released in that era, but there aren't many. Bernard Purdie's Lialeh is a much sought-after record (reissued on CD in 2003). I have an LP for Happy Days, not the TV show (though obviously playing off of it) but an adult film from 1974 with Georgina Spelvin, the star of TDIMJ. It was its own industry, after all. 

What makes up this album? Piano (or organ) is front and center, with a string quartet and percussion; at times guitar, bass, French horn, oboe, flute other reeds. It's all very well arranged. Somebody cared about what went into this.

I'm certain this was arranged and recorded quickly, but it's interesting to me how much care went into this soundtrack. It's well recorded too, suggesting a good studio for production.

It's a bit on the "easy listening" side, but you know...what did this undercore?

Look into it yourself, dear reader. 

* During the pandemic lockdown, my wife and I went to see movies a couple of times at the Lindsey Theater in Sewickley. Something happened that I knew would happen, twice: we were the only two people in the theater. The first of those two times was seeing Abel Ferrera's documentary The Projectionist, about a guy who just loved movies and loved showing them. Including porn theaters. Look it up. 

VOTD 3/28/2024

 Cecil Taylor: Unit Structures (Blue Note/UMe)

Purchased used at The Attic

You know how you see those Joy Division Unknown Pleasures t-shirts everywhere? I had a potential student from high school show up in my class at the university one day wearing that shirt. African American. I asked him if he'd actually listened to that album. His response was, "Oh, um, I've um...been meaning to." Right.

Last year some time, I saw a movie at The Manor in Squirrel Hill, and a young man in front of me was wearing a Cecil Taylor Unit Structures t-shirt. I asked him if he actually knew that album, and his response was, "Yes, of course."

Was he more/less/as honest as the high schooler I had in my class with the Joy Division t-shirt? I'll never know. 

My band Water Shed 5tet opened for Cecil Taylor at the Three Rivers Arts Festival in 1997. We had no interaction with him, though I would later sit in with his rhythm section of Dominic Duvall and...Jay Rosen? I guess. Details are fuzzy after so long. 

Cecil Taylor. Someone I admire more than I enjoy, if I'm perfectly honest. I never had a particular taste for Cecil's music, but I acknowledge his significance. A connective tissue between Coltrane and the next generation of free players, for one thing.

What's going on here? It's difficult to tell sometimes, whether the events are improvised, composed, or some combination or degree in between. That blurring of roles and events can be exciting to me. "Unit Structures/As Of a Now/Section" has the most clearly composed sections, cells of ideas tossed around the players. The seven piece back whips up a fury at times: trumpet, alto saxophone, alto/oboe/bass clarinet, piano, two basses, drums. 

Cecil does demonstrate some frightening virtuosity at times; not just masses of notes, but very cleanly delivered (albeit unusual) lines. There's a post-Cecil aesthetic of improvising I don't particularly like, though. This attitude that everyone jumps in and plays plays plays plays plays, with little listening or crossplay happening. I don't mean to say that it's especially true here, but it seems like a real New York attitude. I once saw the David S. Ware Quartet (David having a brief association with Cecil) with Matthew Shipp, William Parker, and Susie Ibarra. Most pieces went like this: David would play solo for a time. He'd give a big downbeat, and the band would start playing. It was a dense wall of sound, everybody just playing without really acknowledging anyone else. eventually it thinned out, but it seemed as though nobody was concerned with what anyone else was doing. 

To be clear, that has nothing to do with this album. Released in 1966 and presumably recorded around that time, it is Cecil still in an early period. There's notes on the back in a tiny font by Cecil himself, and I don't at the moment have the patience to plow through them. No doubt I'll be returning to this album, maybe then. 

VOTD 3/25/2024

 Goblin: Buio Omega (The Complete Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) (AMS)

Purchased used at The Attic

Another day, another Italian horror movie soundtrack. 

I've seen Goblin play three times, or at least Claudio Simonetti's Goblin. Once playing live to the film Deep Red, once to Suspiria, and a third time a general program of their works. Just who and what constitutes the band Goblin depends on the time and place I suppose. The fracturing of this band would almost rival Yes at times, and I think there might have been more than one version of the band active once. The band names include those mentioned above, New Goblin, Goblin Rebirth, Back to the Goblin (yuck), Goblin Keys, and Daemonia. One can only imagine the legal meetings. 

The band I've seen puts Claudio front and center, with three other players who probably hadn't been born before the release of Suspiria. In their multimedia show, there's no mention of who is responsible for composing the works. I always assumed he was the primary composer, especially considering he created more soundtracks under his own name after leaving the original Goblin. But now I'm not so certain, but I'm not going to take the time to exhaustively look for composing credits on Goblin albums (if they even are listed). In part because, well, it just doesn't matter that much.

Something that interests me in these soundtracks is how they stand up to listening independent of the cinematic experience. (I'm sure I've written that on this blog before. With as many posts as I've made, I'm forgetting what I wrote each time.) Suspiria and Goblin's original music to Dawn of the Dead  both work outside the movie in addition to intensifying the experience of watching the film. If anything, seeing the current Goblin play live to Suspiria, I had the feeling it was the first time the music was loud enough. 

Buio Omega is another Italian horror film I haven't seen. Goblin's name alone was enough for me to buy the LP. Notably, this was created after Sinonetti's departure from the band. Other titles, depending on release and country, include Beyond the Darkness, Demencia, Blue Holocaust, Buried Alive, In Quella Casa, and probably a few others. Unsurprisingly, the titles suggest or even match other horror and exploitation titles. 

There's a few nice and interesting cues on this soundtrack, but by itself it's a little on the bland side. It's definitely lacking the in-your-face quality of Suspiria and Deep Red. A few selections start to sound like Bruford-style jazz fusion, but lacking the extreme chops of that band. Another cue, "Bikini Island", takes on a disco flavor. Well, it was 1979, though disco proper had already crested about a year before. This is after all a film soundtrack, so maybe they didn't anticipate someone sitting and listening to this as I am now. 

It's all not-bad, fills in another gap in my knowledge about such works, but not terribly memorable.

VOTD 3/24/2024

 Roberto Donati: Cannibal Ferox (Original 1981 Motion Picture Soundtrack) (One Way Static)

Purchased used at The Attic

Here I go again. I've tried to limited my spending/collecting habits due to the accumulation of stuff I have. I continue, if anything, to indulge my love of vinyl, and less often CDs. Nonetheless, when I make the rounds to the local record stores, I always say to myself: you don't have to buy anything. Don't buy it if you don't want it. And more often than not I go home empty handed. 

But you know, when the floodgates open, and there are multiple interesting or weird things for sale, one tends to lead to buying several. On this trip alone I purchased a soundtrack LP by Goblin, a Prurient picture disc, a PBK/Wolf Eyes LP (I'm opening for Wolf Eyes in April), Cecil Taylor's Unit Structures, a Black Leather Jesus 7", and the above listed LP. I'll make some future blog posts about some of those.

Once again I'm writing about the music for a disreputable film (to say the least): Cannibal Ferox AKA Make Them Die Slowly. On the cover there's a black bar across (the illustration of) a woman's breasts, reading "BANNED IN 31 COUNTRIES". In this case it might not be an exaggeration.

I've found I have a taste for Italian horror films, and sometimes I think I can identify one just on sight without knowing its origin. Some of it can be pretty strong stuff though. One thing they're not known for is humor. Italians apparently like the horror horrifying, their humor light, and never mixing the two. I'm sure there must be exceptions, but I can't think of one at the moment.

While I can take a lot visually, I've more or less drawn the line with Italian cannibal movies. They are particularly ugly. I've written on here previously about the soundtrack to Cannibal Apocalypse, another Italian horror film. Oh it's pretty bloody, but I don't regard it as actually a cannibal film. It's closer to The Crazies or 28 Day Later: a contagious disease gives you a desire to bite into another person's flesh.

Good taste it ain't, but films like Cannibal Ferox and Cannibal Holocaust are at least a step or two further. Americans find themselves in a tropical jungle, and encounter a tribe of cannibals. They do something dumb or violent, and the tribespeople exact bloody and violent revenge. Notable in atleast one of these are scenes of animals being slaughtered for meals. No thank you. 

There's an Italian flavor to the music, at least insofar as it's similar to other Italian soundtrack music I've heard. The "NYC Main Title" is funky and isn't too far astray from the Cannibal Apocalypse music. The band sounds like a small studio band: guitar (maybe two), keyboards (maybe two), occasional horns, drums. There's some grimy synth here and there, more-or-less rock instrumentals. Some of it is well played, occasionally it's sloppy. I'm sure the tracks were done quickly with few takes. The mix is a little odd, clear but poorly balanced at times.

When I'm gone, assuming I haven't eventually sold off or donated my record collection, someone's going to look through my soundtrack vinyl and I suspect will wonder about my mental health. Cannibal Ferox, Cannibal Holocaust, Cannibal Apocalypse, Autopsy. I've seen one of those, though I shouldn't have to defend that. It's all about the music, regardless of the source! Perhaps, I'm writing this both as a confession and a defense. I'm not insane, really. I guess.

I see the composer has another discogs.com credit, which I guess is another Italian cannibal movie soundtrack, Eaten Alive. Don't know it, will probably never watch it.

I was catsitting for my daughter recently, and found Lucio Fulci's The Beyond* on a free streaming network. (More Italian horror, if that's not obvious enough.) Even though I've watched it before, I sat and viewed the second half of it. It's weird, doesn't make much sense, but has an atmosphere of paranoia and dread. There's a scene with a man's face getting eaten by tarantulas for no reason anyone could explain to me. It might be disturbing if it wasn't so patently fake.

The final scene finds the main couple basically trapped in Hell. Hell in this case wasn't a fiery pit so much as a frozen wasteland, with bodies lying around in the landscape. What I found ridiculous is that those bodies were blurred, because I guess they were nude. It's so distant that it's hard to tell if you watch the unedited version. Earlier in the film, a teenager's head gets blown open with a shotgun, quickly but very graphically. That doesn't get edited, but some distant breasts and pubes can't make the cut. 

We are so screwed up sometimes.

*My biggest issue with The Beyond: not the lack of plot, not the fake effects, not the "Do Not Entry" hospital sign. My biggest problem is that there are NO BASEMENTS in New Orleans.

CDOTD 3/7/2024

Francis James: A Postmodern Symphony and Four Poems (no label)

Purchased for $2.50 at The Exchange

Oh, Francis, Francis, Francis....

Francis James (Lackey) was an important part of the local arts scene at one time. Involved in the Pittsburgh Filmmakers (RIP), poet, the Cold Warrior. I was talking about Francis with Mike Seamans recently, how Mike had basically been offered archives of Francis' work, and record collection.

I'd dare say that this CD, from 2000AD, was the last local press attention Francis received. (Or anywhere?) He released this CD of his so-called Postmodern Symphony, making a big deal about having realized the entire project digitally. It's a symphony orchestra, but he did it all on a computer. Amazing, right?

Even at the time, not so much. I'd be more impressed if he could press his way into an actual orchestra, convince them to play his "new" music. I write "new" because, well, what is this? It's almost determinately unmemorable. The symphony just sort of rambles, cells of ideas popping in and out. A clarinet phrase that repeats exactly, but at irregular intervals. High trumpet notes that obviously sound sampled. Events come and go, recognizable, but unmemorable.

And for crying out loud, he added thunderous applause at the end of the final movement. 

I can't rule out the possibility that Francis could come across his blog post. I'm sorry and I do not mean insult. If I seem harsh, I'm at least as dissatisfied with many of my own recordings. Francis seems to have totally broken with his past though, leaving his archives and even his full name behind. I wish him well.

I played one gig with Francis, with the original Morphic Resonance trio. It was at Carnegie Mellon U, in....whatever that room we played was. I can't recall the name. Francis came on at the end of the gig to recite "Beatsickness", one of the poems on one of his two 7" EPs. 

Francis did what I dislike about working with poets generally: he speaks, we respond, he speaks, we respond, etc. In other words, don't you dare step on my words. And part of me says, yes of course. That's what the poet brings. But it's one sided, isn't it? No give and take, no conversation. It's monologue with responding accompaniment. Chris Koenigsberg's wife Yun was the same: don't interfere with my texts, you're secondary to me.

I find that relationship boring. I'm perfectly willing to play an accompanying role when called for. In Thoth Trio, I like the idea of the saxophone or clarinet playing a supporting role to the bass or drums sometimes. Being the lead voice all the time is, again, boring.

John Cage comes from a different aesthetic. I like his approach to the Indeterminacy piece, of one minute stories with indeterminate David Tudor support: it's okay if the music/sound sometimes overtakes the voice. Events don't need to be so strictly stratified. 

But then, if there's an art form for which I have a blind spot, it's poetry. Or at least, I know when I think it's bad, but not much more. 

The CD ends with four poems recited by Francis, with more of his MIDI-based accompaniment. They just don't do anything for me.

How obscure is this CD? There's no discogs.com listing for it, as far as I can tell. Here's an image of my autographed copy, which reads: "To Jeff, Our real love is Cinema. Best wishes, Francis". 

VOTD 3/6/2024

 Kay Lawrence: Gills Cut Into Women (Urashima)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

I go to Jerry's Records regularly, almost weekly. It's there in my neighborhood, albeit nearly on the opposite side. Squirrel Hill is the largest neighborhood in Pittsburgh by acreage. I imagine Oakland might be larger by population, but I'm not going to look it up. 

I leave empty handed as often as not. In the past two years, I've frequently bought $3 LPs from the Duquesne collection, so that's an easy buy. I've become more picky even for those. 

Today: several "noise" LPs turned up in the front bins, so of course I'm intrigued. I probably spent too much money on several. I might go back for more, because I'm a sucker for certain vinyl oddities. 

What do we have here? Let's see what's written on the vinyl outersleeve cover: HARSH NOISE (check), (water as only sound source) (check) Kay Lawrence (don't know the name, but female noise artist is a plus) Italian Import w/Insert (no big deal) Cool Silkscreen Cover (check) edition of 99 (double check). It does have a cool cover of the Creature From the Black Lagoon. 

I've relatively recently discovered, through the Bandcamp site, just how deep and dedicated the hard noise scene has become. Not only that, but also Pittsburgh figures prominently but (ironically) quietly into that scene. I've known about the guy(s) from Macronympha being from Monroeville, but so is Richard Ramirez (not the serial killer)(also records under about fifty different names), which cannot be a coincidence. There's also the Deathbed Tapes, Cleaner Tapes, and Sour Tapes labels, I think we have a an actual underground scene here.

"Underground" is a stale, overused word, that way that "avant-garde" and "experimental" are. What is truly underground music? It surely must mean something.

This LP: I hate to be reductionist, but it sounds like someone taking the tonearm on a turntable and running up and down along a record. I really doesn't matter if the sound source is water, and both Tod Dockstader and Asmus Tietchens both did something more interesting with that idea. Among others, I imagine. 

But then maybe I'm not the intended audience? Yet I bought this LP. I'll put it on again some time, maybe louder next time.