CDOTD 2/27/2023

 Thomas Dimuzio: Balance disc one (Gench)

Given to me by Thomas at his December Pittsburgh performance

I am a chronically disorganized person. Hopelessly sometimes. I have trouble keeping things in order, even picking up after myself sometimes. I've always been this way.

I have a studio, a so-called man cave in our house. I really do need the space to work and practice. It's a struggle to keep it in anything resembling presentable shape. I'm also a terrible procrastinator, so I'm constantly putting off jobs such as putting things back in there place in my area. I decided this would be the soundtrack to me picking up after myself.

I've been meaning to put on this triple CD. Nowhere better to start than disc one, a series of duets captured live at various times and locations, with various people. Ten tracks on disc one, ten different duets. There's no instrumentation listed on this or any of the discs, though disc one is entirely electronic in nature (or nearly so, unsure about track ten with David Molina). Each name is given and as well as the band or project they're associated with. The only name I recognized (not having staying on top of this particular scene) is David Lee Myers AKA Arcane Device. I opened for David in or around 1991 at CMU. 

I recognize more names on discs two and three, and I've played with two: Gino Robair and the recently passed Tom Nunn. Good guys and great musicians, both.

I've met Thomas twice in person. More recently was in December show at The Government Center. Thomas is from Bethel Park originally, and he had family on hand. His mother said hello to me, asked me if I knew "Tommy." I've only ever seen his name listed at Thomas, and that's what I'll continue to call him.

The first time I met Thomas was at Radio Valencia in San Francisco around 1995 +/-. I was there with Water Shed 5tet, in what I called our BART Tour: consecutive dates in Oakland, San Fran, and Berkeley. It was also the night, Thomas has told me, that he met Gino Robair. Our mutual connection was my bass player Jeff Stringer.

It's not easy for me to discuss Jeff. Let's just say he is missed. This doesn't seem like the appropriate forum to write further.

The disc, the disc...if I wrote that it leans on the ambient side, that might give you the impression that music is blander than it is. I was trying to describe the word "soundscape" to students this morning, and that's as good a word as any to describe the contents. The "pieces" are no doubt edited from longer performances. It's well edited, picking out prime moments. 

A good indicator of the variety is found in the first two tracks. The first, with Larry Thrasher, is a softer-edged, more (here it comes) ambient work, swelling slowly. That is followed by the far glitchier performance with Bevin Kelley. He's clearly finding contrasts from track to track. Some tracks drone, some pulse, all are steeped in atmosphere. And all improvised, Thomas is a dedicated master improvisor. 

I would love to work with Thomas sometime. Who knows, maybe, I don't get away from Pittsburgh often to play, but I should find ways to do so. 

VOTD 2/26/2023

 Aaron Dilloway: Modern Jester (Hanson)

Purchased at the Exchange

I'm tired today for a variety of reasons, but I have the house to myself. As I've written before, it's not that I worry about what I'm playing on my stereo when my wife is at home, but it's easier not to have to explain it sometimes.

I remember the days of cassette micro labels, often run off one by one at home. You might find a review or listing in OP magazine (later splintered in the more underground Sound Choice, and the longer lasting and more commercial Option), send a couple of bucks to a PO box and see what comes of it. Or, maybe some of them were carried by RRRecords. 

I released a couple of very limited items myself, just because it was a convenient way to do so. I didn't need the expense of pressing something into vinyl or later CD, and online services didn't exist at the time.

Listening to Aaron Dilloway's double LP makes me think of those days. I'm certain his equipment is much more sophisticated than most of what was used by mid-80s experimental noisemakers. I don't know much about Aaron. His name is coming up more often for me, he's highly prolific, an original member of Wolf Eyes (who I guess were just here in Pittsburgh; I was busy), and he's released quite a few things to cassette. In a previous post, I wrote about his project Spine Scavenger, a more minimal synth project.

Here, he's pulling out many things I associate with (quasi-)industrial noisemaking. There are plenty of loops, often unidentifiable in origin. There are backwards recordings. Some field recordings, or at least the sound of non-instruments being moved around or struck. Noisy synths(?).

So much of what we used to call industrial music (I'd include power electronics in that list) is pretty humorless. If the intention is to do something dark, disturbing, reflect the brutalities of life, then I get it. Sometimes I can't take it too seriously though, and apparently neither does Aaron. "Every second of this recording contains subliminal messages" the back cover reads. 

Then there's the other quote on the back cover (written inside quotation marks): "People could screw up - you expected them to - but machines are made of finer stuff. They're not supposed to begin talking, in a new voice, out of the blue, about death and weird shit like that." The source of that quote isn't provided, but this was made long before the news about ChatGPT started happening. 

I guess Aaron is based out of Oberlin, OH? Something that again speaks to the cassette micro-labels I remember, in all sorts of obscure locations. I guess some people would say that about Pittsburgh. And he has a small, part time record store? Naturally I want to visit some time.

He must be pretty serious about these things though, regardless of the humor. Pressing this into a colored vinyl double LP isn't a small commitment. Do I like it? Sometimes yes, sometimes it's hard to say. I think I need to sit on this one more. 

CDOTD #2 2/25/2023

 Thumbscrew: The Anthony Braxton Project (Cunieform)

Borrowed from the library

I should probably be (more) careful what I write in these blog posts. I know few will to read these. These comments will likely never be read by any of the people whose recordings are topics. 

A couple of things about Thumbscrew. I've met two of the three people in this band. There's a good chance I will again.

Also, they had a residency and I guess a continued relationship with City of Asylum. This recording was made during that residency. The notes read how they developed and premiered this set of pieces during that residency.

This can get into a touchy area for me, apart from the band itself. I've done all-Braxton performances, apart from having worked with Anthony myself. I try to be careful about namedropping Anthony, because I know it's tiresome. I've done it too much.

I'm glad City of Asylum brings in out-of-town musical artists. I don't think I'm being immodest though when I say I've had performances there that were equal or better than nearly every traveling artist I've seen. Not all of them, even I'm not that self-centered. 

Nonetheless, I still checked out this disc from the library, despite wishing I could receive the same support for a similar project. I am aware that it's not fair for me to even think that. 

And what of the recording? It's a pretty solid take on Braxton's music, and it's a pretty broad selection of his compositions over the years. I'd even say I prefer this to the other Thumbscrew recordings I've heard, which left me wanting more. That in itself might not be fair to them, the feeling that maybe a good saxophonist augmenting this trio would liven things up. But a good saxophonist augmenting this group would liven things up. 

Immediately on the first track, they're making it clear they're looking to reinterpret some of the pieces. "Composition 52" is a burner that closes Anthony's one and only LP on Antilles, a hard atonal swinger with some very wide, abrupt intervals. Thumbscrew slows it, removes the swing, and tames a few of the wide jumping intervals. I only have a reservation at all about the last point. As a fan and interpreter of the music familiar with the piece, I was waiting for some of those huge jumps in the melody.

The performances are pretty short, the longest single cut being shy of eight minutes in length, and the eight of the eleven tracks are under five. Length in such cases is not a measure of quality. It can be good that they're pushing more pieces out, keeping the performances tight. IN some cases though I really wish they had taken more time to develop the improvisations. 

So, here's another entry into the Braxton canon, a respectable one even if I have criticisms. He'll be turning 80 in three years, so I imagine we'll be seeing more. 

CDOTD 2/25/2023

 Claudio Simonetti: Opera OST (Deep Red)

Purchased at Jerry's Records' Future Zone

I like that there are associations between particular film directors and composers. I didn't use the word "relationship" because in some cases I don't know what sort of relationship they might have had.

Often it's their best work. Consider: Hitchcock/Herrmann, Honda/Ifukube Leone/Morricone, Burton/Elfman (although I strongly dislike Danny Elfman's work), Cronenberg/Shore, PPaul Thomas Anderson/Greenwood, Spielberg/Williams. So too could be said of Dario Argento and Goblin/Claudio Simonetti. 

I don't know much about the Goblin story. Some version of Goblin exists with Claudio at the helm to this day. Without question, they are best known for their soundtrack work in Deep Red and Suspiria. I guess there are a few non-soundtrack albums to their credit, but the great majority of their output is film work.

Goblin's name is replaced with Simonetti's around the time of 1985's Demons, a film produced but not directed by Dario. This work, the film directed by Dario with a Claudio composing credit, dates to 1987. 

I've never seen it. That hasn't stopped me from listening to a soundtrack album before. I'll probably get to it sometime, many of Argento's films are available for little to no cost via streaming services. 

[An aside. Ugh. The aging man in me who remembers broadcast TV with an antenna bristles a little at the idea of streaming television services, much as I also appreciate receiving them. Tubi in particular has given me the chance to catch up on viewing many of the banned British "Video Nasties" titles. I draw the line at Italian cannibal movies, though.]

The Suspiria soundtrack is an absolute classic. I don't think even Deep Red reaches its level of intensity and volume. Suspiria comes closer to an experience of sight and sound, not just a cinematic viewing. That's a high bad to set, and it's unsurprising that nothing else in the Goblin/Simonetti catalog reaches that level. 

What do we have here? There's a classical-leaning main theme, unsurprising considering the theme and story of the movie. There are two selections by the metal band Steel Grave, which I am reading is another name for the Italian band Gow. There's only one LP under the Gow name, and Steel Grave only has a few soundtrack credits. They are, shall we say, rather average. Triangulate and average even period LA hair metal bad at the time, and you have some idea of what Steel Grave sounds like. 

There's a point I made about Frank Zappa previously, and that his embracement of early digital technology makes that era of his work sound particularly dated. It's the analog keyboards and recording techniques that have ultimately endured. I can't help but think the same thing, maybe even more, about Simonetti's work on this soundtrack. Right from the first moments of this recording, those FM synths really place this in a particular time. We're back in the mid- to late-80s! It's a sound I don't particularly like. 

There's also a bit of an elusive quality of Goblin's best recordings that's missing here, and that's the sense of sounding like a band. I like that quality. There's something about a collection/collective of individuals banding together to create a group identity and sound. Goblin had a sound, and that sound was great. Heavy, progessive-ish, metal-ish, dynamic. They sound like a particular thing, not an anonymous studio band. 

I could say the same for jazz groups. I like the groups that have a group identity. John Coltrane was unquestionably at the center of his famous quartet, but the John Coltrane Quartet had a sound. To change any one player (though Jimmy Garrison was rather in the background much of the time) would be to immediately changed the group dynamic. 

There are good moments to this work, especially when Simonetti does some backgroundish mood cues. To be fair to him, can everything he does be as engaging for listening separately from the cinematic experience than those two famous Goblin works I mention above? No. They're a high standard. Still, I could have used something a little less bland than this work, despite some good qualities.

I saw the current Goblin play live to Suspiria recently. It was great fun, and it felt like the music was finally at the proper volume. The band? Of the other three players, at least two probably hadn't been born when the film was originally released.

Claudio said that his grandmother was from Pittsburgh. Claudio himself is Italian and speaks with a noticeable accent. I wondered, how could that happen? Usually immigration happens into the US, not emigration out. It's not particularly important, I just wondered about it.

CDOTD 2/23/2023

 William Basinski: A Red Score in Tile (2062)

Borrowed from the library

I've posted about Basinski on here before. I learned about him and his most famous work, The Disintegration Loops, from a story on NPR. This is an early work of his I guess, credited as created in 1979. There's scant information, the notes stating, "Analogue tape loop." The cover is a detail from a painting/construction of the same name. 

When he says a tape loop, he isn't kidding. It's a loop playing continuously for 45 minutes. It has a fuzzy, indistinct analog sound, the instruments largely unidentifiable.

The Disintegration Loops requires patience, it's also tape loops playing for long periods of time. But for most of those, we can hear the process of the tape medium breaking down. The way it deteriorates interesting. 

Here, does it get a little fuzzier by the end? It's difficult to tell, possibly not. It's the same thing playing without any changes for the length of the recording.

I knew it would be repetitive, but without perceiving some sort of change, what's the point in it being that length? I guess the first issue was an LP, Could this have been a recording for an installation? (A less common occurrence at the time.)

Admittedly, I was reading when I had this on, and even nodded off once or twice. But, half the length would have made the same point. 

CDOTD 2/21/2023

Neu!: Neu! (Grönland)

Purchased from the dollar bin at the Exchange

I'm taking a break from the severity of B.A. Zimmermann's sound world (I'll be back soon), and in looking for something to put on, came across this. I don't know that I've listened to it to completion before. 

I previously knew nothing about Neu!. They fit under the general category of Krautrock, but what does that even mean? I guess the bands most closely associated with the term (Can, Faust, Cluster and offshoots, this group, and to a lesser extent, Kraftwerk) are all German. All of them aren't strictly instrumental bands, but it's fair to say the emphasis is not on them being singing groups.

I'm reading a few facts, how this was a splinter duo from the original Kraftwerk. You can hear how their interests would have diverged. Kraftwerk headed towards synthesis, roboticization, flat vocals singing about technology, but also staying funky. Neu! plays it more hypnotically, repeated structures, more trippy, more post-psychedelic. I think they're closer to Can than any of the other groups mentioned above, but even then the differences are clear.

Neu! was produced by the legendary Connie Plank, a name I also recognize more than I know anything about. The production is interesting if not flashy most of the time. With only two instrumentalists involved, the music is a studio creation, even if they sound like a four or five piece band.

I may be stating the obvious, but there's a fine line between hypnotic/cooly repetitive, and boring. Neu! comes close to crossing that line. Some people would consider this good music to sit back and smoke weed to, but that's not something I do. I'm certain some would disagree, but I think this a precedent to the more brutal, heavier, minimal guitar soundscapes of Sunn o))). There's a through line from Krautrock to that band, if indirectly. 

Notably, the most abrasive and weird track on the album is the piece "Negativland". I assume anyone reading this far would be familiar with that band name. That piece sounds like a precedent to what Chrome would be doing a few years later. It wouldn't surprise me if Damon and Helios spent time listening to these bands, and Neu! in particular. 

I know this sounds like damning praise, but I don't hate this. I can't say I love it either, but it turns out to have maybe been a good choice for my evening listening. I've been fairly exhausted recently, needing a break, and something anxiety-riddled wasn't right. 

VOTD 2/20/2023

 Bernd Alois Zimmermann: Présence/Intercommunicazione (DG Avant Garde)

Purchased at Jerry's Records from the Duquesne University collection

I find myself back to Zimmermann again, wondering who this man was, what his intentions were. I was reading about Zimmermann's final major work, Ekklesiastiche Aktion, and I definitely have to track down a copy. I don't expect an uplifting experience though. He committed suicide before its premiere. I resist reading too much into subtext, what I think a composer's intentions might be. It would be difficult not to do so in that case.

Until then, here's an LP of two chamber works: Présence (1961), a five scene ballet for violin, cello, and piano; and Intercommunicazione (1967), a single movement piece for cello and piano.

The ballet is set for Don Quixote, Ubu Roi, and Molly Bloom. I'm not one to attend dance performances often, but I'd be very curious about such a production even without Zimmermann's music. The music darts between Darmstadt-style virtuosic atonalism, open spaces, bowing and harmonic effects on the strings, abrupt tone clusters, and his musical quoting. There's no question when you hear some of them pop up, often several simultaneously. The liner notes state there are quotes from R. Strauss, Prokofiev, Debussy, and Stockhausen. During much of the piece, only one or two of the instruments are playing; only the full trio is active a smaller percentage of the time.

That collagism definitely sets Zimmermann apart from most of his contemporaries. I suppose I could draw a comparison to Stockhausen's Hymnen, which uses national anthems as source material due to their general familiarity. Prior to that work, Stockhausen's musical language was an attempt to leave behind old musical techniques, to possibly achieve universality through erasing the past. It's very utopian in outlook. Zimmermann is definitely not utopian, and swings between a more kaleidoscopic approach to composition, and outright expressionism. Although maybe, the Requiem I've heard twice now does both. 

I admire some of the composers and works of this era, but I do sometimes question the degree to which they sound different from one another. My friend Nizan told me about attending a composer's forum when he was a student, and the advising teacher suggested that you can't really tell one serialist work from another. Nizan countered, the second movement of many 18th century symphonies are probably completely interchangeable. The teacher had to concede the point. 

Apart from his love of collage, I suspect there are subtle things that distinguish Zimmermann's works from those of other post-war avant-gardists. I'm just not sure what those things are yet. 

Alternately, Intercommunicazione does not seem to engage with any collage elements that I can hear, and seems to be a study in the differing sounds of the two instruments. The opening several minutes are a contrast between long cello tones combined with shorter, more percussive piano passages, sometimes repeating themselves in a sort of cellular manner. Whatever his methods, they don't sound stringently serialist to me.

I noticed the liner notes don't mention a date of death for the composer. I found this was released in 1969, so the composer himself more than likely heard the results. He may have coached the players directly, who premiered the works. It's tough stuff to play. Even when I follow the scores of works such as these, I wonder how accurately they're actually being played? Pianist Aloys Kontarsky is one of the go-to people of the time to play nearly impossibly difficult music, so I know he comes close.

I've know three people in the past several years who committed suicide. In all three cases, there were severe mental health issues. It's too easy to say that killing oneself is a selfish act; in the case of two of those people, they had sought doctors' help. It just became too much for them.

What of Bernd Alois Zimmermann though? I uncertain that he was in a similar situation. Did anyone see it coming? He was 52, and had already accomplished much as a composer. Despite that outlet of expression, I guess it wasn't enough. The world never got to see what he'd create next, and I feel robbed of that experience. I wish I could ask him why.

Zimmermann continued, etc

 I continue to post here, in spite of continuing to question why I do. I am once again listening to Bernd Alois Zimmermann's Requiem. It demands more attention, and a more serious response. In a fan piece about Zimmermann in the Guardian, the writer describes the work as, "A collage, fugues of voices, another gigantic, unclassifiable sonic canvas." For a short, incomplete sentence description, that's not bad. I speak only a scant for words in any other languages, but I think maybe it doesn't particularly matter when I hear the German here.

I noticed on the publisher's website that there were performances of the work as recently as 2020. On CD, it comes off as a hybrid electronic/musique concrète work, switching between various spoken voices (of differing timbres and processing) with organ and electronic sounds in support (with chorus and orchestra blending?), cutting to huge choral voicings and orchestra. The collage element is apparent throughout, particularly the multiple speaking voices occurring simultaneously as the brief free jazz section of the "Ricercar". I can't say they're interacting, the elements sound like they're just happening at the same time.

I'm going to continue to spend time with this work. I've also recently discovered Aribert Reimann's Requiem, a composer previously unfamiliar to me. Reimann's work is more traditional in structure, though like this another example of post-war composition. I tried to secure a copy of that work's score, but nothing came up as loanable. I might try to locate a copy of Zimmermann's work. Ligeti's Requiem  however has multiple copies in our public library.

I was taking stock of all the artists featured on this blog so far: George Antheil, Art Ensemble of Chicago, William Basinski, Neils Viggo Bentzon, Beyoncé, Bollywood Psychedelic collection, Boredoms, John Cage, Chris and Cosey, Jacob Druckman, John Eaton, Etron Fou Leloublan, Faust, Morton Feldman (X2), Robert Fripp, Jonathan Harvey, Japanese monster movie collections (X2), Khanate, Jo Kondo, Led Zeppelin, Frank Martin (X2) Microwaves, Minutemen, Bruno Nicolai, Nurse With Wound, The Pyramids, Radiohead, Steve Reich, The Residents (X2), Marc Ribot, George Russell, Erik Satie, Spine Scavenger, Arnold Schoenberg, Sonny Sharrock, Stormy Six, Tape Loop Orchestra, Throbbing Gristle, Twilight Sleep, Frank Zappa, Bernd Alois Zimmermann. 

I have other Zimmermann recordings, and intend to hunt down more.

Bern Alois Zimmermann

CDOTD 2/18/2023

 Bernd Alois Zimmermann: Requiem für Einen Jungen Dichter (Wergo)

Purchased from Amazon

I don't usually advertise my age and birthday, I can be cranky about such things. I have however sent out notice that I'm having a concert on my sixtieth birthday, April 14 of this year. 

It's a time in my life I've been reflecting more than usual, and have questioned some of the choices I've made. I was never very good with psychological-education-philosophical theories as an undergraduate. There's one idea that stuck with me though; I want to say it's from Piaget, but that is probably not correct. The theory goes that in different periods of our lives, we are faced with essential conflicts that we seek to resolve. These are opposed forces, such as: dependence or independence from one's parents, influence of peer groups over that of our parents, considering our independence vs. how we fit into society, ideas like that. I feel very much like I'm considering past vs. future, assessing my life and wondering about my purpose moving forward.

In many respects I've had a great life and have little reason to complain. I get to play music! So many people should be so lucky as to do something they love as much as I do. Yet I also look back, and sometimes I feel like I've been a little bit of a dilettante, someone who just tinkers with things for his own amusement. Perhaps I'm being unfair to myself in writing that; part of me would get too bored doing the same thing all the time. 

All of this is my long-winded way to describing how sometimes I wonder what I might have done if I had more vigorously pursued a serious academic track. I have a master's degree, but I never chose to apply myself towards a doctorate for two reasons: it didn't serve a particular purpose later in life, and I don't feel like I've specialized in anything enough to study it at a post-graduate level. If I had done so, I think one of the things I might have chosen to study is the music of Bernd Alois Zimmermann. 

Why Zimmermann? In part because he's a mystery to me. There's little written about him in English, and not even a great deal in his native German. He was a post-war avant gardist, but not as thoroughly formulaic as early Boulez or Stockhausen. Collage is an important element of his music; in certain works, quotes from Bach, Debussy, Haydn, or Messiaen may turn up, sometimes simultaneously. The description of this piece tells you something about his varied interests: Requiem for a Young Poet: Lingual for Speaker, Soprano and Baritone Solos, Three Choirs, Electronic Sounds, Orchestra, Jazz Combo, and Organ After Texts by Various Poets, Reports, and Reportage*. Whew! His opera Die Soldaten (The Soldiers)** is considered one of the most ambitious and difficult works written for the musical stage. Zimmermann was Catholic I understand, though that didn't stop him from committing suicide at age 50. 

This particular work moves back and forth between different textures and ideas: multiple speakers over a developing tone cluster, some free jazz (with the Manfred Schoof Quintet), snippets of "Hey Jude", some Darmstadt-like orchestral, operatic, and choral atonalism, and do I hear accordion in there? In certain moments it's an easy comparison to Ligeti's Requiem (another highly dramatic post-war work), but once it does sound similar to that work, it's probably off pretty quickly onto another texture. 

An easy complaint about the post-war avant garde is its disconnection from its audience, its sometimes alienation, its coldness. This isn't cold music. It's meant to have an impact, an effect. It's powerful stuff just listening to it at a moderate volume on my home stereo system. I can only imagine the effect if I was in the room seeing it performed, something I seriously doubt I will have the opportunity to do.

There's an LP I recommend if you find it: one side includes Manfred Schoof and Co. again playing on Zimmermann, and the second is a particularly great work for purely electronic sounds. It's been reissued several times so it's not too hard to locate: https://www.discogs.com/master/310495-Bernd-Alois-Zimmermann-Die-Befristeten-Improvisationen-%C3%9Cber-Die-Oper-Die-Soldaten-Tratto

I'll come back to this disc again, Maybe some night when it's dark, undistracted.

*Google Translate. I don't know the difference between berichten and reportagen. 

** My best find from the bins at Jerry's Records of the Duquesne University collection has been a $3 copy of this. 

VOTD 2/18/2023

 Led Zeppelin: Presence (Swan Song)

Purchased at Jerrys' Records

In one trip to Jerry's years ago, I bought three of the most contentious albums by 70s big name powerhouses: King Crimson's Islands, Yes' Tales from Topographic Oceans, and Led Zeppelin's Presence. I suppose in the latter's case, you could make an equal case for In Through the Out Door as being the band's most contentious album, but I'll stay with this one. I still have the sticker on the cover, reading $4. Even in imperfect (though pretty good) condition, buying this now at that price would be unlikely.

I've gone back and forth on Led Zeppelin so many times. I can't say they have ever been my favorite band, or even close to the top. But I sometimes question my own tastes sometimes, insofar as, do I like or dislike something because its popularity? It's easy for me to eschew popular, big name bands just because that's what they are. 

It's also easy for me to put down current popular music, the old trap of "music was better in my time." Was it, was it really? 

Here's the thing. I grew up in the era of bands. Indeed, it was rock bands, but the point being that it was musicians in collections that created an identity and sound. Plenty of bands were influenced, sound something like Led Zeppelin, but nobody else was exactly like them. They're instantly recognizable. I couldn't tell you one current pop singer from another now, they sound anonymous to me. Add to that how the vocals are treated in current production: highly compressed, processed, autotuned. It's like facial plastic surgery; it ultimately makes everyone look (or sound) alike. I do appreciate the greater diversity to current artist, unlike the prominence of 70s white male rock combos. But I just don't like the music or the way it's made. It's a producer's medium now, not a musician's (generally speaking). 

What to make of this record? There's the surreal cover, of an unnamed twisted obelisk appearing in various, otherwise innocuous settings. What's the meaning? Maybe there isn't any, or maybe it's the "presence" entering into ordinary lives. Like, a mystical force, or even a cult. I won't read into it too much. I think the band is clearly trying to draw a distinction between themselves and other groups who present as straight forward rock and roll bands. The cover is by the design group Hipgnosis, known for their surrealist but sharply photographed imagery. That means Throbbing Gristle's Peter Christopherson had his mark on the imagery. I like that.

Regarding Led Zeppelin itself, I've long stated that I found Robert Plant to be the most annoying member of the band. He certainly would have run out of lyrics pretty quickly if he wasn't allowed to sing "oh baby, baby" and "need your love". I have been reminded by two different people that nobody else could have done what he did, fronted this band that way he did. I don't think I have an argument against that. I also admire Robert's ongoing dedication to music, of working over the years since the dissolution of this band. He's continuing to record and perform, when the other two remaining members maybe turn up every few years, but not to the same extent. That's a shame, John Paul Jones is a great rhythm section player, and Jimmy Page an interesting producer.

And what of the album? Let's start by saying it's not the band's best work. They have successfully shed their blatant blues band roots, even though it turns up again on "Tea for One". I find this record a bit padded, which shouldn't happen for something clocking around forty minutes. "Nobody's Fault but Mine" is essentially another blues workout, with a great tough band sound but going on perhaps longer than it should. I was never taken with the plodding "For Your Life". My favorite track is "Hots On For Nowhere", a sleeper song that's pretty funky. 

I read a book about LZ once, a trashy narrative if ever there was one. There's something in the story about how Jimmy Page did all of his guitar overdubs over a weekend. At least, that's how I remember it. It was a difficult time in the band's relatively short existence, only become more troubled leading up to In Through the Out Door. Maybe they should have sat on this album a little longer, tinkered with it more. The mix is very guitar and bass heavy, something I'm sure they wanted, but also maybe could have worked over more. Who knows. There's little point in trying to analyze this music at this point, so much has been written about it. I can only share my viewpoint of the present as I experience it again.

VOTD 2/17/2023

 Throbbing Gristle: Live December 2004 (A Souvenir of Camber Sands) (Mute)

Purchased at the Attic

I'm currently reading Cosey Fanni Tutti's memoirs. It's a book that I recognize as being in her own voice; a strict editor might have insisted she correct some of her grammar ("Me and Lee..." rather than "Lee and I...") I appreciate that, but also it's far, far too long. There's so much space devoted to describing her youth, which could have been far more condensed. For a book titled Art Sex Music, it takes too long to get to the art, the sex, and the music. At least, any of those of any particular interest.

One of the major points of interest is why exactly Genesis Breyer P-Orridge chose to quit mid-performance schedule, during their reunion performances. I did skip ahead and skimmed a few pages, not getting to the crux of the matter, but the aftermath. I'll read in more detail another time, but I did catch a little of the "creative differences" excuse. 

I have little sympathy for this, if I'm reading it right. Many people were relying on Gen, commitments were made. If you sign on for the gig, you do the gig. You better have a really good reason not to do it if you've made the commitment. Not just, "I don't agree with the direction of this project." Fulfill your contractual obligations and assess the situation afterwards.

I'm sure that when they reunited, there was some discussion as to whether they should perform their old songs or not. I mean, I can both see that you don't want to revel in the past, but also, who else has more of a right to perform them? TG performances back in the day were unpredictable affairs, sometimes interpreting their studio songs live, sometimes improvising with apparently little plan, and all points in between.

TG wouldn't have existed without Gen, but this live document reinforces to me that I find them the least interesting person in the band. And when Gen tries to sing the most traditional song in the performance, "Almost Like This (A Kiss)", it's even a little embarrassing. 

I read ahead enough in the book, and already knew enough of the story, to know that when Gen quit, they remaining three performed as X-TG. But shortly afterwards Peter Christopherson died, and that's when Chris and Cosey decided that TG really was done, not with Gen's departure.

I sometimes question whether this band is any good. And sometimes, some performances, some particular pieces, the answer is definitely no. They could sometimes really suck, sounding like a less-competent jam band. They're at their best when they're bleak and dark, though there is that proto-synth pop side of Chris' too that makes for an interesting contrast.

When I think of the term "industrial music', it's not the EDM side of things that comes to my mind. It's TG leading to the more power electronics side of things, (early) Controlled Bleeding, Ramleh, groups such as that. This is a reasonable document (the previously mentioned song notwithstanding), but, maybe it's all better a part of history too? Time has moved on?

VOTD 2/15/2023

 Khanate: Capture & Release (Hydra Head)

Purchased at Eide's

Remember 2016? When, due to our insane presidential electoral system, a con man and reality show game host was elected president? How could we forget? My daughter was living in Brooklyn at the time, and she said it seemed as though everyone in the city was quiet and depressed. They all knew what Trump was like, what he'd do as president, having experienced decades of his lying bullshit.

The people I knew who were the most upset were all Jewish. They saw in Trump the sort of racist, fascist autocrat that their ancestors had dealt with a generation or two back. You can say that it's unfair if you wish, I'm just reporting their attitude. 

I was feeling dark myself, very dark. We generally have TV or radio news on much of the time. Once Trump's victory was announced, I turned them all off and didn't take in so much as a radio news update for at least a month. I couldn't tolerate it. 

I decided I needed music that fit my mood. I had already started to put on a Swans record I had, the early Young God EP. I reached out online to my friend Adam MacGregor for suggestions. I asked for suggestions for music that was "severe". That descriptor can be taken a couple of different ways: it could mean sonically harsh, or highly calculated (think of early Stockhausen as being severe) or excessively bleak. I think he took it to mean the latter.

He mentioned a few band names, the first of which was this one, Khanate. I'm pretty separated from the independent "experimental"  metal scene, so I didn't know anything about them. The next day, I found myself at Eide's, plunking down cash for this record. Once I brought it home, it was never far from my turntable for weeks.

This is indeed one of the bleakest bands I've ever heard. I don't know how you could get any darker than this. The music is first of all agonizingly slow, with long passages of almost nothing happening. When Alan Dubin's strained screaming enters, it's hair raising. "IT'S NOT ENOUGH" he yells, and I believe him.

Remember in high school literature, when a teacher tries to explain the idea of the antihero? The character is not an enemy or antagonist, but a protagonist with unheroic characteristics. Khanate are antivirtuosic. There's nothing here that dexterously difficult, not the precisely delivered lines of a Robert Fripp. Yet, I find it amazing they know where they are in their own music, when so little happens sometimes. I think it's highly impressive. 

So why put this on today? Oh, a series of frustrations I suppose. I've had technical glitches with my technology at work. It was all supposed to be corrected today, but I still had problems. And of a class of six students at 9am this morning, two showed up on time, one ten minutes late, three not at all. I know it's on them, but I feel held up not knowing who will or won't arrive.

When I returned home, my wife wants to know why I didn't respond to her text messages. I proved to her that none had gone through to me (more technology glitches). She wanted me to know that our hot water heater had burst, yet another technology snafu. 

She's off to visit a relative in the hospital, leaving the house to just me. It's not that I can't listen to something like this with her around, but it's easier when she's gone and I don't have to be concerned with the content or volume.

I doubt people who know me would be surprised I have trouble letting go of frustrations and anger. My back is still knotted up from earlier today. Khanate, take me away!

CDOTD 2/14/2023

 VA: The Rough Guide to Psychedelic Bollywood (Rough Guide) disc one

Borrowed from the library

Once again I get to take advantage of the benefits of a good public library system. What a great thing to find while browsing the shelves!

I don't know much about Bollywood soundtrack. Hell, I don't know much about Bollywood films in general. I have a few LPs and CDs, mostly things I've come across used and cheap, though there's a collection of so-called "Bollywood funk" I actually ordered. I recognize the version of "Hare Rama Hare Krishna" by Usha Iyer and Asha Bhosle, presumably from that collection.

There are a few names I recognize here, such as Asha Bhosle, Mohammed Rafi (who I think I remember was M. Rafi), and probably the best known Bollywood composer of all, R.D. Burman. I couldn't tell you anything about him, only that I've heard his music in bits and pieces before.

Sometimes I like my musical genres undiluted. What I mean is: if I'm listening to (for lack of better terms) some folk or "ethnic" artists, I want that music to be really backroads, uninfluenced by mainstream Western trends. 

But sometimes I enjoy the opposite. The music here is taking the sounds, methods, and tropes of 60s and 70s pop music and running it through a Hindustani sensibility. The results come out weirder. The recording quality is consistently listenable but very raw. Production is practically non-existent. Everything is compressed, any vocals pushed high in the mix. There are those high pitched and even warbling female vocals I associate with Indian pop music. Despite what is probably budgetary limitations, there are full studio orchestras playing the music at times.

That said, psychedelia this ain't. Oh there's an occasional wah-wah guitar, possibly a Moog synth here and there, but this isn't spacey music at all. I also recently listened The Rough Guide to African Disco. African yes, funky, but not disco. 

I'm happy for any film industry happening outside of the United States, and even more specifically Los Angeles. I mean, living in Pittsburgh, I enjoy that a significant piece of American independent cinema originates from here, starting with Night of the Living Dead.

I know there are international film studios and artists, but I wonder if it's anything like the 1950s-1970s in Japan, India, Mexico, and Italy. The latter two countries in particular released a lot of films during that time, but I think it's now those countries as film centers has largely dried up.

Am I wrong? If so, I expect to be corrected if I'm wrong. I think I've read Dario Argento commenting on how he more or less can't get films made in Italy any longer.

These are reasons that I was really happy to see Parasite win many of the Oscars a few years ago. A Korean filmmaker, Korean cast speaking in Korean, set in Korea? Yes please. Plus I thought it actually deserved the Film of the Year award.

There's a second disc included, entirely of R.D. Burman. Maybe I'll get to it before returning this. 

CDOTD 2/13/2023

 Sonny Sharrock: Ask The Ages (MOD)

Borrowed from the library

I've noticed that I have 3-4 hits on this blog on a daily basis. I imagine someone thinking, where's the jazz? I'm a jazz musician, right?

Well, not the way I see it. I'm a musician first and foremost; the idiom and practices comes after. 

My listening tastes and influences are quite varied, but there's nothing special about that, is there? Even my friend Tom Wendt, a walking encyclopedia on jazz, told me of his admiration for electronic music pioneer Tod Dockstader. None of us are simple. Few of us are defined by a single parameter. 

Even this album, ostensibly a jazz album, doesn't fit neatly into standard jazz practices. Only four musicians are listed: Sonny on guitar, Pharoah Sanders on tenor and soprano, Charnett Moffett on bass, and Elvin Jones on drums. A band that needs little introduction individually. Producing is Bill Laswell, who I'm told "rediscovered" Sonny in the early 80s, when he was in early retirement. 

Right away from the start, the first two tracks have tracked guitars, Sonny playing lead and rhythm parts. It's not an outrageous departure from standard jazz, but slightly unusual. This is to say nothing of Sonny's liberal use of distortion pedals.

I remember this album from its original release, but didn't pay close attention to it. Quite a few of my friends really enjoy it. I remember the first track, "Promises Kept". It's catchy, but develops some heat and intensity due to Pharoah's presence. The tunes in general are fairly simple, direct. It's on the fourth cut, "As We Used To Sing", a simple melody that leads to Sonny's most fiery playing. The same could be said for the even simpler "Many Mansions". Maybe it's jazz, but there's an intensity and noise level more closely associated with rock music. 

The mix sounds strange to me. I find it to be a little muddy, but can it be helped? Layering Sonny onto himself, perhaps that's just how it sounds. The saxophone sounds a little distant to me, like it was recorded from across the room, whereas the bass (which occasionally gets swallowed in the mix) sounds much more up-close.

I saw Sonny Sharrock play, once. I'm sorry to say that the most I remember about it was that I found the concert rather bland and uninteresting. I don't remember any of the fire he brings here, or that got him fired from a gig with Miles. (He was famously left off the credits on the original Jack Johnson album.) He chewed on a guitar pick the entire show. He became the headliner at the Fulton Theater (soon to be renamed the Byham) when the Sun Ra Arkestra pulled out of the night, during a festival organized by Manny Theiner and presented by the Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble. (This is all very much based on my less-that-reliable memory.) Seeing as Sun Ra died in 1993, and Sonny in 1994, the date had to be in between those times. 

I don't know if this band ever played live. That would have been something to see. Friends of mine have put together a group to play this album, adding a second guitar. It's appropriate, considering the overdubbing used to produce this.

VOTD 2/12/2023

 Robert Fripp: the League of Gentlemen (Polydor)

Purchased at a record show, I think

A few times in years past, I've purged some of my vinyl. "I'll never listen to this again" I say to myself. Often I find that regret some of those choices, and in a few cases have bought second copies of a previously owned record. This would be one. 

I wouldn't say that I hated this one, but I was certain it was in the past and I wasn't interested. Yet, I sought it out and bought a reasonably priced copy at a record fair (probably at Spirit). 

It's an interesting and transitional era in Robert Fripp's creative life. He was trying to scale back from the late 60s to mid 70s prog rock excesses of King Crimson, a name he would ultimately return to some six years after the breakup of the John Wetton-era band. Some of the time was spent touring with his Frippertronics setup (a flexible tape delay system, I think actually developed by Brian Eno). 

Then there's this project, joining his guitar gymnastics with a new wave rhythm section. It's stripped down, with his guitar unquestionably the center of attention. The rhythm section is minimal, direct, repetitious. One can see a clear through line from 70s Crimson, through this group, onto the early 80s Crimson. While it's fair to say that Crimson has always been an instrumental band first and a vocal band second, this is nearly entirely instrumental. The exceptions would Lemon Kittens' Danielle Dax(!) with a sprechstimme performance on "Minor Man", and some tracks including "found" vocals, most notably of Fripp's guru (poshumously) J.G. Bennett.

You know how some groups or artists, you want to hear everything they've done? Then there's something like this project. It's good, yet a single LP is perfectly fine. I wouldn't mind listening to some of the live documents of this band, but otherwise this band probably existed exactly as long as it needed to. 

Fripp is known for his diaries, which sometimes seems very self-centered, and yet also keeps some notable records of his goings-on. The back of this album lists 77 gigs for the band, between April 10 and November 29, 1980. 22 of those dates were in May. They played the Decade in Pittsburgh on July 5. It was a period for that club that also saw The Police and U2 appear there, on their first American tours. 

Bassist Sara Lee would go on to play and tour for Gang of Four after this group, later touring with B-52s, among many others. (I think that's her in the "Love Shack" video.) Barry Andrews was an original member of XTC, and would later play with Shreikback. Drummer Johnny Toobad? His only credits I can find are with this band. 

This album, with alternate takes and live recordings, was included in the recent 32-disc Exposures box set. It's a lot of music for the money, but jeez, 32 discs?

VOTD 2/11/2024

 Jo Kondo: Standing/Sight Rhythmics/Under the Umbrella (CP2)

Bought at an open sale from the WQED library

The open sale I mention above was to benefit WRCT. Pay one price, take as many recordings as you want. WQED, Pittsburgh's classical station, was unloading their long-since used vinyl collection. What was the cost, $5? $10? I walked off with something like forty albums, and felt like I was being moderate about what I took. 

It was an opportunity to collect some CRI releases that I didn't necessarily want to buy individually. I mean, how many Ralph Shapey records does one need?

The records all have a label attached to the front, with two columns to write in dates or play and track. Significantly, this and quite a few of the other records I bought had no markings on the label. Coe on WQED, you didn't play the hell out of Brian Ferneyhough's impenetrable "Transit"?

I might not have even noticed this from the composer's name, but I recognized the label due to its simple, consistent graphic design. CP2 (or CP squared?) was Paul Zukofsky's label; the performances are excellent, the selections interesting. This record is a little unusual in that Paul himself does not perform on it at all. Side one are Japanese musician: the group Sound Space "Ark" plays the first, the second is a piano work played by Aki Takahashi. Side two is an all percussion work. I can only find one other credit for Sound Space "Ark" on another Japanese composer's record.

I was immediately taken with the piece "Standing" on first listen. It's an undefined instrumentation, for three instruments each from a different instrumental family. The notes are often individual events, played in succession from one instrument to another, so there's the sense of a color change for each microevent. It's very inventive composing, and I think the piece works effectively. It's not what we would traditionally call "minimalist" composition, but it's not too far astray from that approach also.

"Sight Rhythmics" is a punctuated piece for piano. It sounds like cells of events are intermingled, with the attacks and dynamics of each note being very important. There's a degree of repetition that makes it stand out from the post-war piano music of Stockhausen, Boulez, or Xenakis. Ms. Takahashi was one of the three pianists of choice for Morton Feldman, perhaps being his favorite of all (another being Roger Woodward, and I'm blanking on the third, maybe David Tudor?). It's not as dazzlingly virtuosic as some music she plays (which can be very difficult) but the preciseness of the rhythms and attacks requires attention to detail. 

"Under the Umbrella" is for percussion quintet playing 25 cowbells only. The opening notes brought some of John Cage's prepared piano music to mind for me. That in itself is a reminder of the Asian influence on Cage's music, in spirit if not in method.

I'm sounding too serious here. I like the record. It's never been reissued digitally, as far as I know. There's a vinyl rip on Youtube, but this deserves a more loving and professionally remastered edition. Zukofsky died in 2017, so I don't know that there's much motivation on anyone's part to reissue this and the other albums on his label.

CDOTD 2/10/2023

 John Cage: Piano Music (disc one) (Brilliant Classics)

Purchased at Half Price Books

There was a time when I was a serious Cage fanatic. I loved some of the music but was generally excited by the philosophy that underpinned even his most extreme works. I liked the idea of systems of composition with indeterminate results, that a piece could have a character but also in some ways be unpredictable. I also found his light sense of humor appealing, and I'm certain he got as far as he did because he was such a likable person.

John Cage and Morton Feldman, sometime in 1982-83, spent a brief residency or festival at University of Indiana Pennsylvania. Knowing the state of IUP's music program now, this seems especially strange, and I'm curious how the whole thing came about. I was vaguely aware it was going on, but didn't even think how I could make the effort to attend. I regret it now. I knew someone who covered the event for the local paper. She didn't care a bit about any of the music. She found Cage friendly and engaging, and said Feldman did nothing but talk about himself.

I did have the opportunity to have Cage autograph a book for me. It was at the Swathmore Arts Center in Rockville, MD. It's an old mansion that had been converted into an arts space. The event had a performance of the "Song Books" scattered through the building. Cage then spoke outdoors on the lawn, followed by performances of various works both inside and outside. Later that night was a bigger event at a concert hall. It seemed to me that the Swathmore event was the best possible way to experience Cage's music, untethered to an auditorium seat and wandering around. The "Song Books" performance was absolutely beautiful, I'll add. Nobody knew if we should applaud when it was clear the performance was over, and it was John himself who started it off. 

So while I have quite a few of Cage's recordings on CD and vinyl, a triple CD set of piano music for...$5-6 I think? No question I'll get that. The first disc collects Cage's shorter non-prepared piano music. It is something of a picture of an emerging artist, breaking from the influence of his teachers Schoenberg and Cowell. The "Jazz Study", a work I don't think was available for many years, seems as closely related to jazz as Debussy, Shostakovich, or Nancarrow's jazz-influenced compositions. There's a flavor, but it ain't jazz.

It's all performed perfectly well by Giancarlo Simonacci, though it's music whose virtuosity doesn't rise to the level of an Alkan or Liszt. It's going to sound like a backhanded compliment, but it's fine to have on in the background. Some moments are interesting and inventive, others recede into background sound. 

Disc two has a two-piano reduction of Satie's "Socrate", followed by Cage's "Cheap Imitation". The third disc is solo and duo performances of the "Etudes Borealis". I'll get to them some time. The third disc is kind of a ridiculous work though, creating etudes for cello and piano based on overlaying star charts on staff paper. I guess listen to it, and either it sounds good to your ear or it doesn't. 

But, so much for my Cage hero worship. I still admire him and love some of his music, but in some ways I've also moved on.

VOTD 2/08/2023

 Arnold Schoenberg: Complete Piano Music (Columbia)

Purchased from Jerry's Records from the Duquesne University collection

I was never much of a Schoenberg guy. I went to the highly promoted "Gurrelieder" presented by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra years ago, and found it something of a bore. It's a relatively early work, finding Schoenberg emerging from his late-Romanticism shell. I also couldn't wrap my head around some of his later, 12-tone driven works. 

Curiously, I've found myself picking up three Schoenberg albums recently: an album of early cabaret songs, a double LP of some of his vocal music, and this album. The latter two were in the Jerry's $3 Duquesne boxes, making them hard to pass on.

The piano music is significant for me because of its influence on Anthony Braxton. Anthony has spoken about hearing Schoenberg's piano music as a young man, and becoming very enthusiastic about it. Schoenberg, and even more so Stockhausen, would be primary inspirations for Anthony.

There's a social criticism on the part of Anthony which I consider to be valid. Why can't African American persons become excited by this music? There's a strong note of racism to the idea that they can't. He also notes that there's some degree of underlying racism to composers such as Stockhausen and Cage. I can't speak with authority on that topic, but he's probably not wrong. Nonetheless, it doesn't dampen his excitement for music such as this.

If I consider the Schoenberg piano music as one of Anthony's influences, do I hear a connection? Maybe, but it's very indirect. Both men are methodical, but in significantly different ways. Schoenberg comes from a place where harmony is king, even if his goal (if you can use that word) was to explode harmony. Of course the 12 tone method is highly organized, even if it doesn't necessarily sound that way to most ears. Braxton's methods have more to do with exploring a variety of soundstates, of trying to explore an ever-widening series of ideas for improvisational settings. 

Schoenberg doesn't write long, languid melodies. His ideas sound more fleeting, more fragmentary. I'm sure he'd probably disagree with me, and tell me exactly how every note relates to every other note in a work. Which reminds me of another story, as told by Dave Brubeck. Dave studied at the (lamentably now shuttered) Mills College music department, and had a composition lesson with Schoenberg there. Schoenberg, ever one for method, told Dave that he should be able to account for the purpose of every single note he writes down. Dave didn't return for a second lesson.

Notably, at an earlier time, John Cage also studied with Schoenberg. Cage told Schoenberg that he had no feel for harmony, to which Schoenberg said that without a strong sense of harmony, he'd always be hitting a wall. According to Cage, he responded, "Then I will devote my life to hitting my head against that wall." Cage subsequently found methods of organizing time, rather than of pitch and harmony.

I wonder as I listen to this album, as I've listened to several others in this series of postings: do people still play this music? Do pianists shun, or are enthusiastic about it? I think I'd enjoy seeing these pieces performed, though in listening to them, I sometimes don't feel a sense of each work adding up to any sort of statement. But, maybe they're not intended to do that.

I've seen that the original release date for this album was 1957. That means it's highly likely that this was the very same recording that thrilled Braxton when he was young. I enjoy knowing that. I certainly don't hate the music, I find it perfectly fine for listening, but I also don't get particularly excited by it too. But then, I'm considerably older and more jaded than the young Mr. Braxton when he first experienced this music.

VOTD 2/07/2023

 VA: SF特撮映画音楽全集 14 (特撮スペクタクルの世界2) (Starchild)

Purchased from Eide's

The State of the Union address is happening as I write this. I can't stand those speeches. Even when I agree with the people speaking, I have little tolerance for political speeches, senate hearings, White House briefings, and such. There's too much postering. There's little direct talk, little honesty. Add to that the "who stands and claps/who sits on their hands and scowls" drama, and it all borders on theater of the absurd. I also have little tolerance for awards shows, and rely on my wife to to tell me what's going, assuming even she's watching.

So here I am again, posting to this modest listening journal, escaping from political irreality, listening to more Japanese soundtrack music. Do I like the music? Yes, although I'll freely admit some of it isn't particularly outstanding (or sometimes even good). Nonetheless, I like that there was an independent Japanese film industry, producing in some cases movies that stand apart from American films. I mean, Mothra? Two tiny twins can communicate with a phoenix-like giant moth, the guardian of Infant Island? That is mythical in a way American films rarely are, if ever.

In a previous posting, I made comments on another LP in this series. That was, if I remember correctly, entirely Toho Studio-related. Not so here. According to Discogs, the initial track is from Daikyojû Gappa/Gappa the Triphibian Monster. I was reading that it was the only giant monster film produced by the Nikkatsu Studio. Nikkatsu was notorious in later years for its "pink" series, which are softcore sex films, I guess. I can honestly say I've never seen one of them.

Gappa is from 1967, and like the Godzilla soundtracks of the time, the rock 'n roll influence is heard in the music is heard, with a kind of strange surf guitar sort of thing happening.

Discogs makes no mention of some of the film titles on the first side, but the images on the cover clearly indicate the producers have included cues from Goke, The Body Snatcher From Hell. I recommend that film, a particularly good sci-fi/horror/end of the world (?) film. There's an image of a character's forehead splitting open and foaming goo spewing out, that's pretty strong stuff for a 60s Japanese sci-fi feature.

The second side appears to be drawn entirely from 1963-1969 war films. The great Akira Ifukube isn't present on either side; the familiar name, as I've written before, is Masaru Sato. There's a contrabassoon/contrabass clarinet melody that reminds of me his theme for Son of Godzilla, one of the sillier films in the Big G original series.

The music otherwise, pretty standard fare for film scoring, particularly from Japan. But, you know, it definitely beats watching the SOTU, and more so Sarah Huckabee Sanders' Republican response. Yuck. Make it all stop, please.

CDOTD 2/7/2023

 Erik Satie: Le Fils des Étoiles (The Complete Score) (LondonHALL)

Procured by trade with Gino Robair

My wife can read while the television is playing in the same room. I don't understand it. She'll even complain is the volume is turned down too low. Unlike me, she reads every day. 

I intend to get to some of the backlog of reading I've accumulated: biographies, Alfred Jarry, movie fanzines that have piled up. I recently bought Cosey Fanni Tutti's memoir, Art Sex Music, and wanted to dig into it. It's casually written in her voice, but quite long. I thought I'd spin some music in the background. It needed to be something especially ambient and unobtrusive, and this Satie work came to mind.

I wonder sometimes what most pianists think of Satie. His music can be almost anti-virtuosic. It all seems amazing to me because I can't really play piano at all, but the music in this piece has very little rhythm. Long passages are chords, played out in quarter and eighth note values, not particularly fast. 

After getting this disc in the mid-90s, I made a dub for my father. He thought it was a music that you could come in and out of without losing the point; it was the musical equivalent of watching clouds roll by.

Apart from his hours-long "Vexations", this is the longest (and only) extended composition by Satie, at over an hour in length. The shorter three preludes are more typical Satie, the longest plays out to about four and a half minutes. The three longer "acts" reference the preludes materials, and occasionally quote earlier Satie pieces (most notably his early "Gnossiennes"). It ambles by, harmonies hang without feeling the need to move along or resolve in any traditional way.

I have never been able to play the piano beyond a fundamental level, at best. I play almost no piano now, except to hear my own ideas or work out harmonies for transcription purposes. When I was regularly playing piano, I played some Satie works, stumbling through the "Gnossiennes", "Gymnopedies", and the first "Nocturne". For as poorly as I played those pieces, I liked that it was music that I enjoyed that I could at least approach playing. 

How do pianists in general feel about Satie? Someone such as Christopher Hobbs, the pianist on this disc, must be committed to Satie to play this extended work. It never reaches a level of dazzling virtuosity though, and I'm certain some pianists much find that frustrating. 

Speaking of frustrating, the disc started skipping somewhere in the middle. Ugh. On of all things, too. I'll have to try it in a different player. 

A couple of thoughts

 I assume you probably know the film Brazil. There's Jonathan Pryce's narrative of escaping into fantasy in the face of pain and oppression. Then there's the subtext of the film, a society that is being crushed under the weight of its own bureaucracy. 

I sometimes think back to the latter when I'm posting to Facebook, or other social media, or here. Am I adding to the massive collection of digital detritus that is collecting? I stop myself sometimes. When responding to a Facebook post, I'll occasionally think, "Nobody cares what you think about this" and stop what I'm doing.

Alternately: I have at times been abysmal at documenting my own work. I also at times question much of it. I recently came across a piece I wrote, I don't know when, titled "Iridescence." It's nothing special, I've composed too many other pieces similar to it. I don't remember if it ever got played, probably not. It made me think, there have been dozens of pieces I've written that have gotten one or two performances. In some cases, it was special circumstances and I wrote something for the occasion which I didn't preserve. In others, the work just wasn't that good and deserved to be withdrawn. I wrote a piece once titled "My Two Houses" at a time I had bought a new place and was trying to sell the old. It had a good center section, a bridge for lack of a better term, but otherwise it was too notey and fussy. Better it's left in the past.

Varèse infamously destroyed the majority of his compositional output. I'm sure in some cases it was a good idea. I have to wonder about some of the music he withdrew though. Is it worth hearing as part of the continuity of Vasèse's art?

I'm at a time in my life when I'm contemplating what my future could be, and what might be happening to me in the next few years in particular. So again, here I am posting something online, adding a small confessional to the digital trash pile of the early 21st century.

Tom Verlaine died this week. I had a CD copy of Television's Marquee Moon but I lent it to my daughter. She's taken a liking to Talking Heads' Remain in Light and I figured she might appreciate that album too. I would have put it on this week otherwise, and posted thoughts here.

I saw Tom play in 1982. Most of what I remember was that he was great. He played excellent but not flashy guitar solos. Tom is well respected but deserved to be better known.

I don't have a conclusion of witty observation to share at this point. Maybe there's an element of self-therapy in my online journal that I've been keeping. I've been extremely fortunate to have not lost many of my loved ones. You don't reach the age of sixty without seeing some people die though, and the past few have seen some deaths that really hit me. Two to brain cancer, several to suicide, drug overdose, and others I'm no doubt forgetting. I'm thinking longer and harder about the time I have left.

Time to get back to work. Take care of yourself, whoever might be reading this.

Tom in his prime:

CDOTD 2/01/2023

 The Residents: The Third Reich 'N Roll pREServed Edition (Cherry Red) disc 1

Purchased from Amazon. A rarity for me, I'm happy to say.

I was in the Monroeville Exchange a month or two back, browsing. I noticed another customer wearing the iconic eyeball-in-top-hat t-shirt. If you know anything about The Residents, you know this image. Another older man spoke up. "The Residents! The Third Reich 'N Roll!" I tried to get kids to understand it, they don't." And then I spoke up, showing them both I was wearing my Duck Stab! t-shirt under my hoodie. 

No point to that anecdote, only that the image of The Residents as the weirdo-eyeball band has seeped into the mainstream. It's due I imagine in some part because the band early on tried to treat their venture as a business in addition to creating original music and media. It's not at the level of people who wear Joy Division tees with the Unknown Pleasures diagram; I'd guess the majority of those have never listened to that album.

They Residents weren't the first to use an eyeball head as in image: there was a villain in Ghost Rider comics named The Orb, whose eyeball head could induce mass hypnosis. The eyeball head in top hat image is memorable enough, that there have been homages and even rip offs. Most notably Ke$ha, who had for one tour dancers in tuxes, eyeball heads, and top hats. That's more than homage, it's downright intellectual property theft.

Fast forward to today. I received a notice on Facebook that both The Third Reich 'N Roll  and Duck Stab! were released on this date in different years. I felt obligated to put on one of them. 

This is the second instance of me writing about The Residents on this blog. I might repeat myself a little. 

I've listened to both albums many times, and it's possible I've listened to Duck Stab! more than any other single LP. As such, I put on TRNR instead. 

The Residents sought to avoid their own intellectual property issues by claiming the two "suites" on this LP were inspired by 1960's commercial radio hits. Truth is, it's a series of savage covers of rock and pop songs of that era. Part of the fun in listening was always trying to identify the source material/inspirations. There's a list somewhere online of all the pieces referenced, some of which I don't know. Others are very clear: "Yummy Yummy Yummy", "Light My Fire", "Land of 1000 Dances", "Let's Twist Again", etc. It's too many for me to recount. My first vinyl copy has the second side actually banded, it's more concisely divided into separate tracks. 

The story goes that sides one and two were recorded in a week each a year apart, while The Residents toiled away at day jobs in between. As with all stories regarding the band, it may be completely true but one has to take it with a proverbial grain of salt. 

Let me take a moment to address the title and graphics. Everything about them is satirical, from the pun title to the images that accompany it. The Residents' (ahem) manager and graphics person once wrote that his one regret was the back cover of this album, which uses Nazi eagles overlapped to create a six-pointed Star of David. Then there's the front cover, with an image of Dick Clark in a Nazi uniform, holding a carrot (The first suite is titled "Hitler Was a Vegetarian"), with little Hitler figures dancing on clouds around him. 

I think it's fair to say this would get you in real hot water if you did this today, even though at all times it's clear that the intention is satire and irony. What ruffled even more feathers than those images was a window display created at Rather Ripped Record in Berkeley, and the promotional photos that the band in Hitler mustaches, with big swastikas surrounding their heads, and swastika glasses. Ouch. In retrospect, it's easy to see why this would upset people. 

Some reissues of the album had the message "censored!" over any of the offending images, mostly so they could get distribution in Germany and other places in Europe those images are banned by law. 

For as much as I admire TRNR, it's the two singles that follow on this reissue that are some of my favorite of the band's output. "Satisfaction" b/w "Loser ≅ Weed", and "The Beatles Play The Residents/The Residents Play The Beatles" were both original limited edition 7"s. The latter is one side of a Plunderphonics remix of Beatles sources, long before such things were common; the B side is a cover of "Flying", chosen because (at the time) it was the only song credited to all four Beatles. It's significantly closer to what The Residents would sound like over the following years. 

The remaining tracks on disc one are jammy primitive improvs. The pREServed series has been a little disappointing in this respect, the bonus material hasn't been particularly interesting for the most part. They really put the effort into the finished product.