VOTD 12/16/2024

 Behold...The Arctopus: Horrorscension (Black Market Activities)

Purchased from David Kuzy at the Spirit Record Fair

One of my co-workers from my teaching days at CAPA High School insisted I listen to a CD he had brought in. He played guitar, Fugazi fan, had a kind of hard rock/metal band himself. I left CAPA in 2008, putting this sometime shortly before that. I had a stereo in my room with a CD player (wish I still did in my current CMU classroom) and would often try to attract the cooler teachers to hang out in my room by playing hip music. 

He put on Skullgrid  by Behold...The Arctopus. And it was ridiculous. The opening, title cut is a string a fast (mostly) eighth notes, with little discernible order, yet clearly organized and played bionically precisely. The other tracks were just as ridiculously tight and unpredictable. If there's such a thing as a groove with this band, it never settles for long.

I was impressed and would later get a copy for myself. In some ways it amazes me. I can only image how much time they spent working up the material; practice sessions must have been long, frequent, and over many weeks or months.

Is it music to enjoy though? I'm definitely a defender of the idea of music not as entertainment. These guys are definitely not trying to entertain anyone, they're testing limits. 

A band somewhat in a similar spirit from Pittsburgh was Don Caballero. I never developed a taste for them, despite being a tight unit with their own sound and ideas. It sounded like an endless string of King Crimson riffs played back to back to me. To be fair, there's a lot of their music I haven't listened to, and I don't offer this as a criticism. It's about me, not them. 

So how is this band different? If the ideas rarely settle into place, the meters only occasionally stay the same phrase to phrase, how do I not have the same comment? Well, I do have the same comment. It's kind of an endless stream of ideas, often not looking back. But this trio is so severe, almost ludicrous, that I have to appreciate both its craft and determination.

Horrorscension followed Skullgrid by five years. I think a lot happened in that time. I read that they had broken up, each player involved with other project. I guess they reunited, but with Weasel Walter of the Flying Luttenbachers on the drum seat here. It's too easy to use the descriptor "more traditional" when describing this album, but it does not have the extreme turnover of material and ideas that its predecessor had. The pieces sit on a time signature longer, then even then nothing's going to last for very long. Is it due to Weasel's influence? I don't know. 

I have the occasional metal head in my classes at the university. I'm thinking of one in particular who was generally surly, acting out the cliche of the pessimistic metal fan. Once when I referred to Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead, he chose to speak up to call him a "pompous jerk." (A pompous thing to say, considering this student's work wasn't especially good.) Another time I mentioned my admiration for this band, and he said, "Oh, THOSE assholes."

Which only makes me more in this band's corner, if that's the sort of reaction straightforward metal fans have.

VOTD 12/7/2024

 Duck Baker: Duck Baker Plays Monk (Triple)

Purchased at Fungus Books and Records

Okay, I'm snagged. Put a record in front of me titled So-and-so Plays Monk and chances are I'll buy it. Off the top of my head, I own copies Hal Wilner's That's the Way I Feel Now with its large variety of less-than-traditional takes, as well as all-Monk albums by Steve Lacy, Tommy Flanagan, Charlie Rouse, Sphere, Bud Powell, James Spaulding, and probably others. Some are quite good but I'm not sure ever rise to the level of the master himself.

So yes, I'll put down a few bucks for this Duck Baker LP. I noticed Duck's name turning up here and there as far back as the late 90s, probably due to an album he recorded of Herbie Nichols' music. I knew he played guitar, and not much else. Come to think of it, I still don't know much more about him. 

He plays fingerpick-style acoustic guitar, and he's solo in this setting. The program is nine pieces, largely pretty standard works from the Monk book: "Blue Monk" "Off Minor" "Bemsha Swing" "Round Midnight" "Light Blue" "Straight, No Chaser" "Jackie-ing" "In Walked Bud""Misterioso". All pieces I've played, with the possible except of "Jackie-ing". 

A few years back, pre-COVID and then a few, I went to see Sean Jones play Billy Strayhorn's music at the Kelly Strayhorn Theater (named for Gene Kelly and Billy Strayhorn). They announced they would play "Satin Doll" and I rolled my eyes: that's a work I never really need to hear again. But then Sean played it, and it was great. He made it sound like a piece of music again and not just a parody of itself, which I how I usually hear it. Point being, I don't necessarily need to hear another version of "Blue Monk" or "Round Midnight" unless the artist really makes something out of them. 

I think it's fair to say that Duck recognizes the form and changes to each of the pieces without being married to them. Most takes begin with some sort of introduction, presumably improvised (or mostly so) that eventually leads to the melody. He doesn't always stay with the original key of the pieces, choosing more guitar-friendly keys. Roswell Rudd wrote some of the liner notes, pointing out the "Blue Monk" is taken from the original B flat down to E, giving it a Delta blues flavor on solo guitar. 

As a single-line melodic instrumentalist, I marvel at the ability of multiphonic instruments to shape lines and harmonies simultaneously. Being a solo guitarist, Duck doesn't have the sort of resources on hand that a pianist would, but he makes due with what six strings has to offer. He plays crisp lines, supporting himself with harmonies, sometimes not. Occasionally a line will shoot off into atonality, always to come rushing back to the tune. He doesn't go into the so-called extended techniques the way that Eugene Chadbourne does, Duck is all about notes played on strings stopped against frets.

Overall? An entire LP of solo guitar is a lot, but this is one of the better Monk programs I've heard. I wonder how Duck is in an ensemble setting? His time seems to be very good when he's playing more metrically. I might just have to go back to Fungus and get the Herbie Nichols LP, which they also had on hand. 

VOTD 12/6/2024

 Yes: Fragile Outtakes (Atlantic/Rhino)

Purchased new at Eide's

"I can't believe you like that band." -My wife.

For better or worse, we have some affection for some things from our past, whether it's music, films, television programs. Some things that affect you in your youth (say, 12-16 years of age) will vindicate themselves with time. The moment I watched Monty Python's Flying Circus from the first episode I viewed, and that opinion has hardly diminished with time. I watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail for at least the sixth or seventh last week, and loved it. 

On the the hand, the first LP I bought for myself was Kansas' Leftoverture. I listened to it many times and could probably identify every song from it to this day. But do they mean much to me now? Not so much. It was fine when I was 13. 

I was really caught by "Roundabout" when I started listening to FM AOR stations as a teen. AOR is now an antiquated term, Album Oriented Rock, radio programming that's not just based on singles but album cuts. A classic example would be Steely Dan's Aja album; I'm pretty certain I heard every piece on that album broadcast on the radio at some point other another. While "Roundabout" itself was a single that eked its way into the American top twenty (but not the top ten), it's atypical for both content and length. I guess there's a single edit, but the full length piece is over eight minutes in length. Not friendly for AM radio, but worthy of AOR FM stations.

Based on that, not long after Leftoverture I bought a copy of Yes' Close to the Edge. It's an album that continues to impress me. I mean, I see the excesses and silliness of Yes as well as anyone: the flowery, nonsensical lyrics, the pomposity. They were also a snap performing band with pretty incredible vocal harmonies. There was Jon Anderson's boy-soprano lead vocals, but it was bassist Chris Squire who sang the far more difficult harmony vocals. I saw him do it on one of the last tours before he died, and he was still coming up with the goods. 

Despite being the album source of "Roundabout" I never liked Fragile as much as CTTE. It had some strong pieces on it, but the decision to give every band member their own solo-led piece interrupts the album more than gives it a flow. I think most or all of the outtake versions on this vinyl issue have made it onto some big Fragile retrospective collection before, but I don't own that and don't need it. A single LP is fine. 

This album largely follows the same format as the final issue. Rick Wakeman's solo contribution, "Cans and Brahms" is thankfully not included on this album. I'd argue it's the most unnecessary track on the final album. (Some have said Bill Bruford's "Five Per Cent of Nothing" is a total waste, but I can hardly begrudge its 35 second length. I wonder if he had started composing the jazz fusion pieces that would be the basis of the Bruford band repertoire? Those works wouldn't have fit with Yes particularly well.) Replacing it in the track order is "All Fighters Past" which didn't make the final cut. It's a fairly conventional song. I can hear that the organ line was recycled into CTTE. 

I have mixed feelings about studio outtake albums, despite owning a number. I know for myself, if I've left a performance off an album, it's because I didn't feel it was worthy of release. I do enjoy outtakes when I want insight into process. The various Miles Davis box sets have many partially or completely unused performances and pieces. I find it very interesting to hear what he edited and what he kept. I've written here about some of The Residents' reissues with unreleased tracks, which are occasionally interesting but generally it's easy to see why they didn't make the cut.

Here, the pieces are all in an earlier and rawer state than the final product. There are missing vocal lines, some changes in arrangements, even occasionally lines that would be later removed. It's not an album for anyone who doesn't know the original album, but it might be interesting for the more-than-casual fan. 

Whether Yes or The Residents or Miles, they all got to spend a lot of time in the studio to develop their albums. The process of recording, listening, adjusting, rearranging and replaying influence the results. (I think The Residents built their own studio rather than having to pay for studio time.) The most time I've spent in the studio to record an album was three days, and one of those was basically just to set up. I guess what I'm hearing is the process influence the final results.

VOTD 12/5/2024

 VA: Hoisting the Black Flag (United Dairies)

Purchased at Fungus Books and Records

Side one: Lemon Kittens: Funky 7

Truth Club: To the Nile Sisters

Nurse With Wound: Duelling Benjos

Mental Aardvarks: Bogart Was Three Lemons

Side two: David Cross: Early Dance Music

Paul Hamilton & Joseph Duerte: Dance Music

Whitehouse: Her Entry/Foreplay

Mental Aardvarks: What Have You Done (Pieces of Meat)?

What a strange, strange time. This dates back to 1980, on the Nurse With Wound home base label United Dairies. (I always found the label's name delightfully surreal and/or random.) By the time of this issue, UD had released the first three NWW albums, and also their first albums by other artists: Lemon Kittens (Danielle Dax and Karl Blake) and The Bombay Ducks (the above listed Hamilton and Duerte). 

Nurse With Wound/United Dairies itself began as three people (Steven Stapleton, John Fothergill, and Heman Pathak, brought together by their passion for collecting weird records). Soon it became two (Stapleton, Fothergill) and before long just Stapleton. This record would have been released when John Fothergill would be still be involved. 

I was reading today that the cover image was placed in the wrong orientation (probably upside down, based on the signature) by Fothergill, no doubt to Stapleton's annoyance. Stapleton also complained that releasing The Bombay Ducks' LP was John's idea, and that he found it to be the ramblings of audio technicians and not interesting. Maybe some operations were just meant to have one person in charge. 

An aside: this in turn makes me profess my admiration for truly collaborative relationships that exist over long periods of time. Joel and Ethan Coen come to mind, though Joel has directed one film on his own. I guess they know how to delegate responsibilities. 

This record...what a strange, strange time. There's nothing wrong with releasing what is generally considered strange music. Was this a self-sustaining label? They must have been doing something right, to have released as many records as they did in the 1980s alone. And perhaps, with so few people releasing LPs that sounded like this at the time, they beat others to the punch so to speak. You want weird? Head straight to United Dairies. 

There's little question the centerpiece of this collection is Nurse With Wound's "Duelling Banjos". It's an abrasive, intentionally offputting collage of sampled voices (May & Nichols, Cage, Nihilist Spasm Band, probably among others) repeated for maximum annoyance. There's feedback, sometimes dense background sounds, grungy, punctuated bass. My friend Rich Temple in his college radio days (early 80s) would close every broadcast with this piece, in a blatant attempt to get people to turn their radios off. He was probably successful, for as much as anyone as listening to a 10 watt college radio station on a weekday afternoon. 

I knew I was thoroughly annoyed with it when I heard it originally, though it wouldn't be too long before I started buying their records. It's still "difficult" listening, though now it doesn't seem as interminably long as I once did. I guess repeated exposures, plus having heard more things that are vaguely similar, has blunted its abrasiveness for me. But only a little. It's still hard to take, but I admire the piece for it now. 

Also notable, if not as interesting, is a contribution by David Cross. David five years earlier was playing with King Crimson, nobody's favorite player in the Wetton/Bruford/Fripp quartet. There's also a pair of feedback pieces by Whitehouse, who was headed by William Bennett and friends with Steven at the time. (There's no credit, but I understand William was co-responsible for the NWW track on this.) IT sounds like....screeching feedback with vocals recorded through a long metal ventilation shaft.

Perhaps more interesting is the Lemon Kittens song, if you can call it that, and I wouldn't describe it as funky. Well, you know, given that you can bring up the tracks on Youtube at thi point, I guess I bought this for the collection. But I did want to give "Duelling Banjos" another spin or two, to see how it landed for me. 

CDOTD 11/24/2024

 VA: The Residents Present Buy or Die! Ralph Records 1972-1982 (Cherry Red)

Purchased mail order from the label

The will be some spoilers regarding The Residents below, if it matters to you.

I enjoyed watching Theory of Obscurity: A Film About The Residents. It is largely a fan piece, similar to Zappa. Both films are filled with talking heads, both are essential to serious fans for otherwise publicly unavailable stills and film clips. 

There's a passing moment in the former film that hinted at something deeper. All four of the Cryptic Corporation, The Residents' management and heads of Ralph Records: Homer Flynn, Hardy Fox, Jay Clem, and John Kennedy. Jay would be the "human", non-eyeball-head representative of Ralph/Residents for public appearances in the latter years listed on this collection. When he was asked if he would say why he split from the Cryptic Corporation, his answer was simply "No." I could be over-interpreting the moment. I thought there was such a sadness in his eyes, it still seemed like something painful even after several decades had elapsed. 

I was told by a mutual friend with The Residents that the split with Jay was "ugly." When I told him The Residents weren't around when I made a pilgrimage to Ralph Records in 1986, he said, "Sometimes it's better not to meet your heroes."

Ouch. 

Despite their veil of secrecy to the general public, those close to The Residents have revealed bits and pieces of the story. It's no surprise that the Cryptic Corporation was The Residents, sort of. What started as a hippy art collective became a music and multimedia band. Hardy Fox, shortly before his death, came out as the musical director of the group. Anyone who's heard Homer speak will immediately recognize his voice as the primary singer. Those who have played in the studio for the band confirmed it was basically two guys. Jay's voice appears here and there on some of the early records, but he had to run the day to day business. John? I understand he owned the (in)famous 444 Grove St. It's quite possible they were all involved musically in the early recordings, but I lack details in that respect.

Ralph Records was created to release The Residents. The first double single, Santa Dog, wasn't even really sold for the most part. They sent a copy to the Nixon White House, to have it returned unopened with "Rejected" stamped on the package.

Within a few years, the label had started to sign other artists. It was believed (a notion I understand that was promoted by Homer) that to be a viable, profitable label, they had to include other bands and musicians. Maybe for a time it was sustainable, but largely it seems like a highly optimistic viewpoint. Having a small, artist-run label is difficult, and now practically impossible now. 

We now have this triple-CD collection overview of Ralph Records. The emphasis is on the Ralph singles. It's a lot of music to write about, and I won't attempt to go into detail about everything.

Disc one: The Residents, Schwump, Snakefinger, Art Bears, Chrome

The earliest years, dating to 1972's "Fire" from Santa Dog. Tracks come from the singles, and all of the albums up to Duck Stab! and Not Available. Not included is anything from The Third Reich N Roll or Eskimo. The former isn't surprising, as it's two side-ling suites of unidentified covers of 60s pop and rock songs. "Satisfaction" is included though. As for Eskimo, perhaps they considered it another long suite, and wouldn't separate a portion of it. I can only speculate. Schwump was a one-off, a friend who sang for one limited edition single from 1976. The release includes both sides, and dangles an unreleased track in front of us fans.

Snakefinger was the first artist signed to the label, though he was friend of The Residents and appears on several of their albums. The songs in disc one are from Chewing Hides the Sound, which is Snakefinger singing and playing guitar with Residents supporting tracks. It sounds like The Residents with a different singer, more guitar, and generally more traditional songwriting (if still weird).

Ralph's association with Fred Frith begins with releasing music by Art Bears, his studio project with Henry Cow bandmates Damar Krause and Chris Cutler. There's a bit of that Henry Cow-style prog going on, but also more lieder-like perhaps? Dagmar sounds rather like Lotte Lenya, and it's appropriate she would record an LP of Weill and Eisler songs. 

Disc one ends with Chrome, the most traditionally-rocking piece of the entire collection. Chrome only appeared on Ralph by way of the Subterranean Modern compilation. What I read recently is that Ralph tried to sign them, but they wanted too much money. They had already started releasing their own records, and would release Third From the Sun (an old WRCT favorite) on Subterranean Records, appropriately enough.

Disc two: Chrome, MX-80 Sound, The Residents, Tuxedomoon, Gary Panter, Snakefinger

Disc two opens with the four radical (and radically different) interpretations of "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" by the first four artists listed above. MX-80 and Tuxedomoon would be added to the Ralph roster. 

MX-80 Sound would probably be the most atypical of the Ralph artists. A quartet (formerly quintet with two drummers) originally from Indiana, they were signed and quickly dropped from Island Records, producing the LP Hard Attack. I guess Island wanted in on this punk rock/new wave thing, but they're not typical of either. They had a non-singer singer who plays occasional saxophone and minimal guitar. The real star of the band was Bruce Anderson, blazing guitarist with a style I've described before was virtuosic sloppiness. I know that's an oxymoron, so maybe think of him as an action player. "Someday You'll Be King" should top any proper list of post-punk songs, and the single B side, "White Nights" is nearly as good. There's an unreleased MX-80 song that closes the disc, which is not bad but not at the same level.

Only two original songs by Tuxedomoon are included on this disc, which seems like a huge omission. They were probably as compelling a band as associated with Ralph. Both their albums for the label are great in different ways. 

The really oddity on this disc are the three songs by Gary Panter. Gary was a visual artist did several covers for Ralph. The songs were produced by The Residents, but never appeared on the label. I am lucky to have the original issue, a 7" that folds out into a great Panter poster of a robot playing guitar. The third track, unreleased, is "Rozz Tox." Perhaps it's Gary reading the Rozz Tox manifesto he wrote, but I can't really tell what he's saying through the vocal processing. The Rozz Tox image is Gary's take on the huge Chicago Picasso sculpture, and appears inside the Eskimo gatefold Lp cover. There's also a picture of Gary with Philip K. Dick, wearing a Rozz Tox t shirt.

The Residents appear here with "Diskomo", their disco remix of Eskimo. With a hype sticker on the original cover, "Disco will never die!", and without even having heard the original album, my teenage self got the joke.

There's more Snakefinger here from Greener Postures. It sound like the he and The Residents became more accomplished with production, the sound is better than ever.

Disc three: Fred Frith, Yello, MX-80 Sound, Tuxedomoon, Renaldo and the Loaf, Snakefinger, The Residents

The third disc opens with Fred Frith and it's about time. Unfortunately, it's the two songs released as a 7" that appear on his album Gravity. While The Residents' Duck Stab is like comfort food for me. Gravity might be the single best record the label released. There's a European side with backing largely by Samla Mammas Manna, and an American side with The Muffins. It's his take on various dance musics. It's at times whimsical, serious, dense, abrasive, and you can even dance to it. His followup album, Speechless, follows the same form of the European side (Etron Fou Leloublan) and American side (Massacre). There are two tracks included here too. It's good but I don't like it as much as the earlier record. 

After the opening Frith tracks, the collection dives deeper into Yello. Four pieces from their first album, plus a single B side from that period. Why so much? Could it be that Yello went on to be the most successful of all the groups here, largely due to the "Oh Yeah" song that appeared in Francis Bueller's Day Off? I can only speculate, but I suspect the answer is a yes. I bought this collection in large part due to the previously unreleased pieces; I fully understand it's a way of earning off The Residents' old work. 

But Yello's recordings? The first album production has a kind of dead sound to it, the subsequent tracks the second album are clearer. The music is draws from various pop music idioms: a little exotica, some early jazz, bossa and salsa, and throws them into a mostly synthetic sound world. There are drums, some guitar, some sampled horns. Hearing recent Yello recordings, they really haven't changed at all. 

Renaldo and the Loaf was accused by some listeners as being The Residents. They may be in a similar mode, but they don't really sound alike at all. I always got the impression (confirmed by the feature documentary about them) that R&TL was the closest to a folk group of anything on Ralph, even more than The Residents. But the voice is clearly different, the use of recording technology is different. Aggressive use of tape loops, backwards vocals, altered speeds on instruments, and especially high pitched whiney vocals, it's a different sound world than their labelmates. Only their first Ralph LP, Songs for Swinging Larvae, is represented in this collection. They released several more through Ralph, I own one. Maybe just that first was enough.

And what's left? A little MX-80 from Crowd Control, two pieces from Tuxedomoon's Desire. Again, the latter seems like a big omission, considering how great (and different from their first) that album is. There's more Snakefinger too, "Eva's Warning" from Manual of Errors, the first "band" record he released, plus a few unreleased demos.

And the conclusion? It all ends with The Residents, naturally, the conclusion of Mark of the Mole. "Would We Be Alive?" A fitting end. The beginning of their Emulator/digital instrument period. no more out of tune piano, very little awful squonky saxophone by Homer. The beginning when when I take less interest in their music. 

Whew. Well, welcome to some of the soundtrack of my early adulthood. There's more I could have written, but this already feels like an immense knowledge and opinion dump. I'm tired and have been writing largely to distract myself. 

VOTD #2 11/19/2024

 Maurizio Bianchi: SFAG (Recursion)

Purchased new at Mind Cure Records

Maybe, after staying mute for a time, I feel like writing. 

I know I should probably be pouring my feelings into my music. It's my primary/fundamental art, right? Yet here I am, putting letters to words to sentences to paragraphs. 

I have a largely illogical love of Maurizio Bianchi's music. Why so? He's someone with no skills whatsoever, running his primitive synth performances through an Echoplex and recording the results. 

There's a dark ambience to what he does, that definitely appeals to me. "Dark Ambient" is a genre unto itself, and I often fall asleep to streaming radio stations that play dark ambient/drone sounds. 

SFAG=Symphony for a Genocide. Unlike some of his early industrial music cohorts, I don't think MB is fascistic. He's eschatological, more concerned with the death of humanity. 

I think this LP is a bootleg, though I'm not certain that Maurizio himself cares. He is himself a Jehovah's Witness, since his first retirement from music in the early 80s. To see his image now, he looks like a middle-aged business man mid-level on the corporate ladder; neither at the bottom, but never at the top.

VOTD 11/19/2024

 Sun Ra: Nothing Is (ESP)

Bought used in the 80s, probably in Baltimore

Hello, how are you? I'm not so good, but surviving. 

My previous missive was during the election night, or the next day I guess? I'm not as crushed or surprised as the last time Mr. Trump was elected president, despite the strong possibility this administration will be far, far, worse. 

I've largely avoided broadcast news, radio and television, and online. Not as determinately as 2016, but nearly. They are in large part responsible for Trump getting elected. 

I chose this album semi-randomly. Semi because....I went through a few other random selections before deciding this one was right. 

I can't recall where I bought this LP, though I doubt it cost me more than $5. The spine is split at the opening. I'm pretty sure I've had it since the late 80s, which would place it in my two year period of living in Baltimore. 

I'm not certain, but it's possible I bought this at Red's Records in the Federal Hill neighborhood. Red's was a tiny record story run out of someone's basement in a row house, and the manager didn't own the house. He rented the space. I think he had been in a different space previously. I tried to pay for a copy of Jazz in Silhouette, a Sun Ra reissue on Impulse! for $3 with a twenty dollar bill. He didn't have enough change, but let me take the record with me. When I paid for it in singles a week or two later, he didn't remember the prior exchange. 

Red (I guess I can call him that) had a day-glo screen printed poster of The Immoral Mr. Teas, Russ Meyer's first feature length movie, hanging on the wall. I saw it and laughed out loud, and Red said, "Do you want one? I think I have another copy" and gave me a folded, undisplayed copy of the same poster. I still have it. It's beautiful.

What I guess I'm saying is, Red, if you're out there, you have had a friend for life.

But....it's quite possible I bought this LP somewhere else, rendering my previous memories nothing more that the ramblings of an old man. 

Nothing Is... is unquestionably one of Sun Ra's best albums. I generally cite Live at Montreux as my favorite, and like the Space is the Place soundtrack album, represents a good overview of Sunny's work. This period, 1966-68, was probably his most daring if not my absolute favorite. The Magic City is from this time period, which I'd probably regard as his most important record. "Important"? Well....critically original. But this is close behind. 

"Dancing Shadows" opens the program, and it's a banger melody. Closing side one is "Exotic Forest", wtht Marshall Allen (who turned 100 this year!) kicking it on oboe, his first instrument. It builds, builds, builds with most of the band on percussion. 

Side two includes a performance of "The Shadow World", possibly Sun Ra's greatest and most epic composition. He must have known it too, considering how many versions appeared on his records.

I don't know, I'm happy to slip into another world momentarily. Our politics are for shit, I am frustrated teaching apathetic college students, one of whom has lodged a formal complaint against the grade I gave him. I'm tired.

At least there's music.

VOTD 11/15/2024

 Etron Fou Leloublan: Les Sillons De La Terre (Turbo)

I think I bought this at new at Tower Records in downtown Manhattan

A lot's happened since I last checked in. I don't need to write about most of it. My daughter's birthday was Monday, that eclipses most things globally. 

I guess this album had been on my mind to spin, another "comfort music" choice from my younger days. This was a band I probably read about in Op magazine, an essential zine from the 80s covering independent music. Lost Music Network's OP (LMNOP). There were 26 issues, each thematically for each letter of the alphabet, though not limited to the theme. Op, on its dissolution, broke into two factions: Sound Choice (the more radical and shorter lived spin off) and Option (the more commercial byproduct, still ultimately doomed). I subscribed in the last year or two of Op, even had an Op tshirt. 

Somewhere....maybe in Op?...I read a description of Etron Fou Leloublan as being being like Captain Beefheart with all of the blues drained from it. That's not far from the mark. The music is jerky and twists, but also grooves at times. I might have guessed they were French without listening to the vocals. Without understanding a word of French, I get a sense that it's a bit on the absurd side.

The lineup on this album is a quartet (bass/voice, saxophone, organ/vocals, drums), though an earlier live album is saxophone/bass/drums. My favorite configuration. The center of this band is clearly Ferdinand Richard, the bassist/vocalist. He often strums the bass chordally, which in part defines the sound of this band. 

This was the first album by this band I heard, which is probably in part why I enjoy it the most. For as much as I like my saxophone/bass/drums trios, organist Jo Thirion adds an additional layer to this band sonically, as well as putting a female voice into the mix. 

I suggest you find this album and I ask one thing: is this prog rock? I mean, such labels are limiters, not expanders. In some ways this is stripped down like punk rock, and yet the music is no less complex than most Yes songs, sometimes moreso. The execution is tight, this was a great playing band. 

Maybe, when I checking over every prog rock recording I could lay my hands on as a high schooler, this was what I was actually looking for. 

VOTD 11/06/2024

 Birchville Cat Motel: Cranes Are Sleeping (Ecstatic Peace)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

So here we are. 

Eight years ago when Donald Trump was first elected president, I made a comment to Facebook: "I guess America likes a bully." I've had more than my share of bullies. I know one when I see one. I'm certain every bully I knew in my school days probably voted for Trump.

It's still true, but this time I'd add, "I guess we have no collective memory." Are we better off then we were four years ago? You're goddamned right we are. But, there was inflation!

I'll leave it at that.

I don't imagine I'll be watching broadcast news any time soon, and I'll put podcasts on in the car and not the radio.

There's time for darkness, there's time for light. I'm splitting the difference this time.

I didn't know the name Birchville Cat Motel when I bought this. I probably tracked this on the Jerry's turntable and knew it was for me. I can't say what's the source of sounds much of the time, only that it's droney and ambient while being noisy and even annoying at times. Perfect! 

Track #2, "An Emperor's Second Acension" is largely feedback. Guitar? Synth? Mic? Don't know. It's layered but I can't distinguish each layer.

I'm trying to ball up the energy to keep writing, but I think i just want to go to sleep this afternoon.

Maybe more later.

VOTD 11/05/2024

 Akira Ifukube: Godzilla (Death Waltz)

Purchased new at Half Price Books

Well, it's election night. I'm neither completely ignoring the results nor paying close attention. I have to teach at 8am tomorrow morning, and I doubt things will be completely decided tonight or even at that time. 

I guess for my third blog posting in a row, I'm on the topic of comfort music.

I'll always love Japanese monster movies. Give me a man in a rubber suit stomping through downtown Kyoto, and that's entertainment as far as I'm concerned. 

Even before I might have been aware of such things, I'm certain that love in no small part stems from the soundtrack work of Akira Ifukube. He lends depth and resonance to films that at times could be seen as silly.

I will admit to a degree of....hypocrisy? I love Ifukube's soundtracks, even though they largely sound alike. He has some range, but even he admitted that he did two things well: marches and requiems. We are all permitted our own personal taste, and Ifukube just appeals to me. I say hypocrisy because I don't like the soundtrack work of Danny Elfman. I mean, I really don't like it. And part of my complaint is that he has written the same score to films over and over. So how is that different from Ifukube? It's fair to say, it isn't, I just happen to like one and not the other. 

In my defense, I went to see Hellboy II: The Golden Army in the theater. For a popcorn movie, I enjoyed the first Hellboy. It tied together some Lovecraftian themes and Rasputin, good casting and performances, and had a solid score thanks to Marco Beltrami. When I went to see the sequel, I could tell it wasn't the same composer despite the credits not appearing at the opening of the film. I wasn't digging it. I even thought at one point, "Oh, you better stop using those raised 4ths, or you're going to sound like Danny Elfman." Sure enough, I saw that Danny composed the music in the end credits. I felt vindicated that I didn't care for the music despite not knowing who had done it. I may not like his music, but I want to be fair too. 

It's significant that this film and score ends with an elegy, a requiem, sung for the monster. That seems non-Western to me. The people gathered on the boat, when the oxygen destroyer obliterates Godzilla on the ocean floor, sing a song of mourning to the creature. And Ifukube delivers. The monster couldn't help what it was, it was only acting on its impulses in a world where it didn't belong. 

That is, until the sequel happened. 

On this election night, I'm hoping there isn't another sequel, though I won't be singing a requiem. 

PS: Ifukube is responsible for the signature Godzilla roar. My understanding is that it's a glove covered in rosin, rubbed on the back of a bass, with the tape slowed down. Brilliant. 

VOTD 11/04/2024

 Ennio Morricone: Les Plus Belles Musiques d'Ennio Morricone Vol. 2 (GM France)

Purchased used at Half Price Books

Ah well, another day, another Ennio Morricone collection. I suppose this one falls under the same general category as The Residents' Commercial Album, that is to say, comfort music for me. 

It's somewhat unclear from the cover what is what at times. There is very familiar material on here, such as the "Man With a Harmonica" theme from Once Upon a Time in the West, the main title theme for The Sicilian Clan, and the theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. 

I watched the second half of the latter a few weeks ago. I'm not a fan of Westerns but Sergio Leone films are another matter. Even at their most "normal" they're strange, gritty, bordering on surreal. It seems to me none of the leads are good, and they're all bad and ugly to varying degrees. 

Among his many scores, I didn't remember that he composed for La Cage Aux Folles. It's super-sweet and poppy, more than my taste, but that's fine for today. I have plenty of depressing music lined up should I need to rely on it. 

Thinking of La Cage brings back memories of the Pittsburgh Playhouse's film series. Anyone who was in Pittsburgh of a certain age will recall their monthly calendar. Sometimes they had two screens running simultaneously, all repertory or second-run films. It was well curated. Among the films I saw the first time there included: Harold and Maude, Eraserhead, Dawn of the Dead, 1984, Forbidden Planet, Glenn or Glenda?, Reefer Madness, Liquid Sky, Freaks, Mad Love, and that's just off the top of my head. Sell out showings were common. 

I remember seeing La Cage there with my wife and thinking it was hilariously funny, so much so that I had no desire to see the American remake years later with Robin Williams and Nathan Lane. More recently I did see the end with Gene Hackman escaping the club in drag, and I admit it was okay. 

Maybe I'm feeling nostalgic as we head into this dreaded election, to say nothing about the frustrations of dealing with my car. Sorry. I look forward to Pennsylvania not being the center of the political universe again.

And here I sit listening to Morricone again, who's sounding alternately epic or weirdly saccharine on various turns. 

CDOTD 10/30/2024

 The Residents: The Residents' Commercial Album (pREServed Edition) (Cherry Red) disc one

Purchased new through mail order

Back to writing my thoughts, autobiographically and about music. 

On the plus side, I played an exciting program last night of Sam Rivers' big band music. I'm tired today. I felt on focused but on edge all night; the music was challenging to play correctly and I felt a responsibility to do well. The concert was a success and received with enthusiasm. 

On the other hand, this past weekend was the sixth anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting. It occurred to me that I'm going to be reminded every anniversary for the remainder of my life. I don't forget but also don't need a reminder.

Then there's the election. I'm sure it has put a substantial amount of the population in a state of anxiety, myself included. I think Harris is more likely than not to win the election, so part of me is cautiously optimistic. And yet, I know there's an excellent chance Trump could win again, which fills me with tremendous dread. Not just because he's who he is (use your choice of descriptor here, I don't need to do so), but many people have placed so much of their faith in this awful, awful man. My wife warned me, "You need to be prepared for what could happen" without saying what that was. I knew what she meant. I told, I know I do. 

When Trump won the election eight years ago, I shut myself off from all broadcast news for four weeks and listened to the most severe, downbeat music I could find. Music that would normally comfort or console me wasn't right; only music that was bleak and severe felt correct in the moment. I think this time it could be doubly true. I have physical copies of albums by Swans, Khanate, Gnaw Their Tongues, Abruptum on the ready.

And if luck should have it that Harris wins? Then I could still listen to those things, but because I choose to do so, not because I need to. 

Tonight's selection falls under the category of comfort music. I've written about The Residents on this blog several times in the past, so I don't feel a need to fill in the complete story. They were something I discovered in high school. I've never lost my love of their early work, and in my opinion this is their last "great" album. In recent years I spun my copy of their subsequent album, Mark of the Mole, and I found myself enjoying it more than I had remembered. Nonetheless, I'm not a big fan of "storytelling through sound." That's even more true of their album Eskimo, an album I admire more than I enjoy. I'd draw a distinction between those albums and Not Available, which comes across more like chamber opera or cantata. 

Is there a more preposterous concept album than this? An LP of forty exactly one minute songs? There's probably some ridiculous heavy metal rock opera that's a silly take on, oh I don't know, the story of Gilgamesh or such that's...stupid. But forty songs on an album?

What's amazing is how much of it I find memorable. It's true that I spent a lot of time listening to it in my youth. I'm not willing to say that every piece on it is amazing, there are a fair number of quaint instrumentals that could have probably been excised if length was at issue. No doubt many of the pieces could have expanded into more traditional length songs. Despite these things, in the words of my friend Jason (who's probably reading this now), "It works."

There's some more serious musical muscle added to these sessions compared to other albums. The name Don Jackovich came up on previous Residents recordings prior to this; he's a percussionist who faded into obscurity after this time. (He died in 2019 at 66.) Fred Frith is the "extra hard-working guest musician" and his fingerprints are all over these recordings: bass, guitar (clearly the soloist on "Moisture"), violin. Fellow Henry Cow and Art Bears bandmate to Fred, Chris Cutler, adds some percussion, almost certainly on "Moisture" as well. Frequent collaborator Snakefinger plays some and sings one song. "Sandy Sandwich" was revealed to be Andy Partridge of XTC, who sings "Margaret Freeman". It's been known for years that Lene Lovich sang "Picnic Boy". (It's not hard to tell when you hear it.) "Mud's Sis" is now known to have been Nessie Lessons, one time wife of Hardy Fox, before he came out as gay. Hardy (who outed himself as the musical director of The Residents shortly before his death) clearly sings several songs. One of those songs is "Suburban Bathers" which it's more recently been revealed that David Byrne sang the accompanying vocals. The one I didn't know until just now is the Brian Eno played synth on "The Coming of the Crow". 

Brian and David don't add significantly to the album, but only adds to The Residents mystique. I guess it's their inside joke among those involved. "We had a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee on our album, and nobody knows it." Until recently. 

I have some of the pREServed edition reissues of Residents albums, and only occasionally do the bonus cuts add much the quality of original issues, other than seeing some of what the band left on the cutting room floor. Some of the pieces probably could have made the cut if worked on more, but there's nothing that's a bonus that I would substitute for anything on the original issue. The last listed cut on disc one was a contribution to the Miniatures compilation, The Residents' take on The Ramones' "We're a Happy Family" interpolated "Bali Ha'i" from the musical South Pacific (the latter not acknowledged on the original issue). It's classic Residents but also not appropriate for Commercial Album.

The funniest bonus is the secret cut at the end of this disc. As a publicity stunt to promote this album, Ralph Records bought forty one minute commercial spots on the biggest rock station in San Francisco and had each of the original songs played once. The cut here is the radio announcer introducing each song, by number. While The Residents were selling well for an obscure, self-released independent band at the time, I can't imagine this paid for itself in sales. 

Listening to it, I feel happy. 

CDOTD 10/16/2024

 Oskar Sala: My Fascinating Instrument (Erdenklang)

Purchased used at a Jerry's Records off-site sale

To again go autobiographical for a moment: I've just finished grading for the quarter. It doesn't put me in the mood to have the most faith in humanity. I know I shouldn't take these things personally, but I failed more students than usual this time. I have credible evidence of plagiarism in one case, who failed anyway. And even for some of the better submissions, too many of them don't follow simple instructions to submit work correctly. 

When sitting to listen and do my meditation of writing here, I could have either gone bleak, loud, and sever, or long, ambient, and less obtrusive. I realized as I looked over my collection of CDs how few things I have at hand that fall into the latter category. I guess I tend to like music with a lot of motion and tension. I've written about William Basinski and Maurizio Bianchi on here before, didn't want to go that route. Then I came across this and thought, yeah okay, not exactly the ambient album I was seeking but it will do.

When I attended Duquesne as a graduate student 2008-2010, I had to take a class in the history of electronic music. Each quarter we had to write a paper, more-or-less the topic being  pre-war the first quarter, post-war the second. I chose two German topics: the first paper was about the Trautonium, the second concerned the use and influence of the short wave radio in the music of Karlheinz Stockhausen. The latter came closer to being an actual academic paper, with a point of view and defendable positions. I doubt I have a working hard drive from that time to retrieve that paper, though I could sum it up if asked. The former was closer to being like a newspaper article. I earned my A. 

The Trautonium, an interesting side note in electronic instrument history more than anything I suppose. The instrument was first developed in 1930 Friedrich Trautwein. It's basically an electronic monochord; depending on where you pushed a wire into a metal rod would determine the pitch. Short leather straps were placed over the rod so the player could get a sense of where to land the pitches. The tone production was created by neon tubes, rather than the difference tone in the manner of the Theremin or Ondes Martenot. It produced a richer sound. Paul Hindemith wrote a work for three Trautoniums, played by him, the inventor, and Oskar Sala.

Sala was a student of both Hindemith and Trautwein, equal parts technician and composer. He took up the development of the instrument with a passion, creating many innovations such as the foot pedal for volume, and subharmonic synthesis. Rather than multiply the frequency of the signal, it's divided and provides a deep richness to the sound.

There is this matter of Germany in the 1930s. Hindemith's work was labelled Entartete Musik by the Nazi Party, and the composer went into exile. Not so with Sala. He was a bit of a nazi sympathizer. To write that now sounds awful, but it should be understood that there was a LOT of that going on at the time. Painter Emil Nolde believed in the Nazi's populist message, the appeal to the common man, until his work was deemed "degenerate" by the Nazis as well. He continued to paint in secret during those years, only working in watercolor for fear that the odor of oil paints would attract unwanted attention. It's also well known that Stockhausen was part of the Hitler Youth, but he wasn't given a choice. 

Sala lost many friends due to his decision to stay in Germany. He continued to work on his instrument, developing a version that was played on the radio. The final version of his instrument, the MixturTrautonium, is what's heard on this disc. It has a rod for each hand, and a large bank of dials and toggles for sound synthesis. The album itself is a studio production and therefor not completely a live demonstration of what one single MixturTrautonium can do. Delays, modulations, autoharmonizations, they all seem to be part of the instrument's package.

"Fascinating" is as reasonble descriptor. Its range of sounds is impressive, and it's clearly not locked into a strict twelve-tone tuning system. One of the pieces on this disc includes vocals, which are at times processed and modulated. Was this done through the MixturTrautonium? If so, it made an impressive audio processor as well as instrument.

I have to wonder: would Sala's technical work have been more recognized had he not chosen to remain in Nazi-era Germany? The instrument's unique interface inherently limits its use; a keyboard-based instrument would have been instantly playable by anyone. His synthesis techniques were decades ahead of what we'd come to know from Donald Buchla. 

So, yes, I'll take a defendable position. I think Oskar Sala would be better remembered for his technical innovations had he chosen to leave Germany. At least we are left with some evidence of his work. 

VOTD 10/14/2024

Stevie Wonder: Innervisions (Tamla)

Purchased at Dave Kuzy's yard sale

I'm back to thinking about the purpose of this blog. I guess it's partly autobiographical, so there's a certain "me me me" content that I push against in general. Maybe it's legacy, leaving behind more documentation of my life and thoughts. There's also the discipline of sitting and writing. 

I think I'm touching more on the autobiographical today.

Enough of obscurities like Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson and Henk Badings for now, onto music nearly everyone knows at least a little. 

Last week I saw Stevie Wonder at the PPG Paints Arena. My daughter Jeannine bought three tickets as a big "thank you" gift. We were up in the nosebleed seats, very stage left. Not close but it gave us a good birds-eye view of the stage.

The band: in addition to Stevie, there were two keyboardists, two guitarists, bass (who played synth bass on "Living for the City"), drums, congas, percussion, six background vocalists (five women, one man), and a five piece horn section (alt, tenor, bari, trumpet, trombone). My wife pointed out that we saw a band last year that had more people on stage, Parliament Funkadelic when everyone was on stage at the end. That is, until Stevie added a twelve piece string section and a conductor. Cred for keeping a lot of musicians employed. 

The tour theme (eleven cities at last count) was "Sing Your Song! As We Fix Our Nation's Broken Heart." He opened, solo, playing "Can We Fix Our Nation's Broken Heart?" It was....okay. I thought going in, this is a man who could do a long concert of excellent non-hit album cuts and have it be great.

Jeannine said there was a Simpsons segment (we frequently quote the Simpsons in this family) in which Homer goes to see Bachman Turner Overdrive at the county fair. They announce they're going to play something from their new album, and Homer yells, "TCB! No new crap!"*

Yeah. 

The concert was good, Stevie was in largely good voice. He struggled a little near the end on "Isn't She Lovely", fluffed a few lyrics here and there. I can easily forgive that, given his age, and how much music he'd have to play in a night. Strangely, he came on forty minutes late, played for forty minutes, and took a half hour break. Strange for an arena show, which are usually tightly constructed. It was announced he was feeling a bit sick and needed an emergency bathroom trip. It was still over two hours of music, mostly hits.

He brought on a guest singer, Sheléa, who sang a song that Stevie wrote for Aretha Franklin. I have to say, it was almost as if I was hearing Aretha sing it. Very strong. But then they played a song from her forthcoming album, and it just seemed to go on and on and on and...

TCB! No new crap!

While I was looking forward to "I Wish", it was "Higher Ground" and "As" (from Songs in the Key of Life) that were really the highlights to my ears. I found it moving, seeing and hearing the guy who created those pieces doing them in person, even in an arena setting. For as good as the concert generally was, I'm also simply happy we got to see him play at least once. It's the reason I paid $$$ to see Herbie Hancock last year.

After the concert, Jeannine reminded me that I had once checked out a Stevie Wonder collection CD from the library. She was asking about it, and I handed it over and told her, "You should listen to this. Return it to the library whenever."

You know, I've been a pretty good Dad sometimes, if I may say so. She remember "As" from that collection was also really happy he played it. 

This particular album was Stevie's first Album of the Year from the Grammys, and in the era of incredible creativity for him: Music of my Mind, Talking Book, Innervisions, Fulfillingness' First Finale, and Songs in the Key of Life. All were hit albums, most had hit singles, and were consistently creative. Quite a hell of a run, I'd say equal to any other artist in popular music. And for the first four, Stevie plays the great majority of the instruments in addition to composing and singing. 

One thought I had during the concert was, "Stevie sure likes his chord progressions." His songs often have dramatic chord changes and chromatic shifts. Still, "Higher Ground" is relatively simple harmonically and packs the biggest punch on this program in my opinion. While there's the clear influence of gospel on his songs, I guess I just like it best when he gets funky. 

Prince did something similar to Stevie, sometimes playing most of the instruments on an album. It's very impressive (and he was a great lead guitarist) but Stevie wins out in my opinion. 

VOTD 10/13/2024

Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson: La Jolla Good Friday I-II (CP )

Pretty certain I bought this at Jerry's Records

Let's see: it's on Paul Zukofsky's CP label. I'll pretty much buy anything on that label, price permitting. The releases are easy to spot, all (with one exception I know) have a silver cover with a colored rectangle somewhere in the middle. The single exception was a reissue of an Aki Takahashi triple LP set, which still maintained the rectangle.

Point two: an LP of electronic music realized in 1975. There's no indication in the liner notes what the composer used to create his work, but it's more than likely analog rather than digital. That's not critical but preferable. 

And finally...Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson? That name? Wouldn't you at least look?  Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson! 

So how was this made? There's really no information in that respect, only that the work was created at the Center for Music Experiment, UC San Diego. He cites a name, Warren Burt, who is someone I met some years ago through my friend tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE. Thorkell said Warren was "untiring in revealing some 'secret' patches..." (Warren, who I believe still lives in Australia, was one of the people who checked in with me by email after the Tree of Life shooting.) "Patches" suggests analog synthesis techniques. I'm thinking there's some combination of sequencer hardware and self-playing synth patching. 

As Victor Gauer told me, in the old electronic music studio at Pitt, one of the goals was to create autonomous, self-playing patches on the modular synths they had. He also told me he got Robert Moog mad with him when Victor told him the Moog wouldn't stay in tune.

As for Sigurbjörnsson's work, it's more or less one long continuous sound, though the tones fade in and out at the beginning, similar to breathing. It's imperfect as an LP and would have been better on CD format, and what's the likelihood that will ever happen? While new ideas, no musical lines pop up now and then, the work is in a constant state of transformation. Whatever might be happening, it's not fixed and will change into something else. As I observed about a Morton Feldman composition last week, it's not Minimalism, but it's not entirely removed from the ideas of Minimalism either. The piece isn't strictly a "process piece" such as Steve Reich's phasing works. Everything is in a state of flux until the end, which comes back around to the original tones. 

I'm reading on Wikipedia that Thorkell was a prolific composer and recognized both in his native country of Iceland, and also abroad. He also died in 2013. Hm. yet another composer who I wonder, does anyone perform Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson's music now? Maybe there's a bar somewhere in Iceland with a picture of Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson in it. 

VOTD 10/9/2024

 Henk Badings: Capriccio, Genese, Evolutions/Dick Raaijmakers: Contrasts (Limelight)

Purchased used at Jerry's Records

Once again, I find an old LP of early electronic music and I had to buy it. One of the two names is familiar, Henk Badings. I have other records with his works, and both if I'm recalling correctly have some sort of electronic component to them. Perhaps most strangely, he had several works premiered and recorded by the American Wind Symphony Orchestra, which was a Pittsburgh-based ensemble that would perform on a barge on the rivers. One work, Armageddon, is set for soprano, wind symphony orchestra, and tape. The 1970s were a wild time. The barge was like a big concert shell. When the group was discontinued, the barge sat moored on the bank of the Monongahela for years, rusting. What a shame. I would have loved to have a floating concert stage! 

Capriccio on this record is set for solo violin with stereo tape. The tape element is entirely synthesized sounds. I find it curious in that Badings' writing for violin seems very rooted in late Romanticiscm. It's described as a mini-concerto, with the tape clearly acting as accompaniment. Despite the sounds, the violin writing itself wouldn't be out of place in a turn of the (20th) century work.

The other two pieces find Badings working entirely electronically. There are pitches, identifiable notes, but these mostly sound less 19th century. I write "mostly" because there are passages in Evolutions with chord progressions that wouldn't sound out of place in Romantic composing, or even arranged for jazz orchestra. One movement (it's six short movements created as a ballet) sounds specifically jazzy and even silly in the way that Raymond Scott's electronic music could at times, years before Scott started building his custom electronic instruments. My guess is some of the passages were scored traditionally in advance of their electronic realization.

Dick Raaijmakers' is unfamiliar to me. I know that it is probably more difficult to establish a unique voice for oneself, but the work wouldn't have felt out of place being credited to Badings. (Maybe it's a Dutch thing?) The opening of his Contrasts sounds a shade silly the way that some of Badings' ballet does. Among the contrasts of the title is some of the time taken up by percussion, up-front noise bursts, with quiet, extended, slowly shifting tones underneath. 

What a time, that era of the 1950s into the 60s. Like I've asked in previous posts, who pays attention to Henk Badings' or Dick Raaijmakers' music anymore, other than vinyl fanatics like me? Does Badings receive any performances any longer? And indeed, is there a need to play his music?

VOTD 10/6/2024

 Negativland: Points (Seeland)

I can't remember where I bought this, possibly at Eide's used.

I went to see Negativland last night. I took my wife. She wasn't happy. 

I won't go into details. Negativland was here with a documentary film, Stand By For Failure. She had a complaint that the film was too indirect, didn't really explain what Negativland was/is. And I can see that if you didn't know anything about them, the film could be frustrating. It's no less collage-style than their music, maybe even moreso.

I liked the film. Won't go as far as saying I loved it. It drew a tremendous amount of footage based on all of them filming or videotaping many parts of their lives, particularly "The Weatherman" David Wills and his family. David has the distinctively nasally voice heard on Negativland records. The film itself to me looked like a document of shifting media, from 8mm home movies to VHS, reel-to-reel analog tape, to Pro Tools, then Youtube, TikTok. During Q&A, I couldn't quite form the question but had it in my mind, did the look of these different media sources influence the film itself? But I think that's tautological, of course it did. 

The first Negativland LP came out in 1980 with entirely handmade covers. I admire that. Consistent band member Mark Hossler was in high school at the time. He and David, who does not tour but appears via tape or Facetime, are the consistent through-line of the band. Mark said that Ralph Records was interested in reissuing the first LP, but that they refused. The original artifact with its hand-rendered covers, needed to stay just that. (It's been reissued on CD.)

And this, their second LP? I hear what would make them interesting on later albums. EZ listening (with Reagan samples), David's mother playing the accordion, tape loops and general weirdness. I feel like they're still finding their direction. They're playing around with tapes, seeing what they can create. 

It seems to me that David's voice, The Weatherman, is one of the most distinctive characteristics of what they do. He'd be far more prominently featured on their 1983 LP, A Big 10-8 Place. That LP was a huge hit at WRCT at the time, to the point where some staff would turn the monitors to WDVE rather than listen to anything on that record another time. I was there, I saw it.

Points is okay but far from essential. 2/3 of them are college-aged kids (plus The Weatherman) fucking around with tapes and seeing what they come up with. I don't remember this record being mentioned in the film. It's more finely honed than the first Nurse With Wound LP, but not that far removed: people who couldn't actually play instruments going into the studio and messing around to see what comes out of it.

I think it might want to track down an original copy of A Big 10-8 Place, with all its materials included.

VOTD 10/4/2024

Various: Happy Days original motion picture soundtrack (Funky)

I bought this mail order, I think through discogs.com

Happy Days! Those happy days, Richie Cunningham, the Fonz, right?

Nope.

In far less litigious days, somehow there was a not only the TV series Happy Days, but also an XXX adult feature with the same title, also dating to 1974.

I am aware of some porn-related lawsuits, such as the XXX-rated Superwoman becoming Ms. Magnificent on release. How did this movie happen, to say nothing of a physical LP copy of the soundtrack? No idea. Maybe someone in a position of power decided it just wasn't worth it. Or was it so low-end that they didn't know until the movie had come and gone? That seems more likely. 

I pulled out this LP because I have a not-so-secret love of soundtracks of disreputable movies. Italian cannibal movies, porn soundtracks, and...I fail to think of anything lower. The former might be lower on the rung than the latter.

Have I seen the porn Happy Days? Nope. I'll admit to being intrigued, but let's be honest: we know what's going to happen. There surely must be at least one scene of backseat sex. And I'm not just saying that; if I'd seen it, I'd admit to it. I recognize the name Georgina Spelvin on the back cover credits, that's as far as I go. 

The music is clearly 1970s recreated 50s rock-n-roll. This was surely all recorded quickly, probably in an afternoon. If you slipped a track from this onto a lo-fi 50s r'n'r compilation, little of it would be too much out of place.

The front cover is an image you'd expect, of body parts emerging from the backseat of a 50s boat of a car. The back cover is is as plain as could be, like a vanity pressing or song poem collection. 

The meta-narrative is surely more interesting than the original narrative. I mean, how interesting could the XXX-Happy Days be?

The final track, "Let Me Breathe" (credited to Marcus Anthony) sounds about is contemporary to the 50s as the Bee Gee's "Grease" is to that film's version of the 50s. That is, not in the least.

VOTD 10/2/2024

 June Chikuma: Les Archives (Freedom to Spend)

Purchased used at Jerry's Records

Oooh here I go again, blogging, blogging about listening to music, spending money on records. I can afford this and more but I have so much stuff, so many things, I am concerned with what will become of it all. The records are very resellable for the most part, with a few being particularly valuable. Even if it's just a few things at a time, I'm trying to move some objects out of the house so someone else (my daughter) doesn't have to deal with them later. I felt proud of myself for dropping off a dozen books and CDs at little libraries around the neighborhood, and plan to do more. 

Yet there I was at Jerry's yesterday, and decided to blow a few bucks on three albums, this being one. I didn't know the name, but the first thing that caught my eye was the track title "Pataphysique" and I knew this wasn't another indie-rock band that populates that section where I found this in the store. Okay, they got my money.

My first impression: I'm reminded of Raymond Scott, but grungier. There's a twitchy energy similar to his Soothing Sounds for Babies (or as I call them, Annoying Sounds for Parents). June's music isn't as clean or leanly minimalistic as the Scott albums, there's more composition involved. But similar to Scott, it's highly sequenced, driving. 

The other comparisons I'd make are to early 80s-era The Residents without the vocals (June's music has a sort of wackiness to it) and the Liquid Sky soundtrack, credited to Slava Tsukerman, Brenda I. Hutcherson, and Clive Smith. Don't ask me who's most responsible for that work. 

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm trying to avoid the lazy music critic reference of "Raymond Scott meets The Residents meets Liquid Sky" but damned if that doesn't at least put you in the neighborhood. And I'm not a serious music critic or journalist now, am I?

The final track on the LP finds her ideas translated to string quartet. It's pretty, but something is missing. The drive? The slow development I might associate with Reich or Glass? I posted a similar question when blogging about Simeon Ten Holt: is it really Minimalism if it's basically Classicism simply repeated over and over?

I think it I DJed, I would find this album useful, but nobody will every ask me to do that. At least the more electronic-type works. 

CDOTD 10/1/2024

 Morton Feldman: Triadic Memories (Mode)

I don't remember where I bought this

There are so may composers I admire whose music sounds nothing like mine, that I wish I could compose like them. Messiaen, Xenakis, at times Frank Zappa and Charles Mingus. I've accepted that I have my voice, modest as it may be. I'm comfortable composing largely in a jazz idiom, working with melodies and sometimes chord changes. If I try to write something that sounds like those composers, I will sound like an imitator at best, or more likely a lame, limp version of what they do.

Morton Feldman definitely fits that category, maybe more than any of them. I couldn't possibly compose something like his music and feel confident that it's anything but a bad version of what he does. I listen to the music, sometimes follow the score, and don't know how he pulls off what he does at times. 

In my more youthful days, I was fanatically enthusiastic about John Cage's work. I loved much of the music (still do) but I was really interested in the idea of creating systems for music making. There are of course many systematic methods in composition. I mean in the sense that the composition would have methods, have commonalities from performance to performance, but could also be very different in each performance and still maintain that sense of its composition. (I feel like I'm not explaining that well.) I loved the philosophy of Cage's music. His book Silence is absolutely essentially reading in my opinion, even if you don't agree with anything he writes in it. 

In my more advanced years I've been listening to far more Feldman, particularly the later works. He doesn't make is easy, considering their sometimes extreme length. I've had on this particular work streamed over Youtube several times now, with the score synchronized. I don't remember who the performer was; in the case of this CD edition, it's Marilyn Nonken. I'm not one to generally compare different performances of the same piece, but I hear subtle differences. It's probably the rhythm.

I also happen to have checked out the score from the library. It's there, you know? I hope a subsequent edition of this score has been corrected, because this one doesn't include the number of repetitions on repeated passages. I can see I've followed along in the past, because I wrote in pencil for a few pages the number of repeats, to give up at a certain point after writing "3X?". (I think it was two, actually.) An important detail to have been left off from the original manuscript! I understand John Tilbury recorded this work too, but used this edition of the score and only played each repetition twice. Oh well. 

One thing that has definitely been retained from the original is Feldman's strange chord voicings. Not the chords themselves, that can be anything in this chromatic world, but that he'll write F-sharp and A-flat into the same chord, next to one another. I'm no expert in writing for the piano, but I take issue with that in general.

Another curious thing: for majority of the work, the meter is 3/8 time, but the notes are expressed as dotted rhythms, or 4/3 polyrhythms. You have to go more than twenty pages into this edition to find a straight eighth note rhythm. What purpose does that serve? Couldn't it have been expressed another way? Is it to give the score a certain appearance? I know that's a factor with Feldman, the way the score actually looks. Feldman generally favors 3/8 or even 3/16 time signatures. But if it's in largely four, why not write it in four? The work would be difficult enough to play accurately without having to sort through that extra information on the page.

I've spent a great deal of time with other Feldman scores, quite a few of them now that I think about it. Most significantly, I listened and followed the score to his notorious String Quartet II with the running time of +/- five hours. I discovered something very unusual about the work. Every page has exactly three systems on it, with nine measures in each system. (Again, with the threes.) The meter in any measure could be anything ranging from 5/32 to 3/2 time. From one system to another, there might be a noticeable change; there's usually a more noticeable change from one page to the next if they're facing; with one exception, there's a dramatic shift in the music at each page turn.

It seems to me that Feldman creates a grid on which he places the music. The grid of one page could be anywhere from twenty seconds to thirty minutes (more or less, I'm doing this from memory), depending on what he places into it. You can't hear it, but it's lurking in the background. Whatever sketches he might have created leading into the creation of the final score, the page itself influences the outcome. It suggests to me that the music wasn't in a fixed state until the score's final rendering. It's possible you might notice this in a performance, if you heard a big change in the music as the page was turned. Just listening to a recording? There would be no way to tell. 

I've noticed this structure in other late Feldman scores, with perhaps greater variation and not so strictly staying with that form. Nonetheless, you can still see these things in the score for other pieces. Which leads me to think, if I studied the original manuscript of Triadic Memories, some of those same elements would also be present. 

I was thinking as I checked out the score from the library today, Feldman probably would have preferred that the listener not have access to the score and instead just listen. Then I thought, maybe most composers would prefer it that way. 

None of this actually speaks to the music. Without studying the notes on paper, I can hear much of his general intention with this work: taking passages with patterns and rearranging those patterns in subtle but clearly different ways. It's not so-called Minimalism as we have come to know it, but it's also not entirely removed from the ideas of Minimalism either. The first several minutes see the same six notes (four in one hand, two in the other) played in a strict order, but with the rhythms varied slightly with each measure. I think of this as almost being like a Calder mobile, with its shapes moving around one another, slowly changing the relationship while maintaining their shapes. Feldman himself was influenced by the patterns he noticed in the Oriental rugs* he had begun to collect, with patterns present but the shapes and distances subtly different from one to another. 

I think the title, unlike his more "still life"-like titles (Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello for example) is significant. It's not triadic at all, but does evoke a feeling of memory. He wrote, "This way of working was a conscious attempt at formalizing a disorientation of memory. Chords are heard without a discernable pattern." (I found that on the Universal Edition page for this piece.) Even when the piece shifts, changes, introduces a new idea, there's always the sense of working over the same materials within a section, of reorganizing the notes in ways that we can discern but never settle. You can hear the working over of similar materials within a time span, rhythmically it never "grooves." (I'm imagining Feldman bristling over the very description.)

The length at ninety minutes does not fit onto a single CD. There is a DVD audio edition of this. The String Quartet II on Mode had a CD release of five discs, or again one DVD. Feldman himself commented that he had heard many twenty minute pieces from other composers, so much of the music was twenty minutes. Does that suggest the length of a long playing record? I guess you'd need more empirical proof to conclusively make a firm connection.

Triadic Memories....memory is fleeting and not always accurate...events come and go through the lens of our memories...perhaps it's not the composer's intentions, but is the work imbued with a certain sadness? Sometimes I think so, sometimes not. It is beautiful and I will be spending more time in its world.

*I think the term is still considered to be Oriental rugs. My Uncle Jim was a noted dealer who authored several books on the patterns used by different nomadic tribes. 

VOTD 9/28/2024

Creation Is Crucifixion: Antenna Builder | The Soldering Iron Gives Us Control (Robotic Empire)  

Record two: Live in Geneva, Switzerland May 28, 2000

Purchased through mail order

How do you react to a recording or performance in which the intention of the artists is to be unlistenable? "Good job"? "Sorry, but I totally listened to this"?

Last week I got to hang with Adam MacGregor. I will admit to being flattered by Adam in the past, who cites me as an inspiration for his more extreme musical aspirations. It's not that this recording suggests any direct influence, but that seeing Water Shed 5tet in the 90s gave him the confidence to follow his unusual musical interests.

I'm happy he would tell me so. But as with students I've taught in class who have gone on to success, I do not wish to take credit in any way. It is their work, maybe I helped push it along the way a little.

I know that in writing that, I might be slightly hypocritical and self-referential. Okay, I'll give myself a little credit.

Whatever else Creation Is Crucifixion was (an Adam project from this era), they were a tight unit. They absolutely charge through everything. The language in general is hard-hitting thrash metal with a kind of mathy-quality of fast changes, sudden tempo alterations, intense exchanges of ideas. They sound like they spent months out in a shed in the woods doing nothing by practicing, smoking, drinking Cokes and eating ramen noodles. (I know that's not actually true.) Nothing sits in your head as being catchy, nor is it meant to. They hit you hard, and by the time you feel it, they're on to the next idea. 

I think I've always been to some extent attracted to the extremes in music. Test the limits of expression. How far can you take things? Longer, shorter, quieter, louder, harder, softer, etc etc? Then reflect on those extremes or limits and learn from them.

The band is simultaneously a scalpel and a bludgeon. Cutting sharp, while at the same time knocking you over the head. I'm feeling pulverized at times. What was it like to see this band at its best? Probably overwhelming at times by the sheer density and intensity of it all. 

Permit me to share a song title or two: "School Steals the Capacity for Autonomous Action AKA Micro-Consuming Machines" or "The Allegory of the Algorithm (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Mimesis)". I don't understand how they remember the titles, let alone all of the music. But I do get a sense of humor from the titles not necessarily obvious from the songs. ("Songs" being loosely defined in this case.) Or anger? Both I imagine. 

And as if they didn't want to frustrate you enough, there are times when someone (possibly Adam) speaks quietly in a near-monotone for several minutes between songs, longer than some of the pieces themselves. No musician credits are provided. Based on looking over discogs.com, this was their practice. An anonymous collective, perhaps. No faces, no names, all confrontation.

And wouldn't you know it? The final track ends on a lock groove. It sounded like they stuck to a groove more than usual.