VOTD 12/24/2024

 Can: Ege Bamyasi (Spoon)

Purchased used many years ago

Browsing the New York Times today, I noticed a playlist of musical artists who died in 2024. (To follow up on yesterday's posting, Herb Robertson didn't make the cut.) There are the obvious choices, such as Toby Keith and Quincy Jones. More surprising were songs by Steve Albini and James Chance. But most surprising of all was one I didn't know: a piece by Can, because Damo Suzuki had died.

I'm a little wary of Can records because I think some aren't that good, or at least especially interesting. I have a few of a later vintage than this session, and they're inconsistent. And unless I'm missing out some incredible recordings that I don't know, their best work was between 1970-73 when Damo was their vocalist. Many find their double-LP Tago Mago as the band's best record. I think that might have been true if they trimmed the length to two sides, or (the impractical) three sides. This record, which came a year later in 1972, is the best work of theirs I know. 

I've heard bit and pieces of some of the live albums recently issued. They range from 1973 (with Damo still involved) to 1977. I haven't heard the 1973 concert but I'm interested. What I heard is that the band were largely improvising, often creating grooves spontaneously. I'm sure the pieces on this album all originate from band jam sessions and rehearsals, working up material collectively. 

So what's Damo's contribution? I can only gauge based on what I hear on the album. He mumbles, moans, whispers and sings lyrics I sometimes can understand but usually can't. But I don't think the lyrics are meant to be understood logically; the voice is effectively another instrument here. "One More Night" sees Damo chanting "One more Saturday night" over a cool 7/8 groove, and they mesh together perfectly. I'm sure his words are borne from improvisations as well, assuming he's not free-styling some of it during the recording. 

Any album is of its time. Nonetheless, we can point to some and declare after the fact, "That was forward-looking" or such. There are things here, captured in 1972, that seem to precede or anticipate music since. Isn't what Damo doing here similar to the vocal improvisations of Arto Lindsey? The rhythm and sound of the words are far more important than any logical meaning. The improvised grooves, hell, I've had bands based primarily on that principle. The guitar is often distant, sustained, noisy, filling in textures, and again that is something I've heard many times since. 

Bassist Holger Czukay and keyboardist Irmin Schmidt attended Karlheinz Stockhausen's classes in years prior. While the music is obviously very different, I see some similarities or correlations: emphasis on sound and process, embracement of noise, and a general desire to be original. I read that Holger asked Karlheinz to autograph is copy of Kurzwellen  on Deustche Grammophone, telling the composer what an important record it was. Kurzwellen is surely some of the strangest and in a way obsessive music imaginable. I also read that at in its time, it was the worst selling record in the DG catalog. 

2024 has felt interminably long. We know in part why. If you're reading this and don't live in Pennsylvania or another so-called "battleground" state, be thankful to not have been confronted with political ads at every possible moment, every possible media, for 1.5 years. I was seeing lists of the worst movies of the year, noting Marvel's Madame Web. I thought, that was this year? Damn. The next four will be bumpy. It's nice to escape into the Can & Damo sound world, if briefly.

CDOTD 12/23/2024

 Herb Robertson: Certified (JMT)

This was a duplicate sent to WRCT that I scored at the time of its release in 1991.

There's a stack of recently purchased LPs that I need to listen or re-listen to. I don't write about everything that spins on my turntable or disc player, but I do sometimes put something on for the purpose of commenting here. 

That leads me to once again think about the purpose of me maintaining this blog. For the discipline? Because I have something interesting or cogent to say about the music? To gripe? Or (maybe worst of all) get autobiographical?

Perhaps there are some things on the latter I will share eventually, but now's not the time. Plus, I find writing about myself to be boring and self-indulgent. But then nobody else is going to at this point.

Herb Robertson died Dec. 10 at age 73. I know him mostly through his association with Tim Berne. He played on several of my favorite Berne albums, including Fractured Fairy Tales and Pace Yourself. He can be seen with Time Berne on NBC's Night Music. Herb could play straight-forward trumpet, always sounding confident and solid on Berne's challenging compositions. As a soloist, he leans into something closer to action playing; broad, exaggerated blowing, liberal use of plunger or mute, not especially melodic but highly energetic. 

Except, when he chooses not to be that. The second piece on this program, "Cosmic Child", something of a chorale-like structure, he plays more reservedly. He's a good straightforward soloist when he chooses to be. And I didn't mean to suggest he wasn't, only that it's not what I associate with him. 

This time Herb's the bandleader. The lineup is Herb on trumpet (family) and valve trombone; Mark Goldsbury on tenor and soprano saxophones, clarinet; David Taylor on bass trombone; Ed Schuller (Gunther's son) on bass; Phil Haynes on drums. Not a lineup duplicated on a Tim Berne or Jerry Hemingway album, but similar. 

And the vibe is similar too, maybe even slightly wackier. I love a lot of Tim Berne's music, but at times he can be drier and more....I don't know....academic sounding than I prefer. A piece on here such as "Don't Be Afraid We're Not Like the Others" is musical, ripping, but also funny and humorous at times.

How does one achieve humor in instrumental music? It's easily on display in song; the words are funny or clever or satirical, or they're not. I find unexpected, dramatic shifts in shape, tempo, and tone to sometimes be funny. There's a tape collage in the middle of the aforementioned piece that sounds like calliopes farting, I guess. 

At least one friend, who was also a major fan of Tim Berne's music of this time, expressed the opinion that this album was every bit as good as what Tim was releasing. There's a case for it. I've also expressed my frustration on this blog, multiple times now I'd say, of these new-jazz bands (vaguely along the same lines) who never play much above a mezzo forte (if that). This crew sounds like they made some serious noise. Was it a regular playing ensemble, if at least briefly? That would be my guess, they're a great unit together. 

I only met Herb once. He was passing through with one of saxophonist Andy Laster's groups, probably somewhere in the 1994-96 range. Manny Theiner, who booked the show, asked Water Shed 5tet to open (a common occurrence then). I believe due to illness, only three of us could play (saxophone, guitar, drums). If memory serves, we played a few existing compositions but opened up to improvising more than usual. After the night was done, I walked up to Herb (drinking a 40) and he stood up to give my a big hug. I don't remember that we exchanged more than a sentence or two otherwise, if that. 

The album takes a turn to the even stranger in the middle, with an extended opening to one piece with vocal noises and gibberish, air blowing through water, and such. Definitely not people who has commercial interests in mind. The album ends with "The Condensed Version" which I guess is Herb's solo vocal rendering of moments from that album. Again, wacky.

This is a good album. It's nice to see that it got a reissue after JMT folded, on Winter & Winter. 

I'm happy this had its day even if it's maybe largely forgotten? Perhaps that's not fair to write. Just that, there are so many other great albums by these players and others from this time, how can you possibly keep track of it all?

So long Herb, the world's a less fun place without you in it. 

VOTD 12/21/2024

 Josh Berman/Paul Lytton/Jason Roebke: Trio Discrepancies (Astral Spirits)

Purchased from Josh at a gig

Josh played at Bantha Tea House recently with an improv group of fellow Chicago players. I was there largely to hear a student of mine perform. The group played on the general tropes of acoustic free improv groups, which I don't mean to sound like a criticism. I've been there myself and will be there again. No groove, little periodicity at all, hints of melody which are just as quickly fragmented, scraping/blowing sounds. 

I decided to my part to support the artist and bought one of Josh's LPs. It's more money than he'll ever see from streaming, and I get an album out of it too.

I've probably already expressed my disdain for Spotify. I'm asked occasionally about my own recordings on the service, and I supposed there are some there. When I release new sessions, they'll wind up there too. But I'll never see a dime return on it all, even if a hundred people decide to put my albums on constant play overnight, night after night. Buying a single product, whether it's CD, LP, shirt, poster, even paying admission, does more for most artists than any streaming service. 

Josh plays cornet, an interesting choice in this day and age. I guess it's for the slightly darker, rounder sound than a trumpet. He's joined by bass and percussion, the latter played by Paul Lytton. His name I recognize from his work with Evan Parker. Faced with two choices for albums to buy, I guess I chose this one based on Paul's name. 

All sounds are improvised. The music is varying levels of activity/density, gradual crescendoes/decrescendoes. The cornet/bass/drums lineup suggests a sort of jazziness, it's something that's inescapable. It's hard to make anything played on the saxophone not refer to jazz too. Indeed, the end of the first side plays at a free walking bass and almost swing. The silences are longer, more significant in the second half. There's a welcome discipline to what they do, but at the same time I wish it would sometimes kick out loud and hard. I've heard too many new jazz and improv groups that rarely play above a mezzo-forte at best, and I just want them to make some NOISE sometimes. 

But I remind myself, I should comment on what this is about, not what I wish it was.

I'm okay with a free setting suggesting jazz or anything else. Derek Bailey's quest for "non-idiomatic" improvisation is an interesting goal but I find a sameness to determinately disjunct, European-style improv. 

I was thinking this is a music that is especially essential to experience in the room live. But isn't that always true? Isn't it better to be there to experience it and not just by record? At least there's a document of this group that is preserved.

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.