VOTD 05/13/2025

 宮内庁楽部* = Music Department, Imperial Household* – Gagaku (Court Music) (Columbia) 10" LP

Purchased used at Jerry's Records

I was for quite a few years associated with WRCT. First as student, then summer fill in, hanging when I still had friends working there. There were two great things about WRCT, apart from the hang: access to the best record/music library in Pittsburgh (to the best of my knowledge), and being able to hear new releases as they came in. Sometimes, such as my recent post about Tom Waits' Swordfishtrombones, being able to score a duplicate promo copy. 

I was at the station (I'm finding it was 1990) during an unboxing of promo CDs. One package came from a new label of traditional Japanese music. One of the discs absolutely transfixed me: it was an album entirely of Gagaku. (This was it: https://www.discogs.com/release/1427070-Kunaich%C5%8D-Gakubu-Gagaku-Etenraku-Azumaasobi-Kishunraku-Seigaiha) 

I'd never heard it, or anything like it before. It felt like a dreamscape. Gagaku is imperial court music, and considered to be the oldest extant orchestral music in the world. The Gagaku "orchestra" comprises of several percussion, some plectrum instruments (biwa being one), a strident double reed, transverse flutes, and most significantly, the mouth organ (sho). It is the latter, playing cluster voicings, that gives Gagaku music its otherworldly quality to these Western ears. It's "dissonant" (by Western standards) but I also find it pleasant, and yes, dreamy. 

Just goes to show you, consider whatever supposed avant-garde techniques European and American composers might devise, there's a chance so-called "ethnic" musicians have topped it. 

(Sidebar: I'm thinking of an LP of Indian music that had a track of someone playing two conch shells simultaneously, tuned about a half step apart. He could control the beating patterns by way of lip pressure, and I think he was circular breathing. Take that, Alvin Lucier!)

I'd bought a couple of Gagaku CDs over the years. I love them all, but it's all pretty similar. I even learned to recognize one particular piece, "Etenraku", which I've dubbed the "Stairway to Heaven" of Gagaku. As in, everyone plays it. (Maybe "Free Bird" would be a better comparison.) It's not that I permanently called off buying any more Gagaku recordings, but I wasn't going to seek them out. 

And then, as Jerry's Records sometimes does (especially under Jerry himself), a surprise came along. 

It was hard to believe: four beautifully packaged Gagaku 10" LPs, the earliest (this) dating to 1957. The vinyl looked clean, and sounds good. I think I paid no more than $8 apiece, which I knew was a bargain. This also around the time I found two 10" LPs of Maoist-era Chinese opera records in the same section of the store.

It's Gagaku. It's beautiful. I have three other 10"ers to go with it, two of which have renditions of "Etenraku".

I have a special section in my record shelves for valuable records. Things I know are worth money, like original Sun Ra on Saturn, the first Picchio Dal Pozzo record, some of my United Dairies vinyl, among other things. This isn't in that section. 

But I'd like to think, once I'm gone, someone looks through my collection and says, "Wow, check out these Gagaku 10"s!"

Which reminds me of a Jerry Weber story. Indulge me if I've written this before. 

Jerry told me about a young couple buying an old album in his store. He looked at it and said, "You know, this is a fifty year old record. You're young, you'll live another fifty years. If you keep this, you'll have a hundred year old record, and it'll sound as good then as it does now." I cynically replied, "Yeah, it'll sound as scratched up then as it does now."

But now more than ever I appreciate Jerry's optimism. We are transient, but (hopefully) some of the things we leave endure. 

VOTD 05/12/2025

 Brown Angel: Promisemaker (Sleeping Giant Glossolalia)

Purchased new, mail order direct from label

Some disclosures: I've played with this band. I'm even thanked in the liner notes. And now that I'm reading more closely, it seems that I appear on this album. How about that. Explanation to come. 

I will also point out that on a few occasions, the person or band I'm writing about reads my comments. Thankfully I don't think I've written anything especially dumb or trite on those occasions. 

It came as a surprise when my Facebook feed informed me there was a new Brown Angel album. Bandleader Adam MacGregor has been in and out of the US for some years now; his wife is in the State Department. I think he's back in Mumbai now. During his most US stay, Brown Angel played a few gigs with a new bassist. 

Well, it seems as though most of the recording dates to 2018-2019. My contribution came a later, but I can't recall exactly how long ago. I'm credited as playing contrabass clarinet, but actually it was bass clarinet. Honestly, I had to relisten to the track ("Who Wants a Dreamer?", the opener) to even detect my contribution. I think I'm heard briefly towards the end of the cut, but I would have never known it without being told. Adam had gotten in touch with me about recording some noisy bass clarinet, which I was happy to do. He never told me for what purpose, so now I guess I know.

Mark this down as another single contribution to an album project, something I seem to be doing recently. Greg Hoy, Spotlights, Microwaves (on a previous record, and the upcoming one as well), and Brown Angel previously. I could get used to that. Several of those were recorded at home using my own equipment. 

Brown Angel got some mileage out of being dubbed "Pittsburgh's Most Depressing Band" (well earned, I would add). There's no speed metal to be sure, but not everything on this is a slow grinder. What I guess is the second half of "It Was Hard (Piteous Trench)" is more driving, but not necessarily any less bleak. 

You have to have real dedication to maintain such a dark vision. (Though as I wrote that I thought, you need to have dedication to be a musician period.) And it might not come as a surprise that Adam and drummer John Roman are perfectly lovely, (as far as I can tell) well-adjusted people. (I don't know original bassist Mike Rensland as well, though I did say hello to him at John's recent wedding.) Adam is a great hang, funny, smart, enjoys spinning a good story. I look forward to those times he's stateside. 

I recalled, when writing about an earlier MacGregor band Creation Is Crucifixion, that Adam had said their intention was to be completely unlistenable. Well, how do you critically react to a band has that intention? Brown Angel is a dark, menacing band, and they succeed in that respect. Production sounds good here, though as you might expect, the guitars are pretty much up front. James Plotkin (Khanate0 mastered the sessions, which I'm sure added to the clarity. 

One complaint: guys, if I'm on this, maybe tell me it was coming out?

VOTD 05/06/2025

Tom Waits: Swordfishtrombones (Island)

This was a duplicate promo copy I scored from WRCT at the time of its release

One of the many reasons I started writing to this blog was to give purpose to my listening. Listen, and write my thoughts. I've amassed a substantial collection of CDs and vinyl LPs; nowhere nearly as large some I know, but large nonetheless. So given this field of possible choices, what do I choose?

To help myself in this respect, I created a Max (Max/MSP/Jitter) file to limit my choices. Max is the closest I've come to programming. I mean, it's programming of a sort. As my friend and world-renowned computer scientist Roger Dannenberg once said, "Max is audio programming for people who don't want to learn how to program." Sold! What might have been intended as a put-down is a selling point. In addition to to creating practical effects and instruments for use in Ableton Live, I created a patch (the word for the file) to calculate my grading for one of my classes. 

I set up a system to randomize a letter choice and format. Single letters didn't fair; T shouldn't have as much of chance as V. Letters are grouped together. For format, I chose CD (X2), vinyl (X2) and "other". I'd also give myself leniency with respect to first and last names, and new purchases take precedence. 

It's not a total Cage indeterminate action, just limiting my choices. 

First roll: W X Y Z, vinyl. I had meant to put on this Tom Waits record recently, so easy choice.

I remember when this LP rolled into WRCT in 1983. It was surprising. I've liked Tom Waits for as long as I've been aware of him, but it was clear this album was a shift in direction for him. Immediately on track one ("Underground") it sounded like he was shifting away from his more cabaret-ish roots towards something more Captain Beefheart-like. The bass marimba, the spiky guitar, the space, suggested Ed Marimba and Zoot Horn Rollo from the Magic Band.

Listening to it now, maybe I don't think it's as radical a departure as I once did. But the Beefheart influence is definitely present, and I think Tom has said so himself. In subsequent albums, he'd increase the emphasis on atmosphere. If he wanted the drums to sound like cardboard boxes, well, play cardboard boxes. The closing track briefly uses glass harmonica(!). More, I say!

The songs are compact, seven on side one, eight on side two. Some are particularly memorable: the aforementioned opening cut, the lovely "Johnsburg, Illinois" followed by the hard hitting "16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought Six". I'm not generally one to react to lyrics, but I laughed out loud at a lyric in "Frank's Wild Years": "...he hung his wild years on a nail that he drove through his wife's forehead." 

A couple of my friends have recorded with Tom, some years after this record. One of them told me that the strange thing meeting Tom was how normal everything was. His home is (or was, I don't know) in Sausalito. Kids were playing in the yard. Everything was very matter-of-fact. 

I recently bought Tom's Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers, and Bastards. His album of leftovers is great, better than most people's first run material. 

VOTD 05/05/2025

 Sorcery: Stunt Rock OST (Moving Image Entertainment)

Purchased used at Rosie's Records

I know I've written about my use of this forum before: music commentary, a small amount of analysis and musicology, and autobiography. Well, I'm going the latter for a few paragraphs, so indulge me. 

I turned in my notice at Carnegie Mellon last Friday. I'd been working there for twenty years. A few people, most notably my wife, knew in advance, but mostly I've stayed quiet about it. It's not a secret now, but I haven't been oversharing on something like Facebook. (Yet.)

The fundamental truth has been: I've been unhappy in the job. Some of is the nature of the position. The majority of my job was teaching a 101-level music technology to anyone: majors, non-majors, even staff. A graduate music major could be sitting next to a sophomore engineering student with no musical experience at all. And it was a mini-course, half a semester in length, fourteen sections in an academic year. I was simply weary of it. 

There are other factors, but little else I care to write publicly. I did start to feel frustrated that I wasn't teaching to my particular skills and experience, at least directly. Being part time adjunct faculty, there wasn't the opportunity to create new courses as I wished. Early after I was hired I had an idea for a course/ensemble/seminar in which we'd study and rehearse various existing repertoire involving improvisation, aleatoric and indeterminate techniques; discuss the similarities and differences; develop new works based on those experiences; ultimately perform publicly. An expansion of some of the things I did with my high school avant-garde ensemble, CAPA Antithesis. It didn't take long for me to figure out there wasn't much of a lane for me to create new ensembles and courses as I wished. Just adding a second section of an in-demand course was a laborious task that took nearly a month of convincing the right people.

None of this is intended as a criticism of the institution. It's just the nature of the job. I feel like I was a workhorse for the school, that they got value for the buck from me. I would be shocked if the next person lasts twenty years. They'll probably hire a recent graduate with a shiny new PHD who will last five years.

Okay, that's starting to sound cynical. I don't really know that.

My wife has been calling it my retirement; I've called it quitting my job. I'm not retired, the real work continues. With luck and determination, maybe more than before. But whatever you call it, yes, I'm now retired from CMU. And looking for musical opportunities.

Thank for indulging me that.

This record...

I'd never heard of the movie Stunt Rock before seeing a trailer collection on Tubi assembled by Alamo Drafthouse. I haven't seen the complete film yet, but the trash film fan in me definitely wants to view it. From what I'm reading online, it's part fiction/mockumentary (1978, years before Spinal Tap), part stunt demonstration, part concert film. I guess Sorcery was a real LA band, kind of a predecessor to the Van Halen and later hair metal scene. You can hear their influences pretty directly: some Deep Purple, a bit of Blue Öyster Cult and Judas Priest, and definitely some Black Sabbath. The latter is pretty obvious with songs like "Wizard's Council", "Mark of the Beast" and "Talking to the Devil". 

They're not bad. A little silly maybe, they're not that far from Spinal Tap. But you can hear some pre-Van Halen in here too. The vocals seem to be mixed a bit high, though maybe the convention of burying the voice under the guitar sound became more conventional later. I find the singer to be just okay, but then most singers irritate me. 

I think I need to see the film!

The reissue from 2000 comes weirdly as a two LP set: standard black vinyl edition, and a second version of the same as a picture disc. Considering the cover is pretty bad looking (and the same on front and back), this seems like a silly move. I listened to the black edition, which was clear and well pressed. I've found picture discs to often be very noisy in the past. 

I don't know that I'm going to keep at this blog as regularly as when I started, but I do intend to keep at it more regularly than I have been. 

VOTD 04/25/2025

 Pere Ubu: Terminal Tower, An Archival Collection (Twin Tone)

Given to me by my friend Mark

I once read that Pere Ubu's David Thomas made (or tried to make) a bet with DEVO who would hit the top 40 first.

It's ridiculous that either of the two bands would ever chart, but of course DEVO had a surprise hit with "Whip It". While outwardly more weird than Pere Ubu, DEVO was more theatrical and obviously tongue-in-cheek. And well, catchier, more of a pop sensibility. Plus they managed to get themselves onto Saturday Night Live. And they were savvy with respect to early music videos. They were naturally the more multimedia of the two groups. 

But what was Pere Ubu by comparison? Darker, more of a garage band but with the strange, warbly vocals of Thomas, and by their second 7" pushed into stranger territory by Allen Ravenstine's homemade modular synthesizers. 

This LP collects their early singles, which amazingly date back to 1975(!), essentially pre-punk rock. From Ohio. Ohio! What the hell was going on in Ohio in that era? Maybe it was the chemicals dumped into the Cuyahoga. Or more likely...the Kent State shooting. People who were attending Kent State during the shooting, if not present at the shooting itself: Mark and Gerald from DEVO, Joe Walsh, Chrissie Hynde, and Chris Butler from Tin Huey/The Waitresses. Did this add a sense of urgency to the region? Or am I attaching meaning to an ultimately meaningless incident? 

I recommend you seek out Derf Backderf's graphic novel Kent State: Four Dead in Ohio. Be warned: you're either going to wind up in tears or hair-tearingly angry at the government, or both. Derf himself was a kid (about my age) when it happened near his home. Oh, AND he attended high school with Jeffrey Dahmer, which he depicts in his graphic novel My Friend Dahmer.

Ohio now is considered the the central moderate/conservative heartland of America. When you start to consider the above, Ohio seems like a far more bizarre place in general, though maybe that's the US in general.

I was born in Akron. Read into that as you will. My father was from Sandusky and attended Kent State.

The record. It traces the development of Ubu as a kind of pre-punk, proto-metal Peter Laughner-led ensemble to a lighter, more surreal sound. Fewer power chords, more space, more vocals, more modular synth. Pre-LP, to The Modern Dance, onto Dub Housing, onto New Picnic Time and Songs of the Bailing Man. Dub Housing is my favorite. It's memorable, but also a straight-forward rock band pulled into alien territory. 

I went to see whoever Pere Ubu was at the Club Cafe, I don't know, 7-8 years ago? David was the only original member.* They were touring on the repertoire of the original Ubu recordings, the Hearthen Records singles (the original singles here) and the first two LPs. David sat the entire time, bottle of wine nearby. He walked offstage at one point, frustrated, but returned. People loved it. The band sounded great, by the way. 

I talked with Tom Moran while I was there. Tom was the guitarist for The Five, arguably the best band from Pittsburgh to emerge from the punk scene.** I'd had little interaction with Tom previously, but we knew who each other was, and we live in the same neighborhood. He told me how Larence Goodby played him Pere Ubu's The Modern Dance and that they declared, "We want to be this band!" and The Five was initiated. I can see the influence, once he mentioned it. 

Ubu didn't play everything off this album, most significantly lacking "Final Solution". In retrospect it's an unfortunate title for a song about teen angst, was Thomas himself would note. Too bad, it's a good song.

This album works as a document of the development of Pere Ubu in its initial years.  As such, you hear how the sound changes with the changes in personnel. In other words, it's a great document but not a cohesive album statement. 

My friend Mark saw David Thomas perform in the late 80s, bought this LP from him, and had him sign it. David asked, "What do you want? A dog, a dinosaur?" Mark asked for a dinosaur. David's scribbling image looks like just that, a scribble. He gave it to me later. 

David Thomas died this week at 71. I would have guessed older. I was once mistaken for David, the account of which you can read on my Facebook page. Sorry you're gone David; if there's an afterlife, I hope you're happy. "It's just a joke, man!"

* It has occurred to me that I've seen at least three bands with only a single original member: Pere Ubu, Yes, and most recently Kraftwerk. If I think of others, I'll write about it

** Tom said to me, "We heard Pere Ubu and we wanted to be that band. Then we moved to Boston and we wanted to be Aerosmith!"

VOTD 04/18/2025

 Maury Coles: Maury Coles' Solo Saxophone Record (Onari)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

Who's Maury Coles? No clue! (And no intention at the moment of Wikipediaizing him.) But a solo saxophone record, used at Jerry's, on a Canadian label, from the 1970s, sounds like a win/win/win/win to me. 

I've considered releasing a solo saxophone album myself, which I guess I should just do and stop thinking about. Something limited run, maybe a custom lathe-cut printing in a small number. Just do it already, Ben.

As Mike Shanley has pointed out, solo saxophone albums are often a catalog of so-called extended techniques, all the "other" sounds the saxophone can produce besides standard notes and pitches. There's a hazard to that: is it just showing off the weird sounds you can make? At the same time, you can say it's all part of the vocabulary of the instrument: every whine, wheeze, fart, squeak, squeal, split tone, is part of the instrument as much as the "notes." Of all the solo saxophone recordings I have, it's Roscoe Mitchell's that is curiously the most traditionally "notey", blowing solo on melodies of his creation. 

Maury finds a place in the middle: sometimes melodic, sometimes playing on the sonic potential of the alto saxophone. Notably, this was recorded Nov. 5 1977 at the Music Gallery than none other than John Oswald himself. I still have a cassette of John's solo saxophone playing, which is some of the most extreme that I've heard. 

This is the only alum that comes up under Maury's name, with just four other credits on other people's sessions. Seems like a shame, the solo album is worthy of a listen. 

VOTD 04/17/2025

 Andrew Lloyd Webber: Requiem (Angel)

Purchased (sealed) at the Jerry's Records dollar sale

Steve Lacy once said: never listen to bad music. If you're at a concert and it's bad, walk out. 

So why the hell am I listening to an Andrew Lloyd Webber record?

Partially it's been my interest in requiems (requia?) in past couple of years, and curiosity about how he would do it. I think it's also healthy to sometimes try to analyze why you don't like something. It's not enough to say "it sucks" but to understand what is it that you don't like. Maybe it's the inherent educator in me. I always wrote off Wendy Carlos' Switched On Bach as being kitsch; in some ways I still do. But I started to study the album more closely, and found characteristics to appreciate. The Moog patch development is pretty amazing at times. The performances are all pre-MIDI overdubbed tracks, which makes the playing impressive. It's not as simple as, "this is silly." 

So we find ALW in a serious mood here, his "serious" music. Can't fault a guy for trying. I'm listening to this without reading up on it, what circumstances led to this work. I assume it was a commission, but if it wasn't? Good for him to working on it. There's an all-star cast: Placido Domingo (whose name is conspicuously top billing), Sarah Brightman (I guess she was married to ALW at the time) and Lorin Maazel (from Pittsburgh!). 

What of the music? I find moments that I enjoy, when ALW goes briefly polychordal or major 9ths (but never full-out atonal). It's generally quite conservative major/minor composing, but I expected nothing else. I'd say it's no less daring than your average Broadway musical really. 

There's an organist credited, James Lancelot. I don't know, it seems too...obvious? Churchy music involving an organ?

Maybe I'm saying, the music offers few surprises except for a few unexpected harmonies. It's darker at the start, uplifting at the end, much as you'd expect. It's impeccably performed, but that's what money will get you. 

This cost me a dollar, so curiosity satisfied, cheap. 

VOTD 04/15/2025

 Goblin: The Other Hell soundtrack (Cinevox)

Purchased at Eides, new

I've written in the past that I know this blog is some degree of music commentary and sometimes analysis, some history, but also there's an autobiographical component too. I suppose if you should happen to find me interesting, that's fine. 

I've been putting a lot of things on hold until the university semester ends. It's felt like a weight on me but my teaching schedule is done at the end of next week, unusually early. Despite this, I've found time to at least accept gigs, do a couple of at-home punch-in recordings for other people, and occasionally check in here. And of course do things I generally enjoys such as dropping by the library and various record stores.

I didn't make a big rush for Record Story Day, even if I bought three things released that day. I've previously written the other two. I had the highest hope for this one, while at the same time wondering about the nature of it. Goblin was responsible for some exceptional soundtrack work: Suspiria, Deep Red, the European cut of Dawn of the Dead. So why hadn't this soundtrack turned up before? I don't profess to be a Goblin expert but a solid work from the early 80s would be in demand for release, seemed to me. 

Reading into it now, I see this is made up of cues and outtakes from other films: Buio Omega, Patrick, and  Il Fantastico Viaggio del Bagarozzo Mark. Thankfully I have none of those on vinyl (I've seen the first two around) so all the music is new to me. I noticed while watching the laughable Contamination that the soundtrack credited to Goblin was at least in part lifted from Dawn of the Dead. I can't point a finger at the Italians for cost-cutting moves, since it's thoroughly part of the American tradition of exploitation filmmaking as well. 

What sets Suspiria apart from the others is its intensity and atmosphere. It's bigger, louder, creepier, noisier. Dawn has a real drive to it to be sure, but Suspiria feels like an experience. The music here is solid late 70s instrumental prog rock veering slightly into fusion territory, sometimes sounding a little like the Bruford band circa One of a Kind (sans Allan Holdsworth).

I don't often comment on this, but the pressing (at least on side one) is terrible. There's a general noise to the vinyl which isn't so noticeable when the music is turned up, but takes over on fade outs and between cuts. Ugh. Do better! Maybe it didn't need to be fuchsia-colored vinyl. And with such great examples of original cover art on Mondo/Death Waltz and Waxworks soundtrack labels, the cover here looks slapdash. Sounds like trying to earn that RSD coin to me, even if the music itself is pretty good.

VOTD 04/14/2025

 Mitch & Ira Yuseph: 7 Doors of Death soundtrack (Grindhouse Releasing)

Purchased new at Eide's

I guess I get a little sucked into to Record Store Day myself, but there's a good chance I might have bought this even without the hype sticker calling out, "2025 RSD Exclusive/BLOOD SHOT RED VINYL/Limited to 1000 copies". 

7 Doors of Death is an American video release of Lucio Fulci's The Beyond. Some consider it Fulci's best work. His horror films are graphically brutal, even if some of the effects look fake. Even his more Giallo-ish titles such as The Psychic and Don't Torture a Duckling each have one brutal effect, such as a man's face getting ripped off after jumping from a cliff. Fulci reveled in showing nasty, graphic details. 

It's not a plot-driven film, to be sure. A woman inherits an old New Orleans hotel, which we discover (not a big spoiler here) sits on one of the seven doors to the gates of Hell. Weird and deadly occurrences ensue: eye gouging! Throat ripping! Tarantulas, um, tarantulaing! And possibly most shocking of all, a teen girl's head gets blown open with a shotgun. The last one might have been a problem for some regions and countries, and I can't guarantee it's in the American cut given its R rating. 

I didn't always say I engaged in good taste, though I definitely have my limits. Italian cannibal films are not my thing (just too cruel and ugly), I have no interest in The Human Centipede, and I know enough to not see A Serbian Film. Despite all the grossness of The Beyond, I have an issue with it that's almost laughable. There's a really nasty basement that a plumber has to enter to unclog some pipes. (It doesn't end well for him.) Having lived in Baton Rouge, I thought, there are no basements in New Orleans!

Roger Ebert gave the movie a 1/2 star review out of four, ranking it higher than Freddy Got Fingered or Rob Reiner's North. Or for that matter Caligula or I Spit on Your Grave. He was notoriously unsympathetic to most horror films, but far less than even Gene Siskel, who found The Silence of the Lambs to be too much. 

So what of the 7 Doors score? It has moments but Fabio Frizzi's original score is markedly better: more interesting, more eerie. (I have a copy of that too, it's possible I've even blogged about it before.) The Yusephs rework ideas over a little too much for my taste. It's very keyboard-oriented, synths, acoustic piano, snare drum (sampled?). There's atmosphere at times, but I just don't understand why the Frizzi score had to be replaced.

I'm seeing on imdb.com that the American theatrical release had its own composer, Walter E. Spear. It really begs of the question of why? I know...surely it has to come down to money. Probably licensing. Not paying for the original score. But then why commission a new score? I don't get it. We'll probably see Spear's score released on vinyl at some point too. 

VOTD 04/13/2025

 The Residents: Leftovers Again?! Again!?! (Again) (New Ralph Too)

Purchased new at The Attic

Back for one more feeding, I suppose. I can't complain about what's left of The Residents for picking through their archives and releasing more demos and unused material. I seem to shell out for at least some of it. I can't say any of has exactly blown me away, though there have been a few nice surprises. While rough and incomplete, a pre-version of Not Available was included in the pREServed 2CD edition that was worth a listen.

This series is various odds and ends that were supposedly rediscovered. I mean, with all thing Residents, we have only their word about these things. But it makes sense: Homer Flynn has just turned 80 this past week, and my guess is he's cleaning house. And I don't question that for a long time it was a struggle, so he deserves to earn from that.

This edition, the third in a supposed trilogy, mines material from the mid to late1980s. I've probably previously gone on about this, but it's the time when I start to lose interest in their music. I missed the awful saxophone playing, the out of tune piano, and unusual atmospheres and production. Replaced was a reliance on new sampling technology. That's not necessarily bad in itself. Their EP Intermission, the first to make extensive use of the E-mu Emulator,  makes some of the most interesting use of sampling on their records in my opinion. One can even hear the improvement in the quality of the technology over the course of this LP. That is to say, unless you like the sound of early samplers because they do sound old and cheap, or at lest antiquated. 

In particular, this LP opens with four track by The Big Bubble, The Residents' fictitious band from their Mole Trilogy narrative. It's demos of Homer and Hardy, sounding like works in development for the 13th Anniversary Tour, sans Snakefinger.

Odder is "Jazz Album Experiment", which of course sounds not a bit like jazz in the least. And I'm fine with fake jazz, that's what John Lurie called Lounge Lizards (even though it wasn't necessarily accurate). Their American Composers series, having reworked Gershwin, Sousa, Hank Williams and James Brown, supposedly was going to move on to Sun Ra next. Maybe it could have been great, who can say?

Well, leftovers aren't so bad really.

VOTD 04/04/2025

 H.N.A.S: Küttel Im Frost (Dom)

Purchased new at Eides, back in the day

There are several categories I have for filing my LPs. There's a general section, jazz/rock/pop artists (I know that labels don't always work, but I know what's what), another section for "classical" artists with a subsection for LPs on the Mainstream label produced by Earle Brown, a separate section for electronic specific artists, a bin for compilations, a section for soundtrack music, another for evangelical preacher LPs and other weirdness.

And finally, a section to expensive records. Records that could at least be sold for $75 each and often for far more. 

If you collect something, don't you thrill at the idea of scoring something that is valuable that nobody else knows about? I definitely have something of a hoarder gene, which I've tried to quell in more recent years. Nonetheless, I am always sniffing out vinyl treasures if nothing else. This has become exceedingly difficult in this age of discogs.com and other online resources.

I knew about H.N.A.S (Hirsche Nicht Aufs Sofa) because they released an LP on United Dairies, the Steven Stapleton/Nurse With Wound label. I was an active collector in those days. Anything UD or UD-tangential, I bought it up. Eide's Entertainment, in their old location on the Northshore of Pittsburgh was a primary source. (The cite, an old house, is around where the Roberto Clemente sculpture now stands). Later it was along Penn Avenue between 9th Street and the now convention center. Later, further up Penn Avenue past the bus station, and then two door over from that. It's a long long story, beyond what I've written.

Back in the old Northshore/Northside days. Gregg Kostelich was the record buyer. He knew if he filled his stock with the most bizarre and obscure titles, one person (usually me or about two or three others) would be excited to buy those things. 

And that's how I came to buy this LP. I remember parts of it, particularly the first ten minutes, so I'm certain I played it more than once on WRCT. The general edition is 400 copies and of some value, hence its inclusion in my "valuable LP" section. 

In general it has clicks and pops, so it must have received some play in general in my house. How to describe it? Wacky sound experiments, half-songs with half-musique concrete studies, and lots of "let's see what happens." Does this represent a by-gone age? A time when you could release an LP of sound experiments and be taken seriously by Op Magazine, or its offspring Option of Sound Choice? (The former lasted much longer than the latter, but basically went commercial. Sellouts.) 

This was all stirred because Christoph Heemann, half of H.N.A.S, is booked to play the Rock Room in Pittsburgh in a few weeks. The Rock Room is scuzziest space I can imagine. Yes I've played there. I'm not proud. 

If I make it (good likelihood) I have one or two LPs I want him to sign. 

CDOTD 03/30/2025

 MB & Nisi Quiernis: Phetalnuthrit (Red Light Sound)

Purchased through mail order

Besides my own work, am I on a personal crusade promoting certain people? I certainly can't be as obsessive out MB as some must be, considering how many releases he continues to make. MB/Maurizio Bianchi was early in on the cassette-trading scene. He started as Sacher Pelz, creating turntable abuses direct to tape. He later went by his initials, continuing his turntable manglings before his initial synth experiments and later running through his recordings through a haze of Echoplex. 

The early turntable abuses don't interest me much, apart his obsessiveness. His early synth experiments sometimes hold interest, with left and right channels creating separate performances. 

It's the echo-saturated albums that caught me. Endometrio/Carcinosi were the first I bought, at Eide's, reading the name in Op or some similar fanzine. The workers there filed it under E, which is why I beat Manny Theiner to that pair of LPs.

MB/Maurizio went from sub-underground superhero to retiree (becoming a Jehovah's Witness, no kidding) to returning to record-making. And now I think even he doesn't have every recording he's released.

This one's back in the dark ambient mold, noisy but underplayed sounds. Nisi Quiernis is a Maurizio nom de plum for spoken word performance. It's all in Italian, so every word escapes me. Mostly it's so-called dark ambient, soft-edged noise performances. 

I out this on a stream a few days ago, lay down on the couch and drifted off. An hour later at the end, I woke up. I suppose MB has served his purpose. 

VOTD 03/27/2025

 Charles Ives: The World of Charles Ives (Columbia)

(Three Places in New England, Washington's Birthday, Robert Browning overture)

It's a shame that I don't listen to local radio nearly as much as I used to. Generally when I do it's the NPR news outlet, but there's only so much of that I can take too and very little of its content is locally based. I just don't think most of the programming is worthwhile. I'll occasionally put on a local jazz station, and sometimes my old digs WRCT, but I just don't find it exciting like I once did. Sometimes I'm proven wrong, but not often enough. Maybe I'm just old and jaded.

I also don't listen to CDs in the car as much as I used to either. I have a cheap disc player, and had to hot glue the power supply to it, fed from that opening that used to hold the cigarette lighter. It's a nuisance, but still worthwhile on longer drives.

All of which is to say, it's easy for me to Bluetooth podcasts to my car stereo and that makes up a lot of my listening when I'm driving. Podcasts are another vast ocean of garbage to wade through, so it's not wonder I tend to focus on just a few, and even then nobody consistently. Marc Maron, Dana Carvey and David Spade, Al Franken, Joe Dante's "The Movies That Made Me", some others, and none of them consistently. 

Among the podcasts I intermittently catch is "Sticky Notes: The Classical Music Podcast". I probably found it hunting for someone talking about Messiaen. That particular episode gave a nice summation of Messiaen's work, though the host (whose name I can't recall) didn't go into Turangalîla because he though another orchestral piece demonstrated Messiaen wanderlust more effectively. Meh. But then, being a big fan of that particular work, I guess it colors my opinion.

I've recently listened to his episode about Charles Ives' Three Places in New England, described with great enthusiasm. While I knew Ives blatantly and almost shamelessly quoted other peoples' melodies, even I wasn't aware to what extent. In the three movements, there's really only one significant original theme, the opening to "Putnam's Camp, Redding, Connecticut", itself an adaptation of Ives' own "Country Band March". 

Indeed, the host pointed out a particular spot where four distinct melodies, all quotes, are playing at the same time. It's not even the densest section of the movement. 

The work itself wouldn't be performed for almost two decades after its composition and orchestration. What exactly did Ives have in mind for this music that he wrote mostly for himself? Surely he did intend this to be performed at some point, but outside of possibly living room reading sessions, it wouldn't have been heard by anyone until long after its completion. By pushing through this collage of melodic materials, what is he asking of an audience (if he is indeed asking anything)?

Perhaps he wouldn't put it in these words, but I think Ives was playing at perception. What are you able to pick out? What do you recognize, what do you think you recognize? If four melodies play simultaneously, what if anything will you pick out from the combination? Will you heard different things with each subsequent listening?

Ives seems to have a gift for polychordal and polymodal composing; inside of a denser chord, it sounds as though there's a major or minor chord lurking. Or, he often places a tonal melody superimposed over a chord with which it has no clear relationship. If you were to pick apart the elements they'd all seem perfectly sweet sounding. It's his way of combining them that sound unsettled and unsettling. 

I have a copy of the score for Three Places, thanks to a certain guitarist's yard sale. The podcast host mentioned that there are several different edits of the work. And indeed, there are distinct differences between my copy of the score and the version heard here, conducted by Eugene Ormandy.

I enjoy Three Places and consider it the strongest work of this collection. But looking at the score, it's clearly not an easy piece to perform. I can picture many schooled orchestral players bristling over some of the demands and sounds of the work. I also suspect the general American classical music concertgoer probably doesn't go to the symphony hall of have their perception challenged. I on the other hand might actually attend more often if this was the sort of work they'd program, but I guess I'm not where the money is.

CDOTD 03/17/2025

 Africa Express Presents...Terry Riley's In C  Mali (Transgressive)

Purchased used at The Government Center

NPR's Weekend Edition just did a story on Steve Reich, celebrating the 27-disc retrospective boxset of his works. (My wife: "You don't need to buy that.") In the it was mentioned that Reich, Terry Riley, and Philip Glass were all friends. Yes, I suppose that was true at one time, but I'm doubtful about current circumstances. Reich indeed played on the premiere of In C in 1964; Glass and Reich both played in one another's ensembles, if briefly. When Glass came to the music school at CMU a few years back (pre-COVID), someone asked him about being being lumped together with other composers under the "Minimalism" banner. He said what was interesting was how different his music and that of Louis Andriessen, Fred Rzewski, and John Adams all were. Not even a hint of a mention of Steve Reich. 

In C is the work credited with starting, or at least jumpstarting, the so-called Minimalist movement. As with most things, the reality is more complicated. Its 1968 LP release on CBS Records gives it special merit for bringing this style of pulsing, modal music to the public.

(From here on, I'll dispense with the descriptor "so-called" and use the word Minimalism for the convenience. What else to call this inclusive music? New Modalism?)

Part of Reich's development as a young composer had to do with traveling to study in Ghana. Glass in part developed his Minimalist style in part after working on a film soundtrack, transcribing and arranging Ravi Shankar's works. Riley also had a deep interest in Indian music in particular, if I'm not mistake. The non-Western roots of these composers' music run deep. Reich most directly connected what he does to Africa, but surely African music relates directly and indirectly to all of these composers' music. (Keeping in mind, Africa is an entire continent and not a single cultural force or entity.) The modes, the repetition, the interlocking patterns, there are deep correlations if not connections.

So then, In C, in Mali, certainly makes perfect sense. The original score is very easy to find, it's printed inside the cover of the original LP. What this recording is not is a traditional reading of the composition. It starts very much in character with other versions, a regular pulse with the first phrase/melodic cell introduced over it. It becomes clear pretty quickly that it's not going to be a traditional through-reading of the work though. There are brief improvised solos by some players for example. The density of the ensemble play waxes and wanes multiple times through the recording, not always with the insistent C pulse assigned in the original. Sometimes I hear other melody cells turn up, sometimes I'm not so certain. There's even a brief narration in the latter portion of the album, layered on top of the music.

I guess the question is, is it actually In C? It is and it isn't, I suppose. If you went into this expecting a more straight-forward reading of the work on African instruments (as I did), you're going to get something different. But if the nature of In C is semi-improvisational, is this just as much a reading of the piece as anything else? If this version only briefly quotes the original and intermittently, is calling it by the original Terry Riley title as much as selling point as an interpretation of the work?

I did enjoy the recording, but I think there might be an element of truth to that: that the realization in this case isn't directly In C but more "based on" or "impressions of". I mean, the CD was cheap but I noticed it and bought the thing, so as a selling point it was effective. But where do Terry Riley's intentions as a composer end and something new begin?

CDOTD 03/10/2025

 Tristan Perich: Open Symmetry (Erased Tapes)

Purchased used at The Government Center

I played a gig for Manny Theiner last night. Improvised saxophone duet preceding Microwaves and The Flying Luttenbachers. Not for the first time, I wound up spending more on CDs and vinyl than I made on the gig. It's true that the pay wasn't amazing, but considering the size of the show I was satisfied making any money at all.

This disc caught my eye, not knowing a thing about it. The description caught me: Open Symmetry for 3 vibraphones and 20-channel 1-bit electronics. And at $5, that's a price point where I'm willing to take a chance.

The 1-bit electronics is an interesting selling point. 1-bit just means there are exactly two levels of amplitude: 100% and 0%. On or off. 

What would it be? Phasing and difference patterns as in Alvin Lucier? Driving minimalism more similar to Reich and Glass? Intentionally or not, the title evokes Feldman's Crippled Symmetry, though with the electronics component I didn't anticipate this to be Feldmanesque. 

The work comes closest to the Reich/Glass side of things. The mallets evoke Reich, the electronics recall Glass' use of Farfisa organs. The piece is tightly composed, so the word "open" in the title might be somewhat misinterpreted. It possibly means there isn't such an adamant pursuit of patterns such as the phasing in Reich's pieces. It does fall into a general category of, I don't know, New Modalism? opened up by those composers and Terry Riley.

I've been meaning to find more newer works and recordings, this being released last year. I realized I've encountered the composer's works before without really knowing who he is. In the Cleveland Museum of Art, I noticed on previous visits they were carrying self-contained electronic compositions playback systems, housed in a CD case. I know now that it's Perich, his 1-Bit Symphony. (I've just been to that same gift shop, and didn't see them carried there any longer.)

There's a comment I make about some of the listening assignments in my college courses, most notably Iannis Xenakis' Concret PH. The work was first presented in the Philips Pavilion at the 1958 World's Fair, a building Xenakis himself designed. We can listen and appreciate (or not) the piece as a standalone work, but we'll never experience the work in its original presentation. So to this piece: it's perfectly fine to listen to this CD (also on vinyl, but maybe the CD is a better format in this case). The stage photo shows the three vibraphonists with ten pairs of speakers behind them. It must have been an immersive experience in a concert hall. 

I understand that it's an easy out to compare this to Reich or Glass (there is a chordal shift in the final section that definitely recalls the latter), but there probably isn't much getting around that comparison either. And who's to say there isn't room for more composers to explore these general ideas? I wouldn't mistake Perich's composition for those other two guys, just that they're in the same general territory. If anything, it's refreshing to know someone is exploring the more severe side of so-called Minimalism with gusto.

Recent viewing

Becoming Led Zeppelin

Viewed at the Manor Theater, Squirrel Hill

At one time I regularly read biographies, and occasionally still do. All but a few have been musician bios: Sun Ra, Miles Davis (both by John Szwed, both excellent), Billy Strayhorn, Spike Jones, Charles Mingus, John Cage (The Roaring Silence, not recommended), Thelonious Monk (two! one very good, one not), Frank Zappa, Iannis Xenakis, others I'm probably not recalling. 

I made an observation, or perhaps a realization, while reading the Xenakis book. When covering these creative people, the author begins from a perspective of being in the artist's corner. That is, even if there are criticisms or mention of negative behavior on the part of the subject, the author starts from the viewpoint of being a fan. A possible exception seems to have been John Baxter's biography about JG Ballard, The Inner Man. Baxter seemed lukewarm towards some of Ballard's novels, particularly those generally accepted as being among his best (High Rise, for example). The book is often informative but highly incomplete, mentioning Ballard's estrangement from his son only in passing in the final chapters.

Otherwise, each of the book subjects mentioned above was treated with at least some reverence by their biographers. But then, it's not as though the subject was Hitler or Stalin.

I had been thinking about several relatively recent musical biopics, if you can call them both that word: Theory of Obscurity: A Film About The Residents (2015) Chasing Trane: The John Coltrane Documentary (2016) and Zappa (2020). A comment I've made previously concerning Theory of Obscurity was that I thought it only briefly rose above being a fan piece and celebration of The Residents. Likewise, Zappa was entirely a celebration of Frank without directly touching on the many reasons he can be criticized. Those two films in particular were rich in footage I hadn't seen before, but I felt like important things had been left out. 

Before seeing Becoming Led Zeppelin, I a review on rogerebert.com including this passage:

"But before we absolutely abandon the realm of gossip/dirt/legend, we should say that “Becoming Led Zeppelin” wouldn’t truck in any of that stuff in the first place because to make a documentary about Zep, you need Zep’s music, and to get Zep’s music you need Zep’s approval. So what we’ve got here is the only kind of documentary you can make about Zep and its music: an authorized one. This picture was made with the full cooperation and—to judge from the interview clips—enthusiastic participation of the group’s surviving members."

I thought, yeah, okay, maybe I've been dense about this. Have I been expecting too much? Is it necessary to dig up the dirt under these circumstances? Can these films simply be a celebration of what makes these artists great, and not go digging for something negative?

Becoming Led Zeppelin does several things right. The first of which is that the only interview subjects are the three surviving members, with pieces of an audio taped interview with John Bonham. There isn't an endless succession of talking heads saying how great LZ was. That was an issue I took with Chasing Train; I simply don't care what Bill Clinton or Kamasi Washington have to say about Coltrane. Likewise for the more recent Ennio. I really don't care what the bassist for The Clash has to say about Morricone, especially within the framework of a 2.5 hour film. At least I Called Him Morgan, about Lee Morgan, stuck with people who knew and worked with him (and his wife) directly. Unlike the latter film, there are no staged elements; all filmed segments are either new interviews or historic footage.

Another element that happens briefly twice in the film: isolating individual instruments to hear how every player contributed. I suppose that could have gotten tired if done too many times, but I found this interesting. Show us what made each part important, each musician essential. I still say, more!

There are two substantial live performances from television: one from their first tour (pre-LP) playing "How Many More Times". What becomes clear is that they don't look like a band playing to the crowd. They're positioned pretty tight on stage, and it's a loose performance in the best possible way. I've always found Robert Plant my least favorite element of LZ, but I have been reminded by more than one friend that nobody else could have done what he did. I have to begrudgingly agree. A point made during the narrative was that he was an improvisor, he was mixing it up with bands unlike other singers. Another point, pro-Plant. 

A second clip, one I hadn't see before, features them playing "Dazed and Confused" after the first LP's release, on the road and recording the second. It's clear there's been editing for time. Again, they're even looser, more limber, and relatively close on stage playing like a unit. 

Less positive? Seeing what look like home movies of them performing, with studio recordings dubbed in to look like they're playing it live. It's nice to see visually some of the energy, but I don't like the suggestion that it's what they sounded like. Do I have a different cinematic solution? I do not! I know, it's easy to complain and not offer constructive alternatives, but I'm not a filmmaker.

Two things were mentioned in passing that, in a more complete story of the band, deserved elaboration. There was a passing mention of the availability of drugs and women during even that first tour. LZ's backstage debauchery on later tours was legendary. I'm sure it didn't reach those levels at this time, but it was a very small hint as to what things were like backstage.

More interesting to me was a quick mention Robert Plant made of basically throwing in some Willie Dixon lines when coming up with lyrics for "Whole Lotta Love". This is the sort of thing that would become a point of litigation for the band for decades to come. 

On the one hand, LZ was at its heart a mutant blues band, or at least began deeply rooted in blues playing. The blues was very much an oral tradition, with songs and lyrics passing from one person to another, often before any sort of documentation would happen. Leadbelly's "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?" would eventually morph into the Bluegrass rendition, "In The Pines". Similar songs but not identical. Did Leadbelly base his song on some other traditional piece? I don't know. These pieces, these bits of lyrics, passed from one person to another, that was part of the nature of blues practice.

When I did a recent performance about Sonny Clark, I took some time to talk about ownership. Specifically, regarding Thelonious Monk and "Rhythm-a-ning". The essential phrase that opens that melody is known to have been a sort of stock riff that many people would have known at the time (or so I've been told). To what degree does he deserve credit? I don't have a firm answer to that question.

The fact remains, fully admitted by Plant, that he copped some Willie Dixon lyrics when creating that song. Dixon is now given co-credit, but "Whole Lotta Love" is not a Willie Dixon song and LZ didn't wholesale steal it. I suppose he deserves co-credit, but I have to ask if Dixon himself picked up those lines from someone else? 

All that said, I consider the lawsuit on the part of the heirs of the band Spirit again "Stairway to Heaven" to be total bullshit.

So, working under the assumption that my opinion means much of anything, how do I come down on LZ? I wasn't a superfan as a teen (I always thought "Whole Lotta Love" was kind of a silly song) but I had a yard sale copy of Houses of the Holy, a dub of IV, a cassette copy of In Through the Out Door. At one time I completely eschewed them, when I was going through a later time of establishing my tastes and starting to find my voice as a musician myself. I guess now it's on a case-by-case, song-by-song basis. Sometimes even within a song. For example, "Carouselambra" is far longer than it needs to be but has a slow guitar break in the middle that sounds utterly incredible to my ears. Maybe it comes back to something I've expressed on this blog before, being wary of liking or disliking something simply due to it's relative obscurity or strangeness.

Will there be a follow-up to this film? Being Led Zeppelin, Leaving Led Zeppelin? I doubt it. And maybe this is enough. It's interesting and well made enough to be worth the time, even if you're not a devoted fan. With so many films being made and so few actually seeing theatrical release, I should be happy that the story of a creative venture (such as the forming of a band) is being celebrated.

VOTD 03/03/2025

 Anthony Braxton Creative Music Orchestra: RBN---3°  K12 (Ring/Moers)

Purchased mail order from Half Price Books

Well, here's a find. I suppose it's become relatively easy to find whatever you want by way of websites such as discogs.com, if you don't mind paying a lot. In this case, I found it through Half Price Books. I only recall ever having seen one copy before in a Tower Records somewhere (I want to say DC), and would come to regret not pouncing on it then. 

Even if this was a more commonly found item, it's not the recommended entry point into the Braxton sound world. A three-LP box of a fourteen-piece big band playing a multi-section single composition? One section being devoted primarily sounds originating from balloons? 

Therein lies one complaint I have with this set. I knew from reading about this piece there was a section for balloons (if I hadn't guessed just from listening to it), but balloons aren't credited anywhere. Is that too fussy on my part? I believe I hear an oboe on side one which is also not credited, and I know it's not Anthony himself playing it. He may have explored as much of the saxophone and clarinet families as he could (and flute), but he's never credited anywhere with double reeds.

The set was recorded live in 1972 in France with an ensemble of European or Europe-based musicians. The names are largely unfamiliar to me except of Joachim Kühn on piano (he recorded a duet album with Ornette, and have sometimes recorded with his clarinetist brother) and Oliver Johnson on drums (I think he played with Steve Lacy). This would be his early creative career, pre-Arista Records contract. 

By the way, for those who are sticklers for the Braxton opus numbers, this is Composition 25. It's not his first work for big band/creative music orchestra, which according to his catalog of works dates as far back as 1969. The notes indicate something that would have been apparent from listening: that it's an extended piece in multiple sections with different sound states. There's the previously mentioned balloons (an inexpensive alternate sound source), the opening is all breath/wind sounds. You have to go about half way through the work to hit a section of Braxton's particular brand of atonal post-bop. It's at this point that the work presages some of his writing for the landmark Creative Music Orchestra 1976 on Arista.

It's a live set and the quality, while not studio, is largely pretty good. The notes mention a technical glitch on side two, left in for continuity. The notes were mostly written on a typewriter and not typeset, adding a small bit of charm to the release.

Record nerd completist talk: the album was released on Ring Records, a name that was changed to Moers Music short afterwards to avoid confusion and conflicts with a Canadian label of the same name. There are supposed to be releases of this under both the Ring and Moers imprints. My copy has LP one on Ring, and two and three as Moers. Curious! Did some of them come this way? Is it a hybridized copy of two different releases? The latter is hard to imagine.

Composition 25 is dedicated to Ornette Coleman. The shadow of Ornette's music surely hangs over Braxton's early jazz quartet recordings. In this case, I believe it's Ornette's ambition to write works such as his woodwind quintet and pieces for his group plus classical musicians that might have been a general inspiration. (Skies of America was recorded about a month after this, so it's doubtful that was on Anthony's mind.) Anthony himself demonstrates his broad ambitions on this project, being the first recording (but not first release) of his larger ensemble work, and his first single work to take up the length of an entire concert.

I wonder: do the score and parts still exist? It would be great to stage this piece again, though I'm not on the inside of the Braxton orbit to really be able to pursue such as idea. It's nice to visit this piece of history though, and taken as as while I think this is a solid addition to his recorded output.

VOTD 02/24/2025

 Riz Ortolani: Cannibal Holocaust OST (Mondo)

I think I bought this through mail order through Mondo.

It seems like a running theme or even joke in this blog, me sitting down with a soundtrack album to a film I haven't even seen. I have watched the trailer, and the film looks like an extremely nasty bit of business. 

I don't object to films being weird, or even violent at times. Cruelty and torture are a different story. I have noted that I've previously blogged about the soundtrack albums for Cannibal Ferox (which I also haven't watched) and Cannibal Apocalypse (which I have). In the latter's case, "cannibal" is overstated, even if the theme of the film is soldiers returning from Viet Nam carrying a disease that gives them a sometimes insatiable desire to bite into fresh human flesh. Okay, I admit it's a rough one. The title was no doubt meant to trade in on the notoriety of the other two films, in great exploitation fashion. It's the only film starring John Saxon (whose credits include Black Christmas, Enter the Dragon, Tenebrae) the actor disowned. 

I'm definitely interested in the history of Britain's Video Nasties panic. Spearheaded by Mary Whitehouse, an outspoken hyper-conservative activist, it was an attempt to officially ban VHS titles deemed irredeemably violent and offensive. It made splashy headlines the way that the Heavy Metal backlash and Satanic Panic did in the US. And I don't mean to sound as though I am defending Whitehouse and her group, but video rental stores were popping up everywhere without any regulation. 12 year olds could walk to the corner store and rent Cannibal Holocaust or Faces of Death. Maybe a little oversight would have been appropriate, at least something similar to the US' MPAA ratings. 

Though really, teens seem to be able to handle most horror movies just fine without psychological trauma, so what do I know. Anything with the word "cannibal" made the Nasties list, regardless of content.

As its own listening experience, Ortolani's score is a bizarre and sometimes even laughable experience. It opens, with "Cannibal Holocaust (Main Theme)", an Italian folky-pop ballad I suppose you could say. Wordless vocals bring Morricone to mind. The second cut, ""Adultress' Punishment" (already suggesting more exploitation themes) begins with the grimiest synth sound imaginable, leading to semi-tonal lines for studio strings. Again, the comparison to Morricone is undeniable, plus that Moog or Arp or Korg synth sound so prevalent in other Italian soundtracks of the time. And more that whatever particular synth was being used, there's a Space Drum or some sort of synthesized that gets hit over and over in the latter half of side one. 

"We paid for the damned Space Drum and by God you're going to hit that thing!" At least that's what I imagine someone yelling.

Things dart around from track to track: light poppy funk, nasty synth, quasi-tonal strings, returns to the saccharine opening theme. Sounds like an Italian horror soundtrack to me, or at least one type. 

It is amazing that this low budget Italian vomit inducer could have the budget for a studio band with string orchestra. The Italian film industry must have been receiving its strongest support at the time. Dario Argento has complained in more recent years just how impossible it is to get anything funded in Italy anymore.

I hate the idea of any country producing films should see its industry falter. There was a small but bona fide Mexican film industry for example, which I believe is essentially a thing of the past. Even if it means cranking out movies like this, some of the time.

VOTD 02/23/2025

 Derek Bailey/Jamie Muir: Dart Drug (Incus)

Purchased used some time in the 1980s I think

Once again I find myself putting on a recording of someone recently passed. Even though his association was brief, Jamie Muir's name will always be associated with that of King Crimson. He famously only appeared on a single studio album, Larks' Tongues in Aspic. 

Jamie was clearly brought into Crimson as an X-factor, an unpredictable improvisor adding textures and density to the songs, plus I imagine pushing the improvisations further. That's always been an interesting thing about that band during most periods of its existence: tight, often complex prog rock compositions but also time during concerts to freely improvise. I'm not sure it always worked, but I commend the attitude.

Muir's association with Derek Bailey, and hence the British free improv scene, predates his brief time in the Crimson fold. His appearance on the ECM LP The Music Improvisation Company dates to 1970, and another LP dates back to 1968. Robert Fripp must have had a sense of what he was getting into, though perhaps Muir was too wild on stage.

Even though Jamie plays in a vaguely similar style to Tony Oxley, I think I'd be able to distinguish them side-by-side. Tony tends to favor more rapid successions of softly attacked sounds, on his own personal variation of a drum set. Jamie's broader, possibly louder, and probably uses fewer actual drum sounds. But then I'm doing this from memory of Tony's playing and a serious study of these two men's styles would take more dedicated listening and analysis. 

This particular session dates to 1981. I wonder why they didn't record together more? They certainly seem to be of a similar mind. The playing is generally pulseless, fragmentary, without direct connection to melody. Jamie brings the broader palette of colors, but that's to be expected considering he's the percussionist. There are times when he seems to be doing three things at once; his skill as an improvising percussionist is impressive. As someone I know once put it, do you really need more than one Derek Bailey solo album? Probably not, but it is good to hear him with an excellent partner. It's certainly less austere than Derek's solo recordings. 

There's an unusual thing about this LP brought to my attention by my friend Gino Robair. It might be the only album where the CD reissue is shorter than the LP. (At least at one time. Give the passion for vinyl now, that's probably changed.) The opening cut, "Carminative", is about three minutes longer on the original LP. In listening to it here, I can definitely hear where the cut was made. An active but perhaps slightly silly-sounding opening gives way to a more ambient texture. The CD isn't worse for the cut.

Thee second side is a single cut, "Dark Drug". I wasn't sure at one time if that was the intended title of the LP. Somewhere past the halfway point in the performance, Derek starts strumming a major chord. It's not that I thought he was incapable of such a thing, it's just unusual to hear him do such as thing. 

Back in the 80s I used to listen to a lot more recordings like this. "Non-idiomatic improvisation" as Derek described in his book, though itself was a form of style while attempted to be a non-style. It seems perfectly nice now, sitting in my basement studio with the wife doing shopping. Would I have bought this if someone other than Jamie's name was co-credited with Derek? Possibly. And who knows why it turned up used, perhaps someone was expecting something more Crimson-like? Their loss my gain I suppose. It seems a shame that there aren't more recordings of Jamie, and certainly more that are readily available. 

VOTD 02/20/2025

Edwin Starr: Hell Up In Harlem OST (Motown)

Purchased new at Vinyl Remains

Once again I find myself listening to a soundtrack for a film I haven't seen. 

I found myself in the Mt. Lebanon yesterday, a wealthy suburb of Pittsburgh. There's a modest little new/used record store there, Vinyl Remains. I usually stop by when I'm in the neighborhood, which isn't often. There was one other shopper, which maybe took off the pressure to buy something, but I was determined to buy something just to support the business. 

Jesus Christ, new vinyl is expensive. Granted, if I was to compare the prices to when I first started buying records (1976-77, based on the purchase of Leftoverture) records would seem to be expensive. But, at the time you could buy a new album for $5+, do the numbers reflect reflect inflation for the same records costing generally $25-35 now?

According to an internet inflation calculator, that $5 in 1976 would now be worth $28.43. We all know how accurate every is online! Nonetheless, now I feel like the curmudgeon complaining about "the price of things nowadays" and yes, even how much better the music was then than now. Maybe I'll tackle that subject one day, but not at a time when I'm listening to and writing about an album released in 1974.

Buying this seemed like the solution to not leaving Vinyl Remains empty-handed. Not too expensive (under the $28.43 quoted above), and an era I unironically love. I'm not an expert or completist for watching so-called Blaxpoitation, but I generally enjoy those films. There's the period, the grimy 70s, which seems so much more interesting now than when I reached adulthood in the early 80s. The films: yes, often problematic by current standards (maybe even by then-standards) but these low budget films aimed at the "urban" (read, Black) audience sometimes featured genuinely superior actors in roles they should have been playing in largely White productions. And I like the role reversal: the Black leading men are smooth, smart, handsome, frequently pushing up again evil but otherwise feckless White men.

There's an old Eddie Murphy routine that goes: "Black Caesar, the blackest movie ever made. Filmed on the streets of Harlem with an all-black cast. You have never seen a black movie like this. Black Caesar: a Larry Cohen film." (The joke killed.)

So too, Hell Up In Harlem. Like that film, starring Fred Williamson, written/produced/directed by Larry Cohen, with an (almost-all) African-American cast. Larry's an interesting story unto himself, a true New York maverick who never applied for permits when he filmed. This included the time he dressed Andy Kaufman as a cop with a rifle, during a public parade for God Told Me To.

I knew one selection from this soundtrack already, "Easin' In", a super-funky medium tempo song that was included on the Soul Jazz collection Can You Dig It? The Music and Politics of Black Action Films 1968-75. That two disc collection counts as the most played CDs in my car. Highly recommended!

What's not to like? I suppose I prefer the harder-edged funky tunes to the mid-70s ballady soul songs, but overall this is a solid contribution to the genre. It's mostly songs with a few instrumentals. Are many of these soundtracks of the time similar? Damned right they are. But they're not all alike, and if you enjoy them in general, what's to complain about? Give me a wah-wah rhythm guitar over a current Autotuned hyper-compressed pop vocal any day.

The back cover of the LP uses a reproduction of the movie poster for an image. It's one of those great 70s montage paintings; anyone reading would instantly recognize the style. Depicted next to a large-sized Fred is a trio of beautiful women. The (as far as I can tell) Asian woman, on careful inspection, is depicted nude. I can find no such women listed in the credits. I guess it doesn't really matter.

VOTD 02/16/2025

 Willem Breuker Kollektief: Live in Berlin (BV Haast/FMP)

Once again, I can't recall where I bought this.

There's a hopefully antiquated idea that one has to be Black to really be able to play jazz. This isn't to overlook the fact that the music is fundamentally derived from the African American experience, and that most of the idiom's greatest artists are indeed Black. I'm happy to say I haven't heard anyone state that thought out loud for years.*

An old college friend had his variation on this idea: you didn't necessarily need to be Black to play jazz, but you did have to be American.

Well, that's just bullshit.

And again, this is not to overlook that jazz is a distinctly American creation. America has made several unique contributions to the arts, one of which is jazz music, another is the form of the comic book. Nobody's making the claim that you have to be American to be a great comic book writer and illustrator.

If anything, I think it's important to bring techniques and perspectives to jazz from people outside of the American experience. I want to hear more jazz (whatever that word even means) with artists from the Middle East, Asia, Northern Europe, Central Europe, the Balkans, people who could expand what Americans have come to know was "swing" and "groove". 

When I hear Willem Breuker's music, even if I didn't know better, I'd guess he was European. The marches! The well-known wacky Dutch humor! The orchestrations that don't sound like he's trying to imitate Ellington, Basie, or the Dorseys. 

Kurt Weill is definitely a reference point, though. The first time I saw the Kollektief (easily one of the best concerts I've ever attended), they began with a ripping, through-composed arrangement of Weill's "Cannon Song". That might be my favorite of song Weill's oeuvre, so I was immediately on board. On the second piece, the trombonist took a solo by crouching on all fours and barking like a dog. What sounds dumb came off as fresh and funny. I definitely didn't expect that. 

I really should find out more about Breuker's compositions. Four of the six tracks on this LP are taken from some sort of suite by him, La Plagiata. Breuker composed a number of longer-form compositions and suites, but I don't know much more than that. 

This is an early live session, recorded in 1975. None of the players' names are familiar, outside of the bandleader. Personnel: Breuker on saxophones and clarinets, with alto sax, tenor sax, flute, trumpet, two trombones, horn, piano, bass, and drums. Not too far from the instrumentation of one of my bands. All players with the exception of the bassist, get some sort of solo in the program. Once again I come back to a basic principle: if you collect great players, give them something to do. Feature them to their strengths.

It's interesting how divergent this music is from Robert Graettinger's, the subject of my post yesterday. I'd consider one no less serious than the other, but Breuker's humor is very much on the surface here. Graettinger was pulling the music closer to Schoenberg and pushing against the principle of tonality, whereas Breuker happily works within a tonal framework. (At least, most of the time.) And maybe most importantly, Graettinger left little room for improvisational input. Breuker, for as arranged as some of the music is, leaves space for his players and himself to blow.

Breuker lived longer than the tragically short life of Robert Graettinger (died at 33) but still passed entirely too young at 65. Thankfully there are many recordings of Breuker, and maybe it's time for me to do a deeper dive.

* I have had several people say to me, "You don't play like you're White." I know it's meant to be a compliment, even if I disagree with the principle. Usually I just smile and shrug my shoulders.

CDOTD 02/15/2025

 Bob Graettinger: City of Glass (Capitol Jazz)

Purchased new, probably at Borders

What constitutes "outsider" music? Outsider Art is a sort of established descriptor or category, with at least one museum devoted to the subject (The American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore, which I can't recommend highly enough). Even then, the topic doesn't cover one single type of artist, whether it's driven primitives (Howard Finster, Adolf Wölfli, Judith Scott) or obsessives with highly developed technical skills (Joe Coleman, Alex Grey).

So too in Chusid's book, there are those who are primitive musicians with a complete lack of irony (The Shaggs, Wesley Willis) as well as schooled musicians with a particular obsession or drive (Harry Partch). It's through his book that I learned about Robert Graettinger, in the latter category.

Chusid describes him thusly: "He was convinced he could outwit the grim reaper with a steady diet of scrambled eggs, milk, and vitamins. He was an impotent alcoholic in a shabby wardrobe with concave cheekbones and a bad complexion." He died at 33 from lung cancer, due to no doubt heavy smoking and a terrible lifestyle.

I'm probably misquoting Gilda Radner as Rosanne Rosannadanna when she'd say, "You sound like a real catch!"

But I'm not here to comment on someone's appearance or lifestyle. This CD is a collection of Graettinger's music performed by the Stan Kenton Orchestra. Stan was an interesting figure himself, trying to navigate the popular big band world while at the same time attempting to create a more colorful and "serious" ensemble. It's no doubt that his interest in this so-called seriousness is why Graettinger had a job with Kenton.

This very principle of elevating jazz music to classical standards as a concert music has a history nearly as long as the music itself, and it's a tricky subject. Where does the music belong, why isn't jazz a high enough art form in and of itself? Paul Whiteman (heh heh, white man) commissioned Rhapsody in Blue; Debussy and Stravinsky wrote works inspired by early jazz; Ellington composed extended jazz concert works. At the same time, jazz improvisation is a sophisticated language in and of itself, without the need to be in some way elevated. And at the same time, there is room in the world for jazz or jazz-inspired works for the concert stage and not just the clubs.

Then there's the Third Stream movement, a term created by Gunther Schuller in 1957 to represent a kind of classical/jazz fusion or half-way point between the two. Graettinger's music was Third Stream before there was such a thing, predating Schuller's term by as much as a decade. Like Schuller's interests, Graettinger was more about drawing on modern techniques than trying to make the jazz orchestra sound like a 19th century Romantic orchestra. 

An immediate reaction to the works on this CD: there's very little improvisation. Most works are tightly composed or arranged. The ensembles are often augmented changed from standard big band instrumentation, including strings and several prominent French horn lines. (I think Kenton often used horns.) The music largely sits somewhere in an area of vaguely/ambiguously tonal to blatantly atonal. I'm thinking of the quote from I think it was Schoenberg, "the emancipation of dissonance" because it definitely applies to Graettinger's music. The second cut on the disc, an arrangement of "Everything Happens to Me" begins with an atonal-sounding introduction before breaking into the song proper with vocals with traditional harmonies. By contrast, the opening composition, "Thermopylae", has blasts of a cluster voicing over an ostinato, suggesting some anchoring to tonality (if somewhat ambiguous). It's funny that the piece was released on 78 as the B side of "The Peanut Vendor", one of Kenton's more popular singles. I wonder what people thought when they turned over the record?

There are a few of what I might call programmatic titles for his pieces, "Incident in jazz", "City of Glass" (four movements), "Modern Opus". But most titles are most minimal: "A Horn", "A Cello", "A Trumpet", "An Orchestra", "A Thought", "Some Saxophones". That suggests to me an intention of removing any non-musical associations from the music. To me it recalls Morton Feldman, who both created some great descriptive titles ("Triadic Memories") but also had many "still life" titles ("Piano Violin Viola Cello"). 

Dying as he did at age 33, once again I must ask, what might have Graettinger accomplished had he lived a long, full life? I can picture an academic post, a lecturer, maybe having written a book or two on composition and theory. I can picture him in discussions and debates with other "serious" composers. I'm certain he'd be better known and respected. What a shame, but at least there's this document.