CDOTD 3/7/2024

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

Purchased for $2.50 at The Exchange

Oh, Francis, Francis, Francis....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

VOTD 3/6/2024

 Kay Lawrence: Gills Cut Into Women (Urashima)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recent viewing

 Ennio

Viewed at the Parkway Theater in McKees Rocks, PA Thursday, Feb. 29

The Parkway Theater. I'd been there twice before, tucked away in the Rocks, not along the main stretch where Hollowood Music and the Roxian Theater are. It's a tiny theater, but has real seating (I don't know, max of 50? Even that seems high) and shows films not shown elsewhere around town. My wife and I had been there previously for Film Kitchen, to see some of Rob Press' videos, and the documentary Make me Famous about artist Edward Brezinski. It was at the latter I saw the poster for the Ennio Morricone documentary, and I knew I had to attend. 

To back up a little: we make a point of supporting local cinemas. Hell, we have a nice one (The Manor) just four blocks from our house. They often show independent films in between earning their money on big releases.

To back up more: we had a prime age of cinema in Pittsburgh about six-ten years ago. The Hollywood Theater in Dormont had a highly varied programming schedule, the Pittsburgh Filmmakers was still in operation, the Manor did its thing, and Row House Cinema was showing its own brand of second-run films. 

Then it all blew the hell up.

The Filmmakers collapsed under the weight of its debt, for a variety of reasons I won't elaborate here. The Hollywood was, in reductive terms, subject to a hostile takeover. The Manor continues, the Tull in Sewickley has since become the Lindsay (where I played on Sunday), and Row House continues. 

It's not a cinematic desert here, but it's not what it was. Then there's the Parkway in McKees Rocks of all places, running films not playing elsewhere, at least some of the time. 

Back to the present: a 2.5 hour Ennio Morricone documentary? I'm totally there. I went alone this time, not only due to the film's length, but my wife had started to develop a little bit of a sinus infection and didn't want to bother anyone else. I know it's a long haul for anyone who might not be a fan.

What to say about such a long film about il Maestro? Not long enough?

It's a talking head-style film largely, a lot of interviews of various people. There's biographical information, but it's kept largely to a minimum. Morricone has always been dedicated to the music, it's his life. There's passing mention of his wife Maria, and just a little more information on her would have been appreciated. They were married 63 years at the time of his death. 

There are unnecessary interviewees; Paul Simonon of The Clash gets, two sentences? Bruce Springsteen, definitely not needed. At least Pat Metheny and James Hetfield actually play Morricone selections. 

Most of the talking heads are thankfully film directors Morricone has worked with, and fellow composers. Ennio was conservatory trained, starting on the trumpet and moving to composition. There's a narrative of him finding work arranging pop songs and moving to film music after his studies, and his beloved teacher not generally approving. Meanwhile, throughout his career Morricone was a highly original arranger and composer, drawing on unusual orchestrations and compositional techniques. Pluralistic as well; seeing John Cage in 1965 (I think) led to the improvisation group Nuovo Consonzano, and further experimentation with compositional techniques. 

It's those late 60s/70s horror/Eurocrime/giallo scores that I generally like the best of his work. I have quite a few on vinyl. There's a similarity between them all, but I love them just the same. Autopsy, Lizard in a Woman's Skin, Black Belly of the Tarantula being examples. More improvisational, funky at time, nastier sounding in general. 

I'm certain I've mentioned this in at least one previous blog post, but I highly recommend the collection Crime and Dissonance. It's a broad-ranging two CD collection of some of the stranger Morricone moments, chosen by Mike Patton of Faith No More and Mr. Bungle (one of the brief talking heads in the film). Because of that collection, I discovered one of my favorite Morricone scores: Giornata nera per l'ariete (The Fifth Cord in the English version). The opening theme is deceptively sweet, with wordless, breathy, orgasmic/panicked? vocals by Edda Dell'Orso, and these opening chords: C Major/B flat, D Major/C, E Major/D, etc. All the chords, whether major/minor/diminished, have a flatted seventh degree in the bass. They sit ambiguously, neither dissonant nor ever resolved. I've heard him use that harmony in at least one other score, but if you wrote 500+ film scores, you'd be allowed to repeat yourself now and then. 

Edda is given a small bit of screen time in the film, and I think she was short-changed. She's so much the sound of Morricone's scores for many years, I really wanted to see and hear more of her.

There's a comment in the film that you hear two notes of a Morricone score and you know it's him. I say, maybe. I hang on to the opinion that Bernard Herrmann is my favorite of all film composers. Herrmann is instantly identifiable: the way he uses repeated rhythms, his bold harmonies, his love of clarinets and low brass (when applicable). With exceptions, you hear two notes of Herrmann and you know it's him. 

Morricone? Far more chameleon-like. There's no one Morricone. His weirdly surreal Leone-Western scores, his giallos, his later sweet orchestrations. One more omission in my opinion: his score to John Carpenter's The Thing. I'm aware there was some back-and-forth on the nature his contribution, but ultimately Morricone did his version of a John Carpenter score. It's great. I would have preferred some commentary on that over Oliver Stone's appearance. 

Which leads me to say, see this, and do it in one sitting if you can. There's enough content to have made a mini-series, but it's best taken in one large dose. Bravo bravo, il Maestro. 

VOTD 2/21/2024

 The Andrea True Connection: More More More (Buddha)

I can't recall where I bought this, but would not have paid more than a dollar or two

I was in high school when disco hit. Or at least, junior high school. The exact dates are fuzzy. But I was definitely in high school for Saturday Night Fever and its hugely popular soundtrack. My school marching band played two songs from that soundtrack, even during the time I was drum major in the 11th grade, 79-80. One of my sisters had the A Night at Studio 54 double LP, which I objected to. 

Such a time, when it seemed as though the widest cultural divide was whether you were pro- or anti-disco. I know that I'm considering this through the lens of nostalgia, so don't expect depth. 

For crying out loud...during my lifetime, I watched the first moon landing, and Nixon's resignation. I'm feeling my age. 

Here's this artifact from that era. Andrea True? Pornstar. I'm not going to say I've never seen a porn film, but I can say with reasonable confidence that I never watched her. I guess there's a Marilyn Chambers 12" single, "Benihana" maybe? I haven't heard it. But I have some curiosity about this intersection of music (and particularly 70s disco) and porn performers. There are several soundtracks to hardcore porn films I actually enjoy and admire: I have an original vinyl copy of the Devil in Miss Jones soundtrack, and a CD reissue of Bernard Purdie's soundtrack to Lialeh.

The latter is interesting. Once again (and not to get defensive) I can say honestly I've never seen the film. It's the first primarily African American hardcore feature film. (I guess you have to start somewhere.) Purdie's soundtrack is hit and miss; some great moments, some awful. I arranged one work for OPEK, which we played twice I think. "Hap'nin'". It's a pretty good piece, and the story of its origin makes it even more interesting. 

This album? Disco grooves, full studio band, with whispery sung vocals, mixed on the low side. The anti-disco stance is understandable but also seems silly in retrospect. Live musicians playing real grooves, it all seems quaint now. Andrea's vocals, I've read, were meant to be demo/throwaway tracks, but I am dubious about that. The record is well produced, even with buried vocals. 

It still, well, kinda sucks. Okay, I don't consider it as terrible as I might have once, but it's not the pinnacle of the disco pyramid. 

I've in recent years bought the Christmas Disco Album, and The Ethel Merman Disco Album.  I mean, ironically, okay? In general I like vinyl oddities, and both easily qualify. 

So this? A pornstar-based fully produced disco album? That's worth a buck or two, and a spin or two. 

Last night's dream

 I awoke from an unusually vivid dream this morning. 

It seems I was going to attend a tech fair in the Carnegie Mellon Library. When I entered the building, it was more of a big, open space. The first booth was a table full of synthesizer modules, but on electronics breadboards for cheap and easy assembly. When I asked the man at the booth what module did what, he said he was a student and didn't know.

Strangely, the event was a combination tech fair and flea market. Another booth had back issues of Fortean Times. There was an African woman running the booth. When asked how much, she said $3, like the cover price. I bought several, which I later lost.

I came to someone's office, a small space. In it, there was a sheet of plywood, about 6'X4', set up like table. I sat down in front of it, pressed my fingers to the board, and the sound of a piano came out. There were a few light pencil markings on the edge of the board to indicate different keys. There was a small white device, maybe a sensor, on the far side of the board, but otherwise it just seemed like an ordinary  plywood board. Roger Dannenberg stopped in and commented on the instrument. I found that if I pressed down several fingers and dragged them diagonally, I could bend the notes up or down.

At this point Sun Ra showed up, accompanied by June Tyson. He sat down at the plywood and played. I tried to coach him on the note-bending capability. I tried to see if there was a laptop connected, and wondered about the live playing possibilities.

Later I saw Sun Ra in an ornate hotel room. He was selling copies of a new boxed record set of unreleased recordings from the 1950s. I commented that my favorite period of his was around 1970-75, during the time of his feature film. 

There were more details, but those are now gone.

Wow. I didn't even eat anything unusual last night.

CDOTD 2/4/2024

 Henry Grime Trio: The Call (ESP)

Purchased from the dollar bin at The Exchange

It's Grammy night, and I almost couldn't care less. I'll admit to having a minor interest in learning who wins in the jazz, classical, and spoken word categories, and I would like to tune in just for the "In Memoriam" presentation. (If they applaud more, is it because the audience missed that person, or is happier they're gone?) I remain bitter that that the committee couldn't spend ten seconds of screen time to acknowledge Karlheinz Stockhausen's passing in the 2008 show. I watched just to see if they would.

I understand they're going to give special recognition in memoriam to Sinead O'Connor, a person who I don't think wanted much to do with any of them.

I'm completely out of it with any new music. I can't recall when I last bought something newly issued, but it's been years. Actually, I take that back, half-way: I bought the live A Love Supreme and a newly issued Thelonious Monk concert when those were released, both in Impulse!. Hardly new music, though.

Since I'm nearly at rant mode, I'll take this opportunity to complain about the music on Saturday Night Live. We stay up specifically to watch Weekend Update, which still makes me laugh (unlike most of the show). That means having to sit through one music guest slot. First of all, I'm sorry but I think it's nearly all garbage. Yes, I sound like an old man complaining about the same things old men have complained about for years. "The music isn't as good as when I was younger." I can pretty much hear my own grandfather's voice in my head saying that. But most of the current music presented is shit. This is the show that at one time presented DEVO, B-52s, Elvis Costello, Sun Ra, Ornette Coleman, Stanley Clarke, and at least once a year Randy Newman. I don't count myself a huge fan of all of those artists, but what great variety!

Most offensive to me is that almost none of the music is 100% live anymore. At a minimum they're using backing tracks, and in many cases the singer is clearly lip-syncing. Jack White and Foo Fighters have been notable exceptions in recent years, and good for them. I can't stand Miley Cyrus' singing, but it looked to me like she was singing live on the most recent anniversary special, so, respect. 

Last night was Jennifer Lopez. Definitely lip-syncing. Last week, Justin Timberlake, the same. Previously Reneè Rapp, at a minimum, backing track. If they're going to do that, just show a music video, don't have the pretense of a "live" performance. It's all choreography and show, no musicianship.

If I could, the one thing I'd impress on Lorne Michaels (who surely must be retiring after the show achieves its 50th season) is: 100% live music only. No backing tracks. No lip-syncing. Don't like it? You don't have to appear. We can always find someone else. Show us what you got. It's Saturday Night Live, people.

----

I'm a person that would spend forever at the shelves of Blockbuster,  mulling over what to to rent, often going home empty-handed. The current equivalent is hunting through menus on Nexflix or Tubi, always searching, not always deciding. So too with my own record/CD collection: what to put on? And am I just putting it on to write about it on my blog? I don't worry about that last point too much, but it does occur to me. 

I wanted something un-Grammy-like. I wasn't in the mood for Stockhausen. I figured Henry didn't get enough love, I'll put this on. Speaking of not enough love, this is a copy I found at the local The Exchange for a dollar, and it's autographed. No respect at all. I would have bought it anyway, but the lead voice here is Perry Robinson on clarinet. Definitely on board. Drummer Tom Price? I don't know the name at all. I regret not going to see Perry play the last time he appeared here, thanks for Manny Theiner. It's the reason I paid out the butt for tickets to see Herbie Hancock in March: see everyone you can at least once, because you and they have a finite time on this planet.

I love the saxophone. But there are times when I regret, just a little, not having devoted myself entirely to the clarinet. It was my first instrument (more or less, that's a story for another time) and I enjoy playing clarinet more than most saxophone doublers, I've found. (Some of them play flute, and I say they can have it. I have consciously decided to never play flute again. No matter how interesting it can sometimes be, I'm bad at it and no amount of practicing will change that.) I don't spend a lot of time practicing, but most of it in recent years has been on bass clarinet. 

Take the famous Sonny Rollins Trio lineup: tenor saxophone, bass, drums, and twist it a little by replacing saxophone with clarinet. I like it. Perry has a meaty sound; not necessarily saxophone-like, something different entirely. I get a sense that he has a looser embouchure, which lets him bend pitches more easily. 

There's a lot of free blowing between melodies. It was ESP and 1965, after all. 

CDOTD 2/1/2024

 Thom Yorke: Suspiria OST (XL Recordings)

Borrowed from the library

Suspiria, the Dario Argento original, is one of my favorite horror films. Perhaps my favorite. Its soundtrack, played by Goblin, is also one of my favorites. 

It was with both interest and trepidation that I went to see Luca Guadagnino's "remake" on theatrical release. I used quotation marks because I don't think it's a remake at all. Oh, it's set in a dance school in Germany, there's a character named Susie Bannion, there's a coven of witches. That's about all in common between the two. Identical setting, divergent results.

I've since streamed the film a second time at home. While I find many things interesting about it, I still haven't decided if I think it's a good film.

One local reviewer declared it one of his favorite films of the year. (My thought, it's not even my favorite film with that title.) A friend told me he didn't like horror films at all, but he absolutely loved this film and considered it a masterpiece.

There's no accounting for taste, is there? That's a positive thing to say about all the music, books, artworks, dance, theater, films in the world: we don't have to agree on what we like and any considered opinion is viable. Most people seemed to enjoy and admire Spike Jonze's Adaptation, a film that thoroughly annoyed me. Alternately, I am often entertained by low-tech, "poorly" made trash. 

The director Joe Dante made the point on one of his podcasts that there's a category of film, dubbed by Michael Weldon, as "psychotronic." Part of its meaning is that there are films that defy conventional standards of quality and still remain entertaining. I'm not going to defend Plan 9 From Outer Space as a great film, but it nonetheless is fun to watch. It's clear on viewing that Ed Wood put everything he could into making it happen. I'll take that over something pompous and boring any day. 

Suspiria (1977) v. Suspiria (2018). The first and most obvious thing is the tonal shift. 1977 is passionately bright and loud. I've read it was the final film made in Europe using the Technicolor process, before all the remaining equipment was sold off to...I think it was to someone in Japan. Technicolor was an expensive process but resulted in rich-hued colors. If you watch old MGM musicals and the volume seems to be punched up on the colors, Technicolor is the reason. 

2018 is almost entirely drained of color. Everything is grey, grey, brown, grey. 1977 seems to be set in current time but is timeless; it's a fairy tale removed from any current events. An interesting twist to 2018 is that it's set in the year 1977, with protests in the streets concerning the Baader-Meinhof group. It's something I admittedly know very little about, but it adds a dimension to the setting of the film. 

Similarly (and here's where I comment on the music) the music in 1977 is a loud, prog rock nightmare. Combined with the visuals, it's an experience. Some time last year or two ago, I saw the current version of Goblin play live to a screening of the film. It wasn't deafening, but it was the most appropriately loud soundtrack music I've experienced. I also saw them play live to Argento's Deep Red a few years previously.

Thom Yorke's score, even at its lushest, is creepier and more subdued. The color has been drained from the visuals, and intensity drained from the music. It's good, though two CDs worth of material wasn't necessary from a strictly listening experience. His voice only appears occasionally, and he has one of the most amazing falsetto ranges of any singer I know. I hear the occasional orchestra (certainly a Radiohead touch), lots of digital synths, and a very slightly out of tune piano. I like the latter. Makes it more...real. 

I'm enjoying it as it plays, but I don't know that I'll remember much of it later. The second disc is particularly less memorable.

I've written about Radiohead elsewhere on this blog. The topic of Radiohead has come up in class as recently as day before yesterday, when I was lecturing about the history of electronic musical instruments and specifically the Ondes Martenot. 

Regarding the two films: I adore Jessica Harper as the lead in 1977. Doe-eyed, with a head that seems too large to be held up by that slender body. 2018, Dakota Johnson? Not convinced. She didn't look like a ballet dancer to me. Too....meaty. She has the muscle to be sure, but not lean enough. Jessica was vulnerable, scared, but remained strong. Dakota? I just don't know. There's a hint (maybe more than a hint?) of lesbian attraction between her and Tilda Swinton. Not a problem, also not necessarily followed through. I just wish there was a different lead. I appreciate that the filmmakers found a cameo for Jessica in the 2018 version. 

A story from my past. The Spira family lived near to me, one of the only Jewish families I knew. Joel Spira (the father) was the inventor of the Lutron light dimmer, which you see almost everywhere. His small factory was also close to where I lived in Central Valley, PA. His oldest daughter was named Susan. As in, Sue Spira? Suspiria? This movie came out when we were both in high school. She never heard the end of it.

When the high school put on plays or musicals, you could buy a one-line message in the program. For one production, someone bought a single word: "Suspiria." Reportedly, Joel was incensed, and complained loudly to the administration. (He also happened to be one of the richest men in the district.) From that point on, you could no longer buy those single-line messages in school programs. I can confirm that the messages were eliminated from future programs as long as I was a student there. 

Sue? If you're out there? (She goes by her married name now.) I wish I had your name. Sue Spira/Suspiria. I'd proudly announce it.