CDOTD 1/30/2023

 Radiohead: OK Computer OKNOTOK 1997 2017 (XL)

Borrowed from library

There was a restaurant/bar/club in Shadyside on Copeland St called the Pittsburgh Deli Company. It was two stories, the food served downstairs and the club upstairs. I played there semi-regularly for a few years before they closed or changed management or whatever happened.

There was a jukebox upstairs. On what I think was an early Thoth Trio gig (though it could have been another trio), David Throckmorton fed some money into the jukebox before our show. The first song chose was Radiohead's "Airbag" from OK Computer. "Just listen to that phat [?] bass line when it comes in." And he was right. The line is unexpected but interesting, it propels the song.

I hadn't paid much attention to Radiohead. They were one of those so-called "alternative" bands I didn't care about, an ultimately meaningless term. Alternative to what, I would ask? When Nirvana knocked Michael Jackson and U2 off the top spot on the Billboard album charts, how were they alternative to anything? They were the mainstream.

Prior to that Deli Co. evening, the most I knew about Radiohead was some MTV VJ making a big deal about playing the "Paranoid Android" video, back when, you know, Music Television played music on the television. 

I thought the video was silly and didn't particularly like the song. I imagine I had probably heard "Creep" before then, I can't exactly recall.

Hearing Throck's choice, hearing his enthusiasm for the track, did impress me. The bass was a factor that made what could have been a mundane performance, more interesting. It was after that I found Kid A at the library, and was even more impressed with the breadth of expression in that album. I have at least been paying attention since.

Radiohead. I think they're a band which is more worshipped, and more maligned, than the music deserves. I've heard some concert clips where the majority of the audience sings the lyrics with the band. (Come on people, let the band do its job!) Some I know people will shake their heads "no no no" at the mere mention of the group. I don't find either entirely fair. 

There is a question of which Radiohead will show up at any given moment, any given song. The loud rock band? The post-folk songwriter band? The techno-driven ensemble? That's as exciting to me as it is frustrating. 

There's no secret to the names of the band members, that's well documented. What's not mentioned on most albums is who does what. There's a collective voice, or at least the appearance of one. All members are given equal credit for songs, which can't possibly be the reality behind the scenes. But it is admirable.

I've been listening to the second disc, which is a collection of single "B sides" (hardly a relevant term in the age of CDs and streaming) and a few unreleased songs. I've also been looking over the Wikipedia page for this issue, for some background information. 

I find nothing on it to be especially bad, and nothing as good as what I think their best tracks happen to be. It's all a bit middle of the road. "Meeting in the Aisle" is rather uninteresting, a spacey little instrumental that might have deserved a longer, more hypnotic performance. As in, the band Can might have something better with this, at least when they were at their best.

The second disc sounds pretty much like what it is, a collection of leftovers. Okay leftovers maybe, but for the most part they made the right choices for what to leave off the original album. And not that I was there or my opinion matters, but I would have urged them to leave off the last two tracks off the original issue. 

My complaint with most Radiohead albums as a whole is that the majority of them peter out at the end. The best songs are often front-loaded, and the weakest material at the conclusion. I think it's not only true for the original issue of OK Computer, but also Amnesiac, Hail to the Thief, In Rainbows, and The King of Limbs, the latter I found to be an especially weak album. I know some would disagree, just one man's opinion. 

There's a question as to whether A Moon Shaped Pool is their final album. If so, they ended on a high note. It is certainly one of their most consistent albums. They've been at it a long time with the same personnel, which itself is quite a feat. How long have any of us had the same job with the same people since 1991?

VOTD 1/29/2023

 George Antheil: Ballet Méchanique/A Jazz Symphony/Violin Sonatas Nos. 1&2 (Philips)

Purchased from Jerrys Records

Thanks to John Roman's eagle eye, there have been more eyes on this blog due to my posting about the current Microwaves album. Whether that translates into more views long term, remains to be seen. If you hunt through my previous posts, you'll find that I've already commented that I'm doing this for myself more than anything else. I'm not monetizing it, that's for damn sure.

No doubt some might find my choices curious. After all, I'm a "jazz saxophonist", aren't I? Only two of my posts to date are remotely "jazz." And even then, one of those was the Art Ensemble of Chicago, hardly mainstream.

I don't necessarily see myself as being a "jazz saxophonist." I'm a musician first, I play the saxophone, I compose, and much of that work falls under the jazz idiom. I believe in being honest about these things, but also have little time for labels. No doubt we've all read an interview with a band in which they say, "We don't really think of ourselves as being a rock band," when it's perfectly obvious that's EXACTLY what they are. Thoth Trio is a jazz group and I have no illusions about that. I don't want want to limit myself to a single idiom or method, and definitely not in my listening choices.

If you want to be creatively involved with jazz, I always suggest studying the four Ms: Miles, Monk, Mingus, and Messiaen. The first three are obvious. Messiaen? He has interesting ideas about rhythm, melody and harmony, and has written about them extensively. A jazz composer would be remiss in not studying those ideas. 

So then, George Antheil. The self-proclaimed "Bad Boy of Modern Music." On the basis of "Ballet Méchanique" alone, he might have earned that title. Antheil's name came up recently when my wife was watching Not As a Stranger on TCM recently, a turgid little doctor melodrama with music written by Antheil. It was a competent score, but nothing out of the ordinary. So much for his "Bad Boy" status.

On further investigation (that is, a search on IMDB), it turns out his music has been used in many films, usually in the form of library music. Of those, the titles of most interest to me were Zombies of Mora Tau, The Werewolf, The Giant Claw, and most notably, 20 Million Miles to Earth. His original scores include Dementia (aka Daughter of Horror), the strange, nearly silent expressionistic nightmare film of 1955. 

I'll throw in one more historical reference, since I'm at it. You've heard how screen beauty Hedy Lamarr was responsible for the technology that lead to the current cell phone? Well, maybe not so much. This issue was this: during WWII, torpedos were controlled by radio signal. If the target ship could locate and jam the signal, it rendered the object useless. Hedy figured, why not constantly change the radio signal? Her idea was then engineered by George Antheil, who created a player piano-style system for changing the radio signal frequency. Both the launching ship and missile would have a mechanical system that synchronously changed the signal. so if a single frequency was blocked, it would quickly change. Supposedly, their prototype worked effectively. The Navy took it for study, put it away in storage and never used it. the same idea of constantly shifting frequencies is now used in all cell phone communications.

"Ballet Méchanique" is unquestionably Antheil's most well-known work. It's a clangorous collection of percussion, sirens, propellor, and pianos (including player piano). The piece unquestionably predates works such as Varése's "Ionisation", the Cage percussion ensemble works, and Nancarrow's player piano studies. It can be performed as a concert work, but was written to accompany an avant garde non-linear film by Fernand Léger. I've seen the film with the music playing, and there's no connection of the visuals with the music. But did they care? I don't know. 

That machine-age aesthetic is carried into the violin sonatas. While still maintaining tonality, there's something of the machine-like character of the works that speaks to this time. I had a CD at one time, The Bad Boys!, that had solo piano works by Antheil, Henry Cowell, and Leo Ornstein, the early 20th century American vanguard. I lent it to a friend, who never returned it to me. I won't name names, but I used to work with her. I'm still waiting! Point being, I've heard some of Antheil's period chamber music, and remember liking it.

"A Jazz Symphony", from around the same time, was less interesting to me. Maybe it seemed more daring in the 1920s, but the style of jazz inspired concert music has long since entered the mainstream. Now the music sounds more circus-y.

There's a point I sometimes make to students: we lack the opportunity to experience the music as it was first heard. "Ballet Méchanique" might have seemed shocking at the time. It still packs a punch, even if it might not sound as distressing as it once did. On the other hand, I wonder how "A Jazz Symphony" was received. It would be a welcome additional to a concert program to this day, but it wouldn't have the sense of newness that it once might have.

VOTD 1/27/2023

 Microwaves: Discomfiture Atlas (Three One G)

Purchased from label through Bandcamp

If you know me, you know I've been in many bands, in addition to whatever pickup work I sometimes secure. It's a pretty broad range of idioms I've played: traditional jazz, not quite traditional jazz, free jazz, free improv, string band, second line, rock bands, etc.

This also means I'm working other people who themselves have been in many bands, in addition to whatever pickup work they secure. The question starts to become, how much do I enjoy any of them? How influenced am I to listen to a group because a friend is involved?

I ask because I've played with Microwaves a number of times. Never a complete set, just one to three songs at a time. Point being, I have a relationship with this band that probably colors my opinion of their work.

That said, we were hovering around one another's orbits for many years before working directly with one another. Guitarist Dave Kuzy told me his high school rock band opened for a rock band I played with in the mid 1980s. My response was, "I hope I wasn't rude to you." He assured me that we personally didn't interact. 

I knew the Microwaves name when I picked up their first CD EP, Professional Systems Overload. Song titles included "Jet Jaguar" and "Robot Monster." I thought, I like those things, I'll check it out. One player was listed as Roman, which I thought was also a reference to the movie Robot Monster. Turns out, John Roman is actually his name.

I'll skim the details at this point, who was seeing whom, listening to whom, various contact over the years. Skip ahead to being ask to play on a track for their previous LP, Via Weightlessness.  Two takes and I was done, with a minimum of coaching. Easy. Fun. I was done about twenty minutes after arriving. This lead to me playing with them on occasion. 

There was a new LP for 2022. Do I need to go into the challenges of recording between 2020-2022? One of those for Microwaves was their longest-standing bassist dropping out. If you know anything of the story of this album, it was recorded with two of the band's former bassists, Adam MacGregor and Steve Moore. Adam was in Creation as Crucifixion and leads Brown Angel; Steve is most famously half of the minimalist-prog (is that a thing?) duo Zombi. One side is played by each. 

The obvious thing to do is analyze each side based on who's playing. I know enough about Microwaves' process to know that often (but not always) songs start with an idea by Dave, which he demos and then the material is worked out collectively.

Listening to each side, it's clearly all the same band, but there are differences. I don't know that it's fair to say Steve brings a more traditional style of playing to the group, but I think he does bring a more melodic touch. It's by degrees though, it's not a huge leap in approach between each side. Adam is more determinately noisy, processed, maybe even abrasive. I know he wouldn't be offended by me writing that.

In what ways can this band's music be described? That's always an issue, is it not? First of all, it moves briskly. Each side has seven songs, only one lasts over three minutes. It's all very compact, get in and get out of each song. The music jerks and twists. Bands such as this are often compared to Capt. Beefheart. There's some indirect lineage I suppose, but there's nothing that I hear in Microwaves that refers back to the blues. The music is intense, yes there's some metal in there, maybe some punk rock, but those comparisons break down and don't really matter when listening.

There's something I've never read in reviews of Microwaves albums that I think is essential. They're funny. Sometimes really funny. It's not the obvious comedic stylings of someone such as Weird Al. Microwaves are kind of....ridiculous. I don't want that to sound like a put down. I absolutely admire them for it. 

So, do I like the music? I do. It doesn't hurt that I am friendly with the people involved, but I'll always have an appreciation for this "angular" (another overused descriptor) music. 

I spent a few extra dollars to buy the half blue/half pink vinyl. I admit I get hooked in by such things a little bit. It does look great.

I never urged my wife to see them. I never try to drag her to anything that I don't think she'll enjoy. Microwaves and my band Bombici were, strangely enough, booked to play a holiday party in December, and permitted to bring guests. Microwaves came out and crushed, with me on the last two songs. My wife's reaction was (I can't say this is verbatim), "I appreciate what they do, they're good at what they do." I'll take it. 

Microwaves have been around a long time. There's no Pittsburgh band like them. I hope they stay at it for many more years to come.

CDOTD 1/26/2023

 Morton Feldman: Triadic Memories (Mode) performed by Marilyn Noneken

Purchased through mail order?

Back to Feldman so soon?

I wanted something meditative, and Feldman is often a good choice in that respect. This work dates to 1981; the composer only lived until 1986, dying at age 61 from pancreatic cancer. I must assume his many years of heavy drinking and especially smoking didn't help; there's rarely a photo of him without a cigarette.

This is at a time when the works were getting longer and longer. At just over ninety minutes, this is short compared to some of works that followed. It also does not fit comfortably on the length of a single CD. There is a DVD-audio release of this performance too. There's a single date listed for recording. While unlikely, it's possible this is one long continuous take. 

I'm attracted to the clarity of what happens in the opening of this work in particular. It's a four note phrase, broken up between both hands, which irregularly repeats itself and shifts octaves. It eventually drifts off into other ideas and areas, but the opening is memorable if not predictable. 

When Feldman came into money (first from teaching, later by selling an all-black Rauschenberg painting for six figures, that he had bought from the artist for whatever money was in his pocket at the time), he collected Oriental rugs.

I think referring to rugs is one of the only places one currently still uses the word Oriental. My uncle was a dealer, and wrote several books on the topic. It's a bit like Sri Lanka still using the name Ceylon with respect to its tea, due to the respect that's given to that product. 

Feldman became interested in the irregular repetitions he saw in those rugs; patterns repeated, but not precisely. This work derives from that aesthetic. I made the comparison to a Calder mobile in a previous post, with shapes reorienting themselves to our eye as the components of the mobile slowly spin. 

I especially enjoy this work, but I'll admit that you could come in and out of listening to it and still have more or less the same effect. That's something my father said about listening to Satie's complete  Le Fils des Étoiles (at seventy minutes), that it was like "watching clouds" and you didn't lose the effect of the piece if you left the room and came back into it at any point. That would be an exaggeration with respect to Feldman's piece, but generally true.

Many of Feldman's titles are simple descriptions of the ensemble: Violin and Orchestra, Bass Clarinet and Percussion, String Quartet, Piano, Voices and Instruments.  Some are dedications: For John Cage, For Christian Wolff, For Frank O'Hara, de Kooning. In a few cases, the titles are more poetic: Patterns in a Chromatic Field, In Search of an Orchestration, Elemental Procedures, Why Patterns?, Crippled Symmetry. This title is my favorite among those. 

And what of the title? There's hardly anything that could be described as triadic in this piece. There's sometimes hints of tonality, but they are erased as soon as they occur. The majority of Feldman's music is to be played very quietly. This piece has a particularly reflective quality. Maybe it's as though triadic harmonies have been fractured through the imprecise lens of memory. 

Or, maybe I'm overanalyzing the title. That's a problem with academia sometimes. Not that this is in any way academic writing. 

I'll just drift off until next time...

VOTD 1/25/2023

 Niels Viggo Bentzon: Chamber Concerto, Symphonic Variations (Turnabout)

Purchased from Jerry's Records, from the Duquesne University collection

Dear Reader (all three or four of you), 

As I've written previously, I'm trying to stay disciplined. Tomorrow night is David Throckmorton's 50th birthday show, and I know I'll be playing on the latter portion of the night. There's some chance I won't post tomorrow, unless I find the time in the afternoon.

So what of this music? I knew nothing of the composer. I bought this largely because it is on the Turnabout label. That, and the $3 price. But I can't buy every 20th century composer in the, even that inexpensively.

As I listen to the Chamber Concerto  for eleven instruments (Op. 52), the music sounds strongly of a Stravinsky influence, even Igor in a more neo-classical mode. I knew with an opus number, it was likely to be on the conservative side. But you know what? It's nice. It's the second week of the semester, and it's kicking my butt more than a little bit. A lot of that has to do with my 8am call for classes most days. So maybe this wasn't the time to listen to sonically abrasive surrealist extended soundscapes for me. It's light, maybe even bubbly, and reminds me of music I've played in wind ensembles before.

I've looked at Bentzon's discogs.com page (the site I've been collecting most of the image I post), and the first album listed is Third Stream Music.  I find so-called Third Stream to sometimes be a mixed bag, but I'd at least like to have the opportunity to hear it.

The Symphonic Variations is a bit more ponderous sounding, but the shadow of Stravinsky or Hindemith, or possibly even Shostakovich, hangs over this. Is that fair? Maybe it's just laziness on my part not to find a better description or comparison.

But as I indicated, I'm tired. Maybe I'll something more to say on my next post.

VOTD 1/24/2023

 Various: SF特撮映画音楽全集 4 (Starchild)

Purchased at Eide's

"Let me tell you something, do you like monster movies? Anybody? I love monster movies, I simply adore monster movies, and the cheaper they are, the better they are." -Frank Zappa, introduction to "Cheepnis" (Roxy & Elsewhere)

Yes, I like monster movies too, Frank. As I've said on stage, put a Japanese man in a rubber monster suit, and that's guaranteed entertainment to me. I know "the excuse" too: yes, I know they can be dumb, but I still like them. And for as much as I enjoy characters such as the classic Universal monsters, I'm definitely a Japanese kaiju fan.

This LP is from a series issued in 1983, with selections from various Toho movies in the monster, horror, and sci-fi genres. A bunch of them turned up at Eide's as a stack, and I picked through and bought some of them. I should have strung for all of them, in retrospect.

#4 contains excerpts from five movie soundtracks, from five composers. Akira Ifukube, Ghidorah, the Three Headed Monster; Sadao Bekku, Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People; Masaru Sato, The H-Man; Sei Ikeno, The Secret of the Telegian; Kunio Miyauchi, The Human Vapor. I know Sato's name, and Ifukube is the old master of Toho kaiju soundtracks. The other names, I don't recall at all, and I've never seen nor read about The Secret of the Telegian. 

I like Akira's soundtracks. I think they add gravity to films that wouldn't necessarily be taken very seriously. I admit, he repeats himself, frequently. The upside is that he's identifiable; the downside, a lot of it sounds similar. He himself said that what he did best was write marches and elegies, and I'd confirm that.

The thing is, I like those pieces even despite their similarities. Bernard Herrmann is also instantly recognizable, but he drew from a wider range of techniques than Ifukube. On the other hand, I largely can't tolerate Danny Elfman's work, who from my perspective also writes the same piece over and over. It's a matter of taste, isn't it?

If you can think of a musical cue or melody associated with Godzilla, Akira wrote it. They are highly memorable, probably in part because they're very broad and simple. What I was wondering in pulling this out is, to what extent do the others sound or not sound like Ifukube? All of the composers to varying degrees sound similar to each other, though I wonder if part of that has to do with the orchestra and recording circumstances. 

For whatever its faults, I really enjoy Matango. It's a very slow burn for a much of its time but pays off in the end. A boat is shipwrecked on a deserted island, where there is curiously no animal life at all. There are however many odd mushrooms. The problems happen when the people start going mad with hunger... Bekku's score sounds a bit like Ifukube, though he brings some more jazz elements into the mix. There's a new, snazzy edition on vinyl of the complete score on the Death Waltz Recording Company label. It's tempting, but I am discouraged by how expensive single records are these days, even ones presented as beautifully is this one. 

https://mondoshop.com/collections/soundtracks/products/matango-original-motion-picture-soundtrack-lp-numbered-edition

It's Sato's score for The H-Man that sounds most western to me, the most like American soundtrack music. It's also the earliest of the scores on this record. The remaining composers have a little of that Ifukube style happening, but also sound more western influenced. And Ifukube is certainly influenced by western music too, but there's something about the simplicity of his melodies that suggests an Asian approach. I think it's his broadness that wins out among these composers.

CDOTD 1/23/2023

 Jonathan Harvey: From Silence, Nataraja, Ritual Melodies (Bridge)

Purchased in the used CD section at Jerry's Records

This may seem completely self-evident. I had a small epiphany in the Baltimore Museum of Art decades ago. As I walked through the modern collection, it occurred to me that there was no dominant style in the 20th century. What marked the works was their lack of similarities. 

This is turn leads to a question of criticism. If we are presented with works that are so personality-based, so differentiated in technique, isn't it challenging to judge and criticize the works?

How do I describe and critique this collection of three of Jonathan Harvey's works? He lived 1939-2012, alive at the time of this release. One is computer generated, one a duo for flute and piano, one for voice and ensemble that includes significant electronic components.

Regarding the latter, which dates from 1988: the brittle, FM-based synthesis (I assume) sounds dated now. I made this point about Frank Zappa in an earlier post: his sometime embracing of new technologies now makes some of those works sound more dated. Otherwise, it's what I'd expect from this sort of academic avant garde composer.

The flute/piano duo was sometimes flurries of notes that must have looked ridiculous on the page. I question the need to compose pieces that are effectively impossible to play accurately. Is this one? Maybe. When it slows down into more (for lack of a better term) traditionally melodic passages, the work recalls Messiaen a bit.

I fell asleep during the computer generated piece. It's been a tiring week and a half.

I'll take this disc to school, where I've been keeping many of my historical electronic music CDs. I don't think I'll buy the other Jonathan Harvey disc they had.

CDOTD 1/22/2023

 Morton Feldman-Marianne Schroeder: Piano (hat ART)

Borrowed from library

I acknowledge Morton Feldman as one of the great composers of the last hundred years. I love much of his music. I sometimes think, how does one judge, critique, analyze the music?

This much I believe: he works best with small groups. I'm not generally fond of his orchestral music. Solo piano is a frequent setting for him, and it suits him.

This disc covers a little of several decades of Feldman's piano music. One piece from 1952, two from 1963, the title piece "Piano" from 1977, and a late work "Palais de Mari" from 1986. 

Generally speaking, the first three are roughly an early period for the composer. They're short and compressed, particularly the earliest of the three.

"Piano" is from what could be called a middle or transitional period for Feldman, a time that also produced "For Frank O'Hara" and "Rothko Chapel." It precedes the sometimes extraordinary lengths of the late works. Feldman in some ways tried to reflect the....methods? ....attitudes? of abstract New York painters at the time, the early works of Guston being of particular interest and influence. (He and Guston had something of a falling out over Guston's later, more representational and cartoonish paintings.) There's almost nothing melodic to speak of, sounds float into the time space irregularly. A quick inspection of the score (which I have also borrowed from the library) shows that he goes to great lengths to specify the rhythms, which read with far more complexity than they sound. That is to say, if a pianist was to play a 7:4 polyrhythm in the right hand on top of the left, you would hear that complexity. Feldman's rhythms can be very complex, but for the purpose of insisting no regular pulse be suggested. 

Something happens briefly and in passing in that work that is far more blatant in the final work of the set. There are irregular repetitions, patterns folding onto themselves in ever-changing ways. "Palais de Mari" is a short work for his later years; 15 minutes in this case, music from this time often lasts from one to over five hours continuously. I find that I enjoy the "crippled symmetry" (his term) of some of the late works. It's something like watching a Calder mobile slowly move in the wind, its shapes floating around each other and changing their orientation to our eyes. 

Feldman was a known fixture in the artist bars and clubs in the 50s and 60s, so much so that it's a wonder he also held down a job and had time for composing too. Conversations have been described as lasting all night, hours on end. I so wish I could find the source where I read this, but Feldman was known to go to the jazz clubs in the 50s. Supposedly he particularly liked Thelonious Monk. There is no hint of any influence of that music in Feldman's, but I enjoy the fact that his listening interests were far broader than what is reflected in his music. So too, you're not going to find a lot of Feldman in what I do, but he's in there somewhere. I have on rare occasions stopped and thought, what would Morty think? I guess I'll never know.

VOTD 1/21/2023

 Chris and Cosey: Trance (Rough Trade)

Purchased used, possibly at Eide's

I have an old friend, who is on my so-called friends list on Facebook. He doesn't post or respond often, but when he does, he makes everything 100% about himself. I know what you're thinking: that's most of what Facebook is. I can also be guilty. He really makes it about him. "I drove that person around in 1985", "I discovered his record at my college radio station years ago and played it often" [not direct quotes, just typical of what he might write] and postings that are even more self-centered than that. I know that sounds benign, but among the things he would do was to take partial credit for an old band of mine, because one of his prior groups had two of the same people. I had to call him out on that.

When I write this listening diary, this personal aural journal, I am acutely aware that it's often more about me than the music that I put on my stereo. I try to be guarded about making everything about me all the time. I'm thinking now how there's already a contradiction in that very statement.

At the same time, I also can get very prickly about not being given credit when it's due, or are passed over for performance opportunities that I think I might deserve (unfairly or not).

I have a quote from John Cage on my Facebook page: "...I see no reason for living without contradictions."

All of this came to mind when I was again considering the purpose of this blog. It's for myself more than anything else. I can sometimes feel like I can be very undisciplined, and I'm trying to develop better daily habits. I also have amassed a substantial personal CD and LP library, and I should be sitting down and listening to more of it. 

I keep track of how many people read this blog, and it appears two regularly check out my little online ramblings. Thanks, it is what it is. I have no interest in doing anything further with these messages past posting them day to day. I also encourage my students to write, write all the time if you can. Writing is a skill sharpened through practice, no less than musical ability. I might as well practice what I preach.

Here's this record, chosen more-or-less randomly from my stacks. Chris (Carter) and Cosey (Fanni Tutti) were not long ex-Throbbing Gristle at the time of this recording, 1982. 

Early, old school industrial music was to me what punk rock was to others. It was exciting, and something that almost anyone could make given enough effort. It wasn't a music tied to technical facility.

I didn't necessarily think about the latter when listening back in the day, though. There was just sound involved, a range of sound that could include abrasive noise. I welcomed it and sought out records in the style where and when I could.

I can't speak about Chris' technical ability as a keyboardist. I'm sure he can play a bit, certainly better than I. His technical achievement has more to do with helping to develop some of the technologies that went into his music.

The music on this record was so much more work to achieve than now, forty(!) years later. As a pair, they're not content to only let his sequenced drum and rhythm patterns play out. there's nearly always at least an underpinning of sounds, noise, things happening. I'm certain this is in part where Cosey's contributions shine. Noticeable are her aggressively primitive guitar and cornet playing in the mix. 

Taking all that into account, I think they present as a unified duo. Chris may be more entrenched in the technical side of what they do, but it is both Chris and Cosey.

And, I used to play this on WRCT and WYEP, bringing it back to me. There I go again.

VOTD 1/19/2023

 Nurse With Wound: Trippin' Musik (United Dirter)

Purchased new at Attic Records

There was a time when I'd buy everything I could by Nurse With Wound. NWW is the long time project of Steven Stapleton, with a cast of collaborators along the way. My interest began in 1984 with the EP Brained By Falling Masonry, and continued with a passion into the early 90s. 

What happened at that time? A couple of things I'd say. One is that maybe I got a little burned out on NWW's output. Maybe also, as the work entered into the digital age in both realization and delivery, I started to find it tp be less interesting and cooled off. The latter might not have been fair to the work. Add to that the sheer number of releases, and I stayed away for quite some years.

What do you get with a NWW album? It could be many different things. The short answer is that the works as a whole are a kind modernized extension of what began with Pierre Schaeffer and his musique concrète. The primary basis of the compositions (if you can call them that, which I would) is the compiling and manipulation of recorded sound. Stapleton's interests also lean hard into Surrealism. I think that's an overused word, but I he would confirm this. 

Truth is, you often don't really know what you're going to get from a NWW album. Often there's little information included in the package, such as who helped create the album (as is the case here). Much of the works are in that surreal musique concrète mode, often with an emphasis on voices and frequently mysterious or frightening. Some of it's downright funny, such as the culture-in-a-blender album The Sylvie and Babs Hi-Fi Companion. Alternately, there's the lyrical electronic droning of Soliloquy for Lilith, or the low-intensity noise ambience of Space Music. 

Additionally, Stapleton is responsible for the imagery that for each NWW album. Once again, it's largely surrealistic, often employing collage techniques. But that's not always the case, as in the austere package for Soliloquy for Lilith, a black box with concentric golf circles.

When I say this is a strange one, what does that even mean?

It's three LPs, at least in this packaging. Each is colored vinyl, in day-glo green, orange, and red. There are no titles. There no side numbers, not even on this inner grooves. Clearly, you're meant to listen to any side or record in any order. Each side has a single track. There's a fold-out insert, with more of Stapleton's collage imagery. Of the 500 in this edition, the first 200 had two printed acid blotter page inserts included. Were these really soaked in LSD? Really? 

The music is repetitious, playing out simple ideas over a side length. Sounds are processed, escalate and recede. At times it feels claustrophobic; would this music really be a good idea if you were on hallucinogens?

I can't say I have much in the way of experience with psychedelics. I've been told by someone much more experienced that the promise and idea of a psychedelic trip is far more appealing than the reality of one. This album is interesting, I guess I enjoy it, but I don't know about what the combined experience of listening and tripping might be. 

Or is that even the point? The creator(s) are noticeably quiet about the intention of this album. Is it for tripping, inspired by tripping, meant to be an aural representation of tripping? I'm not sure. 

VOTD 1/18/2023

 Frank Martin: Requiem (Jecklin)

Purchased from Jerry's Records, from the Duquesne University collection

I've been listening to requiems recently. Maybe it's partly for inspiration, partly out of curiosity, and partly because I was digging into the requiem by Aribert Reimann, a post-war composer I didn't know at all. I will probably write about that work here in a future post. 

Along the way, I've also listened to requiems by Ockeghem, Mozart, Ligeti, and the Dies Irae of Penderecki. Ockeghem sounded like just another mass. Mozart, the famous "Lacrymosa" is indeed moving, but the work as a whole wasn't terribly interesting to me. Ligeti's Requiem, most notably appearing in pieces in Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, is at times amazing. I wonder, looking over the score, how accurately it can be performed. My guess is that even the best reading only comes within a percentage of what is written down. 

It's very unusual that I would be listening to a composer such as Frank Martin so soon after the previous time. He's the sort of 20th century "conservative" composer who doesn't normally interest me. The previous record I put on, Five Songs of Ariel and Other Festive Choral Music, was clearly written to sound more Renaissance-like. Here, he's sounding more like a turn of the 19th-20th century composer, even if the work was written in 1973. The harmonies are a little bolder, less triadic, a touch more sturm und drang. It's scored for a quartet of vocal soloists, mixed choir, orchestra and grand organ. 

I was wondering if anyone performs Frank Martin's music. A quick view of a website devoted to his work indicates that his pieces will be performed regularly in the coming year, particularly his Mass for double choir a cappella. Most of the performances listed will be in Europe, though the Mass will be performed in New York and Israel, by different groups. 

This makes sense to me. Even if I sometimes wish Martin would go more post-Germanic-Romanticism, it's good for churches to have music performed that doesn't sound like it came from the 17th century. 

CDOTD 1/16/2023

 Boredoms: Super Roots 7 (WEA Japan)

Purchased at Jerry's Records, in their new used CD store

As I continue to post to this ongoing listening diary, I'm wondering what I could possibly say about some of these albums? 

What am I to make of Boredoms? Is this music any good? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I've heard some albums I found boring, others thrilling and amazing. The first four minutes of Soul Discharge is an incredible ride. 

This CD, an EP length work, has two shorter remixes sandwiching a 20-minute piece. Missing is Eye's distinctive vocals (yelling and shrieking), in favor of a repetitive instrumental track. They're almost in a Can or This Heat territory, for lack of better comparisons. 

I'm tired as I write this. I'm a little sleep deprived, which always happens as a new semester is about to begin. Do I like this? The remixes are throwaways. The long track is fun, maybe I'll return to it.

CDOTD 1/14/2023

 Zappa: Original Soundtrack Album (Zappa Records)

Borrowed from library

There's a lot for me to unpack concerning Frank Zappa. 

His music was one of the first things that really grabbed as a teenager and said, "Listen to this!" My father, in addition to having an interesting and sizable record collection, also made many tapes of borrowed records. When I say tapes, I mean 1/4" reel to reel tapes for home consumption. This was before cassettes dominated the medium. He'd record several albums on slow speed onto a tape, and could play them for more than an hour a side while he painted.

Dad taught at Louisiana State University from 1965-1970; my earliest memories are of living in West Baton Rouge/Port Allen. He'd borrow records from everyone, students and colleagues alike. So imagine the selection at the time: there were tapes of Charles Mingus, Roland Kirk, Cream, Led Zeppelin. He had an opinion on most of what he dubbed, so he actively listened when he was dubbing the albums. Of the artists who were current at the time, he's said it was Jimi Hendrix who impressed him most. He liked the music first and foremost, but liked the group's flamboyant look as well.

I was digging through the tapes on my own. He never wrote down song titles, which often frustrated me. There were some discoveries in those tapes for me, one of the first being Charles Mingus' Mingus Ah Um (he also had a physical copy). After that, the tape that really caught me started with Frank Zappa's Hot Rats. What was this? I surely knew Frank Zappa's name, but had never dived into the music before. "Peaches En Regalia." It was crazy, funny, and even catchy. The rest of the album was equally unusual and captivating. 

Soon after, I discovered a tape entirely of Mothers of Invention records: Absolutely Free, We're Only In It For the Money, Uncle Meat, and a little bit of Cruising With Ruben and the Jets. I loved it. It was almost as if this music was created for me to discover. It was weird, funny, aggressive, absurd, original. Fred Frith once described the early Mothers albums as being music that's both light and funny, and absolutely serious. (That's not verbatim.) It's a pretty good description. 

While I loved it all, it was the track "Ian Underwood Whips It Out Live in Copenhagen." I'd never heard the saxophone played in any way like this before , and that piece casts a long shadow over my own playing. 

So, on the one hand, Frank Zappa's music has been essential for me. I remain a fan of the original Mothers recordings in particular, though I like much of his work through 1975, and particular albums or pieces since then.

What happens at and after 1975? That's the time of the last band of his that I thought had real personality. It's the (rather brief) period when he's working with George Duke, Ruth Underwood, Chester Thompson, Napoleon Murphy Brock. Apostrophe' to One Size Fits All. The music is still fun and funny, seriously played by a band with amazing chops, with enough looseness to play around with the material from time to time. 

After that? It's a very mixed bag for me. The first I bought for myself was Sheik Yerbouti, and it's a very mixed bag in my current opinion. I hate to use the word "offensive," but I will anyway. I wouldn't have said that about his earlier work, for as occasionally outrageous as it could be. I think one of the purposes of humor is to poke at the powerful. Frank was always a humorist to some extent (or just as much, an absurdist). His work would not only become more sexually explicit (such as, "Briefcase Boogie" or "Broken Hearts are for Assholes") and also poke at people less powerful ("Bobby Brown" about men "becoming" homosexual, or making fun of Wild Man Fischer on Civilization Phase III). And on top of it all, the music for his rocks bands was decreasingly interesting to me. 

Here's this movie, Zappa. It was directed by Alex Winter, the Ted of Bill & Ted. It was authorized and organized by Gail, Frank's widow, and his children Ahmet and Diva. Gail gave controlling interest in the family trust to those two, with lesser control for Moon and Dweezil. 

That in itself is a long and ugly story, one that I don't need to recount. Better to find details online. 

The movie? It's a fan piece. There are some amazing film clips I've never seen before, and it's worth a view for that reason alone. It's also noticeably lacking in any criticism of Frank's work, and many criticisms can be made. Maybe it's not fair of me to expect that from a feature length film.

The soundtrack album? Some of it I've heard before, a few things new. Most of the first disc is focused on earliest Mothers, up to the Flo and Eddie band, with some sidebars for Varése, Stravinsky, the GTOs, and Alice Cooper, his biggest discovery. The second disc covers a longer time, from Flo and Eddie to a track from The Yellow Shark. Four of the last five tracks are drawn from Frank's later rock albums, and...eh. Just confirms that I don't generally like those records. 

The third disc is incidental music from the movie, composed by John Frizzell, Nick Cimity, and David Stahl. Maybe I'll put it on, but, the filmmakers couldn't find something appropriate from Frank's library for background scoring?

CDOTD 1/13/2023

Minutemen: Double Nickels on the Dime (SST)

Borrowed from the library

Once again, it's great to be able to use the public library to check out this album. It's one of great importance to some of my friends, so I knew I'd get around to listening to it some time. Now that I've listened to it in its entirety, I remember bits and pieces of it. 

Much has been made this (here comes the cliché) sprawling statement, 43 tracks on a double LP originally, no tracks exceeding three minutes in length. Ideas are direct, get in and get out.

Is Minutemen a punk rock band? I suppose it's a question of how broadly or narrowly you define the genre. If one thinks of the archetypical punk rock groups (Sex Pistols, Ramones, The Clash), Minutemen doesn't musically have much in common with those groups except for compactness. They all tend to stay lean, the instrumentation simple, a general lack of guitar or drum solos. Minutemen definitely takes those ideas to the extreme. 

While I wouldn't define Minutemen as a cross-genre band, it's clear to me that they have a collective listening history. While this is all rock music, there are hints of folk, jazz, and funk along the way. Mike Watt can be pretty funky sometimes. In this respect, they have more in common with The Clash than the Pistols or Ramones. They sound nothing like The Clash, but there's a mutual interest in expanding beyond three chord rock and roll.

I was never much of a straight forward punk rock fan. The groups I liked were post-punk, or at least took the punk aesthetic and pushed it a different direction. The first Joy Division record was very important to me. I still enjoy it, but I now hear how primitive they were. It didn't and doesn't matter though, because I love the atmosphere they create. I also think the first two Gang of Four albums are generally great.

What an ambition, to record this many songs for a double LP. I admire that. How do they remember them all? My guess is that this was recorded very fast and cheaply. The production is a little rough, but it would be out of character to have this sound too slick. Such a burst of ideas and creativity, it's almost like they couldn't contain it. 

There's something else that distinguishes Minutemen from the previously mentioned groups. They sound relatively sunny to me. They aren't brooding shoegazers. It's all very lively. "Happy" would not be the right descriptor though, there's plenty of dry wit and sardonic humor abound here. Take for example, "Political Song For Michael Jackson to Sing", "There Ain't Shit on T.V. Tonight" or "Do You Want New Wave or Do You Want the Truth?" 

Either Minutemen was not punk rock but something else, or it's a band that helped define what punk rock could be. I know ultimately it's all labels. Shut up and enjoy the music. It's worth the time.

Our band could be your life!

VOTD 1/11/2023

 Jacob Druckman: Animus II/Nicolas Roussakis: Night Speech, Sonata for Harpsicord (CRI)

Purchased at Jerry's Records, formerly from the Duquesne University collection

I took off a day from my listening diary, but it's not as if anyone noticed. I noticed no hits on my previous post.

I generally collect old electronic music recordings. If I notice an LP and the notes read something to the effect of, "Electronic tape realized at..." I'm usually in. I won't pay outrageous amounts for these records, but it's interesting how many will turn up cheap if you really look.

What do I like about these things? What is it about old tape music that appeals to me? One thing is the sweat on them. Analog and digital production of electronic sound is very easy for us now. Then? Often the composers were involved with the invention or research itself. It took a lot of effort to make these things.

Which is not to say they're all good. The earliest computer-generated works can be pretty rough sometimes. The earliest Pierre Schaeffer works are pretty coarse as well.

Of the three pieces on this record, the side-long Druckman work has the electronic component. It's scored for mezzo, two percussionists, and electronic tape. The tape sounds as though it's largely synthesized sounds, but there are some acoustical sources as well.

I have a few Druckman recordings and have seen some of his music performed, probably by the Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble. I got the impression that he was a little like Debussy, though in a more modern setting. Composing for coloration as much as harmonies. Not as extreme as George Crumb in his search for sounds, or maybe more accurately Crumb's desire to pull out whatever sounds he could specifically from acoustical instruments.

This comes in the era where electronic music performance was especially challenging. I've asked my students to imagine the situation: you have tape music, which starts essentially in the post-WWII era (c.1948+). It was great that composers now had the resources to create studio-based compositions. But how do you deal with the concert setting? Someone playing a tape in front of a live audience is a static performance situation.

One way this was addressed, by some composers, was to create works for tape plus live musicians. This way, you could have the richness of acoustical instruments combined with the expanded sound palette created through technological means. You also had a live performance element. The one of the challenges was how to score for such means, and there are many examples that can be found.

If that seems self-evident to you, it's often difficult to get my students to think through that logic. 

The piece is good, some solid post-war composing. I wonder though, can this work be performed now? Has the medium been preserved, and digitally transferred? And who would take the task of performing such a work? With interactive digital composition, this format has largely been rendered obsolete. This is one of the big problems with technology-based composition.

Nicolas Roussakis' "Night Speech" for choir seems like it might be a strange pairing for this CRI release. (But then what else is new, some of their collections can be odd.) It's a work that I suspect is influenced by electronic music though. It's not very long (under eight minutes) and only a small portion is sung. There is the sound of bubbling water, gongs, gongs and chimes, along other vocal sounds. 

I might have written this before, but Morton Feldman commented on the twenty-minute piece. It was a standard for many post-war era works that he wanted to break through. Druckman's piece definitely fits that category; "Night Speech" could have have gone on longer, in my opinion. 

That leaves remainder of the second LP side for Roussakis' "Sonata for Harpiscord", the most "classical" piece on this LP. I don't mean to say that it sounds like 18th century music, but is the most tightly constructed of the works here to my ears. 

Cassette rip of the Day 1/9/2023

 Twilight Sleep: Hard Radiation/Icarus at Aphelion (Conglomerate)

Purchased (in a group) at Jerry's Records

Choosing my listening and then writing about them here, surely has already influenced my choices. At least it has, in this case.

My previous posting was about one of the biggest album releases of the last year. Now, it's something so impossibly obscure, I very well may have the only known original copy. 

Perhaps if you know me, you might know something of the Conglomerate Records collection. It started with my discovery of a composite record I found on the shelves of Jerry's Records. And by composite, I mean someone took the time to actually cut up and cement together nine different records. The cover was hand assembled. I'm aware of Christian Marclay doing such things, but the strangest element was that the return address was for Connellsville, PA. That's in the backroads of southwestern PA, close to an hour south of Pittsburgh.

When I made inquiries about this record, I was told there was an entire collection of cassette tapes associated with that record. I arranged to buy the lot of them.

It's a bizarre collection. Some items are unplayable anti-tapes and anti-records. Of the playable tapes, it's a varied and no less bizarre assortment. There's a lot of low tech musique concréte and even Plunderphonics. There are hardcore industrial noise tapes. There's some ambient music. There are even compilations of fake bands. Some are packaged with simple black and white xerox covers, others far more elaborately. 

There are names associated with the tapes. There are primarily two: Kurt Vile (also spelled Kurt Viol and Kurt Vial) and Rose Selavy. Kurt is not the current singer who hails from Philadelphia, he's too young. It's a play on Kurt Weill, the composer. Rose Selavy was Marcel Duchamp's drag name. Two obvious pseudonyms. There are a few other names on some of the tapes, but I have been able to track anyone of them down. It very well could all be two people, or even one.

I have not found one single person who knows anything about any of it. It was bought up from a local collector who died; his widow sold his amazing record collection to Jerry's. I have so far resisted revealing this person's name in public forums, and I will continue to do so for now. There are also some supplemental materials, photo books with original copies of covers, that definitely leads me to believe he was somehow directly involved. 

I have digitally transferred every playable tape. I haven't tracked them, and I should get back to that. Many of the tapes (such as this one) have side long tracks, so there isn't much tracking to do.

I've burned a few of those rips to CD, and have distributed a few individual copies to friends. I've posted more to myYoutube page, if you want to find out what some of these sound like. I have had this particular CD burn-tape rip sitting here, and decided to put it on again. 

It's more or less a one off. The Conglomerate collection has several recurring "bands": Oviparous Pig, The Donut Holes, Max Ernst Revisited, Kurt Schwitters Revisited, Cherry Mucous, S.M.A.I.H. (Scrooge McDuck Ascends Into Heaven), Evening in Byzantium, Phthisis. This is the only tape specifically by Twilight Sleep, though an excerpt appears on a Conglomerate compilation (Pain Party at Presque Isle). It's a black tape, in a black cover with black lettering. In this respect, I believe it is a companion to the single tape by Helicopter, which is a white tape in an off-white textured cover with white lettering.

How can I even describe it? Dark, noisy ambient is a simple descriptor. I can't really tell you which track is which, as there's no side listed on the tape. The sounds are long and flowing, sounds like they're coming from a distance, some of them synthesized in nature. Maybe there's some voices in there, but I really can't tell for sure. What I think is the second work, has harsher noise that comes in and escalates, but even then it's all in a sort of lo-fi haze. Some of that quality is not doubt because of the medium, some intentionally. This and even moreso the Helicopter tapes recall Maurizio Bianchi/MB's echoplex-saturated noise recordings of the early 80s. They're not exactly like those, but you're in the right neighborhood. Non-narrative 80s industrial tapes, traded around internationally. 

Again I will put out the call, without expecting results: if you know anything about these tapes or the people who made them, please contact me. It's possible it's all just a single person, but I think there's ample evidence that at least two people were responsible. 

https://www.discogs.com/label/652824-Conglomerate-Records-2

CDOTD 1/8/2023

 Beyoncé: Renaissance 

Borrowed from library

Yeah, what? Let me explain, not that I should need to.

I've already written about how we have a good library system here. I was perusing the CD collection, and this was sitting on display. I figured, well, why not?

And it's too easy for me to just listen to almost impossibly obscure music. That's a trap in itself, liking something for no other reason that it's not popular.

And if I don't like this, I think I have two responsibilities: one is to specify why something isn't for me, the other is to find something positive to say in spite of my opinion. Find the good qualities. 

For example: I've found it easy to put down Wendy Carlos' Switched On Bach as being pure kitsch. I still largely think that is true. On closer examination, I came to realize two very positive things. The first is that the synth patch sound design on that record is just short of astonishing. Carlos gets something very close to an oboe sound from dials and patch cords. That's admirable. The other is that all lines are played on a monophonic synth, so any chord or countermelody is created through tracking. This was a good decade and a half before the first MIDI production, making the performance impressive. 

So what do I make of this album? There's definitely a flavor to it, it's very electronica/dance influenced and related. Songs such as "Break My Soul" "Virgo's Groove" sound very post-disco: right tempo, repetitive, funky, strong hits and two and four. It's made for dancing, but is thoroughly layered and the production interesting. 

The entire album sounds great. I really don't like how much of current pop music is produced. To call most of it thoroughly compressed is an understatement; there's no dynamic range whatsoever. Someone once left a CD burn of the Destiny Child song "Survivor" in my room, so I listened to it. It sounded like garbage, like every peak and valley in the amplitude had been compressed to complete flatness. (There may have been an mp3 transfer involved, thus lowering the quality from the original.) This music is certainly compressed, but not to the point where it sounds like a wall of sound all the time. 

Regarding the vocals, since it is much of the focus of this music. When I write that I don't like current production techniques, that really applies to what is done to vocals. There's the incredibly tight compression, but also all of the autotuning done to most. If Autotune is employed here (which in all likelihood is) it's more invisible. My guess is that she's pretty good and nailing the pitch without technical fudging. She sounds natural, whereas most current singers are made to sound plastic.

Some pop singers lean into the yelling and trying to oversell themselves. Call it the Whitney Houston Effect (or alternatively, American Idol-itis). Whitney had a beautiful voice, but she sounded like she was screaming almost everything. Beyoncé sounds much more relaxed. She just sings. I do wish she would lighten up on the warbly vibrato she employs, but that's a matter of taste.

Equally distasteful to me is Billie Eilish-similar style: someone who is singing so softly, it sounds like they're trying to not wake up their parents in the bedroom next to theirs. I find that gets wearisome and annoying very quickly. Come on, put out some sound!

As I listen to this, I just don't find much of it to be memorable. It's good in the moment, well crafted, but none of it sticks in my head. Maybe it's impressive that she isn't fishing for a hit single any longer, and the album is the statement. The most memorable moment is when she's quoting Donna Summer's "I Feel Love." If not a direct descendent of the Summer/Moroder sessions, this album could be argued as a descendent. 

I'm sure Beyoncé is in charge and creating exactly the music she wants to release. There's maybe a dozen credits for each track, or at least I think so. There's microscopically small credits text on the booklet. There's lots of space devoted to photos to accompany each track; how about providing a package where I can actually read the notes? Still, you know, some of us have declining eyesight. 

There's been so much press and writing devoted to this album, I don't know what I could possibly add. So thank you Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, I'll be returning Miss B's new CD tomorrow and someone else can enjoy it. I don't regret the time, the album is fine, but maybe the next person will be more excited by the music than I.

VOTD 1/7/2023

 George Russell & The Living Time Orchestra: The African Game (Blue Note)

Purchased at The Government Center

This has been sitting on me "to do" pile for some time now, and I was wondering why I'd been waiting? Then I remembered, oh yes, the needle was skating on the surface of the record, and I needed to replace it.

Now that I've made that necessary replacement, time to dig into this.

The lineup: more or less a traditional big band, with augmented rhythm section. The names in the credits are largely unfamiliar to me, with the exception of Bruce Barth on keyboards.

I'll confess that I only got a few pages into George Russell's book, Lydian Chromatic Concept of Tonal Organization. I keep meaning to return to it, but then I also think, is it really going to do me any good? Still, one day.

Russell is very good composer. He is especially good at coloration, both instrumentally and harmonically. This session dates to 1985. It sounds to me similar to what composers active in that era were doing, except George was at least a generation older.

The album is defined as having nine "events," which overall maps out the history of the world (?). "Organic Life on Earth Begins," "The Paleolithic Game," "Consciousness," etc.

My complaints with this record have more to do with my own personal tastes and preferences as anything specific criticisms. Russell has expanded a standard-sized big band/stage band. I'm not particularly a fan, and I think fewer players would be been preferable. Like I said, that's me.

Most of the soloists aren't particularly interesting, sounding very studio-ish. Saxophonist Gary Joynes comes closest to blowing some fire into "African Empires" on the second side. But then, there's not a room for blowing here. Times are clearly restricted based on LP length. CD length would have probably suited this project better.

Then there's the era. 1985. The keyboards are thoroughly in that FM synthesis period, and it sounds so dated now. That's sometimes one of the problems and even ironies of using current technologies; it can make your work sound dated. I think of the keyboards, and early digital production on Frank Zappa's 1978-1983 period, and it sounds old and brittle to my ears. 

VOTD 1/6/2023

 Etron Fou Leloublan: En Public Aux Étas-Unis d'Amérique (Celluloid)

Purchased new, where? Possibly Tower Records (New York)

Walking past my racks of records today, this stood out and I figured it was as good as anything to spin today. I spent a lot of time in the 80s/early 90s listening to this live LP, and the three studio albums that followed.

Was it Frank Zappa who said, writing about music is like dancing about architecture? Probably not, though it's the sort of acerbic thing he could have said. I can't say I completely agree with the statement, though it is difficult to find the words to describe what this band does. Let's first say that they're in an early trio configuration here: bass/vocals, saxophone, and drums/saxophone. Sound like a familiar lineup to you? This group was definitely an inspiration for my own trio configurations, even if the music is significantly different. 

I lived in Baltimore for two years, 1988-1990. Craving to put something together, I placed an ad in the personals section of the Baltimore City Paper looking to put together a trio based on this group and V-Effect (essentially the same instrumentation). I didn't get anywhere putting a band together, but I was contacted by an existing local band (Instant Siberia, what an 80s band name) that kept me playing most of the time I lived there. I didn't feel close to the music of that band, but they kept me active.

Back to this band's music, how to describe it? Shades of Captain Beefheart I suppose, but drain that music of all blues and substitute a French sense of humor. The music alternatively twists/jerks and grooves. The group is largely centered on Ferdinand Richard's often chord-strumming bass. There is a brief work, specifically for solo drums by Gigou Chenevier (what a name!), and a brief reference to Beethoven's "Für Elise." 

What's evident from this album is that this was a great band live. I assume there's a bit of editing here and there, but the results here sound great. Considering this was recorded in November 1979, I wonder what people thought of the music at that time?

The group would augment to a quartet with the addition of Jo Thirion on keyboard for the next two albums, my favorite being Les Sillons De La Terre of 1984. They also act as the backing band on the first side of Fred Frith's Speechless, his followup to the amazing Gravity on Ralph Records. 

CDOTD 1/5/2023

 Steve Reich: Pulse/Quartet (Nonesuch)

Borrowed from library

I have a pretty substantial personal library of records, discs and tapes. It's not nearly as large as some of my friends', but it's many many hours of information nonetheless. While this writing project of mine is partially for the purpose of forcing myself to go back into my collection and relisten to more of it, I still check things out from the public library.

We have an excellent library system here. I'm sure there libraries that are bigger and better, but our resources (particularly the music collection) can be pretty amazing sometimes. I'm frequently surprised by finding that one score by that one composer I heard on a collection, who I knew nothing about previously.

So here I am, listening to a relatively recent pair of works on CD by Steve Reich, from our public library's main branch. I largely like Reich's music. I'd even say that Music or 18 Musicians is one of the truly great works of the past hundred years.

Reich is a notoriously prickly character. I can't say I know this from personal experience. Maybe it's like I've been reminded by several friends: sometimes it's better not to meet your heroes. I saw Steve Reich and Musicians at a new music festival in 1986, I think was the year. A friend volunteered to push chairs around on stage in order to score tickets that he couldn't otherwise afford. He later said to me after the experience, "I know serialism is out and minimalism is in, but Milton Babbitt is a really nice guy, and Steve Reich is a jerk." 

At least, I think the word he used was jerk. It might have been something harsher.

What am I to make of these late era Reich pieces? I guess it's fair to say late period, as he is currently 86 years old. He may be like Elliot Carter and keep composing for another fifteen years. Maybe I'll reassess in the future. 

I find the music to be neither urgent, nor bad. It all sounds like Reich, though not his greatest works. It's a mistake to try to write a "masterpiece," and it's equally a mistake to expect one as a listener. After all, at his age, hasn't Reich earned the right to sound like Reich?

I give him credit that all of his music doesn't sound exactly alike. For as much as I like some of Philip Glass' music, to my ears he has written very similar works multiple times over. 

Glass came to the CMU Music Department a few years back. Someone asked about the term minimalism, and being so closely identified with it. He said, if you listen to him, or Terry Riley or Fred Rzewski or Louis Andreisson, what's interesting is how different the music of each composer is. Am I the only person to have noticed that he left out Steve Reich's name from that list? The two men have a long history together, having played in each others' groups.

I know Reich bristles at the very term minimalism. It's an opinion I understand; nobody likes categorization, it puts you in a proverbial box. I ask though, what is more minimalist than "Clapping Music"?

Easy call to make: if you know Reich's music and like it, check this recording out. If you don't know it, find the Phases five-CD collection.

VOTD 1/4/2023

 Stormy Six: Macchina Maccheronica (L'Orchestra)

Purchased from Mike Shanley

I'm an old progressive rock kid. The first LP I bought for myself was Kansas' Leftoverture; I think the third was Yes' Close to the Edge. (One of those records has aged better than the other, maybe I'll get around to writing about that some time.) It's not all I listened to as a teenager. I would listen to records from my father's collection, who in turn would make recommendations. Because of that, I knew who the players in the original Louis Armstrong Hot Five before I knew who Led Zeppelin was. It was from his collection I heard Thelonious Monk and Charles Mingus for the first time.

I'd hate to think there was snobbishness on my part, listening to the faux-symphonic recordings of ELP. I did feel like I was distinguishing myself from my peers by listening to things that were "strange." I eschewed punk rock, not that many of my friends were involved with listening to it. I was more impressed with bands that could produce an LP side-long piece. 

Now I understand that's no indication of quality. The accusation of prog rock's "pretenstiousness" is both right and wrong in my view. Yes, there is a pretentiousness to not letting the music fall in a 4/4 groove, or showing off chops more than playing something heartfelt. At the same time, I believe the most pretentious thing you can do is to play publicly and be really bad. I don't mean having an off night, that can happen to anyone. I mean being just plain terrible. That takes some serious self-centeredness to do that.

I still like elements of progressive rock, particular artists. There are some that barely qualify under that banner. I suppose broadly speaking Henry Cow qualifies as prog (some of the time at least), but they had very little in common with the previously mentioned groups. Or, how does one categorize the quirky Etron Fou Leloublan, or Picchio dal Pozzo? Or the crazy virtuosity of Area? Yet, if pressed for a single descriptor, I'd qualify them all as prog.

Which brings me to the Italian group Stormy Six. There are seven players credited on this particular album, one of which is Georgie Born of Henry Cow on cello. The recording dates to 1979, and I might have guessed as much. I might have also guessed they were Italian or French, if I didn't know. They don't sound American. One major reason would be the prominence of the clarinet on this session. He (Leonardo Schiavone) doubles on tenor saxophone too, but it's his clarinet playing that stands out. It's one of the first things we hear from the very start of the album.

The playing is sharp throughout, sometimes sounding challenging without necessarily flashy. I'm enjoying the record as it's playing, but I don't find the music to generally be very memorable. Maybe it's because the band doesn't tend to lean into any particular ideas for very long, musical materials come and go rather quickly. There's a light humor now and then, the music sometimes recalling tangos, marches, or Italian folk songs. 

Prog is such a 70s phenomenon. I guess there are still good examples today, I just don't largely know who they are. And maybe that's fine, that it's a music that was about being European in the 1970s.

VOTD 1/3/2023

 The Pyramids: Birth/Speed/Merging (Ikef)

Purchased at Fungus Books and Records

I've linked this blog on my Facebook page, so now there are more eyes on it. Will that influence my listening? What things might I choose because I know someone will be reading?

Not so much for the time being. I have a small stack of records and discs sitting here awaiting a spin or two, and I really must get to those first. Those include LPs by George Russell, Bonzo Dog Band, and a collection of cabaret songs by Schoenberg; also a CD soundtrack by Claudio Simonetti, and a 3-CD collection by Thomas Dimuzio. 

And this. I bought this last week at Fungus Books and Records, a micro-store in half the space upstairs where the Turmoil Room used to be. Fungus doesn't have a huge collection of records, but it's all prime stuff. The problem is, it's prime and vintage enough that many pieces are just more than I'm willing to spend. Yes it would be cool to have that original Evan Parker LP on Incus Records, but I just won't go as high as $200. And this is to say nothing of the copy of Sun Ra's Atlantis on El Saturn going for $2000. This isn't to complain that they're unreasonable prices given the market, I'm just not enough of a vinyl fetishist to spend that amount. 

I knew nothing about The Pyramids, but I knew it was right from the cover. I'm back to that topic again, whether I know if something is for me based on the name or appearance. Look at the image below to understand. 

This is a reissue copy, originally on their own in-house label from 1976. It's a period of time I find interesting, for both little operations like this (originally) and even bigger labels and artists.

I've just been reading on their Discogs page that the core of the band met at Antioch College in Ohio, while studying with Cecil Taylor. This really brings things closer to home for me, because David Stock told me he was responsible for bringing Cecil to Antioch. (David, who was a long-time Pittsburgh resident, and founder of the Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble.)  I think that's not just a story, but a succession of stories. There was one thing David told me that I promised I'd never say publicly, and I'm going to stay by my word. Otherwise, he admired Cecil tremendously, but also told me, "If I don't have any hair today, it's because Cecil Taylor made me pull it out."

Which reminds me that I played a gig in New York alongside Karen Borca, one time bassoonist with the Cecil Taylor Unit (and later in Jimmy Lyons' groups). I told her the Stock quote, and she said dryly, "Cecil made a lot of people want to tear their hair out. Cecil once started practicing in someone's apartment, and it made another tenant jump out the window! Thankfully he was on the first floor."

..none of which has really anything to do with the content of this record. Comparisons can be a lazy way of suggesting a group's sound, but I can't think of an easier way to describe this group as being part Sun Ra Arkestra (sans the charismatic, dominant leader) and the Art Ensemble of Chicago. At times funky, always with a trans-African aesthetic, and a fair amount of free blowing in between some solid composing. All players have their primary instrument with at least one other credit, either percussion or voice. One player (Margo Ackamoor) is mostly on flute. Yes, the dreaded "jazz flute." I don't mind it so much in a situation such as this, or in Sun Ra's ensembles. The flute recalls more ancient wind instruments, and is totally appropriate. 

I like it. It's worth a listen, if this record turns up. I'll definitely come back to it.

VOTD 1/2/2023

 Spine Scavenger: Weighted Ghost (Cylindrical Habitat Modules)

Purchased from Jerry's Records

So here I am again at my laptop, dear reader. Today I've been creating an arrangement of Frank Zappa's "Chunga's Revenge" for OPEK. It's an easy piece, though transcribing it is not made easier by the larger ensemble recording posted to Youtube (from the most recent box set Waka/Wazoo). It's not exactly the right speed/pitch, and even drifts lower and slower before the end of the recording. Maybe I'll skip that purchase. Who knows if I'll get the arrangement played? We have a gig at Con Alma on Feb. 4, stretching the limits of that stage.

I wanted to clear my head with something not so melodic or even nice. I'm something of an old school industrial fan and even power electronics fan. I suppose it's bit of a guilty pleasure. I mean, here I am, teaching at a music conservatory, university trained in performance and education, and I still like abrasive, primitive noisemakers. Go figure.

Spine Scavenger isn't quite those things, more minimal synth sound creation. It's plenty noisy at times, sometimes droney, generally slowly evolving. I wrote the other day about knowing on sight at one time if a record interested me or not; I think I knew this one would be for me on sight. Silk screen cover, credit is synthesizer and tape FX. Okay. 

Spine Scavenger is Aaron Dilloway only. I know very little about Aaron, other than he's one of these guys who was releasing music on cassette before the cassette resurgence of a few years back. He also releases a lot of recordings under a lot of names (with other people I guess). I'll check out more at some point, though part of the reason for writing these blog posts is to make myself listen to the albums that I already have on hand.

CDOTD 1/1/2023

 William Basinski: Noctures (2062)

Purchased at The Government Center

Dear Reader:

I have noticed that I've been getting one or two hits (or more) on each of my blog posts in the past week and a half. So, who could be reading this? Adam? Mike? Someone else? Or is it just me looking at the page to check on it?

I've been writing these posts quickly, with little editing and no preparation. I start during the time the record or CD is playing, but usually continue after it is done. 

As of this writing, I have not yet reposted the link to this blogspot page to social media, but probably will again soon.

Probably like many, I learned about William Basinski from a story on NPR (Weekend Edition, I think) regarding the five-CD release of his Disintegration Loops. That set of pieces, completed coincidentally with the 9/11 attack, involve the playing of analog tape loops and recording the results as the medium itself deteriorates. Some never really seem to break down at all; others slowly but surely change as the magnetic coating falls off the tape surface. It's a brilliantly simple concept, played through in what turns out to be a powerful way.

This CD issue includes two long works: the 41 minute "Nocturnes" from c.1980, and the 28 minute "The Trail of Tears" from 2012. 

I always bristle a little when I hear an interviewer ask an artist about his or her "influences." We both need to acknowledge our influences, but we're also not ruled by them. I say this because I do wonder about the influence of Brian Eno on the next wave of composers who would work in what we more-or-less now call ambient music. (Basinski himself mentions Eno's influence "at a tender age" in notes for his Music for Abandoned Airports.) "Nocturnes" may not sound directly like an unused outtake from Music for Airports, but the methods are (I'm guessing) related. They're both centered on use of analog tape loops. One big difference is that Eno's always sound crisp and clear, whereas Basinski's are intentionally muted, lacking in clarity, sound low tech. Another difference is Eno's overlapped loops nearly always sound harmonious, whereas Basinski's are more chromatically superimposed. It's all long and slow, less process-oriented as Disintegration Loops, dreamy and determinately ambient.

While "The Trail of Tears" isn't as low tech sounding as the previous work, it sounds as though he may still be working from similar sources. I'm certain there's digital technology involved in this work's creation, but sounds still maintain a soft-edged, analog haze. A phrase is repeated many times, giving way to a blending of the sounds into a droning chord. This eventually fades, making way for another long phrase, repeated, in a minor mode that gives it a more sinister tone. That repeats pretty much wholecloth without changes for the remaining minutes of the piece. That makes me wonder what his thought processes were for this piece, as it seems that either it's almost another piece, or that there's an extramusical reason the coda is included.