VOTD 4/26/2024

Karel Goeyvaerts: Pour Que Les Fruits Mûrissent Cet Été/Op Acht Paarden Wedden (Finders Keepers)

Purchased used at The Government Center

I thought I had seen Goeyvaerts' name somewhere before when I picked up this LP in the bins at The Government Center. Sure enough, two of his pieces are on this great collection: 

https://www.discogs.com/master/176137-Various-Cologne-WDR-Early-Electronic-Music

There are some of the names in the notes on the back cover you'd expect: studied with Milhaud, Messiaen, and even Maurice Martonet; had a correspondence with Stockhausen and produced electronic compositions in the WDR studios.

Looking over the LP, it looked close enough to the sort of thing I'd buy even if I wasn't entirely certain. The works on this date from the 1970s, so therefor are a later vintage than those earlier electronic compositions on the collection mentioned above.

The music produced in the WDR studios can at times be highly severe. Which is not to say grating or sonically difficult to tolerate (or at least, not always), but super-rationalized and very tightly wound. There are times when I love it; I find Bernd Alois Zimmermann's "Tratto" to be very beautiful and even strangely moving. 

I think I like the whole France vs Germany, musique concrète vs elektronische musik methods and composers' groups, they way I like visual artists in the 19-teens, 20s, 30s, writing manifestos. The Dadaist Manifesto, Surrealist Manifesto, etc. Generally young, passionate men (and it was usually men) each staking his idealogical territory. Looking back, sometimes the differences between Surrealist and Dadaist art can be slender to non-existent.

The differences between musique concrète and elektronische musik can be very pronounced, in both methods and materials. And yet, in retrospect, it seems silly why the two approaches couldn't co-exist all along, and it wasn't too long before they did. 

When I lecture about this history in my classes, I'm quick to mention that the broader picture is far more complex. Not all electronic and technology-based music came from France and Germany, not all composers adhered to such strict ideologies. It's a way to demonstrate the polar approaches of early electronic music composition.

Side one, "Pour Ques Les Fruits...", from 1975, originally released in 1977. I don't think there's an electronic component to this work. The music recalls Medieval and Renaissance musics, through the lens of what was then current Minimalism. The piece vaguely recalls "In C". Was Goeyvaerts influenced by this movement? If so, he wouldn't be the first "non-Minimalist' to try his hand at it; David Stock's "Keep the Change" comes to mind. While David was a sort-of "New Tonal' composer, he never was committed to the more restrictive Minimalist mold. 

The above work is significantly different than side two, "Op Acht Paarden Wedden" which dates to 1973. It is a setting for electronic tape and recordings of live instruments. The results are mixed improvisationally, and according to the notes a live performance version mixing the tapes is possible. It's strange in its use of scraping inside-the-piano sounds, contrasting with the more smooth-edged electronic sounds. 

When I consider both works, I wonder: what constitutes a Goeyvaerts composition? Is it worth the effort to try to find more recordings? I guess the question is fresh on my mind, considering my own self-reflections on similar topics.

VOTD 4/22/2024

 John Carpenter: The Fog OST (Waxworks)

Purchased used at The Attic

I have to admire John Carpenter. Consider The Fog: he directed, so-wrote, and created the soundtrack music. I see under imdb.com that he also appears as an uncredited extra. (Of course he does.) There are few others who can probably boast all of those roles in a single film, and who at Carpenter's level of fame?

Carpenter has scored many of his films, in that generally keyboard-driven creepy minimalist style for which he's known. Most famous would doubtlessly be his theme for the original Halloween. It's closer in spirit to the use of an excerpt from Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells as the theme for The Exorcist than, say, Goblin's prog rock of Deep Red  and Suspiria, or even Fabio Frizzi's music for City of the Living Dead and The Beyond. I read somewhere recently that Mike Oldfield has been told countless times how creepy his music is for the opening of the that film; he said in so many words he just wanted to create pretty music. 

I find it interesting that when Carpenter solicited Ennio Morricone to compose the music for The Thing, the score turned out to sound like a very good Carpenter score. What discussion there might have been between the two men, I don't know. Morricone was shown to sometimes be prickly when directors made too many demands on him for the style of music they wanted.

So here's The Fog. Not Carpenter's best film, but far from his worst. (Whatever that might be.) Great cast: Ha Holbrook, Adrienne Barbeau, Jamie Lee Curtis, Janet Leigh, Tom Atkins (Pittsburgh's own!). The first thing you hear on the LP is John Houseman delivering a brief monologue. Who doesn't want to hear that? 

The music is fine if also not Carpenter's best. I'm sure some would find his pieces a little boring, but I'm okay with a bit of musical creeping dread. The problem I find, which I surely have expressed in previous blog posts, is one of editing. It's pretty rare to listen to a soundtrack album start to finish, and have every minute of it be engaging. Inside the film it may all be perfectly fine, but as a separate listening experience, it's more than is needed. 

Nonetheless, I'll again express my admiration for Carpenter's gemsamkunstwerk. As the director, he'd already have his hands someone in all of the production, from casting, staging, camerawork, costuming, and other visual elements. Add to that the writing and the music composition, it's definitely his vision, like it or not.

I like these boutique-level soundtrack labels, specifically Waxworks and Mondo/Death Waltz. But that's an expensive habit, they don't come cheap. I mean, individually they're not so bad, but if the average for a single LP is maybe $30? That adds up. And there are reasons these LPs are so expensive: new, original artwork, often gatefold covers, and often multicolored vinyl variants. This one's pressed in a foggy white-on-teal. 

This turned up used, and I did't have any Carpenter on hand, so what the heck. 

"It's not the fog, but what the fog brings."

VOTD 4/20/2024

The Residents: Leftovers Again?! AGAIN?! (Cherry Red)

Purchased at The Attic for Record Store Day (fished in!)

This is hardly my first blog post about The Residents, and who knows, probably not my last. I have a Duck Stab! tshirt, which elicited curiosity from a younger friend and colleague. He just thought Duck Stab! was great but knew nothing about the source. I linked him to a Youtube posting of the album. In general, my friends under the age of 40, or jazz colleagues, know nothing about The Residents.

The Residents is in part the sound of my youth. I discovered them around 11th-12th grade in high school. I became fanatical about their music at the time, at a time I was off to become a music performance major. I'm sure I talked them up to the point of annoyance of friends, but that's the passion of young adulthood I guess. 

As the 1980s progressed, I found them decreasingly interesting. I think it's both a shift in their recorded output and the ongoing development of my own taste and interests. I continue to enjoy their music from their early days, particularly up to Commercial Album. That leaves several decades of their music I've only casually followed. Many people laud their God in Three Persons concept album/rock opera; I found it to be a bore. (Nonetheless, I wish I had retained the vinyl copy I sold off in a record purge I did years ago.) 

And why do I have to enjoy their more recent music? Aren't those early records enough? The fact remains, if I had an easy way to see one of their current performances, I'd still go. 

I have been dismayed by The Residents' recent cash grabs. There have been multiple repressings of their early albums, including three particularly fancy and expensive issues of their first three LPs. Even the pREServed CD reissue series, while welcome, has (to me) proven to be rather disappointing when it comes to the previously unreleased recordings. A few gems, but little essential.

If anyone reserves to earn off The Residents' legacy, it's the members of the band. That said, there's really only one of them left from the original group. The question of exactly what makes "A Resident" has been a matter of debate. 

Despite all of this, here I am again, picking up yet another album of unissued takes from the band's golden period of 1977-1985. The back cover reads in part: "As exhumed from a newly rediscovered MOP tape." I suppose. (By the way, MOP = what?) As a fan of this period and music in general, I'd warn that it's for fans only. That said, it does offer some insights as to the group's process, indirectly. "Better Off Dead" in part wound up as the instrumental track for Duck Stab!'s 'Semolina." "Hello Dolly (Etcetera)" is the basis of "Hello Skinny." "Flying (Parts 1, 2 ,and 3)"  demonstrate some of the components that went the final version of their version of The Beatles' "Flying."

Two disappointments: first, the pressing is not especially good. Too many pops and clicks. Secondly, the cover art is an AI generated image based on the previous cover. I just like the look of them.

CDOTD 4/19/2024

 Louis Andriessen: Writing to Vermeer (Nonesuch)

Purchased at the Jerry's Records dollar sale today

Okay. So much for self reflection and/or existential angst and/or self pitying. I posted a link to my previous blog entry to my Facebook page, and I think for a change too many people connected to it. So enough of that, and no porn movie soundtracks this time to be embarrassed about. 

I have probably written this, but I'm not much of an opera guy. I've been challenged on this before: "Have you ever actually gone to see an opera?" I was asked, by Erin Snyder. I guess I have, not a big production, and nothing like standard rep such as La Boheme. Hell, I was in a modern chamber opera once, playing soprano saxophone and interacting with the singers and dancers.

Part of my personal negative bias has to do with my previously-stated disinterest in vocal music in general. I mean, that's very broad to say, because I don't hate singers and I've worked with quite a few. I've always felt more attraction to the instruments and largely find them more interesting. The singer in rock bands is often the "front man" but also frequently the least interesting musician. 

Another element is that the period of grand opera, reaching its heights at the end of the 19th century. Meh. Again, it's too broad to say I don't care for 19th century European music in general, but it's also largely true. 

And 20th century opera, that presents other issues. I absolutely do not enjoy that really wide vibrato, operatic style. I don't think it lends itself well to modern works, particularly atonal works. As for 20th century operas themselves, there's that tendency the music to kind of go and go and go, shifting, but rarely settling. I understand the need to leave the aria and recitative form in the past, but maybe I'd like to hear a more defined song now and then. But again, it depends on the work. 

Louis Andriessen's a composer I know little about. When Philip Glass came to speak to the CMU music department, he was asked how he felt about being grouped with, and compared to, a particular set of composers over and over. He said, what he found interesting is how dissimilar his music was compared to Fred Rzewski, John Adams, Terry Riley, Louis Andriessen. (If you noticed he didn't mention Steve Reich's name, so did I immediately.)

I guess Andriessen's music sometimes touches on so-called minimalism. This opera wouldn't be one of those pieces. I guess if I must find a comparison, it would be more Neoclassical Stravinsky, but even that is strained. It doesn't sound like Stravinsky (at least much of the time), but you're kind of in the same neoghborhood.

I never said this blog was high end academic analysis. 

I notice his orchestrations, which sound good. Crisp. Nice bass clarinet part, something he may have in common with Stravinsky. 

Perhaps the Neoclassical side is appropriate for a work dedicated to and inspired by Vermeer. He certainly doesn't make the music sound in any way 17th century, but the classicism might be appropriate to Vermeer's highly ordered, classically arranged paintings. Despite my general preference for modern art, I always make my way through the maze of galleries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art to find the room with the Vermeer paintings, when I visit. They are stunning, moving, in ways I can't describe. They're so quietly perfect. It's difficult to believe anything can be that perfect. I find myself actually holding back tears when I view them. The nearby Rembrandts are great too.

Is it shallow to write that I basically like the music? But when would I ever have the opportunity to see this work performed? Composers continue to write operas. It's a big enough deal for current composers to have their works staged. What of this piece? Or Andriessen's two other operas? (Or more, this one of three in collaboration with filmmaker Peter Greenaway.)

Eh. time to get back to some work myself.

Self inquiry

 I turn 61 this weekend. That's not significant in and of itself, other than just surviving to this time.

I have been contemplating several issues in my life, as a musician and teacher.

Given: my work takes in a wide variety of areas. There are my various "jazz" groups, such as Thoth Trio, OPEK, Book Exchange, Flexure. 

More improvisational groups over the years, such as Morphic Resonance, Dust and Feathers, Throckmorton Plot, Sound/Unsound.

Groups that interface with tradition: Coal Train, Bombici, again OPEK. And Thoth. And others. 

This is to say nothing of my solo performances, or the Pittsburgh Composers' Quartet, or a variety of other groups I've done over the years. 

Then there are noisier collaborations, such as with Microwaves, Brown Angel, Spotlights. Mark Michelli, pianist for the Pittsburgh Composers' Quartet, asked me how I felt and enjoyed working with these groups. I love it, for one thing it's such a break from what I do otherwise.

My self-inquiry is, what do I do well? Am I offering something to all of these groups, or am I fooling myself?

I'm not passive-aggressively asking for validation through this blog. I'd say it's more self-therapy, though I'm wary of self-absorption.

I have been teaching at Carnegie Mellon University for some 18 or so years now. It's no less than twice as long as any job I've held. Some people (mostly men) hold on to a job for 35 years! Thing is,  I have little enjoyment in the position now. Sometimes it's great, and I get to interact with smart and wonderful people. (My 8am education credit today.) Sometimes I question why I need to be there. (My 9 and 10am classes today, the latter of which fewer than half the students showed up). 

Are they just as well off with an AI chatbot?

I know myself well enough to know that I could never sit in one place musically, my own interests are too broad. 

I can think of two models: Miles Davis and Sun Ra. Miles: he was constantly shifting, constantly moving. If you know his work, you can probably hear a recording of his and place it within a few years. 

Sun Ra is more elusive. His early work can definitely be placed in a particular time frame. When he reaches the early 70s, he draws on everything to that point in his performances. Could be 50s, 60s, 70s, or none of those. 

I'd say I'm more sympathetic to the latter, but I appreciate Miles' determination to keep moving.

I'll add to this, why does anyone need to be one thing? If nothing else, I refuse that. Nonetheless:

What do I do well? And let's assume I can figure that out after all these years. What if that is something that almost nobody wants to listen to?

What am I doing? Why am I here? And am I partially excited that I can't answer those questions? 

I have some serious issues to contemplate this summer. 

VOTD 1 & 2 3/29/2024

Forbidden Overture: Turned On! OST (Dark Entries)

Alden Shuman: The Devil in Miss Jones OST  (Janus)

The former was purchased at The Government Center new; the latter, I don't remember exactly. Possibly a Jerry's Records auction.

I hope I don't regret writing this blog post. 

I've written about the soundtrack albums to Cannibal Holocaust and Cannibal Ferox. I wrote something about soundtracks to disreputable films. Well dear reader, I'm going all in. What's a more disreputable film category than hardcore pornography?

Well, maybe Cannibal Ferox comes close, or exceeds. 

The industry of hardcore adult films is far more interesting to me than the actual product. After the breakthrough of Deep Throat, it grew into its own alternative cinema lane. So much so, that there's a book by Legs McNeil, The Other Hollywood. The adult industry had its own directors, stars, theaters. In the 70s and 80s, some now mainstream producers and directors cut their teeth in the porn world. Wes Craven was known to be one. Abel Ferrera, director of Bad Lieutenant, Ms. 45, and The Addiction, began as a filmmaker by creating the hardcore 9 Lives of a Wet Pussy(cat).* 

I find this all interesting, and as I said, more than the films themselves.

Most so-called adult films relied on library music. Music you could pay a fee to use, without the hassle of dealing with sessions and musicians and composers and rights etc. If the era is the 70s into the 80s, it makes sense that the sound was wah-wah chunka chunka guitar that everyone associates with sex films. 

Far more interesting to me is when the filmmakers decided they need an original soundtrack. It's a night out at the movies, right honey? Somewhere in my looking into these things, I read (or heard, a podcast?) that Gerard Damiano, the director of Deep Throat, thought that the thing that would put the movie over the edge was an original musical score. 

Really?

I can tell you honestly, dear reader, I've never seen Deep Throat. It's not an excuse. I have watched the documentary about the film. I also have a CD copy of the soundtrack to Deep Throat I & II. It's not good. "Deep throat/deeper than deep, your throat" sings someone earnestly. It's a bit...ick. 

So, where does interesting soundtrack music and the adult film world intersect?

I found this vinyl copy of Turned On! at The Government Center under soundtracks. A sticker on the wrapping reads "The complete original from the 1982 gay porn classic...". Well, always on the hunt for vinyl oddities, I couldn't help be curious. 

No, not that way. What was going on with this album?

What I hear when I listen to this with current ears, is the pre-MIDI sequencing going on. Whoever Forbidden Overture is (I think it's one guy), he was definitely listening to Kraftwerk. The mechanized rhythms and lines, the minimalism. There are no vocals anywhere, which might have been distracting to the....activities...of the film. There's an electric piano sound on side one that steps away from the Kraftwerk sound palette. Not out of place, just not part of the syntho-sound world that "Those funky German white boys" (Afrika Bambaata's term for Kraftwerk) used. There's some feeling of Krautrock throughout. 

Contrast that with the second LP of the night, the original pressing (no bragging) of The Devil in Miss Jones soundtrack from 1973. This is dark. Turned On! is upbeat, chugs along consistently in its sequenced manner, underscoring whatever male action was going on in the movie. (Which again, I've never seen it. Really. I swear.) 

The TDIMJ soundtrack has such a 70s vibe to it. If the credited Linda November hadn't sung the main title theme, Joan Baez wouldn't have been too out of place.

I have exactly one LP with Joan Baez, and it's a Morricone score to Sacco & Vanzetti. And even then, I bought it because there was an electronic instrument credited on the cover, the Synket.

The very fact of this LP makes it interesting to me. It's not the only porn soundtrack released in that era, but there aren't many. Bernard Purdie's Lialeh is a much sought-after record (reissued on CD in 2003). I have an LP for Happy Days, not the TV show (though obviously playing off of it) but an adult film from 1974 with Georgina Spelvin, the star of TDIMJ. It was its own industry, after all. 

What makes up this album? Piano (or organ) is front and center, with a string quartet and percussion; at times guitar, bass, French horn, oboe, flute other reeds. It's all very well arranged. Somebody cared about what went into this.

I'm certain this was arranged and recorded quickly, but it's interesting to me how much care went into this soundtrack. It's well recorded too, suggesting a good studio for production.

It's a bit on the "easy listening" side, but you know...what did this undercore?

Look into it yourself, dear reader. 

* During the pandemic lockdown, my wife and I went to see movies a couple of times at the Lindsey Theater in Sewickley. Something happened that I knew would happen, twice: we were the only two people in the theater. The first of those two times was seeing Abel Ferrera's documentary The Projectionist, about a guy who just loved movies and loved showing them. Including porn theaters. Look it up. 

VOTD 3/28/2024

 Cecil Taylor: Unit Structures (Blue Note/UMe)

Purchased used at The Attic

You know how you see those Joy Division Unknown Pleasures t-shirts everywhere? I had a potential student from high school show up in my class at the university one day wearing that shirt. African American. I asked him if he'd actually listened to that album. His response was, "Oh, um, I've um...been meaning to." Right.

Last year some time, I saw a movie at The Manor in Squirrel Hill, and a young man in front of me was wearing a Cecil Taylor Unit Structures t-shirt. I asked him if he actually knew that album, and his response was, "Yes, of course."

Was he more/less/as honest as the high schooler I had in my class with the Joy Division t-shirt? I'll never know. 

My band Water Shed 5tet opened for Cecil Taylor at the Three Rivers Arts Festival in 1997. We had no interaction with him, though I would later sit in with his rhythm section of Dominic Duvall and...Jay Rosen? I guess. Details are fuzzy after so long. 

Cecil Taylor. Someone I admire more than I enjoy, if I'm perfectly honest. I never had a particular taste for Cecil's music, but I acknowledge his significance. A connective tissue between Coltrane and the next generation of free players, for one thing.

What's going on here? It's difficult to tell sometimes, whether the events are improvised, composed, or some combination or degree in between. That blurring of roles and events can be exciting to me. "Unit Structures/As Of a Now/Section" has the most clearly composed sections, cells of ideas tossed around the players. The seven piece back whips up a fury at times: trumpet, alto saxophone, alto/oboe/bass clarinet, piano, two basses, drums. 

Cecil does demonstrate some frightening virtuosity at times; not just masses of notes, but very cleanly delivered (albeit unusual) lines. There's a post-Cecil aesthetic of improvising I don't particularly like, though. This attitude that everyone jumps in and plays plays plays plays plays, with little listening or crossplay happening. I don't mean to say that it's especially true here, but it seems like a real New York attitude. I once saw the David S. Ware Quartet (David having a brief association with Cecil) with Matthew Shipp, William Parker, and Susie Ibarra. Most pieces went like this: David would play solo for a time. He'd give a big downbeat, and the band would start playing. It was a dense wall of sound, everybody just playing without really acknowledging anyone else. eventually it thinned out, but it seemed as though nobody was concerned with what anyone else was doing. 

To be clear, that has nothing to do with this album. Released in 1966 and presumably recorded around that time, it is Cecil still in an early period. There's notes on the back in a tiny font by Cecil himself, and I don't at the moment have the patience to plow through them. No doubt I'll be returning to this album, maybe then. 

VOTD 3/25/2024

 Goblin: Buio Omega (The Complete Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) (AMS)

Purchased used at The Attic

Another day, another Italian horror movie soundtrack. 

I've seen Goblin play three times, or at least Claudio Simonetti's Goblin. Once playing live to the film Deep Red, once to Suspiria, and a third time a general program of their works. Just who and what constitutes the band Goblin depends on the time and place I suppose. The fracturing of this band would almost rival Yes at times, and I think there might have been more than one version of the band active once. The band names include those mentioned above, New Goblin, Goblin Rebirth, Back to the Goblin (yuck), Goblin Keys, and Daemonia. One can only imagine the legal meetings. 

The band I've seen puts Claudio front and center, with three other players who probably hadn't been born before the release of Suspiria. In their multimedia show, there's no mention of who is responsible for composing the works. I always assumed he was the primary composer, especially considering he created more soundtracks under his own name after leaving the original Goblin. But now I'm not so certain, but I'm not going to take the time to exhaustively look for composing credits on Goblin albums (if they even are listed). In part because, well, it just doesn't matter that much.

Something that interests me in these soundtracks is how they stand up to listening independent of the cinematic experience. (I'm sure I've written that on this blog before. With as many posts as I've made, I'm forgetting what I wrote each time.) Suspiria and Goblin's original music to Dawn of the Dead  both work outside the movie in addition to intensifying the experience of watching the film. If anything, seeing the current Goblin play live to Suspiria, I had the feeling it was the first time the music was loud enough. 

Buio Omega is another Italian horror film I haven't seen. Goblin's name alone was enough for me to buy the LP. Notably, this was created after Sinonetti's departure from the band. Other titles, depending on release and country, include Beyond the Darkness, Demencia, Blue Holocaust, Buried Alive, In Quella Casa, and probably a few others. Unsurprisingly, the titles suggest or even match other horror and exploitation titles. 

There's a few nice and interesting cues on this soundtrack, but by itself it's a little on the bland side. It's definitely lacking the in-your-face quality of Suspiria and Deep Red. A few selections start to sound like Bruford-style jazz fusion, but lacking the extreme chops of that band. Another cue, "Bikini Island", takes on a disco flavor. Well, it was 1979, though disco proper had already crested about a year before. This is after all a film soundtrack, so maybe they didn't anticipate someone sitting and listening to this as I am now. 

It's all not-bad, fills in another gap in my knowledge about such works, but not terribly memorable.

VOTD 3/24/2024

 Roberto Donati: Cannibal Ferox (Original 1981 Motion Picture Soundtrack) (One Way Static)

Purchased used at The Attic

Here I go again. I've tried to limited my spending/collecting habits due to the accumulation of stuff I have. I continue, if anything, to indulge my love of vinyl, and less often CDs. Nonetheless, when I make the rounds to the local record stores, I always say to myself: you don't have to buy anything. Don't buy it if you don't want it. And more often than not I go home empty handed. 

But you know, when the floodgates open, and there are multiple interesting or weird things for sale, one tends to lead to buying several. On this trip alone I purchased a soundtrack LP by Goblin, a Prurient picture disc, a PBK/Wolf Eyes LP (I'm opening for Wolf Eyes in April), Cecil Taylor's Unit Structures, a Black Leather Jesus 7", and the above listed LP. I'll make some future blog posts about some of those.

Once again I'm writing about the music for a disreputable film (to say the least): Cannibal Ferox AKA Make Them Die Slowly. On the cover there's a black bar across (the illustration of) a woman's breasts, reading "BANNED IN 31 COUNTRIES". In this case it might not be an exaggeration.

I've found I have a taste for Italian horror films, and sometimes I think I can identify one just on sight without knowing its origin. Some of it can be pretty strong stuff though. One thing they're not known for is humor. Italians apparently like the horror horrifying, their humor light, and never mixing the two. I'm sure there must be exceptions, but I can't think of one at the moment.

While I can take a lot visually, I've more or less drawn the line with Italian cannibal movies. They are particularly ugly. I've written on here previously about the soundtrack to Cannibal Apocalypse, another Italian horror film. Oh it's pretty bloody, but I don't regard it as actually a cannibal film. It's closer to The Crazies or 28 Day Later: a contagious disease gives you a desire to bite into another person's flesh.

Good taste it ain't, but films like Cannibal Ferox and Cannibal Holocaust are at least a step or two further. Americans find themselves in a tropical jungle, and encounter a tribe of cannibals. They do something dumb or violent, and the tribespeople exact bloody and violent revenge. Notable in atleast one of these are scenes of animals being slaughtered for meals. No thank you. 

There's an Italian flavor to the music, at least insofar as it's similar to other Italian soundtrack music I've heard. The "NYC Main Title" is funky and isn't too far astray from the Cannibal Apocalypse music. The band sounds like a small studio band: guitar (maybe two), keyboards (maybe two), occasional horns, drums. There's some grimy synth here and there, more-or-less rock instrumentals. Some of it is well played, occasionally it's sloppy. I'm sure the tracks were done quickly with few takes. The mix is a little odd, clear but poorly balanced at times.

When I'm gone, assuming I haven't eventually sold off or donated my record collection, someone's going to look through my soundtrack vinyl and I suspect will wonder about my mental health. Cannibal Ferox, Cannibal Holocaust, Cannibal Apocalypse, Autopsy. I've seen one of those, though I shouldn't have to defend that. It's all about the music, regardless of the source! Perhaps, I'm writing this both as a confession and a defense. I'm not insane, really. I guess.

I see the composer has another discogs.com credit, which I guess is another Italian cannibal movie soundtrack, Eaten Alive. Don't know it, will probably never watch it.

I was catsitting for my daughter recently, and found Lucio Fulci's The Beyond* on a free streaming network. (More Italian horror, if that's not obvious enough.) Even though I've watched it before, I sat and viewed the second half of it. It's weird, doesn't make much sense, but has an atmosphere of paranoia and dread. There's a scene with a man's face getting eaten by tarantulas for no reason anyone could explain to me. It might be disturbing if it wasn't so patently fake.

The final scene finds the main couple basically trapped in Hell. Hell in this case wasn't a fiery pit so much as a frozen wasteland, with bodies lying around in the landscape. What I found ridiculous is that those bodies were blurred, because I guess they were nude. It's so distant that it's hard to tell if you watch the unedited version. Earlier in the film, a teenager's head gets blown open with a shotgun, quickly but very graphically. That doesn't get edited, but some distant breasts and pubes can't make the cut. 

We are so screwed up sometimes.

*My biggest issue with The Beyond: not the lack of plot, not the fake effects, not the "Do Not Entry" hospital sign. My biggest problem is that there are NO BASEMENTS in New Orleans.

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 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. 

VOTD 1/31/ 2024

 Edvard Lieber: Music to Paintings (White)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

This is a record that made me reconsider my filing system for vinyl. 

Why? Because this is a "new music"/composer-released album. I have many (and undoubtably more on the way) "new music" LPs  with multiple composers, or interesting composer whose name I don't otherwise remember. How do I remember them, particularly in light of the collections on labels such as CRI (Composers Recordings Incorporated)? File the so-called "classical" section on its own, and make a single composer release (such as this) its own thing. How do I remember Edvard Lieber's name? Because he's in the composer section, and not sandwiched between John Lewis (MJQ) and Abbey Lincoln.

The first side of this LP is taken up with Lieber's (who is also the pianist) Twenty-four De Kooning Preludes. How much of it is written down on staff paper? I haven't a clue. Of its 21'24" minutes, no one movement takes up so much as as one and a half minutes. That seems very condensed considered the sometime large size of de Kooning canvases. Some of it has the clustery quality of Cecil Taylor.*

An aside: my wife and I have planned some vacation travels based on art exhibits. We went to Chicago to see a major Monet exhibit, for example. We also went to Washington, DC with our young daughter to see the knock-down, drag out de Kooning exhibit at the National Gallery.

And aside within an aside: we went to the Carnegie Museum here in Pittsburgh years ago. The museum has a small Jackson Pollock painting. We asked our (seven-year-old?), what does it look like to you? She announced in a loud voice, "It looks like CRAP."

When we took her to the de Kooning exhibit in DC, we told her: you're allowed to have your opinion, but do not announce out loud that it looks like crap. She abided, even if she was far less interested in the exhibit than we were.**

The second side of this LP is devoted to works dedicated to Pollock, Franz Kline, Edvin Stautmanis (a name I don't otherwise know), Elaine de Kooning, and Marcelo Bonevardi (another unfamiliar name). The last work is for tape with prepared piano, composed in 1979. 

It's a tricky thing, trying to draw musical inspiration directly from visual artworks. Early in my Water Shed 5tet days, it was something I tried to do. There was "Braque", an attempt to apply Cubism to some elements of the music; also "The Fate of Animals" for Franz Marc (unrecorded, and all the better because of it) and "Excavation" for Willem de Kooning. I could revive the latter. "Braque" was something of the band's signature work. How do you translate imagery into musical actions? There can be suggestions of movement, but there isn't a direct pipeline. 

The opposite can be much simpler: musicians as subject matter for paintings or sculpture. My father is a painter, and musicians are a frequent subject.***

Edvard Lieber. I guess I could do a web search, but: are these published scores? Can anyone with the skill play them? And where are you now?

* Another another aside. There's an argument that if you can improvise something that sounds like a fly-shit-on-paper score, why not just improvise it? Each has its merits, but they're not the same in my opinion. I get the point, though. 

** My daughter has grown into a kind, considerate, and generous person. I don't just love her, but I like her. I love her as her father, but I like her because she's a wonderful person.

*** https://johnopie.com/section/512064.html

VOTD 1/30/2024

 Guitar Roberts: In Pittsburgh (St Joan)

Purchased from Susan Langille at a gig

There's a student gallery, The Frame, at the corner of Forbes Avenue and Margaret Morrison St at Carnegie Mellon University. To the best of my recollection, I saw a single concert in that space: Guitar Roberts/Loren Mazzacane (Connors).

The time frame was early 1990s. Considering it's something like thirty years ago, I think I can be forgiven for forgetting some details. Loren was there performing with his wife Susan. I think it was just the two of them. Loren sat in a chair, and played cassettes for accompaniment. Everything was hushed, very quiet. Loren would sometimes hit the play button on his tape player, and he'd let out a crying bend on his guitar. Not a wail; that suggests something entirely too loud. Once in a while, Susan would sing quietly with him. She had no amplification, and none was necessary. The music was all blues/not blues. It was certainly blues-derived, but no blues as I knew it. 

The gallery sits on the bottom floor beneath student apartments. Some point mid-performance, there was a gushing sound coming from the pipes in the side hallway and stairs. It was thunderous compared to the low volume of the concert. I rushed to the stairwell to see if anything could be done; it was probably just someone flushing a toilet on the floor immediately above us. Not much to be done.

The music here, and in concert, sits somewhere between Ry Cooder and Jandek. Jandek is extreme in this case, and determinately doesn't tune his instrument in a traditional manner. Loren isn't precise with his tuning, but is in the neighborhood. Ry lives in a more traditional territory. His music can be similarly low key and beautiful in the way that Loren's is, but Loren seems more unfettered by tradition. He's a little like Albert Ayler on guitar, only .01 times the volume, and coming more directly from the blues rather than Ayler's gospel roots.

May I say I was transfixed? I loved every moment, except for the pipes. 

It's possible I interacted with Loren, but I remember buying this LP from Susan. She might have had several albums, but this one was titled In Pittsburgh.  Of course I would buy it. I can't recall if I asked her the reason for the title. She told me the printed address on the back (New Haven) was incorrect, and I had her pen on their then current address. No, I didn't mind if she wrote directly on the cover. In hindsight, I should have had both of them autograph it. 

CDOTD 1/30/2024

 Rudy Ray Moore: The Human Tornado OST (Traffic)

Borrowed from the library

Let me once again extol how great it is we have a decent public library in Pittsburgh. It is further enhanced by connecting to other regional libraries. The main branch has a highly respectable music collection, augmented in recent years by the instrument loan program. If you don't already know, there's also a table of electronic instruments that you can sit down to play. It's the only Minimoog I've had the chance to play. The instrument loan program gave me the chance to play with a couple of synthesizers I had considered buying, and then decided to save my money for others. Thanks, Carnegie Library!

This disc came directly off the shelves, and I think I've checked it out before. In recent years some renewed attention has been given to Rudy Ray Moore, due to Eddie Murphy's biopic My Name is Dolemite. I liked Murphy's movie and can recommend it. My understanding is that it was a labor of love; when shopping around the script, no movie execs even knew who Rudy Ray Moore was.

How little we know of our own culture! I know I lack the personality to be a movie producer, but if I was, and Eddie came to my door with a Rudy Ray Moore script, I'd say, Dolemite? The Human Tornado? Petey Wheatstraw? Avenging Disco Godfather? Have a seat Eddie, let's talk. 

I watched Murphy's movie with my wife, and then immediately looked up Dolemite to stream. Her comment: "That was bad." And in many ways, yes, it's a shitty film. Cheap (that doesn't bother me), poorly paced, beyond cardboard acting, a kung fu-fighting leading man who clearly can't kung fu. But Moore captured a moment, and gave the people (specifically African Americans) what they wanted. He helped create the so-called "blaxpoitation" film. (I like Roger Corman's preferred term, "Black action films.") I read that Murphy's biopic is pretty close to the facts of Rudy making Dolemite, which makes it an even more impressive accomplishment. 

One particular liberty Eddie Murphy took: there's a scene where Dolemite is being filmed in bed with a woman, and the crew is violently shaking the bed, the props, the scenery. That scene actually happened in The Human Tornado, Moore's followup to Dolemite. It's a forgivable stretching of facts. I've seen both, and could hardly tell you what happened in one film versus the other. 

Both Dolemite and The Human Tornado have original soundtrack music. Whatever the highs and lows of such films, I think that is also impressive. The music here is clearly quickly produced, production raw. The drums kind of sound like garbage, the mix so-so. Nonetheless it remains highly listenable. Give me some 70s funky grooves, throw in some Minimoog and wah-wah guitar, and I'm pretty much there. I'll take this over overly-sterile digital & MIDI production. I see no credits beyond Rudys name on the CD. 

Like many soundtrack albums, it's a complete document of the music cues, and a lot of it is throwaway when you're listening to it separately from the film. If you took the best music music from all of Rudy's films, you'd have a low-tech, grungy but great collection of music.

I'll share a tangential memory. This happened during an in service day at CAPA High School. For the arts faculty, that didn't mean very much, no students and just get your things in order. I had a VHS player in my room, which I could project on a screen. I had on hand my copy of Afros, Macks, and Zodiacs to watch. It's a two hour(!) collection of blaxploitation trailers, with Mr. Dolemite himself occasionally breaking and and telling his old dirty jokes. It's SO busy, it's headache-inducing. 

A group of us were watching this tape in amazement, one of whom was an African American custodian. He mentioned how he had seen the tape on my desk and had wanted to take it home. After we broke things up at the end of the scheduled day, I tracked him down with tape in hand and said, "Here. Just return it whenever." Which he did. Righteous!

To quote Rudy in this movie, I imagine him looking me in the eye and saying, "You rat soup-eating motherfucker!" 

VOTD 1/26/2024

 Werkbund: Skagerrak (Walter Ulbricht Schallfolien)

Purchased at RRRecords in Lowell, MA

This record brings several things to mind, and I'm sure at least one or two I've written on here before.

I was once at the Electric Banana with Richard Schnap. The Banana was a legendary club, an early "punk" club, though I think that had as much to do with them not caring who played there. My first time there, it wasn't as scuzzy as I imagined it might be, but it wasn't exactly upscale. 

Richard was a friend who I both cared for deeply, and also drove me crazy sometimes. He sadly died a few years ago, entirely too young. He was incredibly intelligent, possibly one of the smartest people I knew, but as a layman I'd guess he had some serious issues with depression. I'm sorry he's gone.

Anyway, we were having an enthusiastic conversation about that future; this would have been sometime in the early 80s. The gist of it was, didn't the 1970s suck? Isn't it better now, won't the 80s be so much better?

Let's call that both the hubris and naivety of youth. 

In retrospect, the 1970s seems pretty interesting (though there are some severely dark things in that history) and the 1980s seemed shallow, dominated by the figure of Ronald Reagan. I wasn't part of a scene that generally dealt directly with HIV/AIDS, which would cast an even darker memory for those who did.

What I was enthusiastic about though, was the boom in artist-released music. Independent music was booming. There were big indies, small artist run labels, and even microlabels of low-run cassettes. If you wanted to read up on such things, there were only a few magazines you had to follow. Op was one, which later lead to Option (the more commercial magazine) and Sound Choice (the more determinately independent, and shorter-lived publication). 

In that respect, it really was an interesting time. I was excited to buy severely low-run albums, take chances on artists I only knew by reputation.

As I've written before, what punk rock was to some, early industrial music was for me. And it couldn't have been more the opposite to what I was doing in my studies: first a saxophone performance major, later earning my degree in music education. Very studied and formal. Industrial music was primitive and requiring little to no musical ability at all. 

I should probably broaden the term though, because I don't mean just the likes of Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire, or Hunting Lodge. I mean independent "experimental" music artists, which would include Nurse With Wound, Organum, Asmus Tietchens, and even more abrasive power electronics noisemakers. 

At its best, it was a music of ideas, and of sound that stretched beyond the standards of standard instrumental technique. The was an embracement of noise, or all sound really. Maybe that's part of the appeal to me. 

I noticed this record on my shelf, when considering what to put on. I was a regular customer of RRRecords through mail order. I always sent cash, and he (Ron) always sent my package very quickly. Ron even included a track by Morphic Resonance, an improvisation group I was once in, on a tape compilation. I've visited RRRecords in person a single time, and it would have been 1987 (the cover confirms this). Ron liked this, suggested it, said that Asmus Tietchens was involved (something Asmus himself has denied). It's a numbered edition of 1000; my copy is 598. Ron's comment was, "Limited edition? I never press any more copies than that."

So part of what I'm thinking when I listen to this is, does it hold up? It's an overused word, but there's an abstractness to this that lends itself to sounding timeless. It's sounds and textures, sometimes sounding deep, sometimes thin, often echoic and distant. There's apparently some maritime inspiration for this music. It's a bit too active for me to describe it was ambient, it's not melodic, noisy without being abrasive.

The recording doesn't sound dated. For all its sometime noisiness, the production sounds clear or at least appropriate. I can't always tell what the sound sources are, and I like that mystery. Some of it evokes the rolling of waves, and there's some distant percussion, and the sound of what seems like a mechanical heartbeat.

At the end of the first side, a field recording of a military song is mixed in. Is it German? Possibly but it's difficult to be certain. What could be the reason? When I think of Germany and militarism, it's not a leap to think that this is possibly a comment on Nazism. But is it? If there are clues here, they elude me. 

VOTD 1/19/2024

 Olivier Messiaen: Vingt Regards sur 'Enfant-Jésus (Argo)

Purchased at Jerry's Records from the Duquesne University collection

So it's back to Messiaen this morning. If you hunt through the history of this blog, you'd find that during the pandemic lockdown I bought a 32-CD collection of his music, and made blog postings for each disc (two for Turnagalîla, if memory serves). I could have pulled out a CD copy, but thought I'd spin the vinyl issue. It's spread over four LP sides.

I guess I've planted my flag in the pro-Messiaen camp, though I fully understand the criticisms of him. It's my understanding that in France, you're picking a fight if you are critical of him. I don't care for that, if true.

As someone who's involved more with "jazz" practice than anything else, I feel like Messiaen is an excellent person to study. I suggest other jazz musicians and composers study the 4 Ms: Miles, Monk, Mingus, Messiaen. It's a simple alliteration, but it holds up. Messiaen's ideas about rhythm and modes should be considered by any serious jazz composer. 

It's not as though there's a hint of jazz in his music, though. Heck, even his wind ensemble works don't include any saxophones, much to my disappointment. Messiaen never entirely loses the idea of melody, which may be one reason I enjoy his music as much as I do. Sometimes in particular movements of this piece, I just don't know where he's coming from or where he's going (not necessarily a bad thing); at other times, the writing is exquisitely beautiful. 

Someone added a newspaper clipping about Messiaen in this box. I assume it's from the New York Times. Under his picture, there's the line: "His is essentially the music of meditation". Well, I suppose that's true, and more obviously true of his keyboard music than his orchestral. Much of this is agitated and active though, not what most people would consider to be meditative. I think my definition of what "meditative" means might be a bit different than the writer's. I consider it to mean intensely focused concentration, which is hardly the same as relaxation and quietude. I try to achieve a kind of meditation when improvising.

In this way, isn't all music some form of meditation?