VOTD 4/29/2024

 Mayhem: Deathcrush (Black on Black)

Purchased used at The Attic

The spring semester ended on Friday and I had to travel east this weekend, Pittsburgh to Hanover to Baltimore and back. With those things now lifted (particularly the academic semester) I'm feeling some weight off my shoulders and I intend to post her more often. That again brings up the question of why even write here in the first, if my average viewing normally hovers around five. (Hello Jason, David, Adam.) As I've written before, I'm doing it in part for the discipline itself, in part of to give purpose to this large library of LPs and CDs I have amassed.

So here's this nasty little piece of business, a reissue of Mayhem's debut EP Deathcrush. Not in my general wheelhouse, to reference an overused cliché. I found the book Lords of Chaos interesting, though it's more of an oral/cultural history and true crime book than about the music. It largely tells of the Norwegian Black Metal scene, dating back to the late 1980s (this record was originally from 1987). I found the book went astray a bit trying to give some history to Paganism, and is best when it stays with the narrative of the scene.

The story, semi-fictionalized in the Lords of Chaos feature film*, centers on the band Mayhem, its bandleader Euronymous, and the increasingly destructive and violent activities of members of the scene. The music was only a component of what they were doing. Euronymous and one-time friend and bandmate Varg Vikernes/Count Grishnackh, started burning down historical old Christian churches. It's not a big spoiler to mention that Varg would eventually murder Euronymous in cold blood.

Never let it be said that I celebrate these things, but I do find the record to be an interesting cultural artifact from a self-created (albeit destructive) culture. I mean, what is it to try to make the most evil sounding music possible? Was that not enough? Was what happened with Euronymous, Varg, and other players in the scene inevitable?

I find a correlation between the destruction and murder by Varg and others with the January 6 rioters. That is to say, without wanting to sound like I'm downplaying what happened, it all seems to me to be cosplay gone to insane extremes. Did Varg and Euronymous really believe they were going to stage a war on Christianity? It's utterly ludicrous. I'm ultimately not certain what any of them truly believed, I can only read their bluster. A point made by one band member was, why burn down these beautiful, historic buildings? (He follows that with an especially racist comment, which I won't repeat.) Likewise, did these January 6 rioters really believe they could overthrow the workings of the United States federal government? That also resulted in people's deaths. It's amazing what people will let themselves believe sometimes, though I should never assume that I can't also at times be led to believe something beyond logic. I'd like to think I'm level headed and reasonably skeptical enough not to fall for ideas that are patently ridiculous. 

And what of the record? What of Euronymous' desire to make the most evil music possible? Well, it comes off as a bit conventional to my ears. Metal, like Electronica as a category, seems to have splintered into many dozens of descriptive sub-genres. I can't be entirely certain I'm using the right name, but Mayhem at this time sound like a bit of early speed metal with a certain hardcore punk rock flavor. That latter is due to the short song structures and decided lack of guitar solos. Somewhere in the book I think there's mention of them being fans of Dead Kennedys, in addition to bands you'd expect like Venom and Bathory. 

Weirdly, the opening of the record is a Conrad Schnitzler electronic piece, "Silvester Anfang". I don't know why or what the circumstances were. 

I can't help but get a laugh out of the band lineup and desciptions: Maniac on gutpuking, Euronymous on deathsaw, Manheim on hellhammers (later replaced by a guy with the stage name Hellhammer), Messiah on iron lungs (for the recording session), and funniest of all, Necro Butcher on 4-string crushfuck. Yeah, all right. The band went through a great number of personnel changes in its brief Euronymous period. This was all before Count Grishnackh came and went on bass, to form his own recording project Burzum, and of course the vocalist Dead. Dead's suicide is a major component to the scene's story. 

An original copy of this record in its first pressing (Posercorpse Records) has fetched over $5300 on Discogs.com, and even the 1993 Deathlike Silence Productions reissue has sold for nearly $1000. I imagine Thurston Moore has one of those pressings, who is a notably record collector who I've seen wearing Mayhem swag on more than one occasion. 

*Regarding the Lord of Chaos film: it was largely panned. I didn't hate it but I had the same opinion of it as My Friend Dahmer, which was based on a graphic novel I also read. The parts of each movie I liked the best were when the narrative stayed closest to what I understand the facts of the story to be. That is, when the story was clearly more fictionalized, I liked it less. I understand that it's a feature film and shouldn't be mistaken for a documentary-style depiction of events. Fictionalized elements are going to happen for the sake of a feature film. Nonetheless, grim as they both may be, the true stories in both cases are really interesting and maybe don't need much dramatic embellishment. 

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 dislike 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.