CDOTD 10/30/2024

 The Residents: The Residents' Commercial Album (pREServed Edition) (Cherry Red) disc one

Purchased new through mail order

Back to writing my thoughts, autobiographically and about music. 

On the plus side, I played an exciting program last night of Sam Rivers' big band music. I'm tired today. I felt on focused but on edge all night; the music was challenging to play correctly and I felt a responsibility to do well. The concert was a success and received with enthusiasm. 

On the other hand, this past weekend was the sixth anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting. It occurred to me that I'm going to be reminded every anniversary for the remainder of my life. I don't forget but also don't need a reminder.

Then there's the election. I'm sure it has put a substantial amount of the population in a state of anxiety, myself included. I think Harris is more likely than not to win the election, so part of me is cautiously optimistic. And yet, I know there's an excellent chance Trump could win again, which fills me with tremendous dread. Not just because he's who he is (use your choice of descriptor here, I don't need to do so), but many people have placed so much of their faith in this awful, awful man. My wife warned me, "You need to be prepared for what could happen" without saying what that was. I knew what she meant. I told, I know I do. 

When Trump won the election eight years ago, I shut myself off from all broadcast news for four weeks and listened to the most severe, downbeat music I could find. Music that would normally comfort or console me wasn't right; only music that was bleak and severe felt correct in the moment. I think this time it could be doubly true. I have physical copies of albums by Swans, Khanate, Gnaw Their Tongues, Abruptum on the ready.

And if luck should have it that Harris wins? Then I could still listen to those things, but because I choose to do so, not because I need to. 

Tonight's selection falls under the category of comfort music. I've written about The Residents on this blog several times in the past, so I don't feel a need to fill in the complete story. They were something I discovered in high school. I've never lost my love of their early work, and in my opinion this is their last "great" album. In recent years I spun my copy of their subsequent album, Mark of the Mole, and I found myself enjoying it more than I had remembered. Nonetheless, I'm not a big fan of "storytelling through sound." That's even more true of their album Eskimo, an album I admire more than I enjoy. I'd draw a distinction between those albums and Not Available, which comes across more like chamber opera or cantata. 

Is there a more preposterous concept album than this? An LP of forty exactly one minute songs? There's probably some ridiculous heavy metal rock opera that's a silly take on, oh I don't know, the story of Gilgamesh or such that's...stupid. But forty songs on an album?

What's amazing is how much of it I find memorable. It's true that I spent a lot of time listening to it in my youth. I'm not willing to say that every piece on it is amazing, there are a fair number of quaint instrumentals that could have probably been excised if length was at issue. No doubt many of the pieces could have expanded into more traditional length songs. Despite these things, in the words of my friend Jason (who's probably reading this now), "It works."

There's some more serious musical muscle added to these sessions compared to other albums. The name Don Jackovich came up on previous Residents recordings prior to this; he's a percussionist who faded into obscurity after this time. (He died in 2019 at 66.) Fred Frith is the "extra hard-working guest musician" and his fingerprints are all over these recordings: bass, guitar (clearly the soloist on "Moisture"), violin. Fellow Henry Cow and Art Bears bandmate to Fred, Chris Cutler, adds some percussion, almost certainly on "Moisture" as well. Frequent collaborator Snakefinger plays some and sings one song. "Sandy Sandwich" was revealed to be Andy Partridge of XTC, who sings "Margaret Freeman". It's been known for years that Lene Lovich sang "Picnic Boy". (It's not hard to tell when you hear it.) "Mud's Sis" is now known to have been Nessie Lessons, one time wife of Hardy Fox, before he came out as gay. Hardy (who outed himself as the musical director of The Residents shortly before his death) clearly sings several songs. One of those songs is "Suburban Bathers" which it's more recently been revealed that David Byrne sang the accompanying vocals. The one I didn't know until just now is the Brian Eno played synth on "The Coming of the Crow". 

Brian and David don't add significantly to the album, but only adds to The Residents mystique. I guess it's their inside joke among those involved. "We had a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee on our album, and nobody knows it." Until recently. 

I have some of the pREServed edition reissues of Residents albums, and only occasionally do the bonus cuts add much the quality of original issues, other than seeing some of what the band left on the cutting room floor. Some of the pieces probably could have made the cut if worked on more, but there's nothing that's a bonus that I would substitute for anything on the original issue. The last listed cut on disc one was a contribution to the Miniatures compilation, The Residents' take on The Ramones' "We're a Happy Family" interpolated "Bali Ha'i" from the musical South Pacific (the latter not acknowledged on the original issue). It's classic Residents but also not appropriate for Commercial Album.

The funniest bonus is the secret cut at the end of this disc. As a publicity stunt to promote this album, Ralph Records bought forty one minute commercial spots on the biggest rock station in San Francisco and had each of the original songs played once. The cut here is the radio announcer introducing each song, by number. While The Residents were selling well for an obscure, self-released independent band at the time, I can't imagine this paid for itself in sales. 

Listening to it, I feel happy. 

CDOTD 10/16/2024

 Oskar Sala: My Fascinating Instrument (Erdenklang)

Purchased used at a Jerry's Records off-site sale

To again go autobiographical for a moment: I've just finished grading for the quarter. It doesn't put me in the mood to have the most faith in humanity. I know I shouldn't take these things personally, but I failed more students than usual this time. I have credible evidence of plagiarism in one case, who failed anyway. And even for some of the better submissions, too many of them don't follow simple instructions to submit work correctly. 

When sitting to listen and do my meditation of writing here, I could have either gone bleak, loud, and sever, or long, ambient, and less obtrusive. I realized as I looked over my collection of CDs how few things I have at hand that fall into the latter category. I guess I tend to like music with a lot of motion and tension. I've written about William Basinski and Maurizio Bianchi on here before, didn't want to go that route. Then I came across this and thought, yeah okay, not exactly the ambient album I was seeking but it will do.

When I attended Duquesne as a graduate student 2008-2010, I had to take a class in the history of electronic music. Each quarter we had to write a paper, more-or-less the topic being  pre-war the first quarter, post-war the second. I chose two German topics: the first paper was about the Trautonium, the second concerned the use and influence of the short wave radio in the music of Karlheinz Stockhausen. The latter came closer to being an actual academic paper, with a point of view and defendable positions. I doubt I have a working hard drive from that time to retrieve that paper, though I could sum it up if asked. The former was closer to being like a newspaper article. I earned my A. 

The Trautonium, an interesting side note in electronic instrument history more than anything I suppose. The instrument was first developed in 1930 Friedrich Trautwein. It's basically an electronic monochord; depending on where you pushed a wire into a metal rod would determine the pitch. Short leather straps were placed over the rod so the player could get a sense of where to land the pitches. The tone production was created by neon tubes, rather than the difference tone in the manner of the Theremin or Ondes Martenot. It produced a richer sound. Paul Hindemith wrote a work for three Trautoniums, played by him, the inventor, and Oskar Sala.

Sala was a student of both Hindemith and Trautwein, equal parts technician and composer. He took up the development of the instrument with a passion, creating many innovations such as the foot pedal for volume, and subharmonic synthesis. Rather than multiply the frequency of the signal, it's divided and provides a deep richness to the sound.

There is this matter of Germany in the 1930s. Hindemith's work was labelled Entartete Musik by the Nazi Party, and the composer went into exile. Not so with Sala. He was a bit of a nazi sympathizer. To write that now sounds awful, but it should be understood that there was a LOT of that going on at the time. Painter Emil Nolde believed in the Nazi's populist message, the appeal to the common man, until his work was deemed "degenerate" by the Nazis as well. He continued to paint in secret during those years, only working in watercolor for fear that the odor of oil paints would attract unwanted attention. It's also well known that Stockhausen was part of the Hitler Youth, but he wasn't given a choice. 

Sala lost many friends due to his decision to stay in Germany. He continued to work on his instrument, developing a version that was played on the radio. The final version of his instrument, the MixturTrautonium, is what's heard on this disc. It has a rod for each hand, and a large bank of dials and toggles for sound synthesis. The album itself is a studio production and therefor not completely a live demonstration of what one single MixturTrautonium can do. Delays, modulations, autoharmonizations, they all seem to be part of the instrument's package.

"Fascinating" is as reasonble descriptor. Its range of sounds is impressive, and it's clearly not locked into a strict twelve-tone tuning system. One of the pieces on this disc includes vocals, which are at times processed and modulated. Was this done through the MixturTrautonium? If so, it made an impressive audio processor as well as instrument.

I have to wonder: would Sala's technical work have been more recognized had he not chosen to remain in Nazi-era Germany? The instrument's unique interface inherently limits its use; a keyboard-based instrument would have been instantly playable by anyone. His synthesis techniques were decades ahead of what we'd come to know from Donald Buchla. 

So, yes, I'll take a defendable position. I think Oskar Sala would be better remembered for his technical innovations had he chosen to leave Germany. At least we are left with some evidence of his work. 

VOTD 10/14/2024

Stevie Wonder: Innervisions (Tamla)

Purchased at Dave Kuzy's yard sale

I'm back to thinking about the purpose of this blog. I guess it's partly autobiographical, so there's a certain "me me me" content that I push against in general. Maybe it's legacy, leaving behind more documentation of my life and thoughts. There's also the discipline of sitting and writing. 

I think I'm touching more on the autobiographical today.

Enough of obscurities like Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson and Henk Badings for now, onto music nearly everyone knows at least a little. 

Last week I saw Stevie Wonder at the PPG Paints Arena. My daughter Jeannine bought three tickets as a big "thank you" gift. We were up in the nosebleed seats, very stage left. Not close but it gave us a good birds-eye view of the stage.

The band: in addition to Stevie, there were two keyboardists, two guitarists, bass (who played synth bass on "Living for the City"), drums, congas, percussion, six background vocalists (five women, one man), and a five piece horn section (alt, tenor, bari, trumpet, trombone). My wife pointed out that we saw a band last year that had more people on stage, Parliament Funkadelic when everyone was on stage at the end. That is, until Stevie added a twelve piece string section and a conductor. Cred for keeping a lot of musicians employed. 

The tour theme (eleven cities at last count) was "Sing Your Song! As We Fix Our Nation's Broken Heart." He opened, solo, playing "Can We Fix Our Nation's Broken Heart?" It was....okay. I thought going in, this is a man who could do a long concert of excellent non-hit album cuts and have it be great.

Jeannine said there was a Simpsons segment (we frequently quote the Simpsons in this family) in which Homer goes to see Bachman Turner Overdrive at the county fair. They announce they're going to play something from their new album, and Homer yells, "TCB! No new crap!"*

Yeah. 

The concert was good, Stevie was in largely good voice. He struggled a little near the end on "Isn't She Lovely", fluffed a few lyrics here and there. I can easily forgive that, given his age, and how much music he'd have to play in a night. Strangely, he came on forty minutes late, played for forty minutes, and took a half hour break. Strange for an arena show, which are usually tightly constructed. It was announced he was feeling a bit sick and needed an emergency bathroom trip. It was still over two hours of music, mostly hits.

He brought on a guest singer, Sheléa, who sang a song that Stevie wrote for Aretha Franklin. I have to say, it was almost as if I was hearing Aretha sing it. Very strong. But then they played a song from her forthcoming album, and it just seemed to go on and on and on and...

TCB! No new crap!

While I was looking forward to "I Wish", it was "Higher Ground" and "As" (from Songs in the Key of Life) that were really the highlights to my ears. I found it moving, seeing and hearing the guy who created those pieces doing them in person, even in an arena setting. For as good as the concert generally was, I'm also simply happy we got to see him play at least once. It's the reason I paid $$$ to see Herbie Hancock last year.

After the concert, Jeannine reminded me that I had once checked out a Stevie Wonder collection CD from the library. She was asking about it, and I handed it over and told her, "You should listen to this. Return it to the library whenever."

You know, I've been a pretty good Dad sometimes, if I may say so. She remember "As" from that collection was also really happy he played it. 

This particular album was Stevie's first Album of the Year from the Grammys, and in the era of incredible creativity for him: Music of my Mind, Talking Book, Innervisions, Fulfillingness' First Finale, and Songs in the Key of Life. All were hit albums, most had hit singles, and were consistently creative. Quite a hell of a run, I'd say equal to any other artist in popular music. And for the first four, Stevie plays the great majority of the instruments in addition to composing and singing. 

One thought I had during the concert was, "Stevie sure likes his chord progressions." His songs often have dramatic chord changes and chromatic shifts. Still, "Higher Ground" is relatively simple harmonically and packs the biggest punch on this program in my opinion. While there's the clear influence of gospel on his songs, I guess I just like it best when he gets funky. 

Prince did something similar to Stevie, sometimes playing most of the instruments on an album. It's very impressive (and he was a great lead guitarist) but Stevie wins out in my opinion. 

VOTD 10/13/2024

Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson: La Jolla Good Friday I-II (CP )

Pretty certain I bought this at Jerry's Records

Let's see: it's on Paul Zukofsky's CP label. I'll pretty much buy anything on that label, price permitting. The releases are easy to spot, all (with one exception I know) have a silver cover with a colored rectangle somewhere in the middle. The single exception was a reissue of an Aki Takahashi triple LP set, which still maintained the rectangle.

Point two: an LP of electronic music realized in 1975. There's no indication in the liner notes what the composer used to create his work, but it's more than likely analog rather than digital. That's not critical but preferable. 

And finally...Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson? That name? Wouldn't you at least look?  Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson! 

So how was this made? There's really no information in that respect, only that the work was created at the Center for Music Experiment, UC San Diego. He cites a name, Warren Burt, who is someone I met some years ago through my friend tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE. Thorkell said Warren was "untiring in revealing some 'secret' patches..." (Warren, who I believe still lives in Australia, was one of the people who checked in with me by email after the Tree of Life shooting.) "Patches" suggests analog synthesis techniques. I'm thinking there's some combination of sequencer hardware and self-playing synth patching. 

As Victor Gauer told me, in the old electronic music studio at Pitt, one of the goals was to create autonomous, self-playing patches on the modular synths they had. He also told me he got Robert Moog mad with him when Victor told him the Moog wouldn't stay in tune.

As for Sigurbjörnsson's work, it's more or less one long continuous sound, though the tones fade in and out at the beginning, similar to breathing. It's imperfect as an LP and would have been better on CD format, and what's the likelihood that will ever happen? While new ideas, no musical lines pop up now and then, the work is in a constant state of transformation. Whatever might be happening, it's not fixed and will change into something else. As I observed about a Morton Feldman composition last week, it's not Minimalism, but it's not entirely removed from the ideas of Minimalism either. The piece isn't strictly a "process piece" such as Steve Reich's phasing works. Everything is in a state of flux until the end, which comes back around to the original tones. 

I'm reading on Wikipedia that Thorkell was a prolific composer and recognized both in his native country of Iceland, and also abroad. He also died in 2013. Hm. yet another composer who I wonder, does anyone perform Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson's music now? Maybe there's a bar somewhere in Iceland with a picture of Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson in it. 

VOTD 10/9/2024

 Henk Badings: Capriccio, Genese, Evolutions/Dick Raaijmakers: Contrasts (Limelight)

Purchased used at Jerry's Records

Once again, I find an old LP of early electronic music and I had to buy it. One of the two names is familiar, Henk Badings. I have other records with his works, and both if I'm recalling correctly have some sort of electronic component to them. Perhaps most strangely, he had several works premiered and recorded by the American Wind Symphony Orchestra, which was a Pittsburgh-based ensemble that would perform on a barge on the rivers. One work, Armageddon, is set for soprano, wind symphony orchestra, and tape. The 1970s were a wild time. The barge was like a big concert shell. When the group was discontinued, the barge sat moored on the bank of the Monongahela for years, rusting. What a shame. I would have loved to have a floating concert stage! 

Capriccio on this record is set for solo violin with stereo tape. The tape element is entirely synthesized sounds. I find it curious in that Badings' writing for violin seems very rooted in late Romanticiscm. It's described as a mini-concerto, with the tape clearly acting as accompaniment. Despite the sounds, the violin writing itself wouldn't be out of place in a turn of the (20th) century work.

The other two pieces find Badings working entirely electronically. There are pitches, identifiable notes, but these mostly sound less 19th century. I write "mostly" because there are passages in Evolutions with chord progressions that wouldn't sound out of place in Romantic composing, or even arranged for jazz orchestra. One movement (it's six short movements created as a ballet) sounds specifically jazzy and even silly in the way that Raymond Scott's electronic music could at times, years before Scott started building his custom electronic instruments. My guess is some of the passages were scored traditionally in advance of their electronic realization.

Dick Raaijmakers' is unfamiliar to me. I know that it is probably more difficult to establish a unique voice for oneself, but the work wouldn't have felt out of place being credited to Badings. (Maybe it's a Dutch thing?) The opening of his Contrasts sounds a shade silly the way that some of Badings' ballet does. Among the contrasts of the title is some of the time taken up by percussion, up-front noise bursts, with quiet, extended, slowly shifting tones underneath. 

What a time, that era of the 1950s into the 60s. Like I've asked in previous posts, who pays attention to Henk Badings' or Dick Raaijmakers' music anymore, other than vinyl fanatics like me? Does Badings receive any performances any longer? And indeed, is there a need to play his music?

VOTD 10/6/2024

 Negativland: Points (Seeland)

I can't remember where I bought this, possibly at Eide's used.

I went to see Negativland last night. I took my wife. She wasn't happy. 

I won't go into details. Negativland was here with a documentary film, Stand By For Failure. She had a complaint that the film was too indirect, didn't really explain what Negativland was/is. And I can see that if you didn't know anything about them, the film could be frustrating. It's no less collage-style than their music, maybe even moreso.

I liked the film. Won't go as far as saying I loved it. It drew a tremendous amount of footage based on all of them filming or videotaping many parts of their lives, particularly "The Weatherman" David Wills and his family. David has the distinctively nasally voice heard on Negativland records. The film itself to me looked like a document of shifting media, from 8mm home movies to VHS, reel-to-reel analog tape, to Pro Tools, then Youtube, TikTok. During Q&A, I couldn't quite form the question but had it in my mind, did the look of these different media sources influence the film itself? But I think that's tautological, of course it did. 

The first Negativland LP came out in 1980 with entirely handmade covers. I admire that. Consistent band member Mark Hossler was in high school at the time. He and David, who does not tour but appears via tape or Facetime, are the consistent through-line of the band. Mark said that Ralph Records was interested in reissuing the first LP, but that they refused. The original artifact with its hand-rendered covers, needed to stay just that. (It's been reissued on CD.)

And this, their second LP? I hear what would make them interesting on later albums. EZ listening (with Reagan samples), David's mother playing the accordion, tape loops and general weirdness. I feel like they're still finding their direction. They're playing around with tapes, seeing what they can create. 

It seems to me that David's voice, The Weatherman, is one of the most distinctive characteristics of what they do. He'd be far more prominently featured on their 1983 LP, A Big 10-8 Place. That LP was a huge hit at WRCT at the time, to the point where some staff would turn the monitors to WDVE rather than listen to anything on that record another time. I was there, I saw it.

Points is okay but far from essential. 2/3 of them are college-aged kids (plus The Weatherman) fucking around with tapes and seeing what they come up with. I don't remember this record being mentioned in the film. It's more finely honed than the first Nurse With Wound LP, but not that far removed: people who couldn't actually play instruments going into the studio and messing around to see what comes out of it.

I think it might want to track down an original copy of A Big 10-8 Place, with all its materials included.

VOTD 10/4/2024

Various: Happy Days original motion picture soundtrack (Funky)

I bought this mail order, I think through discogs.com

Happy Days! Those happy days, Richie Cunningham, the Fonz, right?

Nope.

In far less litigious days, somehow there was a not only the TV series Happy Days, but also an XXX adult feature with the same title, also dating to 1974.

I am aware of some porn-related lawsuits, such as the XXX-rated Superwoman becoming Ms. Magnificent on release. How did this movie happen, to say nothing of a physical LP copy of the soundtrack? No idea. Maybe someone in a position of power decided it just wasn't worth it. Or was it so low-end that they didn't know until the movie had come and gone? That seems more likely. 

I pulled out this LP because I have a not-so-secret love of soundtracks of disreputable movies. Italian cannibal movies, porn soundtracks, and...I fail to think of anything lower. The former might be lower on the rung than the latter.

Have I seen the porn Happy Days? Nope. I'll admit to being intrigued, but let's be honest: we know what's going to happen. There surely must be at least one scene of backseat sex. And I'm not just saying that; if I'd seen it, I'd admit to it. I recognize the name Georgina Spelvin on the back cover credits, that's as far as I go. 

The music is clearly 1970s recreated 50s rock-n-roll. This was surely all recorded quickly, probably in an afternoon. If you slipped a track from this onto a lo-fi 50s r'n'r compilation, little of it would be too much out of place.

The front cover is an image you'd expect, of body parts emerging from the backseat of a 50s boat of a car. The back cover is is as plain as could be, like a vanity pressing or song poem collection. 

The meta-narrative is surely more interesting than the original narrative. I mean, how interesting could the XXX-Happy Days be?

The final track, "Let Me Breathe" (credited to Marcus Anthony) sounds about is contemporary to the 50s as the Bee Gee's "Grease" is to that film's version of the 50s. That is, not in the least.

VOTD 10/2/2024

 June Chikuma: Les Archives (Freedom to Spend)

Purchased used at Jerry's Records

Oooh here I go again, blogging, blogging about listening to music, spending money on records. I can afford this and more but I have so much stuff, so many things, I am concerned with what will become of it all. The records are very resellable for the most part, with a few being particularly valuable. Even if it's just a few things at a time, I'm trying to move some objects out of the house so someone else (my daughter) doesn't have to deal with them later. I felt proud of myself for dropping off a dozen books and CDs at little libraries around the neighborhood, and plan to do more. 

Yet there I was at Jerry's yesterday, and decided to blow a few bucks on three albums, this being one. I didn't know the name, but the first thing that caught my eye was the track title "Pataphysique" and I knew this wasn't another indie-rock band that populates that section where I found this in the store. Okay, they got my money.

My first impression: I'm reminded of Raymond Scott, but grungier. There's a twitchy energy similar to his Soothing Sounds for Babies (or as I call them, Annoying Sounds for Parents). June's music isn't as clean or leanly minimalistic as the Scott albums, there's more composition involved. But similar to Scott, it's highly sequenced, driving. 

The other comparisons I'd make are to early 80s-era The Residents without the vocals (June's music has a sort of wackiness to it) and the Liquid Sky soundtrack, credited to Slava Tsukerman, Brenda I. Hutcherson, and Clive Smith. Don't ask me who's most responsible for that work. 

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm trying to avoid the lazy music critic reference of "Raymond Scott meets The Residents meets Liquid Sky" but damned if that doesn't at least put you in the neighborhood. And I'm not a serious music critic or journalist now, am I?

The final track on the LP finds her ideas translated to string quartet. It's pretty, but something is missing. The drive? The slow development I might associate with Reich or Glass? I posted a similar question when blogging about Simeon Ten Holt: is it really Minimalism if it's basically Classicism simply repeated over and over?

I think it I DJed, I would find this album useful, but nobody will every ask me to do that. At least the more electronic-type works. 

CDOTD 10/1/2024

 Morton Feldman: Triadic Memories (Mode)

I don't remember where I bought this

There are so may composers I admire whose music sounds nothing like mine, that I wish I could compose like them. Messiaen, Xenakis, at times Frank Zappa and Charles Mingus. I've accepted that I have my voice, modest as it may be. I'm comfortable composing largely in a jazz idiom, working with melodies and sometimes chord changes. If I try to write something that sounds like those composers, I will sound like an imitator at best, or more likely a lame, limp version of what they do.

Morton Feldman definitely fits that category, maybe more than any of them. I couldn't possibly compose something like his music and feel confident that it's anything but a bad version of what he does. I listen to the music, sometimes follow the score, and don't know how he pulls off what he does at times. 

In my more youthful days, I was fanatically enthusiastic about John Cage's work. I loved much of the music (still do) but I was really interested in the idea of creating systems for music making. There are of course many systematic methods in composition. I mean in the sense that the composition would have methods, have commonalities from performance to performance, but could also be very different in each performance and still maintain that sense of its composition. (I feel like I'm not explaining that well.) I loved the philosophy of Cage's music. His book Silence is absolutely essentially reading in my opinion, even if you don't agree with anything he writes in it. 

In my more advanced years I've been listening to far more Feldman, particularly the later works. He doesn't make is easy, considering their sometimes extreme length. I've had on this particular work streamed over Youtube several times now, with the score synchronized. I don't remember who the performer was; in the case of this CD edition, it's Marilyn Nonken. I'm not one to generally compare different performances of the same piece, but I hear subtle differences. It's probably the rhythm.

I also happen to have checked out the score from the library. It's there, you know? I hope a subsequent edition of this score has been corrected, because this one doesn't include the number of repetitions on repeated passages. I can see I've followed along in the past, because I wrote in pencil for a few pages the number of repeats, to give up at a certain point after writing "3X?". (I think it was two, actually.) An important detail to have been left off from the original manuscript! I understand John Tilbury recorded this work too, but used this edition of the score and only played each repetition twice. Oh well. 

One thing that has definitely been retained from the original is Feldman's strange chord voicings. Not the chords themselves, that can be anything in this chromatic world, but that he'll write F-sharp and A-flat into the same chord, next to one another. I'm no expert in writing for the piano, but I take issue with that in general.

Another curious thing: for majority of the work, the meter is 3/8 time, but the notes are expressed as dotted rhythms, or 4/3 polyrhythms. You have to go more than twenty pages into this edition to find a straight eighth note rhythm. What purpose does that serve? Couldn't it have been expressed another way? Is it to give the score a certain appearance? I know that's a factor with Feldman, the way the score actually looks. Feldman generally favors 3/8 or even 3/16 time signatures. But if it's in largely four, why not write it in four? The work would be difficult enough to play accurately without having to sort through that extra information on the page.

I've spent a great deal of time with other Feldman scores, quite a few of them now that I think about it. Most significantly, I listened and followed the score to his notorious String Quartet II with the running time of +/- five hours. I discovered something very unusual about the work. Every page has exactly three systems on it, with nine measures in each system. (Again, with the threes.) The meter in any measure could be anything ranging from 5/32 to 3/2 time. From one system to another, there might be a noticeable change; there's usually a more noticeable change from one page to the next if they're facing; with one exception, there's a dramatic shift in the music at each page turn.

It seems to me that Feldman creates a grid on which he places the music. The grid of one page could be anywhere from twenty seconds to thirty minutes (more or less, I'm doing this from memory), depending on what he places into it. You can't hear it, but it's lurking in the background. Whatever sketches he might have created leading into the creation of the final score, the page itself influences the outcome. It suggests to me that the music wasn't in a fixed state until the score's final rendering. It's possible you might notice this in a performance, if you heard a big change in the music as the page was turned. Just listening to a recording? There would be no way to tell. 

I've noticed this structure in other late Feldman scores, with perhaps greater variation and not so strictly staying with that form. Nonetheless, you can still see these things in the score for other pieces. Which leads me to think, if I studied the original manuscript of Triadic Memories, some of those same elements would also be present. 

I was thinking as I checked out the score from the library today, Feldman probably would have preferred that the listener not have access to the score and instead just listen. Then I thought, maybe most composers would prefer it that way. 

None of this actually speaks to the music. Without studying the notes on paper, I can hear much of his general intention with this work: taking passages with patterns and rearranging those patterns in subtle but clearly different ways. It's not so-called Minimalism as we have come to know it, but it's also not entirely removed from the ideas of Minimalism either. The first several minutes see the same six notes (four in one hand, two in the other) played in a strict order, but with the rhythms varied slightly with each measure. I think of this as almost being like a Calder mobile, with its shapes moving around one another, slowly changing the relationship while maintaining their shapes. Feldman himself was influenced by the patterns he noticed in the Oriental rugs* he had begun to collect, with patterns present but the shapes and distances subtly different from one to another. 

I think the title, unlike his more "still life"-like titles (Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello for example) is significant. It's not triadic at all, but does evoke a feeling of memory. He wrote, "This way of working was a conscious attempt at formalizing a disorientation of memory. Chords are heard without a discernable pattern." (I found that on the Universal Edition page for this piece.) Even when the piece shifts, changes, introduces a new idea, there's always the sense of working over the same materials within a section, of reorganizing the notes in ways that we can discern but never settle. You can hear the working over of similar materials within a time span, rhythmically it never "grooves." (I'm imagining Feldman bristling over the very description.)

The length at ninety minutes does not fit onto a single CD. There is a DVD audio edition of this. The String Quartet II on Mode had a CD release of five discs, or again one DVD. Feldman himself commented that he had heard many twenty minute pieces from other composers, so much of the music was twenty minutes. Does that suggest the length of a long playing record? I guess you'd need more empirical proof to conclusively make a firm connection.

Triadic Memories....memory is fleeting and not always accurate...events come and go through the lens of our memories...perhaps it's not the composer's intentions, but is the work imbued with a certain sadness? Sometimes I think so, sometimes not. It is beautiful and I will be spending more time in its world.

*I think the term is still considered to be Oriental rugs. My Uncle Jim was a noted dealer who authored several books on the patterns used by different nomadic tribes.