VOTD 8/6/2023

 Gesualdo: Madrigals, Book VI (Complete) (Columbia)

purchased at Jerry's Records

Gesualdo is one of those figures who helps make music history more interesting. Gesualdo (Don Carlo Gesualdo di Venosa) was a 16th century Italian prince. His first wife was notable for her beauty, so much so that other men (including her uncle, if I recall correctly) really wanted her. Gesualdo himself was supposed to have been a rather plain man despite his royal station. 

Turns out, his beautiful wife was carrying on with another man, and he found out. His solution? To pretend to go out on an overnight hunt, leaving her alone with her paramour. When he sneaked back into his bedroom, he found her in bed with another man, and he proceeded to run them both through with a sword. 

Being royalty has its advantages, though. Despite this event, it did not disqualify him from marrying again. It was not a particularly happy union, and Gesualdo became both passionately religious, and threw himself into composing. 

(That is the short version of the story the best I can recall; I'm always willing to accept corrections.)

Gesualdo's music is noted for being strangely unpredictable given the madrigal format (generally five voices), shifting harmonies in unexpected ways. This is not unique for the period; Orlando di Lassus had a particularly chromatic period of his composing. Listen to his "Prophetiae Sibyllarum" on the Lassus CD on ECM for the best example of this strange era in his music. 

The question for some over the years had been, did Gesualdo know what he was doing? Or did he lack fundamental skills? Step in Igor Stravinsky. When introduced to Gesualdo's music, he essentially said, "Shut up jerks, this guy knew what the hell he was doing." (That of course is very liberally paraphrased.) I don't live and die by Stravinsky, but if Igor says something's going on there, then something's going on there. 

Listening to this album, it's sometimes difficult to understand what the fuss might have been about. Not in terms of quality, but of its supposed strangeness. A cappella music of this period all sounds a little strange to me, this no more than many other composers going back more or less a hundred years from this time. Robert Craft, the conductor, believes Book VI is a sunnier set of works than Book V, which might contribute to its diminished weirdness.

Then of course there's Gesualdo's story, which I find interesting and adds to the experience of listening to this. I suppose I'm interested in how our perception of an artist might shift over time. Which sins are forgiven, which are not? Does time dull our outrage of the person's acts, or in some cases sharpens it? Gesualdo, talk about a pre-"Me Too" moment in time. But it was centuries ago, the great-great-great-great-grandchildren of anyone involved have themselves long since passed away. 

What will people think about Bill Cosy in a hundred years' time? Three hundred? Will he be remembered at all? Cosby didn't murder anyone (as far as we know), but he didn't also lash out in a moment of passion. He was a calculating serial rapist. I think it's impossible to consider his work in the future without knowing that, regardless of how long it's been since the actual crimes occurring. 

Miles Davis and Charles Mingus could both be abusive people, but their behavior has continued to recede into the past. In no way do they compare to Cosby, just that they could be bad men at times. Like Gesualdo, the life stories of Miles and Mingus are part of the larger picture, but the music rises above all else. 

Recent dream

 Noting this so I don't forget it myself.

This hot and muggy weather really messes with me. I don't sleep well, and sometimes I go into my basement and sleep in my daughter's former bedroom/my studio. 

Night before last I woke at 3am with an intense itching in my left ear canal, a very rare occurrence. I was in the midst of almost a fever dream, pieces of which I recall.

For some reason, I was explaining to Adam MacGregor the meaning of The Residents' song "Loser=Weed". Now the truth is, I don't know the meaning of the song apart from the obvious. But for some reason, I was pontificating on how it was about about a person who could raise his temperature up to dangerously high levels, almost like the Human Torch or Firestarter. 

This was happening on some sort of compound, a large one-story structure. I don't remember the nature of this building.

Also for some reason in the dream, I had to pick out a kitten. 

Put that in your smoke and pipe it, Dr. Freudenstein!

VOTD 7/23/2023

 Mere Phantoms: Famine for a Slow Death (Undesirable)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

Well. For the several people who have read this blog regularly, I've been absent for a couple of weeks. Part of it has been being busy; part of it has been, why exactly am I doing this again? I've written at some length in the past about my rationale and even my questioning of it, so no need to continue to go on about such things. I guess it seemed to me that there wasn't much point to writing things almost nobody would read. That hasn't stopped me from playing music that almost nobody will hear, but at least that's my primary artistic venture. 

But there's not point in abandoning this either, if I feel like it.

Obviously I've have more on the stereo than just this album, but it's something of a curiosity and therefore worth mentioning. I don't always want to be a sucker for unusual packaging, but here's something that turned up at Jerry's. Single sided LP with a screen print on the B side, clear-with-smoke colored vinyl, edition #31/40. And an insert using the cover image of Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation as a cover image with new text. Then I looked up that the band came from Pittsburgh. Okay, goodbye $7. 

They describe their sound as "grime". I suppose that's appropriate. The metal scene, something I am thoroughly not involved in, has splintered into so many sub-genres and sub-sub-sub-genres, who knows if I'm using the appropriate lexicon? 

With my limited capacity at comparisons (and comparisons are rarely fair), at times they sounded like Zao, a touch of Big Black here and there, and vaguely like Black Metal. That's based on my own limited listening experience, but I think it's also all true. Lots of feedback between songs, grinding riffs. There's a bit of what sounds like shortwave sounds (morse code, HAM operators) blended into the mix. I like that attempt at experimentation and think music such as this could use more similar attempts.

I've looked up their Facebook page. There hasn't been a posting in three years. They did some attempts at touring I suppose, listing gigs in Gainesville and Virginia. Locally, there are listings for gigs at Mr. Roboto and The Shop. Makes sense.

It's hard to keep bands going. It's work and there's rarely fair money to be made. Back in my Water Shed 5tet days, for some years none of us took any money from the band take, and it largely paid for our first CD, entirely our second, and took us to San Francisco/Oakland/Berkeley to perform. After that, fees came more and more out of my pocket. 

Who were these guys? Are they still active in other bands? They must have believed in themselves enough to not only released vinyl (more expensive than CD) but with labor-intensive packaging. Only the vocalist (rather typical shout-screaming) has a back catalog according to Discogs, and even then this is the most recent listing. 

Have they all given up? Nobody said this would be easy. Personally I'm in far, far too deep to give up. 

By the way, there's a French duo named Mere Phantoms too, who do interactive papercut shadow shows. I don't know who came first. 

VOTD 6/28/2023 #2

 Michael Abels: Get Out OST (Waxworks)

Purchased at Jerry's Records

Hello once again, dear reader, second time today. I find myself wondering why I'm doing this blog at all. It has nothing to do with the numbers of people who read it (most times five or fewer per post) because I really don't actively promote this page. It's tied to the fact that I enjoy collecting records (and less commonly these days, CDs) but I know that I've been accumulating a lot of stuff. These are things I've written here before. I guess part of this has been a personal but public journal, part of it analysis and history, part of it record review, part of it routine.

I mentioned in my post yesterday about being away from home this past week, in Oregon where I have family. I didn't mention that one of the things I came home with was COVID. I assume you've heard of it? Let me tell you, COVID sucks. Bad. If I felt this shitty after four shots (or five? I've lost track), I can only imagine what might have happened if I wasn't vaccinated. I seriously wouldn't rule out fatality.

I'm mostly over it and was able to venture out today for some errands. CMU has a vending machine that supplies a COVID test and two KN95 masks for free each week, so I have been well supplied and masked up with the good stuff today. I've also been cleaning my hands often. Previously, it was protection for me, now it's making myself safe for others.

I've written how Jerry's had a dump of a number of Waxworks vinyl releases, and to my surprise several of them haven't been sold off yet. The soundtrack to C.H.U.D. has been sold apparently, which I might have bought but I knew it would be 80s FM-synth stuff that I didn't need to buy. Maybe I'm wrong, I don't know, but too late to regret it now.

I decided to splurge on one more, the two-LP Get Out soundtrack by Michael Abels. Here's a case where I actually have seen the film, and remember small bits of the score even if it was largely unobtrusive.

If I'm remembering correctly, that was a great year for films. The Shape of Water, Baby Driver, Logan, The Disaster Artist were all better-than-average commercial releases, and I saw two of my favorite documentaries ever: I Called Him Morgan and Dawson City: Frozen Time. I highly recommend them both. 

Get Out (or at least the people behind it) accomplished something amazing: it was a kind of event film that harkened back to an older age of cinema. "It is required that you see Psycho from the very beginning!" shouted that film's ad. Get Out didn't do that directly, but it was a similar word of mouth campaign. I heard repeatedly, "I can't tell you what happens, just go see it" or "Don't tell me what happens!" There was applause at the end, even in the all-white Manor Theater audience. I might have one or two quibbles with it, but by and large it really is a good film, Jordan Peele's best so far in my opinion. I've liked the other two as well, but this one came as such a surprise, it packed a stronger punch. 

Michael Abels' score is solid. At times the music recalls Bartók or Penderecki, as good horror movie music is likely to do. There's occasional chanting, words I don't understand, that to me being more African roots to mind. I'm certain that's intentional. It tends to be broken into smaller segments, as opposed to the longer, flowing statements that Bernard Herrmann would create for Hitchcock. That's not a criticism, just an observation. 

I was thinking while I was listening, what would this music suggest to me if I didn't know the film? The feeling I had more than anything else was of loneliness. Perhaps it's due to the extensive use of solo harp. It's befitting, since I suppose the Armitage family preys on loneliness in the narrative of the film. 

When reading the credits, I noticed "orchestrated by." That credit goes to Drew Krassowski. Neither Drew nor Michael have more than a few discogs.com credits. I don't know much about either of them. Drew must be given much of the credit for the success of the music though. I'm sure the composer was specific about some of the orchestrations, but I don't know how much. It's very well orchestrated, occasionally bringing Morricone colorations to mind. I'm pretty certain it's all done with orchestra and voices, but in a few spots I wasn't initially certain.

Are there any film composers who do their own orchestrations anymore? Perhaps Howard Shore. Maybe John Williams. Hans Zimmer? Probably, though he's also involved with electronic sound design and production. The days of auto-orchestrators such as Morricone, Herrmann. Waxman, Korngold, has largely passed. I know one reason Herrmann orchestrated and even conducted his scores was to earn more coin out of the deal. Thankfully he did, because nobody could have matched his inventive orchestrations.

I think I'm going to have to sit down with this one again soon.

Oh, and as of today, Jerry's still has a vinyl copy of Michael Einhorn's Shock Waves score, which I recommend. 

And by the way, COVID sucks. Really. 

VOTD 6/28/2023

 Jon the Postman's Puerile: Puerile (Bent Records)

Purchased at Fungus Books and Records

Another vinyl oddity. Like yesterday's post, this has a handmade cover, rubberstamped. Befitting the artist, it appears to have been sent through British post in 1978. 

This turned up in the Fungus racks. What the hell is it, I wondered? I know a great deal, and if I don't, there's usually enough information on the cover to figure it out. This just had the title on the thin cover, no inserts, while labels on the record. 

Whoever was at the desk at Fungus put it on for me. Was it serious? One side, cut at 33 1/3, is a super sloppy, mostly spoken version of "Louie, Louie" with no attempt at recreating the original lyrics. And that sounded remarkably like Mark E. Smith from The Fall speaking at the beginning. It just keeps going and going and going, a real room clearer.

Side two was cut at 45rpm. Some moaning vocals, followed by super-primitive punk rock. 

I was almost surprised to find there there is a discogs.com page for this artist and release, and discovered that I'm missing the inserts with credit information. For example, that IS Mark E. Smith at the start of the first side. "Guinea Pigs" is/are credited with backing vocals on one song, and in fact I think it's a literal recording of Guinea pigs mixed into the song. 

So what was Half Japanese doing at this time? Their earliest tapes precede this, but their first commercially released records came later. No New York was released the same year.

I guess I'm trying to find a context for this record. There was a lot in the air at the time, and I think it's fair to say that punk rock was a much more vital cultural force in England than the US. JG Ballard said so. The Sex Pistols documentary, The Filth and the Fury, has some good insights as to why it all began too. 

And is this any more or less listenable than any Jandek record? 

One commenter on discogs: "This is arguably the worst thing I've ever heard on record." Not much arguing with that, yet here it is, 45 years after its release, and I'm trying to say something serious about this. Maybe there just isn't that much to say, and it's another snapshot of a time and place.

VOTD 6/27/2023

Spider John Koerner with Willie and the Bumblebees, also featuring Tom Olson: Music is Just a Bunch of Notes (Sweet Jane Ltd.)

Purchased at an export shop in Portland, OR

For the two-three people who check this blog regularly, you would have noticed my output of writing has gone from less regular to non-existent for over a week. I've been away from home, visiting family in Portland OR and vacationing on the coast. Unlike a generation that seems to want to publicize every movement they make and each meal they eat, I'd prefer to not tell people that my house will largely be empty for an extended period of time.

There's a fun export shop in Portland named Cargo, on the eastern side of the Willamette River. It's largely Asian goods, much of it clothing, Manga books, Chinese propaganda, the like. I didn't know they also carried a number of boxes of used records. I find looking through collections such as those more frustrating than ever. Everyone thinks they have treasures and charge too much money.

This record stood out. I'm always on the lookout for vinyl weirdness, and this immediately checked a lot of boxes. Handmade cover: check. Unusual location (Minneapolis): check. Strange title: yup. Three pages, copied from typewritten originals, with needlessly extensive liner notes: indeed. Price: $8. Sold. 

Music is Just a Bunch of Notes dates to 1972, which itself seems strange. Bona fide artist-run labels would be common in under a decade, but not so at this time. Thinking as I do, December 1972 was when the first record produced by The Residents/Ralph Records was issued. 

This record isn't nearly as weird (not even trying to be). It's largely charming, lo-fi folk-rock. Think lower-end The Band, that might put you in the right territory When I say lo-fi, it's not that it's grungy or murky. All the band cuts (voice, guitar, bass, piano, drums, often augmented by horns and strings) were recorded live. The voice is audible but a touch low in the blend, and more importantly could used  better microphone. The record is also underproduced to the point of making the silent time between tracks entirely too long, long enough that I wondered if i should pick up the needle and move forward.

Where it goes into stranger areas are the spoken word pieces, with Tom Olson affecting an exaggerated Minnesotan accent. In one, he depicts sitting at a red light hoping not to run out of gas (he does), in another he's on a boat that won't stop. Is he funny? Not even remotely, but that adds to the "just what is this?" weirdness vibe. 

I should be more specific about the cover. It's rubber stamped with magic marker accents. The image below is taken from discogs.com, but mine looks different. 

Here's an example of the specificity from the notes: "The room measured 15' x 30' with 11' ceilings and had plaster walls, skylights, and an attached six by four hallway/alcove. The control room was an 8' x 8' x 8' frame construction covered with wallboard, insulated and set in one corner of the room." Etc etc etc. More often I find records having too little data, but this is ridiculous. He lists all of the recording gear, microphones, mastering, budget, wholesale and retail costs. If this session was of major historical significance, this could be valuable information. Even then I would guess it's too much, and it's not a session of major historical significance. 

VOTD 6/18/2023

 Various artists: Musique Concrète (Candide)

Purchased used, not certain where

I've written before that I'll pretty much collect any early electronic music LPs if the price is right. I left the $4 sticker on the cover of this one, making it a prize find. 

The pieces on this collection are all from the French RTF studio, the center of musique concrète production in the early post-war era. The composers included: Pierre Schaeffer, Françoise-Bernard Mache, Michel Philippot, François Bayle, Luc Ferrari, Ivo Mallec, and Bernard Parmegiani. Schaeffer makes perfect sense, as he ran the studio. I know Bayle and Ferrari's names, the others not so much. 

The phenomenon of French musique concrète vs. German elektronische musik seems silly in retrospect. I have to check myself a little; the story of the French vs. German schools makes for an easy narrative, but the truth is more complicated. It ignores the studios and schools popping up in the US, Italy, Japan, and other places during the 1950s. If I'm teaching current (traditional) music composition students who have no sense of history at all, it does make for a convenient source of both a narrative and assignments. 

I had a thought while listening to this record. The early German WDR studio-generate works (entirely synthesized sound sources) are sometimes difficult to tell one from another, or at least whose hands are on each one. How do you tell one composer from another? There are ways in some cases, but the sound sources tend to neutralize the the differences. 

At times I could say the same of these works. When many of the materials consist of short edits of percussion sounds, frantically moving in and out of a sonic field, how does one composer distinguish himself from another? A reversed piano sound for Schaeffer sounds the same was one for Philippot. 

Or am I being far too critical? The same could be said of any genre. As I quoted Nizan Leibovich in a previous post, how can you tell one second movement from an 18th century symphony from another?

Listening to this, my mind seems to be leaning towards the questions more than the answers. 

What strange music this can be. That's something I find especially interesting about the post-war era, how far composers and other artists intended to take their work. It's so easy to say that this isn't casual listening, something you put on for "entertainment." These works aren't simple. Often the sources of sound are difficult or impossible to identify. It's an interesting collection though, and does demonstrate some of the variety of works coming from the RTF studio. Bayle's work "L'Oiseau-chanteur" adds some range to the works included. Its sound sources are largely traditional instruments, playing most likely composed passages, at times with quick editing of bird-like sounds and other things. (They happen very fast at times.) Several of the pieces have such fast editing, it all feels like the works have short attention spans. 

And yet, every one of those edits was work. It's SO easy to edit audio digitally now. I do quite a bit on Audacity and it couldn't be much simpler. And that brings me back to a point I've made before: one thing I like about this music is the sweat on it. It took a lot of work. 

The collection was compiled by Ilhan Mimoroglu, a significant electronic music composer and producer himself. He'd have an ear for collecting solid examples for an album like this.