Morton Feldman/Howard Skempton - Triadic Memories/Notti stellate di Vagli (Atopos)

What can one say? I was looking into some analysis of "Triadic Memories" and came across this, from Jean-Luc Fafchamps in 1990:

These few notes, set in the extreme registers of the piano, define at one and the same time the ambitus - or melodic compass of the piece, its hesitating rhythm, and the intervals in the bass which will generate by successive developments and simplifications all the harmonic and melodic states of the work. All these material modifications (the changes in tessitura, the ever increasing number of superpositions of intervals, the aggregation of chords, the focalization, the sketching of melodic forms, etc...) are effected almost imperceptibly by means of varied repetitions, so that, in principle, the exhaustion by iteration of one state of matter gives birth to the next.

As with other renditions of Feldman by Tilbury in which repetition is a foregrounded element, most notably of course this piece and "For Bunita Marcus" as represented in his massive "All Piano", I find myself most struck by two facets of his playing that verge on the superhuman. One, his incredibly subtle variation of tempo in "repeated" figures and second, the possibly even more subtle variation of touch in those same passages. Feldman lays the groundwork to ease this approach, perhaps, by his moment to moment writing style, each set of notes (or individual note) being heard only in relation to those immediately preceding them (while at the same time, to be sure, serving as a building block of a vast tapestry, á la his highly regarded Turkish rugs). So, I assume, one's immediate memory of the spaces between, say, four notes, from several seconds ago remains fresh, more easily adapted. Add to that the memory of keyboard pressure and you begin to enter poetry territory. And of course, it's one thing to just vary matters slightly, another to vary them in a way that's somehow heartbreaking, thrilling, ecstatic, serene, etc.

Listening here to "Triadic Memories", 104 minutes of unfurled, extraordinarily beautiful carpet, I'm just in almost perpetual shock at how deftly, how caringly, how precisely and with what passion Tilbury weaves his spell. One almost forgets Feldman! Which is ridiculous but also a signal of how he and Tilbury meld so completely. As a composition, I actually prefer "For Bunita Marcus" and agree with Rowe that Tilbury's performance of it on "All Piano" is one of the high water marks of the 20th century. But this one isn't so far off, imho. I might add that I love the audible pedal pressings as well; they impart a frisson of the solid to such ethereal music. For what it's worth, I didn't detect any overt slowing of pace from his prior recording, though it must be there; there's no drag whatsoever.

If one must carp, I could imagine the recording sounding somewhat fuller. Splitting the piece is unavoidable in the CD format; I'd love a DVD of the event. But these pale beside the performance itself, one of extreme grace and depth.

One tends to forget the Skempton work! It's rather nice, single notes played somberly, having something of a drifting down quality, the "notti" of its title nudging one down dark corridors. There's almost a chorale-like sense to it and I think I'd rather have had it placed first in the recording, the way I believe it was at the concert (Richard or Alastair, please chime in).

But the Feldman I'll be playing and replaying for quite some time.

Atopos

Available stateside, while supplies last, at erstdist

Vanessa Rossetto - Dogs in English Porcelain

It's not generally available yet and I've no idea when or where it will be, but keep an ear out for this one. A 41-minute piece, it has something of an episodic nature and is somewhat less viola-driven than other works I've heard from her (though the viola remains very present, to be sure), ably mixing field recordings and electronics with the strings. Has a really good balance between harsher sounds and smoother, low drones, between crystalline tinkles and rough-hewn thuds, etc. It's the kind of work where the elements are not so unfamiliar, but their juxtaposition and embeddedness within the whole are beautifully handled, causing one to hear them as though new. The breaks between sections often arrive, perversely enough, just as one is really settling into a particularly inviting sound-world; you're suddenly jerked into a whole 'nuther place, initially disorienting, only to find that one, gradually, attains a different kind of depth and richness and just as one is....

Masterfully constructed and a joy from end to end. Hopefully this will make its way, in one manner or another, out into the world at large, soon.


Cor Fuhler - Wenen (Conundrum)

Talk about a quick turnaround! This was recorded on 1/22/09 and arrived in Jersey City for Valentine's Day. Solo acoustic piano (with electronic preparations), it's another good one. Long, thin drones (courtesy an ebow?) over delicate, Cageian prepared keyboard sounds, more insistent punctuation now and then, wonderful (almost motoric) plucking and strumming of the strings, twining in metallic spirals, expanding and thinning out again, beautifully concluded. More steady-state than Vanessa's, but just as sonically rich and driving. Very good stuff.

Available wherever Cor happens to be standing.

*****************

Also listening to:

Ali Akbar Khan - Traditional Music of India (Prestige,1995 reissue of two 1965 recordings)
Ustad Imrat Khan - Rag Madhur Ranjani (Music of the World)
Vadya Lahari - South Indian Instrumental Ensemble (Music of the World)

Let us now pause for a rare food post.

I'd had durian once before in my life, maybe seven years ago shortly after we moved to Jersey City. There was (unfortunately since replaced with a Target) a huge international foods store with six or seven ethnicities represented, including Indian, Filipino, Chinese and Japanese. I remember vainly trying to convince Linda to buy the bull pizzle, a coiled thing that I'm sure stretched out a good two feet unfurled, to no avail. In any event, one day I bought a durian.

It was a bit disappointing. It also, though no olfactory paradise, wasn't the stinkfest I'd been expecting, smelling only mildly foul (Those readers more familiar with the old Dafeldecker label than the fruit can remedy that situation here) However, the taste was kind of bland. I could get the sense of how a good sample was likely to taste, but it was a faraway glimmer.

Recently, however, I learned that durian was being served, scooped out of its rind, in Chinatown at the corner of Grand and Bowery. Glen, a co-worker who lives near there, brought in a container today.

Oh, man.

Durian does well when kept in a freezer, never actually becoming frozen, but acquiring the texture of frozen custard (it has a custardy texture anyway). You can slice off clean hunks of it, carving around the sizable seeds. Its taste has something of papaya to it but also a kind of tang that's unique, possibly off-putting to some. But if you can get past that, and the smell of the fruit (which can range from not bad at all, like today's sample, to utterly offensive), it's positively ambrosial. Even better than Marmite.

Early nominee for Food of the Year.

Haptic - The Medium (Flingco Sound System)

I understand it's early yet, but "The Medium" is the most enjoyable new release I've heard thus far in 2009. Issued as an LP with Haptic (Steven Hess, Joseph Clayton Mills and Adam Sonderberg) joined on Side One by Tony Buck and Boris Hauf and on Side two by Olivia Block, recorded in 2005 and 2007 respectively.

Side One is semi-dronish in nature, though richly layered and accompanied by all sorts of roughage. There's a fairly steady wash of brushes on cymbals and snares, mixed in with a range of organ-like tones and lower synth-y throbs. Those higher tones (hard to source--a guitar maybe?) coalesce into a simple but eerie three note descending pattern that becomes the spine of the piece, iterated languidly throughout. Rich, ringing, growling and gorgeous.

As fine as that is, it's on Side Two that some greater degree of depth is reached. Less steady-state, more a series of sound episodes emerging from a fog in irregular patterns. But the main new element comes from Block. I think I'm safe in assuming the source, as the muffled, vaguely sub-aqueous thuds and jostlings are not dissimilar from the sounds encountered in her (excellent) "Heave To" from around the same time. Combined with the again rich but subdued electronics and mallet-struck gongs, it creates a very mysterious, enormously evocative sound world, dark and mist-laden, filled with large objects just on the edge of identification. Crackling fire (?) and other detritus float past. Does anyone recall John Calvin Batchelor's amazing novel, "The Birth of the People's Republic of Antarctica"? (1983, before he oddly morphed into a radio host). If they ever film it, here's the soundtrack.

Even better, the first 100 copies of this LP contain a DVD with video by occasional Haptic collaborator Lisa Slodki alongside the same material (remixed?). In black and white, very textured and grainy, she's taken found images centered around close-ups of faces, mostly young, some of which seem to be from the silents era, who are performing actions of a generally subtle nature: half-closing one's eyes, flexing the corner's of one's mouth, blowing at unseen objects. One especially beautiful sequence involves a woman caressing her image in a mirror. These images are looped and merged with others that include light on water and a ring of slowly rotating light beads. As with Side Two, the visuals are oblique enough, containing enough uncertainty, that they complement the music very, very well. Any readers at all interested in Haptic are strongly advised to try and get the DVD while it's available. There's a short trailer from it available here

flingco

A baker's dozen from Creative Sources. Briefer write-ups than usual even, but hell, thirteen! In alpha order...

Tony Dryer/Jacob Felix Heule/Jacob Lindsay - Idea of West

Strong, dark-hued free improv from this bass/percussion/clarinet (mostly low-pitched) trio. Actually, the pieces are to an extent based on structures, per the notes, and you do get a cohesive feel to that effect. Calmly and intently played; not exactly my cuppa but they do what they do very well; listeners more in the post-free vein will be well served.

Jacques Foschia/Mike Goyvaerts/Christoph Irmer/Georg Wissel - Canaries on the Pole # 2

Clarinets, percussion, violin, reeds in the order above. Scattershot free improv, more jittery than the prior disc, from this Belgium-based quartet. Most enjoyable on one long track where a mic is hung outside the window of the recording studio--nothing earthshaking but it makes for a richer experience. Even less my cuppa than the above, but competent on its own terms.

Nikolaus Ģerszewski - Ordinary Music vol. 3

For string trio and double bass (with the Rodrigues' and bassist Hernani Faustino as well as the composer on violin). Ģerszewski has developed notation purportedly playable by "musical laymen" as well as professionals. Perhaps so, but the net result seems rather indistinguishable from any number of string works from the 60s on, interweaving traditional and extended techniques.

Jean-Luc Guionnet/Ernesto Rodrigues/Guilherme Rodrigues/Seijiro Murayama - Noite

Alto, viola, cello, percussion. Now this I can get behind. Two pieces that make strong use of exterior urban sounds--the musicians are clearly listening to their surroundings, emerging from it, reacting to it. Guionnet, happily, reins things in more than is often his wont (well, there are a couple of eructations...) and the others are finely tuned in. Really good work, highly recommended.

Magda Mayas/Tony Buck - Gold

I'm guessing that with Buck, Mayas is compelled to be more forceful and loud than she is in other contexts I've seen or heard her, but I prefer it when she's quieter, even semi-melodic. That said, the two live pieces here are strong enough, varied and the inside piano/percussion mixture is almost always juicy, especially on the second, shorter track, which is quite fine.

Abdul Moimême - Nekhephthu

A nom de musique, I'm guessing, Moimême has at a couple of prepared guitars in what might be called a primitive Rowe-ian fashion in the sense of minimal means and, as he puts it, "the dry output of an old valve amplifier". He works steadily and generally finds things of value, tending toward the dulcet and low-pitched. The shortness of the tracks (11 in 46 minutes) might act against him--I'd like to have heard several pieces developed at greater length--but as is, it's an enjoyable recording.

Toshimaru Nakamura/Mark Trayle - Stationary

I'm of two minds on this one. On the one hand, it's kind of like a more temperate version of the loud track on "between": rugged, irregular and interesting. On the other, the loudness and ferocity of that piece was part and parcel of its power and here, there's a restraint (which, of course, I normally admire) that seems a bit misplaced. I wanted to hear them more unleashed. Not at all bad though, and I can imagine this growing on me over time.

Paura - The Construction of Fear

A quintet with those Rodrigues' again, Alípio C Neto on soprano and tenor, Dennis Gonzalez on trumpet and voice and Mark Sanders manning the drums. To the extent they engage in incendiary free improv, it works very well, as well as anything in the area you're likely to encounter, due in no small part to Gonzalez whose innate lyricism is a lovely thing to hear. When they tone things down, it's OK, if less bracing. But a strong disc overall, well-balanced and imaginative.

Powertrio - What We Think When we Walk and What We Walk While Thinking

Could they have chosen a worse name? Eduardo Raon (harp/electronics), Joana Sá (piano/toy piano) & Luis Martíns (classical guitar) produce a good bit of spicky improv, leavened with some calmer stretches. The improv works reasonably well but, as with many such groups (at least as evidenced here), I find I prefer the music the "straighter" it gets; it seems to me that's where their strength lies, as on the title cut, one of two composed pieces (by Raon) and a fine one.

Dario Sanfilippo - Premio Malattia

Wielding a computer running a "Feedback Network Based Non-Linear Digital Signal Processing System" (sounds nimby-ish to me), Sanfilippo molds highly granular, diamond-edged wisps that slice through one's ears on one cut, linger on the outer edges of hearing on another. Fine control spiced with enough awkward surprise to keep things fascinating. Very nice job.

Udo Schindler/Margarita Holzbauer/Harald Lillmeyer - Rot

Soprano/bass clarinet, Cello & Guitar/electronics respectively. Quiet, scratchy improv. The one disc of the bunch that didn't do much for me at all on any level. Very tiresome.




Birgit Uhler/Heiner Metzger - Blinzein


Trumpet and soundtable (not sure what that is, but it makes raucous noise). Solid, harsh, drive-your-spouse-from-the-room racket, often tough and compelling, sometimes a bit scattered. By and large enjoyable, another good recording to add to Uhler's portfolio.

Giampaolo Verga - Fadensonnen

Ghostly pieces with sacred overtones for electronics, violin and voice. More of a spiritual tinge than I'm comfortable with, but carefully done, very serene with rougher undertones. Think variations on the quieter moments in George Crumb works like "Voice of the Whale", until the final two noisier tracks. Not bad.

The pick of this large litter, for me is "Noite", an excellent recording. Others are fine depending how much one is in to that particular branch of improv.

Phew!

Attended the and/OAR label showcase at The Stone last evening. Nice variety of approaches with several really fine sets.

There are certain sounds, certain combinations of tone, timbre, pitch, that simply captivate me from the get go. Billy Gomberg's set on computer and electronics served up an excellent example of this. The tones in question were reminiscent to me of early Terry Riley, say from Poppy Nogood through Shri Camel, with a dash of Jon Hassell and even, toward the end, a soupçon of Roger Powell. (Who's Roger Powell, you say? Well, he hadn't crossed my mind in ages but back in '73 he released a synth album called, um, "Cosmic Furnace" that I thought way cool at the time. Maybe still would, who knows? But some of Gomberg's intonations here managed to wrest memories of that LP from the depths of my cerebellum). He generated fairly pure tones sliding from one to another via abrupt snaps--I'm sure there's a technical term for this, but it's what I associate with analog synths like Riley's, where shifts in tone are accompanied by sounds I think of as gate openings and closings; I love that sonic sequence and they were all over the place here. It was very vaguely repetitive, no overt rhythms or patterns but one sensed they weren't far from the surface. He also injected enough sand in the gears to keep things well away from the too-smooth. Really enjoyed it, could've sat and listened for a looong time.

Next up was Sawako, who turned in a very delicate, oddly satisfying set using piano, voice and electronics. The latter provided a thin scrim of static atop which she played very soft chords, allowing them to melt into the static; very attractive. She used a good deal of silence between chords, sometimes several minutes, during which she'd place her hands on an area of the keyboard, often lifting fingers as though about to play, then not play after all, generating "ghost chords" in the observer's head. Additionally, she'd sometimes accompany these chords with hushed vocalizations, again blending beautifully with both the sustained chords and the static. Good stuff.

Then, to close out the first set, came John Hudak. I'd only seen him once before, maybe 8-9 years back, and hadn't followed his career at all really, so I had little idea what to expect, figuring it would fall somewhere in the extreme noise range. Erm, no. Lights were turned off and Hudak, sporting a red lamp attached to his head coal-miner style, crept amongst his equipment, situating himself with his back toward my section of the audience. I'm thus not entirely positive which, if any of the ensuing sounds were created live and which might have been prerecorded (I suspect the former). In any case, against a background of soft hiss, one heard very loud human whistling, performing what seemed to be a folk song of sorts, Asian sounding, highly amplified and closely miked, giving the impression of emanating from a large, unoccupied space. The whistle song was repeated. Many times. Many, many times. After 15 or so minutes, Hudak switched to vocalized song, in a language I believe I successfully identified as Tibetan. Again, of a folk and/or religious type, possibly Buddhist-related, again iterated. One began to get the impression, duh, that he was recreating a kind of shamanistic ceremony. All well and good, I guess, not enormously effective in The Stone's environs, at least for myself, though I suppose one could get lost in it if one has a more spiritual bent than I. Oh, eventually he stopped.

The second set began with Kenneth Kirschner (piano, electronics) and Asher (electronics). On the electronics front, they were apparently playing each other's generated sounds; I take it one would created the (as yet unheard) sound formulations, relay them to the other's computer whence he would process them and set them free into the space. This part worked very well, a subtle rustle of static, subdued tones and very faint radio talk that was quite moving in an odd way. Over this, however, Kirschner played delicate figures on the piano--simple, relatively melodic and repeating--which never, to my ears, integrated into the electronics in an effective manner. Maybe they were overly dainty, without enough gravitas. I could imagine Tilbury, say, taking a similar tack but investing the notes with the necessary probity. Here, they just wafted away, never convincing me.

Finally, we had the duo of Olivia Block (piano, electronics) and Adam Sonderberg (electronics). This was the set I'd been most anticipating, having been a big fan of the work of each for a while now, and they didn't disappoint. Rich, meaty, gnarly, beautifully structured. One of those sets that, when it begins, is almost awkward, the balance seemingly always on the verge of toppling, but then small cohesions develop, a fabric begins to unfurl and by the end of the piece, you realize how "full" it had been all along. Block spent much of her time inside the piano with mallets, tuning forks, sheets of aluminum, etc., but would also, on occasion, return to the keyboard for an exquisitely placed single note or two. These became something of the spine of the set, even if several minutes often elapsed between them; a frail stalk, maybe, from which all else sprouted. Sonderberg generated fields of hyper-intense detail, unfailingly fascinating both as gorgeous "objects" themselves and for how they integrated with Block. He periodically summoned up what seemed to be location recordings of a drum corps, replete with cheers [Adam informs me the source for the drum corps was, indeed, Olivia...I suspected as much! ;-)]. It's the type of thing that could be distracting, but he kept it at a volume and fuzziness level that allowed it to sit perfectly within the existing flux, also echoing Block's earlier career interest in forms of Americana. As i said, a very full piece, one I'd love to hear again.

A fine evening, all in all. Great to finally meet Olivia, Adam, Ernst Karel, Dale Lloyd, Billy, Seth Tisue, Sandra Gibson and Luis Recoder (the latter pair, the videographers responsible for Olivia's fantastic DVD release last year) in the flesh. Thanks to all.

Jason Kahn/Takefumi Naoshima - in a room (winds measure)

As I mentioned on Richard's blog, I wasn't at all sure at first whether or not the pervasive, fuzzy kind of hum one hears was triggered or, as he pointed out, the result of upping the volume on the room ambiance. Subsequent listening convinced me of the latter. Well, it's nice that when you title a release, "in a room", the room in question has an approximately equal say in things as the two humans, which it does, along with some activity outside the venue. In any case, a delightful recording, Kahn and Naoshima, often retreating entirely, elsewhere erupting in swirls of rubbed and tapped percussion and mixing board, though the latter is tougher to pinpoint apart from some ultrahigh skirling. Very enjoyable, rich recording that fits right in with my room very comfortably.

winds measure


Takahiro Kawaguchi - n (hibari)

Kawaguchi's credited with "remodeled counters" here. Not sure what those are except that they apparently tick. I suspect there's no overdubbing but rather simply a whole lot of counters, set to tick in (necessarily, one would think) non-unison. At its best, you hear the kind of phasing effect, rather like early Reich, which is fun enough if not so gripping these days. To my ears, the pieces would work far better as an installation one could walk through (and that might well be the source of these recordings, dunno), where the spatial aspect would lend a wavelike feel. As is, it's pleasant enough, not uninteresting, but not so convincing.

available stateside through erstdist


Rachel Shearer - Fakerie (Family Vineyard)

A 22-minute DVD with music. The visuals consist of seven lights set in a pattern against a black background that, intentionally I take it, causes one to think: constellation. The lights are actually filmed, if I'm not mistaken; you can occasionally just about glimpse some background near the one on the upper right. The camera lens causes them to gleam snowflake-like, with six points emerging as well as faint vertical artifacts. They're motionless throughout, brightening and dimming more or less in unison (though with some subtle fluctuation. During the first half and more of the piece, their change in luminosity seems to be triggered by the music which, at this point, is made up of calmly strummed and sustained guitar, tonal in character but free of melody or explicit rhythm. There's a certain charming naivete about this, as though the lights are alien creatures mimicking the noises you're creating as best they can. The music shifts a bit after midway through, becoming more abstract, higher-pitched and grainier, sounding in the no-input mixing board area and the relationship between it and amplitude changes on the part of the lights becomes less clear, though more interesting. It's an odd work in many ways--not as spacey as one might expect, seemingly open and accessible but not really giving you much in the way of easy footholds, a good thing. Worth checking out.

Family Vineyard

I just heard that Max Neuhaus has died.

Shortly after I moved to NYC in '76, I somehow heard of Neuhaus' installation on one of the traffic islands in Time Square. Rather, below one of the gratings where he'd placed a sound generator that emitted a non-stop, low level throbbing drone. I spent many an hour there, listening to the drone mix with the hubbub, watching the bemused looks on tourists trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Any time I was in the area in the ensuing years while it was active (it was disconnected between 1992-2002), I'd make sure to stop by.

I should have followed up on this way back when but didn't. I read of other works of his from around the same period like music broadcast in a swimming pool where, in order to hear it, one had to dive in. (I believe this is a photo from the event:
There was another, I think around Buffalo NY, where his work was aired on a faint, unused radio channel. You were to get in your car and tune in to the station. As you drove around the perimeter of the city, the sound would change, fade in and out, etc. Wonderful idea.

Most recently, and quite by surprise, I encountered his music at the Dia Center in Beacon where, if I'm not mistaken, a piece is installed on the roof, out of view. I was sitting outside on a bench with Keith a couple years back, not entirely sure if I was hearing echoes of trains or auto traffic or if the sounds were otherwise created. A little investigating led to realizing there was a Neuhaus piece in the vicinity, though hidden. Very lovely.

Thanks for all the marvelous ideas and music, Mr. Neuhaus.

***************

Over at IHM, Robert posted the cover image from Newhaus' record on Sony:


I recognized the image instantly though I don't own it and never did. Thinking about it, I realized I must have borrowed it from Adriance Library in Poughkeepsie around 1971-72 (All Music Guide lists the record as 1965--is this accurate? I would've thought later). It's a bit disgruntling, looking over the pieces, to realize I'd actually heard Feldman and Brown without having a clue who they were. I knew, vaguely, Cage and Stockhausen, having borrowed a 2-disc set of the former's "Atlas Eclipticalis" (entirely over my head) and the latter's Microphonie II (on Angel?), which I liked.

Got a lot of early exposure to things from that Library, even though its jazz and 20th century classical stock was pretty small, probably less than 100 LPs. Heard Dolphy there, "The Amazing Bud Powell", Honneger ("Pacific 235"), Scriabin, Prokofiev, Herbie Hancock, Barber ("Vanessa", something I should listen to again), others.

Four Esquilos.....


Michael Vorfeld - Ringing Light ----Graham Halliwell - On the Sensation of Tone (Esquilo)

Two minidiscs of solo work, not entirely dissimilar despite the difference in instrumentation, both dealing with sustained sounds integrating the pure with the...less pure. Vorfeld uses electric lights (and glitches thereof), blended with stringed instruments of his own design. The sounds themselves are lovely, the structure somewhat more diffuse than I found myself wanting. It was designed in conjunction with some graphic work and might well benefit being heard in tandem. Halliwell's feedback saxophone, heard here in work culled from 2003-05, gracefully intertwines strands of tone in lovely braids and then...well then, damage appeared on my disc (yes, I was momentarily unsure if it was intended or not, an occupational hazard in these fields). Through the glitch storm, I could make out the continued pattern for the last few minutes and it's quite attractive.

Each is a limited edition of 100.


Rebecca - Variation no 12 (Esquilo)

[Apologies for the range of images sizes; I'm going with the largest and/or clearest I can locate]

Kai Fagaschinski (clarinet) and Michael Renkel (guitar, zither) comprise Rebecca, here offering a 1/2 hour + performance from 2005. It's one of those welcome pieces that works as a whole rather than in an episodic fashion, meaning the listener has to "stand back" a bit, but the result is all the more satisfying when you do. Even so, there's a section about midway through that stands out for sheer sonic gorgeousness. Good fluctuation in approach, held my interest throughout. Fine stuff, recommended.



Tomas Korber/Utah Kawasaki - Pocket Size Isolationism (Esquilo)

(btw, there is still no better name, anywhere, than Utah Kawasaki)

From 2006, each credited with guitar, electronics and microphones. It's a tougher row to hoe than the Rebecca, full of insectile skitters that occasionally rise to the level of ear-rending shrieks, in some ways a fine (if unintentional) compliment to Rebecca, an acid bath after relative luxuriousness. The term cricketacious springs to mind. The ebb and flow of the form is more eai-traditional, washes and chitters blanketing one another steadily, with a few jolts tossed in. Good recording, though not as "whole" as the Rebecca, my personal favorite of this latest passel of Esquilalia.

esquilo

Ferran Fages - al volant d'un para/.lel (Etude)

One general aesthetic notion that unfailingly fascinates me is what I think of as the "pendulum effect", that is, when a form or individual artists swings between one (ostensible) pole and another, picking up information from each and applying it across town, so to speak. So, an abstract painter might return to a kind of realism, but it will be informed from lessons learned in abstraction and, inevitably, emerge differently than it would have otherwise, generally reinvigorated. Fages, for a while now at least on his solo projects, has "returned" (I imagine he never left) to a kind of traditional approach, the guitar played as a guitar in a fairly tonal, very seductive manner, melodic after a fashion, intuitive. Quantifying exactly how it's different from what would have transpired had he not been involved in freer formats is, to be sure, a fool's errand, but one has the strong sense that it's the case. The pieces here are quite overtly beautiful, somewhat self-similar, Fages spending much time in the lower registers, brooding, allowing tones to hang, contemplating them with a certain melancholy. Take Bailey at his most tonal then up that tonality by 50% and you're in the ballpark. Lovely disc, well worthwhile.

etude




Massimo Magee with Barry Chabala - Filter (Array Music)

There's relaxed and then there's relaxed. Magee trawls perilously near whatever the dividing line is (if it is) between purposive playing and, well, less than purposive playing. At least, so it seems to me here. If I don't listen closely, it sounds fine. If I do, I find myself wanting more cohesion, more intent. This may entirely be a failing on my part, seriously. This is one of those recordings that I wouldn't be at all surprised to return to in a few years and say, "Oh sure, of course, that's what was happening." For now, dunno. Two cuts here; on the first Magee is solo for some 26 minutes, with a bunch of noisemakers, some electronic, and a tape of himself on soprano sax recorded just prior. The often free/avant style of the sax bothers me on the one hand but, when sliced and diced, not so much. While there's some degree of layering, there's more a sense of a fellow wandering about the room, casually triggering this or not touching that, not very concerned as to the outcome. (Watch, I'll find out that the whole escapade was pre-programmed down to the second). Still, it's all about choice-making; the interesting thing for me, here, is that after several listens, I remain ambivalent about whether I think his choices were apt or if aptness isn't the relevant criterion. Barry appears (via long distance, non-synchronous playing, I believe) and adds some more "traditional" consistency with delicate notes amongst the Mageesian detritus. Intriguing disc....


Massimo Magee - Any Way You Slice It (Array Music)

Similar in some ways to the above, this one has a more linear character, more thoroughgoing structure, due in large part to the consistency of underlying, quietly noisy sounds and the more overt saxophonics (tenor and soprano) atop. Magee, in the notes, mentions using the recording itself as a kind of instrument, freely utilizing "start/stop/pause/rewind" which is apparent at several points. When the tenor, some 25 minutes in, launches into more traditional playing (David Murray-ish, that is) including, um, "Mack the Knife", it's more problematic, though I'd assume Magee acknowledges this and wants us to deal with it. Again, intriguing...

Both of Massimo's discs, and more, are downloadable from array music

Filling in the gaps. One of the phrases that kept returning to me last evening at a lovely performance by The Magnets (Annette Krebs/guitar, electronics), Magda Mayas (piano) and Anthea Caddy (cello) at the Stone. If you only isolated the sounds created by each musician, you might think that there's a real danger of a jerky, disconnectness occurring, but it never happened, not once. They unerringly filled the interstices left by each other, doing so rapidly enough that you barely had a moment to recognize that there may have been a gap at all. At least part of this might have to do with their musical nature. Mayas, in particular, seems to be an inherently extremely melodic player, perhaps filling a role here similar to what Tilbury did in AMM. She spent most of her time inside the piano (what keyboard work she did largely dealt with prepared strings--very beautifully handled, incidentally--save for one clear, low chord), edging often toward the harsh but always managing to ground things in at least a quasi-tonal framework. Caddy was at the other extreme, all extended technique of a generally abrasive (though quiet) nature, never overbearing, always seeking to insert her sounds into the thicker fabric spun by Mayas and Krebs. Krebs was the wild card, and a wonderful one, ranging through conversation samples, sine-like tones and various guitar attacks, both melding with her comrades and opening the unexpected door.

"Sustained" was the other word I kept thinking; how well both pieces (a longish one, about 35 minutes and a shorter piece of 10 or so) were sustained, how they floated. Very impressive, hope to hear more.

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Glad to see Pinnell has risen to my bait!

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Thanks for all the beauty and honesty, Mr. Updike.

A long while ago, maybe two or three years, I received an e-mail from one Lars Gotrich would had, as I recall, seen some mention I'd made about having attended a WSQ/Max Roach (with M'Boom) concert--I think the only such event--at St. John the Divine Cathedral in the early 80s and bemoaning the lack of a recording therefrom. We said that he in fact owned one such and graciously offered to send me a copy. That was the last I heard and, naturally, I soon forgot all about it.

Then a couple weeks back a package appears bearing two discs worth of music from the event courtesy Mr. Gotrich! Sounds very good and I'm a bit surprised how much I specifically remember, especially those piece from Roach's M'Boom ensemble. So, thanks, Lars!

He also runs a small CDR label and kindly sent along three recent releases, at least one of which might be of interest to regular readers here.


Nick Hennies - Paths (Thor's Rubber Hammer)

I'm unfamiliar with Hennies' prior work (percussionist with Weird Weeds and Jandek), but here we have a solo no-input mixer performance. Thought Toshi had cornered the field! It's brief, about 24 minutes, but very well structured and considered, keeping to a subdued volume range but allowing things to fluctuate-and-hold in a very natural series of patterns, balancing between changes in timbre and (slow) pulse. Kind of unusually for this area of recording, I can easily imagine myself hearing this live--there's a clearly apparent sense of volume here despite the quietude. Fine work, well worth checking out.


(Various) Last Winter We Didn't Sing (Thor's Rubber Hammer)

A compilation revolving around winter, fairly song-oriented, with at least a couple of people readers here will recognize: Greg Davis and Susan Alcorn. The tone is pretty consistent throughout: wistfully melodic, but the approaches vary nicely. A rich acoustic guitar piece by Scott Tuma leads into a very attractive, melancholy song by The Instruments (about whom I can't find much aside from their myspace page--excellent sound with e-piano, percussion, guitar, cello.voice, french horn)--beautiful song, worth picking up the disc for by itself. Davis' piece begins with a rich electronic assault before, very weirdly, segueing into "Silent Night". Yes, that "Silent Night"; very unsilent. Fabio Orsi's "Dead Leaves" is rather Eno-ambient in nature, but well done in that sphere followed by a lengthy and thoughtful pedal steel improvisation by Alcorn, maybe midway between Frisell and Connors. Other pieces by Chartreuse, Beggin' Your Pardon Miss Joan, and Nicholas Szczepanik.


Gene Janas/Jeffrey Hayden Shurdut - Ray-Gun (Thor's Rubber Hammer)
Nine tracks on a 3" disc, with Janas (bass, vocals) and Shurdut (Alto, trumpet, piano) screeching, gurgling and generally carrying on in post-free, skronk fashion, not a favorite avenue of mine. The vocalizations can be embarrassing ("Here comes de judge!"), as though going for something like the AEC's "The Spiritual" and falling way short. Take everything I don't like about Viz Fest (both have played with folk like Daniel Carter, Marshall Allen, etc.), and it's pretty much encapsulated here. For others, of course, this may be exactly what excites them.

All three available from Thor's Rubber Hammer

There's this blog back-slapping thing going on. I know because I've been so slapped by buddy and all around mordant wit Richard Harland Smith over at Movie Morlocks. You can peruse his plaudits here. Such honors rarely arrive without obligation, however, and each designee is asked, nay forced, to list five blogs he or she deems worthy. Normally, whenever I happen across one I think should be more widely read, I simply add it to the Links column on the right, so naturally, that's from whence I'll draw. (I'm guessing that if Richard knew I'd be using the term "whence" in my reply, he might've withdrawn the accolade.) I won't get overly reciprocal by log-rolling Movie Morlocks, where he contributes a couple columns a week, but you should visit there as well if you've any interest in film, particularly of the macabre ilk.

I actually don't read many blogs with any kind of regularity. Most of the music oriented ones will doubtless be familiar with anyone who visits here, so I'll only single out one. Robert Kirkpatrick's a spiral cage. Robert clearly spends a good deal of time thinking and listening and is forthright in his opinions. He even footnotes posts! He also contributes on a reasonably regular basis, something that can't be said for certain *cough* British bloggers whose appearance every other leap year caused them to lose out in this particular awards ceremony.

Is Edge a blog? Maybe not, but it's a fine site for those interested in recent thoughts on philosophy, science and even occasionally art from leading folk in various fields with a decided tilt toward the neurobiological and anti-mystical though opposing views are regularly expressed. This despite reminding me of U2 every time I drop in.

I've only recently begun to routinely read Ed Howard's Only the Cinema, but it's quickly become a favorite. Ed writes extremely well thought out opinions on a wide range of films. I get envious with people who write about movies with things like, oh, images, narrative structures etc. where I have to deal with thumps and sine waves.

Pete Cherches waxes sarcastic and indignant about food and other stuff over at Word of Mouth. He's pretty unerring on the gustatory front (as I type, I'm awaiting his arrival to venture out to what's purported to be the only Kenyan restaurant in the NYC area, right here in Jersey City!), very humorous and perceptive otherwise. Even if he doesn't like eai.

Geez, that's only four (like I said, I really don't peruse so many). OK, one more music one that doesn't get enough attention. Caleb Deupree's Classical Drone. Caleb, who I know from zorn-list days, writes extremely well (and with way more musical knowledge than I'll ever have) about various areas that sometimes touch on the eai-end of things, but more often reside around post-minimalist classical concerns. He also writes gently, a rare enough quality around these here parts.

OK, gentlemen, you have your assignments. Thanks for all the words.

Listening to the title track for the first time in a long while, I was struck how quasi-similar it is in structure to Terry Riley's "In C". Here, Eno creates a few very simple elements, sets of one, two or four notes and allows them to intermingle at intervals that are sometimes regular for a few iterations, more often irregular, the tonal values such that it doesn't matter much when they appear or how they overlap--it always sounds "good". He varies the timbre slightly over the course of the piece, but that's about it. Listening to it on old vinyl, one has the added enjoyment of multitudinous crackles, providing a fine, scratchy scrim over the smooth proceedings; helps the piece a lot, imho. His suggestion of playing the record at very low volume, enough that it occasionally falls out of the range of hearing, impressed me very much back then (and I followed those instructions sometimes) and stuck with me as a unique (in my experience at the time) and beautiful approach.

Once again, we have the case of names appearing on the back of the album who I wouldn't become familiar with for 10-15 years (this was recorded in 1975, I believe released the following year): La Monte Young, Henry Flynt, the Scratch Orchestra, George Brecht. Annoying, that.

Luckily for Eno, his "Three Variations on the Canon in D Major by Johann Pachelbel" appeared a few years before that bit of music became irritatingly unavoidable in mass culture. He makes the excellent decision, given the potential science lab nature of his dissection of it into constituent parts, to have his conductor, Gavin Bryers, render the piece in hyper-Romantic, slowed down lushness, providing an erotic contrast.


It troubles me no end to have a record that numbers Phil Collins among the personnel occupying a space in my collection, but I've learned to live with it. Always been half and half on this one. On the one hand, Eno has sidled a bit closer to a fusiony kind of sound here (there's even a track titled "Zawinul Lava") and that contributes a certain coldness to many of the tracks. Then again, there are some seriously great little riffs here, ones that adhere to the neurons with extreme tenacity. Can't tell you how often "Sky Saw" and "Sombre Reptiles" have been hummed over the years. Always liked the back cover photo, too:



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Just finished Graham Greene's "The Quiet American". It's no doubt been cited thousands of times before, but one can't help be struck by its prescience, not just for Viet Nam, but for the general US attitude in overseas murderous escapades, right up to today, that naive "innocence" and self-regard that inevitably results in people being killed. Great book.

Dan Warburton - Life in the Greenhouse (Appel)

The first of two releases on the new Appel label finds Dan playing his ax by himself in a "greenhouse" (judging from the cover photo, I don't think any photosynthesis was effected, hence the quotes) designed by Peter Coffin, amidst the quiet hubbub of the Palais de Tokyo in Paris. His playing isn't very much up my alley--too gestural and hyperactive for me, by and large. I might guess that he would've found the idea of playing more discreetly, allowing the ambient sounds equal footing, to be trite by this point and chosen a different path. Or maybe he didn't care and just felt like sawing and plucking away. To my ears, those moments where he grows more subdued and entertains a mere handful of options, pausing to listen to the space around him, work very well; wish there were more of them.


Jean Bordé - Morceau en forme de la (Appel)

A new name to me (hard to fathom or excuse given the range of playing companions listed on his myspace page), Bordé's piece for, I take it, overdubbed violin, piano and a pair of double basses is a wonderful, fascinating work. I detect all sorts of referents, from George Crumb to Simon Fell, but it manages a unique character itself, calmly striding from point to point, balancing itchy arco with serene piano chords, vigorous pizzicato with soft bells, constantly varying the attack and actually coming up with different angles each time that nonetheless coalesce into a very satisfying whole. Good one.


Matthieu Saladin - Experimental Music (editions provisoires)

Ah, our favorite trickster. When last heard from, he had the lovely idea of hyper-amplifying Cage's 4'33" to an extreme volume level. When he issues something called, blankly, "Experimental Music", you know something else is up his sleeve. Well...OK, it's game piece of sorts, consisting of the letters, in English, of the phrase "experimental music" being spoken (female voice), each on a 4-second. The mini-disc, therefore, contains 1:08, 17 4-second tracks. Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to play the disc on shuffle until the letters spell out the phrase "experimental music" in the proper order. That's it. I did this for a bit and, actually, the first time through, my initial two letters were "E" and "X". "Hmmm", I thought, "this might be easy." But no...So, needless to say, even stretching my Cagean ears to the utmost, it's not such a rewarding task. Obviously, to really do this, one mus concentrate, likely far more than one does when listening to even difficult music, mentally tracking the sequence of letters. I can imagine that were one to do so (and I admit that I doubt I'll ever get there), one might enter a kind of trance state where unusual things might be revealed. Maybe not. Of course, you're free to try it yourself, here. Do let me know what you experience.

By 1974-75, I was over my youthful love of all things Crimson ("Red" was the last album of theirs I bought). I was in school in Boston and, though I was seriously short of cash, I'd still trawl the local record stores and scrape up enough for the odd purchase. There was one in Kenmore Square I'd hit regularly. This one time, I noticed (how could you not?) the then-current Roxy Music LP with the semi-naked women on the cover; it intrigued me. Next to it, however, was displayed a rather fascinating image, that of Fripp & Eno's "No Pussyfooting". The Crimson-oid itch returned. I'm pretty sure I hadn't heard of Eno at this point but between the cover, Fripp and seeing that the album contained two side-long pieces, it was enough to get me to pull the trigger.

I'm not sure what sense it would make to classify this as "rock", but to the extent one does, it still remains a major favorite of mine from the genre and also served to open me up to Eno's work. Interestingly, though, not to his pop recordings. It wasn't until my baby brother Drew played those for me around 1980 that I discovered them.

Ah, that "No Pussyfooting" cover! I imagine the story behind it is around, but searching on Willie Christie, who's credited with cover design and photography, doesn't yield much of anything. I've always read it as analogous to Eno's later quasi-minimalist experiments. You're shown four images (including the gatefold interiors) that are structurally identical, albeit in two mirror-image pairs, but most of the items contained within, including the two people, are subtly shifted or exchanged for each shot. Captured me immediately, lotsa fun.

There's an exceedingly poorly written wiki article here that documents some of the methods employed for the recording and also, humorously, makes reference to the apparently still negative reaction to Side Two, "Swastika Girls", as opposed to the more easily digestible proto-ambient first side. Ree-dik-a-luss. For myself, it holds up just fine, Fripp in excellent form but, more importantly, Eno discovering a combination technique and general approach that he's exploited wonderfully, its excitement still clearly fresh.


The follow-up, 1975's "Evening Star" is a half and half affair. Side One turns decidedly in the direction of what would soon come to be called Ambient Music, taking the previous album's approach and softening it a bit, blurring its edges. Taken on their own though, without worrying about what they'd help spawn, the tracks are really not bad at all and, if one listens, there's even a spot of roughness here and there.

Still, it's Side Two that holds the attention. Firstly, what a title. "An Index of Metals". This may be nostalgia talking, but that is so cool. When it showed up in the local record shop (late '75, I think), the proprietor, Gary Velletri, a big Canterbury-head, pronounced that this track portended the death of rock. If only. You can almost see what he meant though, the way rock elements are splintered into small shards and strewn across a very bleak landscape. Fripp's playing is wonderfully flat and bitter, dystopic in the extreme. High, sine-y tones pierce the miasma, other lines crackle like faint radio bursts. I've said it before--it's not as though eai would have been different had this recording never been made, but it does have more than a little in common with some work of a couple decades hence. (Huh. I just noticed that Malcolm Le Grice is thanked on the sleeve! Interesting that a former roomie of Rowe's intersects here...). In any case, it wears very well, maintains a good, desolate, airless keel throughout. Might be my single favorite Eno-involved piece, for that matter. Unsurprisingly, I come across references to this piece probably less often than anything in Eno's oeuvre.

Last month, I had purchased two of the recent releases on Matchless, AMM's "Trinity" and the duo of Seymour Wright and Eddie Prévost. I enjoyed the AMM well enough, largely for some extraordinarily beautiful playing by Tilbury, less so for Butcher's integration into the ensemble. In brief, while it worked well as simply an improvising trio, if I came at it listening for AMM as such, I didn't hear that. I wasn't so fond of the duo. Prévost's approach in each sort of exemplified the poles I've come to expect (mistakenly) in his recent playing: with AMM, a concentration on bowed metal and smaller sounds, with Wright a kind of extension of his duo with Gare, ie, a post-free jazz drumming style. While I'd mentally leave a space for his more mechanistic experimentation as heard on "Entelechy", these were the poles, as it were, I'd anticipate hearing him operate within.

Shortly thereafter, Prévost's duo with Alexander von Schlippenbach, "Blackheath", appeared on the review list from Squid's Ear. I hemmed and hawed whether or not to go for it as I'm not an enormous fan of AvS by any means and guessed that the combination would be some well-played but ultimately not too interesting music. On the other hand, I feel generally desirous of hearing what Eddie does in this period to give context to the post-Rowe AMM era, so I pulled the trigger.

The disc is from a live concert, presumably presented in the order heard: Solo AvS, solo Prévost, duo, each between 20-25 minutes or so. As I said, AvS never did much for me. He played two nights at Environ once, probably in 1977. I forget if it was solo or with others, but what I do remember is that the violence of his onslaught left two keys of the house piano broken. After that initial set, he came into the office and haughtily said, "If you don't repair those keys, I'm not playing tomorrow!" Yeah, thanks, Alex. Kinda prejudiced me against his music after that, I'll admit. What struck me most about the piano set here was how much like Cecil it sounded--not insofar as a jackhammer attack or anything, very much in terms of melodic content. Much of it sounds as though spun off from the "Silent Tongues" concert or something, especially the "After All" sections. (btw, I forget if this was ever resolved or not--are those pieces Cecil's or Ellington's, or at least derived from the latter? I remember the issue coming up years back. In any case, they're a couple of the most beautiful bits of music I know) So, in a sense, AvS' performance here is good--certainly very accomplished--but overly emulative for my taste and nothing I'd be in a rush to rehear.

Ah well, I said, more or less what I expected, and settled back to listen to Eddie's piece.

Well.

I'm going to go out on a limb and state that, in my experience, I've never heard a finer, more perfectly balanced, more inventive drum solo in the jazz tradition. There may be a handful that, all told, equal it--I'm thinking of some Max Roach solo pieces I heard him play at the Brooklyn Museum, Jerome Cooper's early solo work, some Ed Blackwell--but this is one astonishing, and in a sense (for me) damned troubling work of art. I'll probably kick myself for saying this eventually as other things come to mind but at the very least, I haven't been so enthralled...not just by any percussion solo but by any new, jazz-oriented (as reasonably defined) piece of music in quite a long while. But there's one of the rubs, I think. I'm not sure that such a work could be created by someone in 2008 (as opposed to, say, 1958), something that would ring so true, who had not lived through something like what Prévost has. This is trivially the case, of course, but I mean more in the sense that he's used certain elements gleaned via the AMM experience to inform the performance, though they're not the obvious ones. In other words, someone who has operated strictly from a jazz tradition and whose last name isn't Roach, would likely have gone about this in a crucially different manner, one that would probably have weakened the performance, reducing it to something of a pastiche, however well played.

He begins with brushes on drumheads. Immediately, as is the case throughout, it's clear that he's concerned with at least three areas simultaneously: tone, rhythm and texture. I understand that some will immediately object, "Hey, any good drummer has the same concerns." Easily said, very rarely encountered, imho. One of the astonishing aspects---maybe the single thing that stands out--is how consistently he's able to incorporate all three into his playing, really something of a high-wire act that creates a constant tension/exhilaration effect that, of course, is a classic feature of great jazz. The sheer balance/variation axis is a joy to hear. But the central tenet carried over from AMM, I think, is Prévost's willingness to stay in one general area for several minutes at a stretch. Instead of quickly covering his entire set, he moves calmly from place to place, investigating each area in some depth before choosing to move on. So the brushes and skins are given play for the first few minutes, gradually bringing the cymbals into the picture, the initial feathery touch growing a bit more robust, all in quick, complex rhythms. About eight minutes in, he switches to sticks, concentrating on toms and cymbal, deepening the tone, engaging in melodic roll after melodic roll, nodding more than a little to an early inspiration, Ed Blackwell. The same rapid fire attack is maintained but with not a shred of flash; it's far too intense for that, far too concentrated on the narrowed focus at hand, here the toms and the huge range of tones available. There's some delightful interplay between sock cymbal and sticks on rims, the latter hit at various places along their length to impart yet another set of pitches. There follows a few minutes where the full set is brought to bear, again keeping the quick pace already established but still evincing a concentratedness as opposed to the kind of wild abandon more typically heard, an refusal to jettison the tonal and textural discoveries made earlier for simple combustion. He ends largely on cymbals (with a bit of bass drum), skittering through them, even engaging in a bit of shuffle play, finishing concisely, at the exact moment where no further thoughts are required.

Had someone told me I'd have this strong a reaction to a 2008 drum solo in the jazz tradition, even by someone whose musicianship I greatly admire, I'd've likely dismissed the notion. It would have seemed, to me, a near impossible thing to attain. Maybe Roach, if his mental state was healthier, could have pulled it off. I can't imagine a younger musician, whatever his or her technical abilities, even coming close. Susie Ibarra, maybe? Though I hazard that there would be less jazz in her playing. Others could doubtless do a fine job in their own way but making the kind of connection Prévost does here to the Roaches, Blakeys, Blackwells...I just don't think so, I think there would be a kind of artificiality in the approach that, whatever its technical merits, would tinge the effort irreparably. Prévost sounds utterly natural here, something that I admit, is more than a little confounding to me. It shouldn't be, yet it is. (Who should I believe, my premises or my own lying ears, as they say?)

This, of course, begs the question: Even so, is it of value today, in 2008, to do so in the first place? I doubtless part company with many of my eai cohorts here when I say, yes, I think it is. (Hell, if many of them get around to hearing this, they may well disagree with me as to its strength and beauty.) The attempt will probably fail 99 times out of 100 (more, I suppose) but when the mark is hit, it reminds one of what one loved in jazz in the first place, back when it was vital as a whole, and shows at least its potential viability still, even if that vigor is seldom heard. The tendrils may be sparse and weak, but there remains the possibility of breaking through the soil. Would I desire to hear Keith do a 20-minute solo that similarly referenced Barney Kessel, Charlie Christian and Johnny Smith? No, of course not. But Keith is Keith and Eddie, Eddie--there's no reason they should be subject to the same "rules". Art is too complex for that and even if one thinks that certain general ideas apply at a given place and time, it's heartening to discover major exceptions, to have one's premises healthily shaken. You can never have too much of that.

So, thanks, Eddie.

My lovely niece Tiana came down from Poughkeepsie yesterday for some art-gazing. We walked down to Chelsea, making a point to stop in at Black & White where my friend Derick Melander had a piece, a curving wall of folded clothing, arranged so the colors flowed rainbow-like, very entrancing. Strolled over to Pace Wildenstein for the Jim Dine show, Hot Dreams, a wild mass of photos, prints, writing, sculpture, books, etc that was overwhelming in a sense, but maybe a bit to glossily handsome for its own good.

We then journeyed out to the Brooklyn Museum which I hadn't visited in perhaps 15 years. Its extreme renovation back around 2003-04 had entirely escaped my awareness; it's not longer the pleasant but slightly stodgy place it used to be. There's an interesting (permanent) feminist gallery that includes Judy Chicago's "The Dinner Party", making for an nice contrast to their old stock, including the still-wonderful "A Storm in the Rocky Mountains" by Albert Bierstadt.

The most enjoyable surprise though (I hadn't checked their site before going) was a massive exhibition of the work of Gilbert and George. Now I've seen their work since the early 70s (heard it, as well) and probably seen an actual piece here and there but it had never really impressed me one way or another. Here, however, in large rooms filled with their enormous, color-saturated, wildly inventive panels, I have to say I was mightily impressed. The initial surface allure, the semi-Rohrschach'ed images, the in-your-face coloration all mask a great deal of subtlety in image manipulation as well as--ironic given their air of studied detachment--a great deal of emotion, from tenderness to rage. Additionally, the relatively rare monochrome pieces, like "Dusty Corners" above, added a layer of quietude and contemplation, very beautiful.

Too much to absorb in a single visit. I was refreshing my knowledge of them and their idiosyncrasies on-line this morning...Pretty amusing in their (so to speak) single-mindedness. More investigation required.....

Just watched Bergman's last film, "Saraband" (very, very beautiful) and wanted to say that there's not an actor around (still around, thankfully) I'd rather watch than Erland Josephson. Ridiculously great.