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 (I'm guessing that if Richard knew I'd be using the term "whence" in my reply, he might've withdrawn the accolade.)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:



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

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.

Plopping into bed last evening, I switched on the TV and found myself near the beginning of a documentary or sorts on The Who, "Amazing Journey", I think it was called, from 2007. Now, I was only a bit of a fan in my teens, owning only "Tommy", iirc, seeing them once live at Tanglewood in 1971 (sharing the bill with Jethro Tull and It's a Beautiful Day, both of whom I probably preferred) but friends of mine, the Steins, were Who fanatics. They were also fledgling filmmakers and, that day, we went around back of the stage to the trailers (you could do so then without fear of being tossed bodily by superstar protection), chatted with Entwhistle (very pleasant) and they got Daltry to take their camera (Super 8?) into the trailer to film goings on within. This led, eventually, to Jeff Stein filming "The Kids Are Alright".

I never saw that movie until a couple years ago when a co-worker happened to bring in the DVD, which I borrowed. It was interesting, kinda, especially the earlier footage, less so post 1970 or so. I never could tolerate Daltry, but the rest of the band was relatively OK. I knew that Townshend had attended the Destruction in Art Symposium held in London in September, 1966 which featured Gustav Metzger and his corrosive, eroding "paintings", Yoko Ono and others, including AMM. Watching film of Townshend at the more extreme end of his guitar abuse (sliding it up an down the mic stand at Woodstock, for instance) I could only wonder if he'd seen Keith and absorbed a thing or two. I've made a few attempts to reach him through the Steins and others, so far to no avail; nothing major anyway, more a curiosity.

In the documentary last night, he mentions the Symposium and having learned about the nature of performance art there. Incidentally, in conversation, he sounds remarkably like Keith in his phrasing, etc. though, to be sure, on a different level as to meaning and understanding of the larger world outside his domain. So you have this young musician with adventurous tendencies in 1966, in London, where all manner of exciting experiments were taking place. But, and he's very explicit about it, he quickly realizes that he can be paid for writing three-minute songs that many people like and he wholeheartedly embraces this, creating the foundation for his subsequent career. I hadn't realized they'd done a Coke commercial back then, satirizing (lightly) pop ephemera while at the same time reaping the benefits of same. It's a little startling, given his obvious intelligence, to hear him--without much of a trace of cynicism--make no bones about having made such a calculated, commercial decision. All fine and dandy, his business as far as I'm concerned, but it was the kind of thing that should be seen by folk who somehow hold up rock icons like Townshend as epitomes of creative virtue.

So The Who go on and make relatively exciting rock for a few years (I've always thought "My Generation" one of the better early rock songs and that the stutter therein was a rare example, in the genre, of inspired poetry) until succumbing to bombast with Tommy and most of the rest of their subsequent output. This is brought to an unintentionally gruesome close with the final portion of the film, which documents the recording, in 2003, of a new song ("Such a Good-Looking Boy", I think?) with a rather portly Greg Lake on bass and a youngster (Ringo's son?) on drums, along with a pianist and back-up guitarist. Here, in a multi-million dollar studio, the musicians sit in isolated rooms, cobbling together in good corporate-rock fashion, a machine of a song perfect for boomer airplay and eventual use as thematic fodder for an ESPN feature on an aging athlete one day, having entirely, utterly lost the dollop of freedom, of devil-may-care attitude they had 40 years before. It's become pure product, the predictable outcome of the decision Townshend had made in 1966. And they're very happy with themselves.

I really thought there was a chance this year. Come fall, Erstwhile hadn't released a Rowe-related disc and even then, while the recordings it had issued were very fine, there were others I liked more. I thought, "2008 might just be the year that no Erst/Rowe disc tops my favorites."

Yeah, no.

As related below, the solo Rowe performance on erstlive gave me no little amount of trouble upon initial exposure and, truth to tell, I still find it a knotty go. But there's so much there. Nuggets of musical richness continue to reveal themselves and I've little doubt that I'll be returning to it many times over the years and that it will continue to provide audio-psychic sustenance. All obvious caveats aside, I'm really not aware of any other musician in this neck of the woods who approaches his/her art with as much consideration and purpose as Rowe. I've no problem whatsoever with those who would rather "just play" and see what emerges, but to my ears, you have an extra layer of meaning and beauty when there are explicit (in the mind of the creator) ideas underlying things. And the Rowe/Sachiko set is due to hit the stands early 2009....crap.

I heard about 200 new recordings in 2008; below are, fwiw, my favorites. A silly enterprise, yes, but it becomes a habit. Robert Kirkpatrick has come up with a very fine way around the problem, at least partially; please check out his blog, a spiral cage. I don't have the time to go into as much detail as he does--wish I did--but it's an excellent approach.

Contrary to fears about the death of whatever we choose to call this thing, I keep hearing a lot of music I enjoy. This may, of course, be a function of increased bleary-earedness on my part but I also think that certain...lessons have sunk in. For the time being, this results in some very strong work. Eventually, to be sure, this will likely result in an amount of stasis and lessons will have to be unlearned. Can't wait to hear that.

So here are the ten things I most enjoyed in 2008, followed by (in alpha order) the twelve that were loved only slightly less, tailed by all the other recordings that I really liked and wished I could play more. Thanks to everyone who keeps sending stuff my way; it's much appreciated.

Keith Rowe - s/t (erstlive)
Olivia Block/Luis Recoder/Sandra Gibson - untitled (sos editions)
Rhys Chatham - Guitar Trio Is My Life! (Table of the Elements)
Esther Venrooy - The Spiral Staircase (entr'acte)
Keith Rowe/Taku Unami - s/t (erstlive)
Asad Qizilbash - Sarod Recital in Peshawar (Sub Rosa)
Lucio Capece/Sergio Merce - Casa (Organized Music from Thessaloniki)
Morton Feldman - Turfan Fragments (Dog with a Bone)
Arek Gulbenkoglu/Adam Sussman - untitled (Rhizome)
Toshimaru Nakamura/English - One Day (Erstwhile)

Joonyong Choi/Chulki Hong/Sachiko M/Otomo Yoshihide - Sweet Cuts Distant Curves (Balloon & Needle)
Alfredo Costa Monteiro - Epicycle (Etude)
Morton Feldman - The Viola In My Life (ECM)
Jeff Gburek - Vicious Circles (A Question of Re-Entry)
Kassel Jaeger - ee[nd] (Mystery Sea)
Annette Krebs/Toshimaru Nakamura - siyu (sos editions)
David Lacey/Paul Vogel - The British Isles (Homefront)
Brendan Murray - Commonwealth (23five)
Stephane Rives - Much Remains to Be Heard (Al Maslakh)
Vanessa Rosetto - Whoreson in the Wilderness (Music Appreciation)
Keith Rowe/Seymour Wright - 3D (w.m.o/r)
Matt Sansom/Rhodri Davies - Live Uncut, vol. 1 (A Question of Re-Entry)

A Contest of Pleasures - Tempestuous (Another Timbre)
Kunehara Akiyama - Obscure Tape Music from Japan, vol. 6 (Omega Point)
AMM + John Butcher - Trinity (Matchless)
Asher - Instability (leerraum)
Asher - Intervals (The Land Of)
Asher - Study for Autumn (con-v)
Asher/Ubeboet - A Map of the Ocean (Field Recordings)
Asher/Ubeboet - Cell Momory (winds measure)
Frederic Blondy/Thomas Lehn - obdo (Another Timbre)
John Butcher - Resonant Spaces (Confront)
John Clair/Jed Shahar - Tennis (Fenimore)
Alfredo Costa Monteiro - centre of mass (Another Timbre)
Angharad Davies/Tisha Mukarji - Endspace (Another TImbre)
Hugh Davies/Adam Bohman/Lee Patterson/Mark Wastell - For Hugh Davies (Another Timbre)
Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Bachir Saade - Hum (Another Timbre)
Salvatore Dellaria/Adam Sonderberg - Untitled->Ongoing (no label)
Andrew Deutsch/Stephen Vitiello - Inductive Music (absurd)
John Fahey - The Mill Pond (Important)
Cor Fuhler/Claire Cooper/Axel Dorner - Crax (Conundrom)
Bernhard Gal - Installation/Installationen (Kehrer)
Richard Garet - l'avenir (winds measure)
Richard Garet - Winter (leerraum)
Ryu Hankil/Chulki Hong/Joonyang Choi - 5 Modules V (Manual)
Daniel Jones/David Papapostolou - Levaing Room (Adjacent)
Kostis Kolymis - .accumulated (Organized Music from Thessaloniki)
Robert Kirkpatrick - thaw (hollow earth)
Graham Lambkin/Jason Lescalleet - The Breadwinner (Erstwhile)
Hangjun Lee/Chulki Hong - Expanded Celluloid Extended Phonograph (Balloon & Needle)
Sebastian Lexer/Seymour Wright - blasen (Another Timbre)
Alan Licht/Aki Onda - Everydays (Family Vineyard)
Socrates Martinis - Blanca Estira Nuestro (+) (entr'acte)
Mawja - Studio One (Al Maslakh)
Christopher McFall - City of Almost (sourdine)
Christopher McFall - Solen Words for a Fabled Apparatus (Gears of Sand)
Pali Meursault - un(zero)deux (entr'acte)
Emmanuel Mieville/Eric Cordier - Dispositif: Canal St. Martin (Xing Wu)
Mouths - 3v1/3v2 (absurd)
Toshimaru Nakamura - Dance Music (bottrop boy)
Phill Niblock - Disseminate (Mode)
Oldman - Two Heads Bis Bis (Low Impedance)
David Papapostolou - one and two (Adjacent)
Paper Wings - Ash Field (Black Petal)
Kevin Parks/Joe Foster - ipsi sibi somnia fingunt (no label)
Wolfgang Rihm - Piano Pieces (Neos)
Michael Rodgers - Curtained Moon (Black Petal)
Vanessa Rossetto - Misafridal (Music Appreciation)
Matthieu Saladin - 4'33"/0'/00" (Editions Provisoires)
Howard Stelzer - Bond Inlets (Intransitive)
Joel Stern - objects.masks.props (naturestrip)
Tandem Electrics - Intaglio (RAR)
Valerio Tricoli - Amaryllis (Lalia)
Trio Sowari - Shortcut (Potlatch)
Toshiya Tsunoda - The Argyll Recordings (edition.t)
Birgit Uhler/Ernesto Rodrigues/Carlos Santos - Doppelganger (Creative Sources)
Nikos Veliotis/Anastasio Grivas - Vertical (Low Impedance)
Esther Venrooy - Shift Coordinate Points (entr'acte)
Christian Wolff - Early Piano Music (hat[now]ART)
Seymour Wright - Seymour Wright of Derby (CDR)
Mitsuhiro Yoshimura/Masahiko Okura - Trio (Presquile)
Anna Zaradny - Mauve Circles (Musica Genera)

Happy 2009!

I may have mentioned before that my Dad was (and is) a jazz fan. However, like many of his generation (in his case, born in 1923), he cut his teeth on swing bands and never really made the transition to bop, much less anything beyond. He was born in Greenpoint, Brooklyn and spent much of his teen years trying to gain unpaid entry into both the old Madison Square Garden (to see his beloved Rangers--he owns an autographed team photo from 1939, the last year they won the Stanley Cup until, when, 1994?) and the various jazz clubs clustered in the Times Square area. Unlike, I imagine, many of his contemporaries, he was equally enamored of both black and white bands and has told stories of seeing Jimmy Lunceford, Ellington, Chick Webb etc. in addition to the more popular Glenn Millers, Dorseys, Goodmans and so on.

But the rise of bop didn't appeal much to him, probably for similar reasons as it didn't appeal to much of the swing crowd: the un-dance-ability, the excessive complicatedness, perhaps the "art" aura. So he retained his swing music passion and, to be sure, ventured into other, less rewarding realms as well--lotsa Rafael Mendez in his collection. Classic Broadway fare was also around and I do have very fond memories of absorbing West Side Story when I was around 10. Officer Krupke!

He had probably about 300-400 LPs at home (also a bunch of 78s) which, when I began to listen to jazz at around 17-18, I necessarily perused. Most of the items held no interest for me then, indeed striking me as pretty fuddy-duddy. But for some reason, he had acquired some recordings that fell outside of his normal ambit. Miles' "Sketches of Spain" was one (he disliked it). Monk's sublime "Monk's Dream", still one of my favorite jazz albums, was another. Then there was Ellington's "New Orleans Suite".

I know that Ellington's late, larger-scale work isn't held in exalted opinion by many, but I don't agree. This one dates from early 1970 (it was Johnny Hodges' last recording) and true, one can hear glimmers of overly smooth production and perhaps the slightest nod toward pop (although, given its "subject matter", a certain steadier rhythm might be expected) but the hell with that, this record contains almost nothing but one gorgeous piece after another, with some achingly beautiful individual contributions. Will Bill Davis' organ on the opener, Harold Ashby's incredibly lush and deep tenor on "Thanks for the Beautiful Land on the Delta" (one of my all-time favorite examples of the instrument), Russell Procope getting a relatively rare solo opportunity and the extraordinary and heartfelt performance of flutist Norris Turney on the concluding "Portrait of Mahalia Jackson". And the compositions themselves--great melodies, great riffs, great orchestration. An absolute joy, do yourselves a favor and check it out.


As with many "older" musicians whose music I could readily hear on the radio, I didn't buy many Ellington records at all (I've since filled out my Ellingtonia slightly with CDs). In fact, this was my sole exception, for obvious reasons. Quite a contrast to "New Orleans Suite", stripped down and raw, with two of the greatest musicians to learn from Duke then move off in other directions. Just amazing piano work hear--vibrant and unadorned. You can hear most of Abdullah Ibrahim's and Randy Weston's career in this music. (another great example of his keyboard work, btw, is the duo with Ray Brown on Pablo) He really dominates here, whether out of deference by the others or the force of his own personality, who knows? The version of "Caravan" is stellar and "Fleurette Africaine"...well, it's hard to think of a more beautiful melody, more delicately and even sadly played.

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

An excellent and thoughtful post by Richard Pinnell on the state of new music can be read here

Marty Ehrlich - The Welcome (Sound Aspects)

Always a little surprised how well this one stands the test of time. His playing and composing on this, his debut as a leader from 1984, owes an enormous debt to Threadgill (with nods to his teacher Hemphill and Blythe as well), but the relative sparseness of the trio (Anthony Cox and Pheeroan Ak Laff) and Ehrlich's happy reluctance to overblow, serve the music well. I don't think I ever caught him leading his own groups but saw him countless times with others, especially Muhal's bands, where he tended to be a strong presence. I think the last time I heard him live was as a part of Eric Friedlander's trio, down in a bookstore on Church St. (?), maybe a dozen years back, of which I have vague but fond memories. (As with many Sound Aspects LPs, no cover image around that I could rustle up).

(Various) Vorwärts und nicht vergessen (Eterna)

Previously mentioned. A collection of German socialist songs from 1929-1932, including several by Hanns Eisler. When I hear songs sung by groups of people in uniform (going from the photos on the backs sleeve) I get the creeps regardless of whether they're from the right or left, nationalist or classist. So I find these choral/orchestral works tough going, not dissimilar to my reaction to most PLM songs from 40-odd years later. There's the benefit of my not really understanding German, I guess, but the mere fact that it is German (forgive my years of conditioning via WWII movies) adds an extra frisson of creepitude. I think I picked this up in a used vinyl bin somewhere, probably intrigued by its unusualness. Worth having for documentary reasons, not so much for pleasure.


Either/Orchestra - Radium (Accurate)

What is it that when an avant-garde outfit (or an ostensible one) does a cover of a pop tune, it whets our interest? I can't deny that it's true (for me), though I hope less so as time goes on. That's doubtless one of the reasons many of us found Zorn so enticing back when. It certainly was the case, in '88 or so, when I heard about Either/Orchestra. Here was a largish jazz band, perhaps an American Kollektief of sorts, putting out a debut record where they not only make the potentially inspired choice of covering Roscoe Mitchell's "Odwalla" (spelled Odwallah here) but also come up with the patently nutso idea of doing a medley combining Monk's "Nutty" with Bobbie Gentry's "Ode to Billy Jo". I mean, the LP practically leapt into my little grubbies.

I was a fan for a while, three or for records (the remainder on disc) but, as with many things from that period, gradually lost interest. They always had a lumbering, shambling quality about them and eventually that slightly leaden nature wore me down. Even here, once you get past the novelty of the covers, there's not so much left of interest. Decent band, good instrumentalists but not much else. Leader Gershon, impressively and obsessively arranges the Mitchell piece basing it scrupulously on the Bap-Tizum version of the work and it's kinda fun hearing the riffs arranged for a larger ensemble, but...Even a lovely tune like "Willow Weep for Me" sounds too much like it's slogging through muddy ground.

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

Finished Alex Ross' "The Rest is Noise" the other day. Decent, very decent recap of the 20th century from a Euro/US classical point of view with nods (often not much more than that) to other cultures and idioms. I'm fairly sure I don't share too much taste overlap with more current work--Ross seems to love recent Reich and Adams, for instance--but the book reignited a resolution I've had off and on to acquaint or reacquaint myself more thoroughly with much "classical" music from the last century, so it had its value for me. Certainly worth the read and a good thing to offer for friends and/or young 'uns who want to get generally up to snuff.

Colin Andrew Sheffield - Signatures (Invisible Birds)

Al Jones mentioned this recording to me a little while back as one of his favorites of the year and subsequently wrote it up for bagatellen. I imagine one's reaction to it will in large part rest on one's appreciation not only of drone-oriented music, but also of that subsection which is fairly tonal, even luxurious in nature. I find it pretty fascinating even apart from those considerations.

The label appears to involve an orientation around bird song and such sound comprise one element here but Sheffield also incorporates short (obscured, stretched and otherwise manhandled) snatches of existent music, field recordings (including, I take it, birds though if so I couldn't pick it up--the release of this recording was timed to coincide with the 100th birthday anniversary of Messiaen, btw), vinyl scratches and probably much else. He makes a point to mention his non-use of software in his assembling process, preferring a turntable, an old sampler and a multi-track recording system. Whatever the technical means of construction, the four tracks share a similar character: a thick, twining strand of organ-like tones that gradually cede evidence of a huge amount of activity occurring under the surface and, surprisingly within a drone context, much of that activity is rhythmically based.

There are four pieces, two lengthier ones bracketing two of relatively short duration. The first, "Beneath the Waves" (true, his titles can be...awkward) has, I don't know, five or six (more?) lines occurring and each seems to possess its own muffled rhythm. Throbs or pulses, more accurately but somewhat akin to "Music for Airports", they flow along at their own tempi, creating lovely and subtle sonic moire patterns. Sheffield brings given elements to the fore but the listener can also isolate components, often coming to hear certain sounds only late in the work, though they've been there all along. The music can teeter a bit close to the overly gauzy but always maintains enough grit to steer clear. The two shorter pieces are more aggressive, even harsh, reminding me a bit of a toned-down version of the loud track from Rowe/Nakamura's "between".

As is often the case with work tangentially similar to this, though I find it lovely to listen to on disc, I think it might be much better served in a live setting, in an appropriately immersive environment, preferably a non-concert oriented situation, one through which the audience could wander, sit, etc.

Good stuff. Well worth the listen if the general area is up your alley.

invisible birds

Pali Meursault - un(zéro)deux (entr'acte)

I hadn't realized this was a live (solo) performance until after I'd listened a couple of times, which both surprised and impressed me. Meursault has a lot of stuff going on but, to his credit, it never feels crowded, the various textures and sounds playing very well together (like the combination of scraped tones and faunal-sounding "whoops" some 15 minutes in. I take it there are a number of off-kilter mechanical devices set in motion throughout, but however it's accomplished, the matrix that emerges is very alive and both busy and spacious simultaneously. Think a less caloric Jason Lescalleet. Fine recording, growing on me each listen.


Phroq - Half-Asleep Music (entr'acte)

True to its title, Phroq (Francisco Meirino) apparently attempted to create this music only when he was in dire need of sleep. Well, it does have a disjointed character though whether that can be laid on the doorstep of fatigue or otherwise, I can't say. There are some very nice moments, especially when things subside, but there are also too many spacey sections for my taste and the structure, as mentioned, strikes me as too scattered. One's near-sleep sensations may be kind of like the re-telling of dreams: interesting to the teller, for whom the logic retains some vestige of narrative sense, not necessarily to the hearer.


Haptic/Cristal - Velocimane/Çukurova (entr'acte)

A split 10", 45 rpm vinyl. Haptic (pictured above--Joseph Mills, Adam Sonderberg, Steven Hess) contribute dark, strong work ("Velocimane"), structured in long waves of bowed metals and electronics (prepared piano as well, I think?) that develops a fine, brooding feel; very cinematic, in a way. My only complaint is that it feels like a slab lopped off from a larger work. Everything about it screams for greater length and more delving. Exceedingly cruel to slice it off so abruptly! :-)

Cristal (pictured below--Jimmy Anthony, Greg Darden, Bobby Donne) offers a shorter (four minutes or so), less satisfying piece. Its harsh, metallic wash struck me not as inherently intriguing than Haptic's fragment but still, it expires before one can make much of anything of it. I give the benefit of the doubt that both are intentional one way or the other, perhaps intentionally providing a mere sliver of what implied larger works and are interesting if so viewed. Still, I wanted more...

entr'acte

I first encountered Richard Garet's work earlier this year in a performance he shared with Asher and Brendan Murray at Issue Project Room, one of the most enjoyable events of the year and one of my favorite music/video concerts in recent memory. His music, at least that which I've heard there and since, fits it with that part of the scene which concerns itself with a melding of field recordings and electronics. There's something inherently different, imho, about it compared with post-AMM improvisation, though it occasionally overlaps (from both directions). One, obviously, is that the recorded work is largely constructed in the studio, not created in real time and even in live performance (I think it's fair to say), many of the elements have been pre-recorded and there's likely to be somewhat more of a sense of foreordained structure, even as aspects might be altered on the fly. These are all generalizations, of course, but when I hear music from Garet, Asher, Christopher McFall and others, they seem to me to occupy a distinct area of the sound-world, at least an area that is easily differentiated from Rowe, Sachiko, etc. I think one part is more of a willingness to watch a process unfurl, to set something in motion and leave it be for an extended period. Even with work like Sachiko's extreme sine pieces, I get the sense that she's hovering intently all the time; there's a huge tension at play re: the possibility of something happening even if "nothing" does. I've only used this referent a few hundred times before, but musicians like Garet strike me as stemming more from an Eno-esque aesthetic, as first appeared in "Discreet Music" and similar work, where the creator is quite content to begin a process and then offer perhaps only a nudge here and there, sharing a listening stance with the audience, just as fascinated by what might happen next.

Again, this is a necessarily gross generalization and there are doubtless as many variants to this approach as there are musicians so engaged. Also, I'm sure many pieces that I hear this way would turn out to have been enormously worked on. Indeed, the two recordings by Garet considered here each take different tacks.


Richard Garet - l'avenir (wind's measure)

"l'avenir" embodies the more minimalist attack of this aesthetic. It's overall arc is clear, it's of a piece, it stays on roughly a single track throughout, presenting its beauty and depth and then disappears down the road. It begins with soft crackles (as with much of the sound here, I'm hesitant to guess at the original source as I've no idea how much, if at all, it's been modified, so bear that in mind) that evoke dripping water and light static. This sonic area appears throughout, that is, "natural" sounds of a lightly percussive aspect. But, as is the case elsewhere I think, there are often three or four layers of such, presenting the listener with likely more depth than can be perceived at a given time, something that makes each listen fresh. Shortly, long, tonal organ-like sounds appear. They have a slightly distant feel, as if heard through a fog, and comprise the other principal aural element. These elements fluctuate through the remainder of the piece, varying somewhat, generally together, occasionally with one advancing, the other receding. The image I get is of a dark, cool night, on the edge of an industrial area of a town, little or no traffic, steam on one's breath. Very satisfying.

winds measure


Richard Garet - Winter (leerraum)

When I first put this disc in my player, it came up as unreadable. Well, this happens from time to time with small labels, doesn't it? Happily, I'd also been sent what was labeled a "stereo version" of the same piece, so I listened to that. While doing so, I found myself thinking: This sounds more like a piece I'd expect to hear accompanied by video. There are more shifts of focus and texture that I was mentally imagining alongside similar changes in visual fields, abstract or realistic. Eventually, I realized that the original leerraum disc was in fact a DVD (no mention of such on the sleeve!). Ah, ok, I thought, let's see about my intuition. Wll, the joke was on me as the visual side of the DVD is a black screen. Its intent is for reproduction on a 4-channel and/or 5.1 sound system, which I lack. Hence the inclusion of the stereo version.....

Although some of the elements reappear, it's more aggressive than "l'avenir" in addition to being more episodic. The hissing crackles and near-sine tones recur but the former are often rougher, more awkward, elbowing their way in instead of emerging gradually. It's not violent by any means, far from it. Just more like 6AM on the same cold morning instead of 3AM, a greater number of incidents occurring. The hums are more insistent, maybe a bit threatening; some of the previously light static has turned rumbling. The shifting implies a more active hand on the part of Garet, bringing this closer to, say, what Jason Lescalleet might accomplish on a very subdued night. At the conclusion, there's no diminution, just a sharp cut. Again, very attractive, thought-provoking work, well worth checking out.

leerraum

Iida Katsuaki/Ryu Hankil - Selected poems with Clockworks (Manual)

Operating at a huge disadvantage here, as I don't understand Japanese (the enclosed booklet does provide translations), but I do like what I hear. Katsuaki speaks his works in relative deadpan and, for the first several out of the 20 shortish tracks, the result is rather nondescript. But things pick up almost imperceptibly, Hankil's mechanical rhythms and whirs becoming more and more aggressive, several of the pieces achieving an exquisite balance between the voice and clockwork devices. Good, unusual recording, even if I get the feeling I'd like it less were the words spoken in English.

manual

Available stateside from erstdist


Gunter Müller/Jason Kahn/Norbert Möslang - mkm_msa (For4Ears)

I've given up trying to understand what Müller and company have been on about the last few years. Here we have more of the same, richly textured, yes but maybe overly so in a sickly sweet sense, almost always weighted down with vacuous beats and throbs. I imagine that if you were wandering around nearby one of the six events from which the tracks here were excerpted (that's another thing--excerpts?) and had some interest in what passes for experimental rock these days (or, better, of a Laswellian persuasion), you might be intrigued enough to pop in. If that's the motivation, fine, I guess. But for those of us who thought Müller, earlier in the decade, was one of the strongest, most vital creators out there, recordings like this one are a bitter pill.


Alfred 23 Harth/Hans Joachim Irmler/Gunter Müller - Taste Tribes (For4Ears)

Though by no means great, this offering has far more going for it, if only because it surprises a fair amount. Cobbled together by Harth from duo recordings he'd done with Muller and Irmler (of Faust), there's much greater breadth of sounds (including breathy saxophonics), interesting match-up of sonic blocks, etc. and best of all, no leaden beats! There are some loopy, overly spacey moments, yes, but it's pretty listenable throughout and solid at its best.

for4ears

Allowing that I'm coming from a position of extreme prejudice, it's nonetheless fascinating to hear new work from Keith Rowe and try to understand what it is that makes the music so unique, so more considered than the great majority of other music in roughly the same area. One obvious aspect is that he brings a wealth of ideas to any performance. Another, when it's a collaboration, is his enormous graciousness and a combination of deference and a kind of passive/aggressive manner of insinuating his ideas into the proceedings, often subtly enough that one's first impression is that his partner(s) are the ones driving the sounds, only later realizing that Rowe's enhancement of the event may have had as much or more to do with its success.

The two new releases on erstlive are fine illustrations of both his collaborative mode and, in the case of the solo recording, a rather amazing--if possibly problematic for the innocent listener--example of just how idea-packed his solo projects can be.

The discs were recorded on consecutive days at the AMPLIFY festival held in Tokyo in September of this year. Those familiar with Unami's work, at least that portion involving the deployment of small, mechanical toys, will have a decent idea what to expect. The light chittering of rapid-fire rhythms immediately evokes a childlike atmosphere (more so, I presume, if you've seen him in action, which I've only had occasion to do once) but Rowe quickly offers a counterweight with dark-tinged rumbles and crackles, a much-needed tension, throwing the toy sounds into stark relief. He makes intriguing choices throughout; several times when Unami's sound gets very dense and disquieting, even rude, on its own, Rowe plucks fairly clear, almost pastoral notes from the guitar--a very beautiful opposition of sounds [I'm informed that these notes were actually generated by Unami]. The performance seesaws somewhat between these sections where tension predominates and small pools of psychological unison wherein the musicians find momentary idyllic balance. One also has the impression that Rowe, in anticipation of his solo concert the next day, to some extent cycles through past techniques, a personal, historical inventory of approaches that he'd been thinking about recently.

All in all, it's a wonderful set, a great example of Rowe's ability to both meld and be melded by the situation in which he finds himself. This isn't to discount Unami's contribution by any means; it's more that one sense he occupies his own distinct world, one which he's happy to allow visitors into but is unlikely to alter his approach too much, which is fine. It makes for a more exciting pairing as long as the other half is able to accommodate and, as I think is often the case with Rowe, manage to get something of his own way without his partner's necessarily being aware.

Lovely, complex music; great recording.



Jon had given me an unmastered copy of the solo Rowe set in early October and a mastered version a number of weeks back, so I've lived with it for a while. I don't mind saying that I was initially a little baffled by it, even put off a tad. As most interested listeners know by now, the performance involved the inclusion of four Baroque samples over its course, several minutes of Rameau, Mondonville, Purcell and Alessandro Marcello that emerge at discreet intervals throughout the set. I was aware, of course, that Keith had a great love for this area of music--he used the Mondonville motet as an example of musical profundity a few years ago when addressing an Electronic Music class at Columbia University--but their clearly calculated appearance here had something of a "glued on" quality, a collage-like effect much different from any random radio capture. I kept thinking of the kind of faux-Rauschenberg collages one comes across where examples of classical painting are connected, as it were, by abstract elements. To be sure, there were many moments of great beauty, including the samples--which are gorgeous--as well as wonderful brutalism right through the powerful ending, but as a whole, something nagged at me.

I should know by now, I suppose, that when Rowe pieces together something like this, there's likely far more going on that might be apparent on casual--or even not so casual--listen; he works in layers that, I daresay, you just don't encounter very often in this music. Happily, when he was in town in early November, I had the chance to go over the performance with him, crucially while watching a video of same. The work opened up like a rose. I'll defer from posting about the whys and wherefores of the piece as both Keith and Jon would rather the music be in the public domain for a while without specific descriptions of its innards. Suffice it to say, that there's a lot of thought behind exactly how it was constructed.

So I find myself at an unusual advantage here. Doubtless, many listeners will have no trouble with the performance as is, in audio format. But my own appreciation was greatly enhanced by watching the video with Keith's commentary alongside, more so, likely, than someone who was actually at the concert since some of the actions (such as a steel ruler, laid in front of his guitar neck, which was stroked so as to indicate time periods) were invisible to the audience. I will say that some of it involved a recapitulation of techniques from the previous 43 years, taking a fresh look at them.

So, take these caveats as you will, but armed with this knowledge, and acknowledging that I find Rowe's music and ideas to be almost unfailingly deep and fascinating, I'm afraid the Rowe/Erstwhile combo has again pulled off Record of the Year honors. Dammit. One of these days....

[Edit: I realized, belatedly, that I didn't really offer much in the way of description of the Rowe solo; you live with something long enough and you just assume everyone knows what you're talking about! Briefly, the performance more or less alternates between Rowe in his more isolated, "Twombly-esque" mode, scratching, twanging, etc. with extreme...delicacy (the word might not spring to mind given the rough nature of much of the sonics, but it's what I sense) and the four classical tracks. While those latter are playing, Rowe often comments, quite subtly, sometimes allowing the sampled music to stand alone for a while. Various "themes" of his own come and go, often related to earlier techniques of his that take on a nostalgic aspect not altogether different from the feelings evoked by the Baroque pieces. One theme is the helicopter-ish rumble, whose head pokes up here and there, ultimately overwhelming the proceedings at the very end. There are also a few radio captures; their relative naturalness--at least as pertains to Rowe/AMM--stands in contrast to the more formal introduction of the classical music; I initially found this a little uncomfortable, which I imagine is one of the points. Rowe has probed in that direction before, I think. He mentioned that, in the four-radio version of [N:Q], he might check the local listings and see, for example, that a Brahms string sextet was going to be aired at 10PM. The strategy he'd propose to the group was that they would, over the course of perhaps an hour, very gradually home in on that station, thus allowing Brahms to emerge after an hour or so, bit by bit through waves of static and noise. Not quite improvised, therefore, in something of the same sense as this performance. btw, I listened again this morning and the thing is still picking up steam in my psyche. Very amazing and deep piece.]

erstwhile

Robert Kirkpatrick, who was in attendance, wrote about these shows here and here and indeed touches a bit on Rowe's motivations.

Mark Flaum also attended and posted his observations at Paris Transatlantic

(photo: hatta)

Since I spend a sizable portion of my time at home listening to recorded music, I should jump at the opportunity to leave the house and do so, yes? Well, sometimes the circumstances demand it. This was the third occasion that Jon Abbey had, so to speak, donned DJ garb at Experimental Intermedia though I'd missed the previous two. Here, it was the promise of listening to the as yet unreleased Rowe/Sachiko 2-disc set that forced me out.

By reputation (and reality, as far as I'm aware), XI has the most amazing sound system of any arena that would allow musicians like Rowe through the entrance (though, oddly, he's never played there). As a good deal of this music deals in extremes of amplitude and level of detail, it's a near-perfect venue, especially if one has the ability to incorporate the inevitable horn blasts and bass throbs from the street below into whatever's happening inside. I arrived at the onset, the only member of the paying audience for a couple of hours (Niblock and companion pretty much staying in their living area, the sound guy in his cubbyhole, Jon and Yuko up front). Jon commenced with the erstlive Rowe/Beins disc. Now, I'd imagine that there's no recording from the last few years that I know more deeply, having listened to it (guessing) 40-50 times, easier to do, admittedly, with a 28-minute disc than one that lasts 1 1/4 hours. But on that system, hiked to a volume level that would insure instantaneous divorce at home, layer upon layer of detail was revealed. Pretty amazing. Such an intensely creative performance; part of me was remarking on how rarely--if ever--one encounters that level of sustained invention especially in such a "full-on" mode, the ol' controlled chaos. Such balance, going over the brink, reining it in, impossibly fortunate radio captures, etc.

This was followed by a lovely unreleased track from English (Joe Foster and Bonnie Jones), surprising in its use of very tonal hums through much of it; I'd love to hear it again and hope it sees the light of day sometime. Then, Will Guthrie's "Spear" which, as with Rowe/Beins, sounded mighty impressive amped way up, again revealing details hitherto unnoticed.

Next, Sachiko/Rowe. The double-CD will consist of three studio tracks and the live performance from September's Amplify festival in Tokyo, the latter sequenced second, each piece ranging from about 20 to 32 minutes, which is the order they were played yesterday. It's a lot to digest. I've come to think of Rowe's music in relation to painters--his Rothko style, for example, might be represented by the drone-oriented work he was prone to in the first half of this decade, his Twombly side represented, more recently, by the more isolated, scratchy sounds, with irregular blank space, the sounds tending toward a kind of willfully awkward brutalism (not awkward at all, in essence). This is the mode he most often operates in here. But one surprising thing, at least as I heard the mix, was that it was Sachiko who seemed to be steering things. Similar, in a way, to Duos for Doris, where Tilbury often charted the path, Rowe providing support and aura, it's Sachiko (again, at least to the extent I could differentiate, which I think I was able to more often than not) who sets the framework here. She uses sine tones in much of the first track--fascinating to hear Rowe try to find his way into this potentially impenetrable wall and, while the sine reappears from time to time, dwells mostly in contact mic territory, plosive eruptions abounding. In the last two pieces, you could easily hear a remarkable coherence developing, the extreme spareness of the first studio track and the live performance becoming somewhat mollified as conversation began to flow more "smoothly", though still sparingly. In fact, more than any painting reference, I found myself thinking of Beckett. This may be very close to an aural evocation of his more austere writing, even to the extent of certain repeated sounds (a two-tone contact mic interjection especially, that Sachiko returns to often) echoing text iterations in Beckett. Way too much to get my ears around in a single hearing, to be sure, but I was happy to have experienced it once in such surroundings.

Sandwiched between the 1st and 2nd and 3rd and 4th tracks were a fine collage piece (I think?) by Bhob Rainey and the loud cut from the Rowe/Nakamura 'between' set, both sounding great.

By this time, the crowd had swelled to six or so and, sated, I cut out, missing the chance to hear the Toshi/Ami recording but...there you go.

Richard Kamerman - The Passing of Mr. Good (RAR)

New minidisc (I can't find any mention of it on-line yet; Richard?) by half of Tandem Electrics and a very nice one. Three "miniatures" in the sens of attention to small detail. On the first, the debt to Taku Unami is clear, all chattering, metallic sounds that have that same loose yet mechanical aspect. Lovely to listen to though; the listener shares Kamerman's evident fascination with the sounds. The last is a wisp-like evocation that has fine staying power. Where can people get this, RK?



Alfredo Costa Monteiro - centre of mass (Another Timbre)

There are musicians whose conception I simply enjoy, finding almost anything they do to be imbued by it. Costa Monteiro is one. This often harsh dronescape, lasting a bit over 30 minutes, was created by agitating one or more cymbals on various resonating surfaces. Simply enough idea, focusing in on a "small" area, discovering all the largeness there, finely executed. As with the Kamerman, one is initially fascinated by the sounds themselves; later, their placement, opposition and sequencing impresses greatly. Good stuff.


Sebastian Lexer/Seymour Wright - blasen (Another Timbre)

The first of the two tracks here is one of the strongest things I've heard in while. Lexer has something of Tilbury in his playing--not the obvious (no redolence of Feldman, particularly) but a similar sense of tone, touch and placement, of managing to get the best of each in one keystroke, a rare enough achievement. Wright melds beautifully here; one often forgets entirely the instruments at hand and just experiences the music, which is remarkably cohesive and, for all its spareness, full and tactile. Beautiful work. The second piece is pretty good as well, a bit more diffuse, a little less gripping.

another timbre

Interesting that the two another timbre releases, to an extent, embody two of the principal areas in eai that seem to differentiate listeners, some greatly preferring one to the other. There's post-AMM improv as in the Lexer/Wright and solo "process" oriented music (which generally also involves improvising, though obviously without the input of another individual) as seen in the Costa Monteiro. I have no problem with either (or with what might be thought a third strand: field recordings with manipulation and enhancement as heard, most recently by me, on two fine Richard Garet releases that I'll write up soon), though to an extent I can imagine that what has the most potential for getting my neurons to fire increased amounts of dopamine is the first listed. Might try to parse out the why's of this...

Yet another new-ish (to me) space in Brooklyn, Grace Space, alongside the elevated J line, hosted an event last evening, three sets, all problematic in one way or another but all at least somewhat intriguing. The room is pretty nice and spacious, though there's a bar to the rear which engenders typical bar noise and patter, if that's a bother to some.

First up was the trio of Barry Weisblat (electronics), Andrew Lafkas (bass) and Gil Arnó [he also goes by the moniker mpld] on slide projectors. The first ten minutes or so worked fine, Weisblat in a more steady-state mode than I've usually heard him, but as is often the case, they went on too long, the set dissipating as they did so. Arnó, I figured by watching and learned more later talking with him, uses found slides, seeking affinities between them, projecting two or more simultaneously (overlapping), blurring and employing various flicker speeds. He also contact mics the projectors and feeds their sounds (as well as room sounds and those of his comrades) into a computer, processing them. I didn't pick up much sense of conceptual integration with his co-players but had the feeling that I'd enjoy his work in a solo context (which he does) much more. There's something there, curious to hear/see more.

Next was Tandem Electrics (Richard Kamerman & Reed Evan Rosenberg, electronics) with Bryan Eubanks (open circuit electronics). They put up a solid show, again more steady state than I expected, the first 20 minutes especially strong with fine textures, repeated (mechanical or digital) sounds emerging and disappearing, very engaging. The second half wavered somewhat, though it contained several luscious moments as well. The "problem" for me, such as it is, is that this sort of full-on, semi-drone-y attack almost guarantees a certain level of "success", similar to (although not necessarily in sound) the way Gunter Muller and company, in recent years, often approach a show, generating a nice, thick matrix and elaborating on it. Nothing wrong with that and, of course, it can sometimes result in great music, but I also think it can be something of a safety net. When I saw Richard a couple months ago with Dave Barnes, the music was more fragmented (not extremely so, but more), riskier re: the possibility of "failure" and ultimately more exciting. It's a risk/reward thing, maybe. So the set last night was fine, very enjoyable, but at the same time I wanted....a higher degree of difficulty.

Lastly was the duo of Mattin and Margarida Garcia. Margarida began by herself in, to me, a surprisingly rockish, even heavy metal-redolent style, doing a series of hums followed by strong, tonal strums of her bass thingy that immediately brought old Black Sabbath to mind. She did blocks of attacks punctuated by near silences. When she took the bow to the bass, she summoned forth amazingly evocative echoes of portions of Hendrix' "Star Spangled Banner" and other guitar freak-outs. Not sure if this was intended, but...These portions were a little odd; interesting in a way but kinda...non-nutritional. Better were the between moments when she subtly manipulated some humming tones by applying pressure near the bridge--that was really nice. She played for some 20 minutes, said "Thank you" and that was that. Mattin's contribution to the set was listening as a member of the audience.

For myself, there was a little bit more since, as it happened, I didn't notice him sitting there. So there was an element of tension for me, waiting for his arrival on stage. I was half-anticipating a blood-curdling scream coming from a few feet behind me, for instance. But, no.

Discuss amongst yourselves....

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

Reading:

Roberto Bolaño - The Savage Detectives
Terry Eagleton - Trouble with Strangers