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Last five albums purchased:
Steve Reich - "Octet; Music for Large Ensemble; Violin Phase"
Led Zeppelin - "IV"
Henry Threadgill & Make a Move - "Everybody's Mouth's A Book"
Michael Moore/Lindsey Horner/Michael Vatcher - "Jewels and Binoculars: the music of Bob Dylan"
Musica Transonic - "Hard Rock Transonic"
2002 current faves:
John Zorn - "IAO"
Fenn O'Berg - "The Return of Fenn O'Berg"
Bob Drake - "The Skull Mailbox"
Astrobotnia - "Pt. 1"
Sonic Youth - "Murray Street"
Blackalicious - "Blazing Arrow"
Rovo - "Tonic 2001"
Wilco - "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot"
Of Montreal - "Aldhil's Arboretum"
Yohimbe Brothers - "Front End Lifter"
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Sunday, December 8, 2002
Last night I went to the Noise Fest at Tonic, a double-bill featuring two of the biggest names in noise: Borbetomagus and Merzbow. Borbetomagus went on first. The show was scheduled to start at 8, but apparently that meant the doors opened at 8 (which is not what it usually means at Tonic) because there was a long line outside in the cold December air when I arrived. By the time everyone had finally bought their ticket and made it inside, it was well past 8. It was a big crowd for Tonic. They had cleared away all of the chairs, so it was standing-room only, except for a few small tables along the walls. By the time everyone got inside, the place was pretty well packed. I was standing towards the front of the room when Borbetomagus came on, but I quickly decided to move to the back, for reasons of volume. I think they beat out Fushitsusha as the loudest band I have ever seen at Tonic (a club that showcases more jazz than rock). They started loud and they never let up. I had been warned to bring earplugs, but I'd forgotten to, of course. However, luckily I was able to find napkins and some water at the bar, and I improvised a serviceable set of earplugs out of wet, wadded-up napkin. After that, volume wasn't a problem, so I set in to enjoying the "music".
If you know Borbetomagus, then you know that they are a trio of two saxophonists and a guitarist. However, what they sound like is basically a wall of noise. Everything is highly amplified and distorted. The guitarist lays down a thick, chunky rumble, and the two horn players are in full-bore squeal and skronk mode. Borbetomagus hail from upstate New York, and they don't look like your typical urban hipster types. In fact, with hair cuts, clothes, etc. they look mostly like normal guys from the Midwest. They are also very physical in their approach to playing the music. One of their favorite moves is to have the two sax-players put the bells of their horns together and blow for all they're worth. As they're bent over, blowing, necks straining, and slowly circling each other, it looks like they're locked in a strange kind of mortal combat. They also do a neat trick in which they attach rubber hoses to the mouthpieces of their horns and then gurgle water in them while they're playing. To be honest, with all of the amplification and distortion, I didn't hear much difference in the sound when they did that.
After a short break, Merzbow came on. Merzbow is, of course, Masami Akita, the biggest name in international noise, who has pursued his austere muse with remarkable single-mindedness of purpose across a couple of decades and countless albums. For this show, Merzbow was in full digital mode. His equipment mainly consisted of two Apple Powerbooks, connected to a mixer and a mass of wires. Visually, there wasn't a lot going on in his set. After a few minutes up front to get a look at his set-up, I moved to the back of the room, where it wasn't so hot and crowded, and there wasn't as much glare from the big floodlights that they had set up to film the show. If I was to attempt to sum up the difference in the sound between Merzbow and Borbetomagus in a short sentence, apart from the obvious differences between their instruments, I'd say that Merzbow has more structure in his noise. When Merzbow plays you can hear patterns that overlap, fade in and out, abruptly stop and start, merge, etc., whereas Borbetomagus sounds more like an unrelenting howl of pain. In Merzbow, the howls of pain arise from within the shifting patterns of noise. It was a fine set, and I was tempted to take my earplugs out for a few minutes, just to hear what the unmediated blast sounded like, but thoughts of hearing damage restrained me. Even through the wadded-up napkins, it was still pretty loud.
- o. nate
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Ahh... Thanksgiving holidays. Nothing better to do than laze around the house, work on a cover for a mix CD that I made for my brother, listen to music, and read ILM. I wish I had a way of posting this CD cover I made: it has a picture of my face superimposed over a tomato. Really, it's quite brilliant. At least I can post the contents of the mix:
Part 1.
1. Astrobotnia - Everyone
2. Swell Maps - Big Maz in the Country
3. Charles Mingus - Moanin'
4. Bob Drake - The Shocking Efflorescence
5. Led Zeppelin - Dancing Days
6. Faust - So Far
7. Rovo - Cisko
Part 2.
8. Mississippi John Hurt - Big Leg Blues
9. Johnny Cash - Thanks A Lot
10. Louis Armstrong - A Monday Date
11. Art Tatum - Liza (Take D)
12. Charlie Parker - Scrapple from the Apple
13. Carter Family - Chewing Gum
14. Uncle Dave Macon - Don't Get Weary Children
15. Blind Lemon Jefferson - Match Box Blues
16. George Gershwin - Someone to Watch Over Me
Part 1 is the newer stuff; Part 2 is the stuff that has audible crackles and hiss - it's an organizational scheme based solely on recording quality. I hope he likes it!
In other music-related news: I did a little record-shopping yesterday. I picked up a CD of Stravinsky conducting his "Firebird" ballet, and two records: "Piano Rags of Scott Joplin Vol. 2" and Steve Reich's "Octet; Music for Large Ensemble; Violin Phase". The records were both used ( for the Joplin, and for the Reich), but in good condition. I found them at Downtown Music Gallery, which has a good used record section. I had gone there with the intention of buying the new Musica Transonic CD, but they were momentarily out of stock. The store owner, Bruce, told me that it should be back in by today though. Perhaps another trip is in order.
- o. nate
Monday, November 18, 2002
Well, I finally done it. I took the vinyl plunge - went down to J&R, plunked down the dough, and walked out with my very own turntable. It feels like 1985 all over again. I grew up listening to records on my dad's turntable. It was a major rite of passage for me when he first showed me how to hold the records ("always by the edges!"), how to wipe them clean before playing them, how to gently lower the needle into the groove. Playing records is a very intimate business - not at all like playing CDs. You have to be gentle with them. So why would I give up the convenience and indestructability of CDs and go back to the days of snap, crackle, pop, turntable hum, skipping, and all the rest? It's not for nostalgia - or at least not primarily. Reason 1 is that my girlfriend has a stack of old records (including such gems as "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway", a Claude Bolling jazz concerto, and a bunch of Glenn Gould) and no way to play them. Reason 2 is that there are still, even in this day and age, some things that you just can't get on CD. And Reason 3 - okay I admit it - is that records are just more fun to play. But do they sound better? Not if they're in crappy condition - that's for sure. But new? Well, I'll just say they sound pretty good. And that's with my decidedly non-audiophile turntable and stylus.
In celebration of my expanded universe of musical media, I went to Other Music and picked up the Astrobotnia "Part II" EP. You know, the vinyl-only one. It's sort of like "Part I", but faster and more aggressive. If you're curious, you can hear a free sample of it on the Rephlex website. Recommended for fans of Aphex Twin circa "The Richard D. James Album", or for anyone who wants something fun to spin on a new turntable.
Last but not least, I wanted to at least mention the show that I went to last weekend - actually, I guess it was the weekend before last. It was at Tonic: Zeena Parkins with Chris Cutler and Marina Rosenfeld. I would describe the style as improvised ambient noise. Parkins charismatically hacking and sawing away at her electric harp; Cutler rattling out rhythmic fragments on his mad-scientist's array of electrical gizmos; while Rosenfeld laid down a procrustean bed of drones and hums. Similar in approach to the Vandermark trio date that I described a few months ago in this space, but on the whole more successful. Good momentum is key to these kinds of improvisations, in order to keep the audience engaged, and Parkins and co. kept things moving along nicely.
- o. nate
Saturday, November 9, 2002
Well, I've had the Carter Family 1927-1934 five-CD set for over a month now, and I still haven't listened to the whole thing. It didn't used to be this way. My relationship with recorded music has changed over the years. In my college days, I'm sure I would have listened to the whole set within a day or two of purchasing it. Of course, in those impecunious days, it would have been quite unusual for me to purchase a 5-CD set at all. (Although, to be fair, the Carter set was a bargain - costing about the same as two regular full-priced CDs.) But, nevertheless, in those days, buying a CD was a major event, and the thrill of getting it home and listening to it was almost feverish. Nowadays, my disposable income has expanded as my hours of free time have shrunk, and the situation is a bit different: I can afford to buy more music, even music that I don't have an immediate and visceral need to listen to immediately. This is not to say that I don't look forward to listening to the Carters. But, let's face it, five 70-minute-plus CDs, sequenced in chronological order, can be a daunting listening experience - regardless of who they're by. And the Carters don't always make it easy for the attention-deprived listener.
Disk "D" (the disks in the set are lettered, rather than numbered) is where I'm currently at. It is comprised of tracks the Carters recorded in 1932. This was a year, let's recall, in which this country was mired in the greatest depression of its history - and I think it would be fair to say that something of that great national torpor is reflected in the music. There appear to be two main types of songs on Disk "D": songs about dying and songs about unrequited love - not exactly light fare. What makes it even more depressing is that, in the songs about dying, the Carters' basic opinion seems to be that they are looking forward to it. It can be a bit grim. Perhaps, too, there was the internal strain within the other Carter family - i.e., A.P. and Sara's marriage - which finally came apart at the seams the following year, although they would continue to perform together as the Carter Family for several more years - and produce a lot of livelier material as well. Anyway, here's hoping that Disc "E" lightens the mood a bit.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I finally saw some live music last weekend. It had been an unusually long dry spell for me in that department. But last weekend, I finally managed to drag my butt out of the house and go see (and hear) Osvaldo Golijov's version of the St. Mark Passion, "La Pasion Segun San Marcos", at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM). Since I am a fan of Bach's Passions, I was looking forward to seeing Golijov's contemporary re-interpretation, and he did not disappoint. The music was lively, passionate, rhythmic, lovely, and moving. At the end of the evening there was as big and enthusiastic a standing ovation as I have seen at a classical concert. Golijov's work is a hybrid of classical forms and South American popular forms. In addition to the regular string and brass sections, there was a small ensemble of Afro-Cuban percussionists, a choir, and a handful of dancers. The Afro-Cuban percussion was one of the high-points for me. It added a rhythmic liveliness which is as rare as hen's teeth in classical music. There was also a lot of great singing, and Golijov can write melodies. I recommend it highly.
- o. nate
Thursday, November 7, 2002
Esteemed ILM'er and occasional blogger, Mark Sinker, has a review of the new Iannis Xenakis disc on Asphodel, Persepolis + Remixes Edition 1, in the latest issue of the Village Voice. If you read his essay "The Rise and Sprawl of Horrible Noise", which I linked to in this space a couple of months back, then you will already be familiar with his wittily elliptical style.
- o. nate
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