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"For thirty-nine years Cleopatra, the serpent of the Nile, ruled men, kingdoms and history with one of the greatest weapons ever known - herself."
A portion of this wacky record appeared on WFMU before, via Tony Coulter, and I felt I owed it to ol' Cleo to share the rest of her story with the world. It's another record that I've had and DJ'd for a long time and bits of it pop up in a lot of sets over the years ("Chasing a whore through the desert at night at your age, Caesar? -By all the Gods, yes!!"). Now feast your ears on the whole charming tale. Technically 'adults only' upon its release, it now seems only vaguely erotic/smutty in spots. I would call it 'Not Safe for Church Work'.
"A product of MDL Records, Inc. New York, NY" (Riot Records R302)
Meet Ralph Emery. This is his country music NBC morning show from 1966. He is “the man” according to the likes of country music’s hard-knocks and outlaws. He’s “the man” in the pejorative sense, not the complimentary sense as witnessed in “you da man. No, you da man” exchanges. In 1968, Gram Parsons (International Submarine Band, The Byrds) lambasted Emery as everything antithetical to the true spirit of country music. After an unpleasant, on-air tiff with Ralph Emery, The Byrds wrote "Drug Store Truck Drivin’ Man," in which they accuse Emery of everything from racism to your classic case of white, southern douchebaggery. You’d never guess it from the casual, friendly nature of this episode, but there was a storm brewing in the world of country music. In 1966, the tension was gathering, but it had yet to break.
The 1960’s was so much about “change” it would’ve made Barack Obama nauseous. Maybe Vietnam was to blame for a lot of it. Or was it the music? After a while, it sort of turns into a chicken/egg impasse. In the news bulletin toward the end of this episode, Vietnam’s inevitable, looming presence creeps into an otherwise cheerful affair. The announcement of the war’s most devastating air attack on North Vietnam is a chilly reminder of world events that sits uneasily in the good ole boy, just hangin’ around feel of the show. Whatever the case may be, Ralph Emery was determined to keep rock and roll out of country music. This show is a little slice from a period of time when Chet Atkins' Nashville sound still reigned king in the country music scene, despite the revolution happening everywhere else.
When asked what exactly typified the “Nashville sound,” Chet Atkins reportedly jangled his pocket change and said: “It’s the sound of money.” As head of RCA’s country division in the 1950’s, he took the twang out of country music, and replaced it with croon. Guest stars on this show such as Roger Miller and Tex Ritter enjoyed long periods of wild popularity and chart-topping sales. The Nashville sound sold like crazy. It continued to hold steady throughout the 1960’s as the nation’s conservative listeners disdained the new ethics of rock and roll and sought to hold onto the purified pop of yesteryear.
Despite the commercial sensibility, the elitist attitude of the Nashville sound, and Ralph Emery himself, I have to admit that I enjoyed watching this television episode. The improvisational feel and cigarette-smoking is worlds away from the Regis and Kelly kind of morning show I’ve grown to expect and avoid. And for all the change-jangling and sound of money – the music really isn’t half bad either. There is something sweet and nice about Roger Miller’s country music, and the Nashville sound for that matter. It manages to be catchy without being cloying. Or gross (I’m thinking about today’s hits such as "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk"). It reminds me of happy, sun-shiny days minus an overwhelming load of idiocy. I can dig it.
Roger Miller, right off the bat, reminds me of Conor Oberst from Bright Eyes. He looks a heck of a lot like him and has that nervous, jittery way of responding to questions and avoiding eye-contact. Ten minutes into the show, when he declares, “I like to pick my nose,” as he does so on national television, I know that I like this man. I know also that TV humor isn’t like this anymore and I wish it was. On talk shows today the funny stuff is all pre-fabricated and fits neatly between well rehearsed segues. When I watch Emery and Miller banter back and forth I feel like I’m sitting in on a conversation between two friends – hell, they even seem like people I’d want to be friends with. I feel like I want to be in on the jokes and I want to understand the stuff they talk about that I don’t immediately get. I especially like the way that the weather is handwritten in a 3-ring notebook and held up to the camera so you can read it. Something about that made me smile.
I think today’s comedians are starting to pick up this kind of humor. When Zach Galifianakis fucks up a line he is at his funniest. People like mistakes. They like being able to envision themselves on television, just as awkward and shuffly as the next guy. I wonder, then, what happened to unpolished TV shows like this? If something like this was on network TV every morning I’d be tuning in. Instead, we have air-brushed tans and fake, hysterical laughter. And there sure as hell ain’t any music.
Okay, maybe Gram Parsons had a point about Emery’s elitism. And maybe the Nashville sound had to die to give way to a new breed of outlaw characters (Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson etc.) who better typified a new American ethos. But there is something to be gleaned from country’s pop days – something wholesome and good.
This episode is from 1966, and Chet Atkin’s protégé still rules the roost. Jefferson Airplane and The Beatles are off in their own world, doing their own things. In 1966, mornings on NBC are still about country and the comfortable pop crooners of yesteryear. In the midst of the world’s first televised war, who can really blame anyone for wanting to tune in to Opry Almanac for a few laughs with the good ole boys?
You can play any kind of music--it depends how you do it.
I probably have not heard Night Ranger's "Sister Christian" since it came out in the early 1980s. I never would have thought of it again had Dan Bodah not played it on Airborne Event next to East Stroudsburg High School Band and Wind Ensemble. His work with the track is the complete opposite of the cooperate rock milieu Night Ranger intended it for. Notice how Dan took the track from the Boogie Nights soundtrack; a great film about 1970s excess turning dangerous in the early 80s. Watch the song's use here. Also listen for the reference to mix tapes.
Here is another way to re-contextualize music. Type any song you like into the FMU search engine and find how different DJs used the track. I did this with Ocho's "Undress My Mind," an absolutely infectious Latin rock piece I downloaded before Monica was done playing it next to electronic music by Tom Dissevelt, John Allen played the song after "Brown Eyes," by Fleetwood Mac. Martha used the Chinese Restaurants before Ocho. If you love the mystery of free form, forget everything I just said and enjoy. But if you want to learn how each DJ gives a show the texture that makes it his or hers, this exercise goes a long way.
Next is re-contextualization I'll wish I never brought up. Bobby Goldsboro was a soft rock singer whose "Honey,"--it's not the great Ohio Players song--was the most sickly sweet of pop. It went to #1 in 1968, and could be the model for everything early free form FM was trying blow out of the water. His "See The Funny Little Clown," is comparable, and was recontextualized on Inflatable Squirrel Carcass by Rich Hazleton, next to the Totemo Godzilla Riders. And IT WORKS! Context is everything.
Still, I am too humane to leave you with Bobby in your head. Since I mentioned the Ohio Players, here is "Heaven Must Be Like This" on Awesome New Place With Bennett4Senate between the Jackson 5 and Jimmy Cliff.
The summer of 1992. A friend and I were exploring Eastern Europe. Even though three years had already passed since the Berlin Wall came down, there was still a little bit of an “Eastern Block” mindset around. Read as in, it was still slightly exciting and adventurous to head out east in one’s car. At least fools like us tended to believe so.
One of our stops brought us to Budapest, Hungary. We couldn’t possibly have stayed for more than 3 days, but it was enough time to browse practically every single record store for Hungarian oddities and otherwise fascinating artifacts. One of these stores had up posters, advertising a local show of what I believed to be a German ‘fun punk’ band at the time. In big bold letters it read “Rasende Leichenbeschauer.” Soon enough we learned that Vágtázó Halottkémek was nothing close to a tragic import from Germany but in fact a local outfit of exceptional reputation. Descriptions passed around in the store included: Shamen punk, wild and ritualistic psychedelia, fronted by a renown astrophysicist. Ok, we were sold, leave alone the fact that it was a free open air show anyway, with a ton of other local acts. The show was held at Pálvölgyi Barlang, a beautiful little valley surrounded by woods and mountains just outside of the city. It was a much bigger affair than we had thought it would be. By the time we made it out there, the place was already packed with thousands of people and millions of mosquitoes. Oh my god, the mosquitoes. I didn’t notice it so much during VHK’s set but for the next two weeks I looked like I had leprosy. So yeah, here we were, in the middle of nowhere, getting our minds blown by bands we had never heard of, and having our blood sucked by thousands of vicious little fuckers. It was almost bizarre to see how many people came out to something that I considered to be way off the beaten path. Honestly, these Hungarian wild men were crazier than anything I had ever seen on stage. Two drummers competing for the upper hand, dreadlocks swirling in the air, behind them a backdrop of cavernous mountains and illuminated trees. Guitars cutting through the air, both wildly possessed and psychedelically dreamy. Spearheaded by conductor Grandpierre Atilla’s yelps and screams, it felt like the twelve horsemen of the Apocalypse were out to get us. Simply put, it was a night to remember, fueled by all the ingredients that make certain things more special than others.
Until they broke up in 2000 I have seen Vágtázó Halottkémek over and over again, every single time being almost as exciting as the first night out there in the woods of Budapest. Below is a recollection of most of these shows. An extraordinary essay, triggered by VHK’s 2009 reunion show in Budapest, was furthermore contributed by Alexander Pehlemann, publisher of Zonic magazine.
Back to the galloping rage!
From the Galloping Coroners via the Galloping Wonder Stag to Galloping Vitality
aka: What Magyar Folk, the Huns, the Trianon Treaty, Béla Bartók, the cosmos, and last but not least shamanism and punk (might) have to do with each other.
By Alexander ”Vágtázó Zonic“ Pehlemann
A library of the Academy of Sciences is certainly not the usual location for interviews with singers of rock bands. But then, there is a lot about Attila Grandpierre and VHK (Vágtázó Halottkémek, founded by him in 1975 and roughly translated to “the Galloping Coroners”) that is not usual by rock standards.
In the most obscure corner of the library, set off by a glass screen, Attila, member of the Academy of Sciences and holder of a Ph.D. in Astrophysics specializing in the field of psyche and the universe, talks himself into an eloquent frenzy and a missionary rapture. While the other visitors of this room filled with academically dusty dignity start getting restless, my thoughts occasionally stray to that staged interview segment that flickered on the screen at the GoEast Festival in Wiesbaden three days ago. In Gábor Bódy’s 1982 film “Night Song of the Dog” (which is currently touring the country in revitalized colors as a cinematographic “messenger of the turning point”), one can see an unruly mob of crazy, more or less punked up youngsters who shortly before, painted and dressed (some even feathered) as if on the war path, made an infernal racket; now gathered around a table, they shout (pseudo-) philosophical statements over one another, like the one about all energy of the universe being present in the matchbox that’s lying on the table. In the middle of it all there is Attila (whose age difference is hard to tell even today), playing himself in the movie: an astrophysicist who sings in a band. Or rather, screeches, yowls, screams – bone-shaking, frightening, rousing, from the fullest depth of his self.
Still, things aren’t quite this loud and wild here, although the older other academics make their genteel disapproval known by shaking their heads and getting up from their seats between reading lamps and card catalogs. But then of course this isn’t the entire VHK sitting in front of wood panels and late-baroque portraits of scientists – too bad especially because it would be interesting to ask the other band members about their views on the world and on the cosmos.
If nothing else, Attila has decided to get rid of the old name because of “morbid associations,” which is why they now perform the raging rock of Vágtázó Halottkémek under the ideological flag of raging vitality as Vágtázó Eleterö.
Like at the revival two days ago, after a ten-year hiatus, in Budapest’s Petöfi Hall (an absurd steel and concrete building), with folkloristic quotations and questionable sound, gathering over 2000 people of diverse but subculturally somewhat advanced age for an almost three-hour show, full of typical VHK ingredients that had made them famous once upon a time: extended improvisations and massive eruptions of energy, psychedelic excursions and percussive excess including kettledrums, folkloristic melody fragments and terrific songs. Fists were clenched and swung, mass choruses initiated, sound-matching forms of movement between free form folk dance and polite pogo practiced. A grandiose evening, surely with a lot of melancholy reunion wistfulness for the aged hipster scene and more than enough power to enrapture young punks and neo-hippies. Including me, as a non-Hungarian VHK fan. Aside from the exposition of the congenial and visually brute artwork for VHK that Géza Barcsik designed, it was the merchandising booth that provided a very different iconographic shock though. Next to recordings of VHK and Attila’s solo project, the Vágtázó Csodaszarvas (Galloping Wonder Stag), which stirs Eurasian folk and a bit of jazz into a mythical primal sound soup with even stronger determination, there were nationalistic paraphernalia in wholesale quantities: baseball caps, bracelets, key chains, sew-on patches, wrist bands in the national colors or in red and white, quoting that medieval Àrpád flag that was used by the fascist arrow cross party in the late 1940s. Plus Great Hungary as a symbol everywhere: references to the great empire that died in 1920 and, following World War I with the Trianon Treaty, lost two thirds of Hungary and a third of its people. Oh hell of contexts, now what?
Let’s respond to anti-fascist reflexes even before they kick in: the merchandising booth was put up by elements not associated with the band, and Attila claimed he didn’t know anything about the additional nationalist inventory. Whether or not he was bothered by it though remained unclear. At any rate, he has no problem with the term “nation”: “A cell is not too small to be interesting. Even compared to humanity or the universe, it deserves to be noticed. In the same way, my family is important to me, my nation, my homeland, humanity is important and all earthly creatures are very important and all cosmic creatures are important to me. All this together represents the seven pillars of the world. It all belongs together and embodies the same things: if I survive, my cells survive, a member of my family and therefore a little part of the universe as well. All seven life forms make up one life! All nations together make up humanity. They must cooperate, just like family members help one another naturally. In my opinion nations are very good friends by nature. I respect and love other nations much more than I used to, much more than the horrible modern world allows. We are brothers and sisters, organs of one complete organism, one being!” When asked for clarification, he adds that accordingly, the 19th century idea of the ethnic national state is to be rejected.
So far, so esoterically fuzzy, so embracing humanity and world and universe.
Back to the roots of the Galloping Coroners.
The first verifiable signs of life were international right away, at a time when the band was still far from having played their way up to unassailable status in Hungary. In 1980, through the agency of Veruschka „Vera“ Baksa-Soós, VHK (translated arbitrarily to “Whizzing Spies of Death”) got in contact with the record label Atatak and appeared on its compilation “Fix Planet!”, next to bands like Esplendor Geometrico, Eva Johanna Reichstag & Die Form, Jad Fair, and of course Der Plan. This Vera Baksa-Soós, a Hungarian exile living in Düsseldorf, whose brother sang in the legendary progressive psychedelic band Kex in the early 70s, married Gábor Bódy in 1980. That same year, Bódy presented his first big film, Narcisz es Psziche, featuring Udo Kier, after having been significantly involved with the experimental group K3 in the famous Béla Balázs Studios for artistic film in Budapest, a creative playground to which he had invited artists and musicians not connected with the movie scene. Bódy was a pioneer of video art, co-founded (with his wife and others) the first video art magazine Infermental, taught college in West Berlin, was one of the few subcultural mediators during the Cold War, and at the same time an unofficial member of the Stasi (East German secret police). This is why many people doubt whether the cause of his death in 1985 was really suicide, as officially declared by the authorities. At any rate, the participation of “Night Song of the Dog” in the Berlin Film Festival (which featured other odd figures of the Magyar underground as well, such as the fantastic Dada´n´Zappa-PunkFunkJazzNoise artists A.E.Bizottsag and Marietta of the ultra-melancholy wave band Trabant) marks the further uncommon path of VHK.
Back at home, VHK was already beginning to have a cult following, but also feared by the government because of the concertgoers’ ecstatic behavior, for the loss of control meant just as much the loss of controllability: “We were never a political band like most of the others. But our lyrics heralded a bright future for humanity. And we interpreted music in a completely different way. The question was rather: if this gets popular, how will the people react, will they become uncontrollable? How does this fit with communism? They were really afraid. It was a risk for somebody to allow us to go on stage, because he could be fired for it. But a lot of people told us that they liked the band more than their jobs. Those were really extraordinary times. Sometimes we performed under an alias. For example, in 1981 after a concert by Kontroll Csoport, the audience, having seen all VHK members in the room, demanded that we should play. That happened more than once. Also, when the police called the university or the Petöfi Hall to prohibit the concert, I often put out an official inquiry and asked for the reasons. Because the police were not following the law when they were doing this. And I threatened to take this to the next level higher up, all the way to abroad. When they summoned me and wanted to force me to give in, I yelled, threatened them with scandals, and left the room. In the end we still played, but it simply was a fight.” The regular government interventions had aesthetic consequences as well: “Normally our concerts were always cut short, which is why we didn’t need a long set list. But in 1982 we had a concert where after the three songs that we knew, nobody told us to stop, so we somehow had to keep playing and started to improvise, just like in rehearsals, in front of the audience – which unleashed tremendous energy. So starting in 1982, we developed a language to express ourselves.”
This language, preserved on film and strangely fascinating, also impressed Wolfgang Müller of the Tödliche Doris, who invited the band. They first played a show in Osnabrück in 1984, although without Attila, and then in West Berlin’s Front-Kino, for which he had managed to get a passport. But in East Berlin’s underground as well people were talking about the odd cosmic force from Hungary. For example, poet-performer Tohm de Roes said in an interview with the East German Radio in 1985 that his band Klick & Aus was influenced by VHK – a kind of subcultural inspiration from the socialist brother state. There was even a meeting in East Berlin’s Prenzlauer Berg district, where Klick & Aus and Ornament & Verbrechen showed Super 8 films to the courted grand master Grandpierre.
The 1985 joint concert with Tödliche Doris and Klick & Aus in Budapest was cancelled though – whether due to police intervention or the organizer’s slacking off can no longer be ascertained. But all who were involved remember spending the night in Attila’s apartment, where his mother grumbled about the “German pigs” that were lying around everywhere…
How much Magyar national culture was part of all the pure and downright slaying energy becomes apparent when considering Béla Bartók (a lifelong opponent of nationalisms): “Béla Bartók was one of the greatest musical geniuses of humanity. His life was centered on a completely new idea of the nature of music. This other, true folk music is marked by three criteria: first an absolutely clean state of consciousness, second a genesis free of outer influences, and third, very essential, being driven by a natural power. And I believe this power is cosmic creativity. Such a music of course cannot follow prescribed patterns, obey outer norms, be influenced from the outside. This requires an accordingly specific state of mind, and the modern human receives and senses barely any cosmic power. Since according to Bartók, musical creativity parallels the natural forces, it is synonymous with the entire creativity of the world, it is really its essence.” Here the rock shaman shows through - something not exactly unusual for the 70s; from Jim Morrison to cosmic rock or the Kraut outer/inner-worldliness one could draw family lines, on whose borders colorful drug plants are growing. What is new though is the seriousness of searching for shamanistic references in the depths of history, something that Attila also attempted to capture theoretically in the text Punk as a Rebirth of Shamanist Folk Music/The Magic Forces of Art at Work: “Rock music is connected with age-old traditions and had a really revolutionary face in the beginning. Many thought it was going to change the world. And it came from below, like all natural forces. So rock music was driven by natural forces as well, it had to happen and therefore had just as much of a cosmic perspective. Later it turned out that in many respects it conformed to modern society – and I was always interested in nonconformity. I wanted the entire, complete reality! I wanted to experience life as it really is, and not viewed through the glasses of the modern world. Something that exists in all cultures and will even in the future. Something that transcends the dogmas and ideas and conceptual frames. For me it was and is the case that in the best-case scenario some kind of Eastern magic can be found in Western music, even with Pink Floyd. But what drives me does not have its origin in Western society. It might play an important role while tracing the essence, but I found this essence in original Mongolian music, which in turn maybe carries reminiscences the music of the Huns.”
There they are: the Huns! VHK sings about them often enough. And not for nothing does Attila have the name of that Hun king, the “scourge of God” who makes his appearance as Etzel in the Nibelung legend; it seems he is standing in the shadow of his father Endre K. Grandpierre, a poet and explorer of great-Hungarian history, whose reaction to the Trianon disaster certainly was no more than the revisionist “No, no, never” that was raised to a state doctrine by the empire administrator Horthy in the 1920s. Now researchers basically agree that today’s Hungarians have only very little in common with the Huns, whose name, like the Skythians’, was no more than a collective term from a Western (Greek/Roman) perspective for nomads on horses, brutally invading from the Central Asian plains. They probably have nothing at all in common linguistically, because the Huns’ tongue has not been handed down in writing. Still, among the great multitude of speculative theses about the origins of the strange Hungarian language, the favorite is of course the one about being related to the Huns.
This connection was certainly conducive to the popularity of VHK in the West, fitting for the doomsday dance, for the infatuation with collapse, for the pleasure of fearing the end of time, for the anti-civilization neo-barbarism in urban transfiguration: oh, if only I had the creeps… We should look at the perception of Laibach too, who designed their New Slovenian Art only a few hundred kilometers away and brought the topic of nation forcefully to the art front. This fascination already shows up in titles of festivals like “Myths, Monsters, Mutations,” where VHK played alongside La Fura dels Baus, supported by Rituelles Theater, which had supplied the sound with adequately expressive and body-intensive mythological images since 1982. Equally helpful were the contexts manufactured by their manager Dietmar Lupfer, who took the band’s fate in his hands starting in 1986 and on whose label Sonic Boom the first three VHK albums appeared: concerts with Einstürzende Neubauten, Young Gods, Caspar-Brötzmann-Massaker, and tours with Henry Rollins. Lupfer also brought them to England, where the Alternative Tentacles office took notice and completely licensed VHK. The band then played at the New Music Seminar in New York in 1992, and at the PopKomm in Cologne in the same year – and they floored just about everybody. It wasn’t for nothing that they caught the attention of Neurosis, on whose Neurot label VHK appeared later. Although this happened at a point in time when not only did techno and similar trends massively appropriate the pop culture world, but the (exotic) interest in the subculture that had made waves behind the Iron Curtain sharply declined as well. Thus, and Attila’s bitterness is noticeable, they fell back on Hungary. The last CD was published in cooperation with Trottel Records only in their own country, where the cosmic-shamanistic prophets had to fight just as much against their fading from significance. This surely contributed to the loss of that invoked inner magic, causing Attila in 1999 to leave his band. They toiled on without him for another year, as a shrunk variation.
Back to nation.
Nationalism, always kept in check during the times of Goulash Communism, came back in the beginning of the 90s on a disturbing scale. Already in the early 70s, the student movement of Tancház (dance house) that celebrated the rediscovery of Hungarian folklore transgressing the country’s (new) borders with obsessive dancing was suspected of revisionist-reactionary tendencies by the government, and despite all systemic paranoia perhaps not entirely without justification. Dance the anti-Trianon! People were frequently anti-Communist, anti-Soviet, and anti-Russian anyway, openly expressed in the late 70s by Ferenc Nagy’s band Beatrice who was the voice of the Szöves scene, a kind of youth culture of the underprivileged where hard rock and blues met punk, with its own symbol code. In addition, it became apparent in the late 80s that for some, working with Nazi shock potentials in punk was the straight path to the ultra-right camp. While this phenomenon occurs commonly in the former Eastern block countries, what is special about Hungary considering the historical background is both the vehemence of its appearance and the absence of delimitation by the middle class. The political polarization tears the country apart, and the opposition to liberals and social democrats makes the right wing around the gifted populist Viktor Orban less and less inhibited about making eyes at antisemitic and xenophobic parties such as Jobbik with Krisztina Morvai, whose paramilitary “Hungarian Guard” aggressively emulates the arrow cross movement, and not just visually. This tear can no longer be overlooked or bridged since the first right-wing riots of 2006, when (now former) president social democrat Ferenc Gyurscany’s election lie speech, secretly videotaped, caused violent protests in the streets where the above-mentioned Àrpád flags resurged…
Back to raging, or raging backwards?
One could view Vágtázó Csodaszarvas as a dance house band filtered by VHK experience. There is a reason why the albums were published by the Fono label which offers jazz and folk, sometimes in concretions. It is obvious that the right wing tries to occupy that scene, generously overlooking the gigantic percentage of gypsy musicians of course. Additionally, one could hear the focus on Central Asian music as a danceable counterpart to Eurasia theories like the one by the Russian Aleksandr Gelevic Dugin.
One could read Attila Grandpierre’s New Age-ish life force philosophies and cosmologies as neo-right ideologies – provided one speaks Hungarian and possesses the astrophysical, historic, and cultural-scientific background. (The three-part article “Man and Cosmos. A Radical Approach to the Daring Feat of Understanding Anything” was published in German by the geomantics magazine Hagia Chora in Klein-Jasedow.)
One could condemn VHK for sanctioning the merchandising lines described earlier. Accuse them of anti-Western affects and a “blood and cosmos” world view. Suspect that the national mysticism might be either a retreat space (a double meaning of “back to/in Hungary”) or a marketing strategy (the Rammstein variation).
And one could argue about whether, as Attila opines, the history of the last 10,000 years is to be viewed as error and cosmological aberration, or not.
One could – but........... noiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiise
Brausepöter - Bundeswehr (Wild Isle) This 7" captures a wild German trio out of the small town of Rietberg who became a house band in one of that country's first new wave clubs. After gigging with such luminaries at the Abwarts and Einsturzende Neubauten, they fell in with the Zick Zack label for a proper studio session they felt may not have been so representative of their real sound. Hence this 7" single culled from a TV appearance (below), a wild slice of punk scabbery with a vibe of what a male Kleenex fresh out of the Beat Club might resemble. (Brian Turner)
AG Davis / Jamison Williams - May 6, 1937 (Skrot Up) Surprised to see so many people in online reviews getting their dander up over this one; Florida electronics and sax punctuated by total bladder-burst approach and Jaap Blonk-esque vocalizations to scare the wildlife off for the immediate radius; granted this is the kind of thing that is tough to swallow in longform, but on a 7" single it rules. Playing it on the air got some fists in the air but also a couple of 'WHY' emails. Sort of a flashback to the time a guy literally threatened to come down and punch my lights out for playing a Peeeseye 7" that boiled down a singular 3 minute crystalline nugget of ugliness.I guess part of the hellride is knowing it would be over soon (but then again, listeners can't see a 45 spinning on the turntable so...) Side B's high-pitch electronic squall I usually refrain from because I personally know some dogs that listen to the radio show, so for now we have the audio to side A here. (Brian Turner)
Various - New Weird Australia: We Are After All Here (NWA) I'm not a "morning person." When I have to be up at some ungodly hour, my usual laidback demeanor is thrown by the wayside and I'm fussy about anything and everything. What I'm in the mood to eat (or not eat), exactly how much coffee I need to imbibe to maintain a proper wakeful balance, and what music I want to listen to are all life and death questions. Choosing incorrectly will result in dire mental and emotional consequences that could last the entire day. My body (really, my entire being) is in absolute revolt for at least a few hours following an undesirable wake-up call, and NOTHING must piss it off. This is why I can preach the gospel of the New Weird Australia compilation series. Anytime I'm up at an ungodly hour and feeling angsty or finicky as hell, these comps hit the spot. Even when I've managed to upset the caffeine balance. The latest release from NWA is a collection of dreamy, droney, hazy, loping and lo-fi compositions, many with just a touch of haunted electronics. Take the edge off any morning: download the entire compilation here on the Free Music Archive, and thank your weird Australian brethren for helping you push past those early hours. More NWA goodies here. (Liz Berg)
Shingles - White Out (905 Tapes) + Mysteres du Serpent - Mondo Neptune (Baked Tapes) A new pair of ethereal noise cassettes from Grasshopper's Jesse DeRosa and Telecult Powers' Witchbeam offer different but complementary passageways into faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar out zones that are as deep as they are musically substantial, a rare quality in the cassette underground. As Shingles, DeRosa--one-half of the trumpet duo Grasshopper--layers up an EVI, the same kind of bending sci-fi woodwind Marshall Allen has been blowing never-often-enough with the Sun Ra Arkestra for many years. Though the landscape threatens to blossom into New Age neon throughout the side-long "NIght Beach," there are enough moving parts in the melodies to make momentum, not to mention gorgeous, shifting colors. Cult-knowledge researcher Witchbeam, who decamped from Brooklyn to Louisiana last year, has been jamming at his local voodoo temple. This is apparently not a metaphor. In which case, the resultant Mondo Neptune cassette (issued by DeRosa's Baked Tapes) is the melding of two equally right-on traditions: the bedroom synth-builder and authentic American folk music, in a way that is totally uncorny. In fact, it's outright heavy: wild undulations of resonant homemade noise, swamp ambience of frogs and cicadas, and sometimes distorted drummers, kicking out spare and hypnotic rhythms. And if it is a metaphor, it's still awesome Some Soundcloud here. Shingles: "Bloodfuel" (MP3): (Jesse Jarnow)
The Alps - Easy Action (Mexican Summer) If there's not a random French/German avant-prog/folk band-name generator on the intenet by now, there should be. Google indicates that there isn't, so there's no way to use it to come up with a bunch of reference points to describe The Alps' Easy Action And though the name sounds like it came from a Southern boogie rock .cgi script of its own, this epilogue to last year's Le Voyage sounds (for much of its second half) like a mellow star-field in between journey legs. Earlier, when the band mixes swirling atmosphere with precise fingerpicked structures ("For Isabel") the music is at its most implacable mix of earthy and cosmic and really kinda perfect. Audio: "For Isabel": (Jesse Jarnow)
3 Leafs - Eat the Earth (No Label) Contrary to what a certain McSweeney's list has to say about my taste in classic rock music, I don't actually have any failed stereo/barbecue hybrids in my garage. But I do love that Pink Floyd, and not just the Syd stuff! Ummagumma, Live at Pompeii - I can live in these places. I think 3 Leafs lives in these places. Based in San Francisco and sporting members of such FMU faves as Citay, Six Eye Columbia, DJ Female Convict Scorpion and The Fresh & Onlys, 3 Leafs get their psychedelic nod on in a way that would vibe very familiarly to your average millenia-dead volcano mummy. Their latest self-released CD "Eat The Earth", reportedly recorded while all members were shrooming, features 4 long pieces of structured improvisation on guitars, synths, percussion, fx (delay pedals in particular), and some wordless vocals. The evolution of each track is based more on texture than intensity, where ideas pointillistically leap into the mix and fall off. The centerpiece "We Eat the Earth" is a 13 minute swirl of birdcalls and synth arguments over a methodical bass loop and a minor key organ swell; "Puppies on Parade" starts with a marimba-like figure right out of Carl Orff's "Musica Poetica", before the exceedingly kraut drums push it all into another synth blissout; and opening and closing cuts "Fahren Bei Tag" ("Driving by Day") and "Fahren Bei Nacht" ("Driving by Night") make explicit their allegiance to their 70s German forbears, while still quite clearly sharpening an axe for Eugene. 3 Leafs have generously made this entire album, plus other tracks, available on their SoundCloud page.(Scott Williams)
Peter Evans Quintet - Ghosts (More Is More) Peter Evans is the quintessential modern polyglot musician, comfortable playing baroque music, traditional jazz, solo explorations of the trumpet's innards, or cracking skulls in a free for all with Weasel Walter and Mary Halvorson. The music Peter makes with his own quartet or, in this case, quintet, is rooted in traditional jazz but is seriously frayed at the edges, with pushed tempos, swaths of noise and crust, and compositional subterfuge. The ballads are haunted by, yes, ghosts. Sam Pluta?s live processed electronics add a surrealist, almost depraved, element. I recall in the back of my mind some book, I think it was Douglas Copeland's Girlfriend in a Coma maybe?, in which the characters, healthy people, just started to drop limbs, you know, just kind of unravel and disintegrate into piles of indistinguishable plasma. This music is exciting like that. Audio: "The Big Crunch" (Scott McDowell)
The Paparazzi - Rococo (Serious Business) I first heard the Paparazzi song "The Rococo Tape" last year on one of the great Ampeater Free Music Archive compilations, and it was one of my favorite pop songs of 2010, packing a ton of unconventionally hook-y ideas into less than two minutes. I didn't know much about the group at the time, but Doug Gillard knew I'd played this song on WFMU before, and he plays with Erik Paparazzi himself in Bambi Kino, so they brought some copies of this Serious Business Records release when they played live on Joe Belock's show earlier this month. Turns out Erik Paparazzi originally recorded this album way back in 2003/2004, but didn't finish it until last year. Maybe because he's devoted more time to his other projects (like backing up Cat Power) or maybe it's because -- even though the album has a real breezy organic lofi feel -- a lot of compositional craft seems to've gone into these nine tracks. Reminds me at various times of Big Star, Julian Lynch, some displaced Elephant 6...I hope we'll soon hear more from The Paparazzi! (Jason Sigal)
Big Troubles are a group from Ridgewood, New Jersey who specialize in a kind of music that floats somehwere between Loveless and Music From the Adventures of Pete and Pete. Their songs are full of hazy guitars and fuzzy keyboards... and on their debut album, Worry, a drum machine stabs itself into the mix, adding an even greater intensity to the music.
The band appeared on Talk's Cheap with Jason Sigal around this time last year, and guest DJ'ed a block of music that included Lilys, Sugar, and Cleaners From Venus. Check that out here. The group isn't touring, but they will have several shows come up in May, including May 20th at The Bell House with Real Estate, May 6th at Webster Hall with the Pains of Being Pure at Heart, and with Real Estate again at Maxwell's on May 21st.
Formed in the crucible of danger and despair that was the South Bronx of the late '60s, the Ghetto Brothers was a remarkable organization—a gang that chose to stop shooting and go straight. Under the charismatic leadership of idealist and visionary "Yellow Benjy" Melendez, the GBs brokered a gang truce in 1971 (the historic Hoe Avenue Peace Meeting) following the senseless killing of the group's peace counselor Cornell "Black Benjy" Benjamin.
Aside from organizing youth activities and advocating anti-violence, the Beatles-besotted Ghetto Brothers used music to bring positivity to a devastated community. Recorded after the death of Black Benjy, the group's sole LP, Power-Fuerza, is a massively groovy and deeply poignant cultural treasure from a long-gone era in New York. It is also the lead item in this week's Motherlode. Don't dare miss it.
Brothers Gonna Work It Out "This album contains a message; a message to the world, from the Ghetto Brothers. The Ghetto Brothers, a community organization dedicated to bridging the ever-increasing gap that exists between society and minority groups, believe music to be the common language of the world. Through music, they are able to inform society of the plight of the 'little people' in their quest for recognition. Therefore, the music of the Ghetto Brothers serves as a way of communication. If the Ghetto Brothers' dream comes true, the world will learn that the 'little people' wish to be acknowledged; wish to be properly educated in order for them to pass on their knowledge to their children and proudly inform them about their heritage and culture, and be a functioning part of the growth of America. If the Ghetto Brothers' dream comes true, the 'little people' will be 'little people' no more, and make their own mark in this world. Listen to the Ghetto Brothers…….and take heed." (From the dust jacket ofPower-Fuerza [Salsa, 1971])
Named for John Peel's Nanny "Well, not necessarily uplifting (though there are moments), but something gentle, occasionally dark, fleetingly creepy and most importantly, worthy of a second listen. Trader Horne’s one and only album, 1970′s Morning Way, is, in fact, worthy of much more than a second listen. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Firstly, this may have been Trader Horne’s lone release, but they were in fact a duo comprising of original Fairport Convention vocalist and one time member of an embryonic King Crimson, Judy Dyble, and Irish folk rock underground ubiquity Jackie McAuley. The conjunction of these musical forces resulted in Morning Way, a pleasingly obscure example of psychedelically informed folk rock." (Jeffman, atHead Full of Snow)
Blame Canada "Whether it's a Barn-dance in Quebec, a Clam-bake in the Maritimes, a Harvest Festival on the Prairies, or an old-fashioned Hoe-down in Ontario, whenever country folk gather to enjoy themselves, it isn't very long before the crisp country air is ringing with the sound of old-time fiddlin' - the kind of fiddlin' that sets toes a'tappin', and skirts a'whirlin' - the kind that makes you want to "git up n' dance." That's just the brand of fiddlin' you hear when King Ganam lifts his bow. Ameen Ganam is his name but he calls himself "King," and he really is one. Known for his lively, original style of playing, Ganam has a way with a fiddle that can't be matched. His bow whips across those strings about as fast as a fox in a forest fire, and he's got more tricks inside that old fiddle than Houdini had in his trunk. "The King" has written a good many reels, polkas, and jigs himself; five of his own are included in this album, and they all reveal the zestful, elfish way he handles a fiddle and bow." (From the dust jacket of Ridin' the Fiddle [RCA Victor, 1955])
Naked Savages "Ingeson was notable for being the first Colombian rock record to use multi channel recording techniques which enabled the band to introduce all kinds of strange sound effects to the record buying public. When the lp was released in 1968 it came in a gatefold edition that included a 12 page full-color booklet with photos of the band by Danilo Vitalini, text, drawings, and even a replica of an acid hit! The album has a very cool lo-fi sound and its only flaw is the out of place Historia De Un Loto Que, a silly blues rocker with sped up alien-like vocals. That being said, the rest of this record is great and as whacked out as any of the early Mutantes records." (Jason, at The Rising Storm)
Ethio Peak "Why this album contains only one song like “Musical Silt” is ponderous. The rest of the album is enjoyable, equally funky and benign. But “Musical Silt,” the only song from the album ever reissued, is a beast. While some might call it dissonant, it’s beautifully modal, a perfect example of the Ethiopian qenet system tempered by the tuning of the Western instruments the musicians play. And the rhythms; each component of the ensemble plays in their own time signature. “The one,” which most fans of funk music so readily anticipate in a rolling groove, never sounds exactly like you’d expect it. But the song chugs along perfectly – it ends some four minutes in, but you wish it would run for hours. A hypnotic groove fo’ sho’." (Egon, at Now & Again)
Tuesday morning, Marty McSorley is airing a live set from Elks. Tune in to hear the Brooklyn-based power-sludge band kill it in the WFMU studios with a heavy sound that recalls KARP and Godheadsilo -- it happens on 4/26 from 6 to 9 AM (web-only).
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The Scottish shredders Moon Unit (r., on tour last year) come to Brian Turner's program to expose us to their brand of bug-out sci-fi psych music. Their debut LP, Hell Horse, came out on Blackest Rainbow last winter and we have been looking forward to having them on the air since then! Join this party where space and time collapse, 4/26 from 3 to 6 PM.
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On Wednesday, it's a Miniature Minotaurs-style A/V extravaganza! Kurt Gottschalk presents three hours of live music with live video art and five sets of webstreamed multimedia improvisation and experimentation, curated by artist David Linton. Participating artists will include Richard Garet, Bicameral Research Sound & Projection System, Adam Kendall & Bubblyfish, Urular Scherrer & Kato Hideki and the Fair Use Trio. Listen and watch 4/27, from noon to 3 PM.
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Former Dream Syndicate leader Steve Wynn comes to Three Chord Monte for his *ninth* WFMU appearance, the sixth on Joe Belock's show. His solo career is going strong after about a dozen albums -- the most recent of these being "Northern Aggression," his third with the Miracle 3. In addition, side effort the Baseball Project have just released "Volume 2: High and Inside." Listen to Wynn on the radio 4/28 from noon to 3 PM, then go to the Bell House the next night to see him play sets with both the Baseball Project and the Miracle 3.
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On The Long Rally, Scott McDowell is joined by Oxford, UK double bassist Dominic Lash -- who is now living and playing in the United States. Lash will share insights about his holistic approach to free improvisation, and brings along trumpet player and fellow improv expert Nate Wooley to spar and chatter with. 4/29, from 9 AM to noon.
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Mark Moran and Rusty Taglierini of Weird NJ come to Put the Needle on the Record Friday, in advance of the Weird NJ-curated photography exhibit opening at Maxwell's May 16th. Photographer Taglierini and Weird NJ publisher Moran will share some behind-the-scenes stories about the show, and will also chat about their special issue "FORSAKEN: Abandoned In and Around New Jersey," recently published, which is a collection of photos of abandoned sites all over the Garden State. Listen on 4/29, from 3 to 6 PM.
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Earlier today (Monday), Irene Trudel presented the 2nd would-be annual memorial programme dedicated to Citizen Kafka, beloved band leader, fiddler, artist and host of the Citizen Kafka Show, who passed away in 2009. Her archive is up now, featuring guests Ed Haber, Ken Kosek, and Marty Cutler, who were the Citizen's friends and collaborators. Listen to it here.
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Also listen to my rock music show on Give The Drummer Radio if you like, Wednesdays from noon to 2! The official first broadcast is this week, and here is a list of playlists!
I believe that there are very few artists in our time who have created as memorable a series of designs and objects. Saul Bass truly shaped the vision of our time. (Milton Glaser)
Great people like Saul Bass should be immortal...The incredible wit of Saul, his intelligent ability of reaching the essence of things, to grab form and content in powerful meaningful ways. (Massimo Vignelli)
When Saul Bass (1920-1996) died these tributes were among the many sent to his wife Elaine with whom he collaborated from 1960 onward on film titles and on a series of short films. I knew him in the last five years of his life and came to greatly admire both him and Elaine as I wrote articles about the film title sequences they were then creating for Martin Scorsese. Before he died, Saul was working on a book about his work, including that with Elaine, and since 2003 I have been working with their daughter, Jennifer Bass, on a book (to be published this coming October) about all the main areas touched by his enormous talent and creativity.
One of the most famous, influential and versatile visual communicators of the twentieth century, Saul worked as both graphic designer and film-maker. During a sixty years working life he produced a body of work that is as diverse as it is powerful. He set up his own design office in 1952 and one of the joys of my research has been to unearth many of Saul’s advertisements from the 1950s. They show him developing identities for companies and products just as he did from 1954 onwards for film when the flame around a rose was made to move at the opening of Carmen Jones. It was in the mid-to-late 1950s that he expanded the boundaries of graphic design to include film title sequences, a genre that he transformed.
He made his name with title sequences, posters, and trademarks of reductive and evocative intensity created for films such as Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958) and Otto Preminiger’s The Man with the Golden Arm (1955) and Anatomy of a Murder (1959). Circulated worldwide, they provided some of the most compelling images of American postwar visual culture. By the late 1950s, Saul was probably the best-known graphic designer in the world. He went on to serve as visual consultant on five feature films (Spartacus, 1960; Psycho, 1960; West Side Story, 1961; Grand Prix, 1966; Not With My Wife You Don’t, 1966) and direct the now cult feature film, Phase IV (1974). From the 1960s Saul also became known as a leading designer of corporate identity programs, for companies and institutions as diverse as Quaker, Continental Airlines, United Airlines, Bell Telephone, AT&T, Minolta, the Girl Scouts and United Way and further enhanced his international reputation.
Elaine joined the office in 1956 and together they created an impressive series of award winning short films, including the Oscar-winning Why Man Creates (1968), Notes on the Popular Arts (1977) and The Solar Film (1981), and an equally impressive series of film titles - from Stanley Kramer’s Spartacus (1960 – Elaine directed it while Saul was at the World Design conference in Japan) to Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, Cape Fear, The Age of Innocence and Casino in the 1990s.
Besides the areas already mentioned, Saul also designed packaging, retail displays, a modular hi-fi cabinet system, album covers, book covers, sculpture, lettering, typefaces, tiles, toys and a postage stamp. He illustrated a children’s book and, in collaboration with architects, designed play environments, a proposed pavilion for the 1964 World’s Fair and a series of service stations. His versatility was often remarked upon, as was his problem-solving approach to design. In 1954 American Artist attributed the ‘underlying logic’ of his work to a ‘searching mind...always inquiring into the reason for things’. Forty years later Scorsese referred to his ‘searching eye’. Both mind and eye are central to an understanding of this versatile man who made a distinctive contribution to the visual vocabulary of postwar America.
Saul received many prestigious awards, including Art Director of the Year (1957) and the Gold Medal of the American Institute of Graphic Arts (AIGA, 1981). He took pride in recognition by his peers and gave back a great deal to the professions and institutions with which he was associated. He was active in the Alliance Graphique Internationale (AGI) as well as the American Institute of Graphic Arts (AIGA) and poured his prodigious energies into the Aspen International Design Conferences and helped establish the Sundance Institute.
Liberal by outlook and disposition, he had a strong moral backbone. He disapproved of advertising that used snobbery, social status or gratuitous sex to sell goods and refused assignments that offended his ‘conscience or sense of fitness’. He cared about things and gave his services free when asked to design posters, logos and invitations for not-for-profit causes in which he believed. His friends and colleagues described him to me as “A man who speaks up to the world”. “An artist with a soul”, “A person with a conscience” and “An artist with a capital A”. He was all of those things, and more. Most people commented upon his warmth and generosity. Robert Redford talked of “a spiritual energy. One that comes from the soul...an energy born out of talent, generosity, curiosity, wisdom, experience, joy”.
A born communicator (in later years he preferred the term visual communicator to that of designer), his large expressive hands painted their own pictures as he talked. He taught from time to time, mentoring many would-be designers and film-makers including USC student George Lucas. The number of people with whom Saul kept in touch after first meeting them when they were fledglings in their field is remarkable. It can be explained in part by his sociability, but he was also conscious of the importance of mentors in his own life, especially Howard Trafton Gyorgy Kepes who helped him transform from a talented designer into a contender.
Never happier than with an audience of young people, his last public appearance, in March 1996 (a month before his death), was a ‘master class’ presentation and discussion at the School of Visual Arts, New York, where a retrospective exhibition of his work had just opened. Those lucky enough to get a seat, squeeze into the aisles or stand in the stage wings, will never forget that tour de force, his humor or his humanity. Visibly ill, and present against doctor’s orders, he gave his all (as always), insisting on the primacy of integrity and curiosity and conveying his love of process in design and film-making. He made the audience laugh while he made us think. Afterward, he showed infinite patience with each and every question and remained behind with students until the janitors closed the hall around him.
Saul was a master of the dialectic of content and form. He went straight to the kernel of a design problem and then transform it into compelling pictorial signs. There is no definitive Bass aesthetic but recurrent elements include a strong tendency towards a single strong image, reduction, distillation, economy and minimalism – features associated with Modernism – and a concern with fragmentation, layering, addition, ambiguity, montage and metaphor – features more associated with post-Modernism, but which were much in evidence by the 1950s. Wit and humor is never far away. Nor is finely-honed lettering, a passion since his boyhood.
Not too long before he dies he told me:
In the final analysis, content is the key and I’ve always looked for the simple idea. That is what I did in the ’50s and that is what Elaine and I do now. We have a very reductive point of view … We see the challenge in getting things down to something totally simple, and yet doing something with it, which provokes;… a simplicity, which has a certain ambiguity and a certain metaphorical implication … the idea that is so simple that it will make you think – and rethink. … It’s a risky business: we’re improvising and never know if it will work out.
Last week we delved into older music on collectible labels like Vertigo and Impulse! and Apple. Let's dig into more modern music on such labels.
Ian McKaye of Minor Threat and Fugazi formed Dischord with Jeff Nelson. Dischord specializes in a Do It Yourself ethic. Listen to Fugazi's "Arpeggiator" played on Sound And Safe With Trent. Scott Williams played "Child Of Chaos" by Lungfish.
Another label that started by featuring post punk was Rough Trade, which Geoff Travis founded after traveling America and building a huge record collection. The label soon broadened its aesthetic base, signing bands like Scritti Politti, whose "Skank Bloc Bologna" was played by Mike L. Also check out The Monochrome Set, whose "Take Foz" was played by John Allen. In the 1990s and 2000s, the label signed current bands. Listen to "Track 4" from Super Furry Animals played by Zzzzzzero Hour by Bill Mac.
Factory Records was established in England in 1978, and focused on New Wave bands such as Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark and James Also on the Factory roster was Joy Division. On 100% Whatever, Mary Wing played their seven inch, "Incubation." . "Blown Away" was done by another Factory band, A Certain Ratio, and played by Irwin.
Are you thinking this post is a little obsessed with post punk and industrial? I was surprised discovering how small labels became so specialized after 1973 or '74--only five years but a lifetime removed from the eceltic experimentation of early Vertigo or such aspirations the Beatles had for Apple. Sugar Hill was one of niche labels, featuring early hip hop. Marty McSorley played "The Message II (Survival)" by Melle Mel And Duke Bootee. On Coffee Break for Heroes and Villains, Noah played some of the very first of the genre, "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash And The Furious Five.
This is only a dust speck starting point for a huge topic. Use this as a departure point to find more small labels and more great music.
Tony Coulter here, filing a second report on the audio spoils of a recent trip to Belgium. Last time, the focus was on old favorites and their confreres; this time, I present the happy results of a shot in the dark. (Fortunately, no record store clerks were injured.) It's my habit to pick up interesting-looking private/small-label LPs whenever possible, and I figured I might as well do the same while in Brussels. Thus I acquired an unknown-to-me LP by Dominique Delvaulx, which turned out to be quite stellar, and led me to another fabulous album, recorded by Luc Henrion. Beyond the jump, you'll find tracks from both, along with a bit of background info -- and, as usual, following that there lurks a small collection of choice record jackets.
More than a decade has passed since Ken Burns's Jazz aired on public television, but my loathing for it is still glows like a red-hot ember. The list of the film's transgressions is too lengthy to catalog here, but the one I found most egregious was that Burns, in narrow-minded rush to brand jazz as a uniquely American phenomenon, intentionally ignored all international contributions to the music.
In 2002, I expressed my disgust by producing for WFMU's fundraiser that year Jazz Burns Ken, a compilation of global "jazz"—from its earliest roots in ethnic folk music to current innovations in Europe. I included on that compilation a stunning performance by the Jamaican saxophonist Joe Harriott, who toiled in virtual anonymity in London's jazz scene of the 1950s and '60s. Today's Motherlode presents two must-have selections from Harriott—playing alongside fellow West Indian, trumpeter Shake Keane—that will make abundantly clear the folly of Ken Burns spending 19 hours telling the story of jazz in America with nary a moment to spare for the rest of the planet.
While Ken Burns's film making has always left me cold, he does have a knack for developing narrative through the artful presentation of archival photographs. For my money, the single best moment in Jazz occurred during the first episode—a long, elegant ogling of a breathtaking image—like some jazz-age Pietà—of Frankie Trumbauer cradling his c-melody sax.
Hot Breeze from the Islands "I don't think that anyone would dispute that a major part of the success of Joe Harriott's experiments in jazz was the interaction between Harriott and Shake Keane. The two men were temperamentally dissimilar but musically they understood each other and worked together to produce exciting and exploratory music. Both Harriott and Keane were from the West Indies, Harriott from Jamaica. As well as being a jazz musician Keane was a literary man - his nickname was Shakespeare, shortened to Shake. When he first arrived in Britain from the West Indies it wasn't to make a career as a musician but rather to work in the BBC World Service where he read poetry and did interviews. Quite rightly his work with Harriott and Michael Garrick is seen as the high points of his career. However, I feel that his solo records are rather unjustly overlooked." (MM, at Night of the Living Vinyl)
A Muse "Briggs herself managed to cut a highly idiosyncratic figure even on the folk scene, something of a haven for oddballs. Others may have spurned commercialism, but only Briggs seemed to have a problem with performing 'inside buildings': 'I used to love busking and impromptu stuff far more. I didn't like being on the stage, I didn't like being looked at, so I'd shut my eyes half the time, trying to shut it out.'" (Interview with Ms. Briggs in The Guardian, by Alexis Petridis)
Landmark Collaboration "Unquestionably one of the greatest and most magical Brazilian albums ever made, this disc mysteriously remained largely out of print for decades.…This collaboration between guitarist Baden Powell and bossa poet Vinícius De Moraes is incandescent and timeless; the music leaps out at you, as vibrant now as it was all those years ago. It's also probably the career highpoint for the female vocal group, Quarteto Em Cy, who later became overly polished and bland, but here sound youthful and even a bit unruly—like a mob of teenage girls dragged in to sing for an after-school choir. The mix of moody, unsettling bossa nova melodies and somewhat abrupt African rhythms was wisely left a bit rough around the edges, and as a result retains an eerie, haunting strength." (Joe Sixpack, atSlipCue.com)
I Think Akan "The music of F. Kenya is (in my humble opinion) some of the most stunning Ghanaian highlife ever recorded, music with a unique sound characterized by deep Akan harmonies, sweet organs, and heartbreakingly beautiful vocals. The Power House, released on Essiebons in 1975, is Francis Kenya's first full length record. Like Kenya's other work, these songs are beautifully arranged, with rich musical textures that feature an interplay between interlocking guitar parts and organ lines. In addition, these songs are unique in that they are sung in Nzema (Kenya's own language) rather than the dominant Asante Twi (generally the language of highlife)." (O s i b i s a b a, at Osibisaba)
Do What, Exactly? "Raw, rollicking, rhythm & blues tunes from the 50s & 60s – loads of electric tunes that became the basis for rockers to come in both attitude and melodies – as you'd probably guess from the crazy cover photos for this great early 70s compilation on the UK's Red Lightnin label! When Girls Do It was originally released in 1971, and features loads of riveting tunes by Junior Wells, Magic Slim, Drifting Charles, Buddy Guy, Jimmy McCracklin, Tender Slim, Sugar Boy Williams and more." (Promo copy, probably lifted from Dusty Groove)
In case you didn't already know it, April 20 is a kind of high holy day for marijuana legalization enthusiasts and that makes today a fine time to blog a marijuana-related record. Among other places, there will be rallies today in San Francisco, Denver, New York City, and Washington D. C., where someone named Jonny Apple Weed will address the crowd at 4PM.
Basil McLaughlin's "Turn Off What Marijuana Turned On" might not exactly be a good philosophical fit for the crowds gathered to encourage more permissive marijuana laws, but here's hoping that we can all enjoy some first-rate propaganda.
The etymological experts tell us that 420 became short hand for marijuana thanks to a group of California high school students from San Rafael who used the term as code language for "time to get high." I'm generally a decade or two behind the slang curve, so I had no idea 420 was code for anything until I ordered a beer a few years back at my friend DeWitt's wedding reception in the nearby town of Athens, Georgia. The guy standing next to me at the bar, in town for the big event from Boston, cocked his head and looked at me funny when he heard me ask the bartender for a "420". "What did you just order?" he asked me in a tone of disbelief. I explained that I'd asked for a bottle of a local beer known as Sweetwater 420. When I followed up with a question of my own about his curiosity, he explained that 420 was widely known as shorthand for marijuana.
I'm tempted to assume that now that I know the term, it's already passe and no longer in use but for once that doesn't appear to be the case.
A few more country records about marijuana can be found over here.
WFMU uber-volunteer (and former Brattleboro resident/radio host) Wendy shares some sad news:
On Sunday, April 17th, a six-alarm fire struck one of the largest buildings in downtown Brattleboro, Vermont. The Brooks House, located on the corner of Main and High Streets, contained about 50 apartments, a few offices, at least a dozen storefront businesses, and low-power FM community radio station WVEW (who are now off the air).
WVEW's studios were on the second floor of The Brooks House, and its antenna was on the roof, which had partly collapsed during the fire. The transmitter, terrestrial broadcast equipment, web-streaming and broadcast equipment, studios, meeting space and record library was all housed in that second-floor office. While the fire itself didn't reach WVEW's office, the smoke and water damage has likely rendered every piece of WVEW's property completely useless. Station management won't know the extent of the damage until later today -- the fire department has started allowing residents to enter -- but it's not looking good at all.
For any radio station, this would be devastating. For a small, community-supported radio station, on the air for barely five years, the situation seems nearly impossible. While the station holds semi-regular fund-raisers and receives a small number of local underwriting sponsorships, it's still a struggle to keep a small, new station afloat. And now this.
On Tuesday afternoon, TWO bands from Brisbane will feature on Brian Turner's show. First, Blank Realm bring improvisations that focus into tuneful, early-Pere Ubu-like songs. Then, the sax-inflected Slug Guts (l.), who have an LP out on Sacred Bones, will do a set of stomping junkyard chaos. Both Australian exports are on their first-ever US tour and stop by today to play live. 4/19, from 3 to 6 PM.
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Kurt Gottschalk is joined by composer Travis Just, who will present an excerpt of his three-hour modern opera Innova. A nightmarish vision of the future, Innova includes five vocalists, electric guitar, percussion and electronics. Hear the whole production May 13 - 22 at Manhattan's Abrons Arts Center, and the preview on Miniature Minotaurs Wednesday, 4/20, from noon to 3 PM.
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This weekSeven Second Delay is live from the UCB Theatre, with Andy Breckman and special guest co-host Joe Franklin (!). Joe will give Andy tips on hosting a live talk show and will whip him into shape -- literally, with the help of a dominatrix. They will also welcome mentalist Sam Eaton, NYC film location scout Nick Carr, and a musical performance by Brute Force. Wednesday 4/20, from 6 to 7 PM. The Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre is located at 307 West 26th Street in NYC. Admission $5.
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David Seubert of the Cylinder Preservation and Digitization Project will be talking with Jason Sigal on Talk's Cheap. This endeavor, a collection of recordings held by the University of California at Santa Barbara, currently hosts over 8,000 wax cylinder recordings that would not be otherwise accessible but are now free to share under Creative Commons. As the CPDP begins a curatorial collaboration with the Free Music Archive, Jason and David will play some fascinating audio snapshots from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Thursday, 4/21, from 9 AM to noon.
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Joe Belock will have Andy Bopp's new band, Alto Verde, on Three Chord Monte Thursday afternoon. This time, the Baltimore-based rock mastermind behind Myracle Brah and Love Nut promises more power and less pop -- tune in to hear the results! Alto Verde make their New York-area debut this week and will be on Joe's show 4/21 from noon to 3.
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Ethnomusicologist Steve Grauberger is Kevin Nutt's guest this week on Sinner's Crossroads. Grauberger, curator of the new CD "New Book Gospel: Shape Note Singing," will talk about the lesser-known style of gospel known as Convention Singing and will play some tracks from the release. Thursday evening, 4/21, from 8 to 9 PM.
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Late on Thursday night, My Castle of Quiet welcomes Castevet to the airwaves, continuing its trend of presenting local metal to a wider radio audience. Castevet's LP, Mounds of Ash, is full of songs that are "grimy, riff-laden, and monstrous" -- and the New York band will be live and in the moment in the studio. Enjoy this special night of introspective, complex black metal Thursday night beginning at midnight (4/22, from 12 to 3 AM).
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Richmond, VA jazz musicians SCUO will perform on The Long Rally this Friday morning 4/22, from 9 AM to noon. The "Scott duo" of Scott Clark (drums) and Scott Burton (guitar) have said that they challenge themselves to write music that's simply too difficult for them to play. The effect is intriguingly precise, robotic and proggy. Join them for these three hours as they and host Scott McDowell form a SCRIO.
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On Michael Shelley's program Saturday, Michael interviews Marshall Crenshaw. The songwriter is celebrating the 30th anniversary of his debut album, and he and band will be performing it in its entirety at City Winery next week. Hear him talk about his career and changes in the music industry, 4/23 from 11 AM to 1 PM.
The Paperhead are a group of teenage psychedelics from Nashville TN. Formerly known as The Looking Glass, the three-piece previously released a now sold-out tape on the label local Infinity Cat, and a 7" on Nashville's Dead. This brand new LP is yet another killer release from Chicago's Trouble In Mind (Liminañas, Vermillion Sands, Fresh & Onlys, Ty Segall). The Paperhead hit the road this summer (stopping by Talk's Cheap / WFMU) with Jeffrey Novak (Rat Traps, Cheap Time) on keyboards, and he also produced the LP. Joining Ryan, Pete, and Walker is a fourth member, Matt, who is credited with "colors, spiritual advice." (Jason Sigal)
I first heard Anne-James Chaton via the Ex camp, guitarist Andy Moor recorded some collaborations with him in his continual conquest to seek out textural mayhem. Here's an avalanche of sound poetry in rapidfire French, heavy syllables being a bottom bassline (hear his mantra of "the King of Pop Is dead") delivered in machine-gun style in precise loop treatment on his recent événements 09 (Raster-Noton). It's got a Berlin heroin-house kind of blanketing already, but adding in the distinct Raster-Noton flurry of subsonic instrumental flourishes, gentle/fried electronic winds blowing about while Chaton recounts everyday events (Iranian unrest, Barack Obama's name repeated ad infinitum) slips you into a most alien world for however long you choose to reside. Audio: "événement No 26 Mardi Julliet 2009"(Brian Turner)
If you like your doom abstract and littered with razors, you could do a lot worse than get into a tight, airless closet with the Lords of Bukkake'sDesorden Y Rencor (Total Rust), a Barcelona combo who already win me over by naming a track after Mexican exploito-horror flick Alucarda. Featuring a vocalist who uses space and lungs in a scarifying mode not unlike Khanate/OLD/Gnaw's Alan Dubin (the third of which definitely share an electronic leaning with LoB), this stuff extended out into blissed out destructo realm most diseased in mind. Audio: "Magia Necia". (Brian Turner)
Looking for a Geomancer to activate your location on the Grid? Earth Grid (Thrill Jockey) is the latest release from Lungfish guitarist Asa Osborne's Zomes project, the follow-up to the self-titled debut on Holy Mountain, provides an excellent opportunity. Osborne wrote and recorded this instrumental cycle at home, this time limiting the proceedings to keyboards and tape-loop beats. At times reminding me of a lo-tech, gnarly Cluster, the often distorted, spectral keyboard lines and uncluttered rhythms achieve a unique immediacy thanks to the simple, unhurried melodies and tasty repetition. Great stuff! Gotta say, the graininess of the sounds and hiss of the tape provide a respite from the glossy new age synth revival lurking amongst us today. The limits Osborne places on himself work in his favor - the primitive recording technique, beautiful keyboard drones, and skeletal beats are kosmische but not in a Eurorides on the Autobahn way. What we have here isn't man-machine synergy but simple, human-scale electronic home recordings that slow us down enabling a focus on the bare essentials. Wouldn't drive to this stuff for fear of hitting a telephone pole, but no worries, each track on this album is transportational in and of itself. Pick a location and Zomes will activate a road there. A perfect soundtrack for an imaginary return trip from the international space station or for a night spent dreaming of sacred geometry. Definitely looking forward to the next album, supposedly already in the works. I'll keep my 3rd eye crossed! Audio: "Step Anew" (Daniel Blumin)
A lot of the music that resonates with me most seems like it's trying to hide. I want to hear melodies, I want expression, but I prefer a layer of haze, gauze, noise, sandpaper, whatever, between it and me - like I don't dig lyrics I can understand. Secret Boyfriend, as the name hints, is definitely hiding. The 7 tracks on Secret Boyfriend's split LP w/ Horaflora veer from haunted loops of tinkling piano ("Chocolat") to tape-saturated organ harmonies ("Northern America"), through drifts of atonal sadness ("Cool Air"), and out washes of pure white distorted muffler hum ("The Doors"); all impulses interrupt each other at will, as if to further cement the non-committal to any coherent expression. That's a good thing. Secret Boyfriend strikes the same chords in me as William Basinski and the Belgian artist Orphan Fairytale. Audio (5 songs from WFMU. (Scott Williams)
Following his debut album on John Fahey's Takoma label, musician, instrument builder, and outsider Charlie Nothing released a handful of copies of Inside/Outside, an intense private press document in 1969 (reissued recently by DeStijl). Inside/Outside contains two sidelong flute/percussion tracks of ritualistic aimlessness. Given that description, this is music that is surprisingly warm, human and accessible, stoned pauses and meandering notwithstanding. If you like No Neck Blues Band, Don Cherry's Mu, the free-er end of the free folk spectrum or UK outsiders like Part Wild Horses Mane on Both Sides than this LP will be a real a treat. Audio: "Holy Stick" (Scott McDowell)
Before getting to the items I'm pulling out of my collection today, I wanted to respond to a couple of inquiries about just want is in these "Reel-To-Reel Catacombs" of mine. I can't really break the contents down into any categories or amounts, but thought the next best thing might be to offer up pictures of some of what's in my basement:
A significant percentage of these tapes are either unlistened as of yet, or have been simply scanned in order for me to get an idea of what they contain. This is one thing I'll be doing for the rest of my life. And now, on with the countdown...
I'm always excited to come across reel to reel tapes where the recording surface is on paper backing. As far as I know, only the earliest commercial tapes were produced in this way. The tape was not only more prone than later tapes to breaking under certain types of stress, but it also had the unfortunate tendency to simply tear. A fairly quick change over to a series of plastics and polyesters as backing solved this latter problem. I'm not quite sure when paper backed reels stopped being sold, but I don't think I've seen any that appear to be from later than about 1950 or 1951.
The result is that most of the paper reels in my collection contain recordings that are now more than 60 years old. And if they are media recordings, they are much cleaner, clearer reproductions of those broadcasts than any other medium that was available at the time. Or even than those which came over the next few decades - vinyl loses sound quality due to surface noise, cassettes deteriorate or get chewed up, videotape degrades. But here is a recording which sounds like it could have been made yesterday - that is if you discount the actual content.
But even that content, as stodgy as it is, may hold a certain fascination for some of you. This recording is of what I believe to be a rural - or at least local - audience participation show, being recorded in the small town of Renner, South Dakota. The host is a big sounding guy named Burl Thompson, who wanders the crowd of women, interviewing each of them with virtually the exact same batch of questions, and tending to answer their answers with a restating of what they just said. The contest is that each of them gets to guess how far along, in percentage of the desired amount, a local charity drive has gotten. After each lady gives her guess, he dedicates a song to her, one which is not heard, as it must have been intended to be "dropped in" later, with this tape stopped for the duration.
Admittedly not the most scintillating stuff, in and of itself, but for what it is, when it's from, and the sound of the material, a bit fascinating despite itself. I doubt there are many older broadcasts available in this sound quality. The main program is followed by about a minute of other material (including the end of another Burl Thompson show), which remained at the end of the reel.
From the "what the hell" file, comes this five inch reel of tape, labeled, as you can see, as "The Barbershopper and His Voice", and containing dozens of examples of the briefest moments of Barbershop harmonies.
Among my Toho Records, this Akira Kurosawa lp has always stood out, both as a soundtrack album featuring dialogue and sound design as well as music, and as a lovely piece of art design. I've always loved this record label, consistantly great pressings, and they always have a booklet inside with loads of text and pictures (at least the soundtracks do - I never had too many non-movie-soundtrack Toho records).
Featured today, an interesting team-up lp with a side each devoted to two 1960's Kurosawa films: Red Beardand High and Low. Music for both composed by Masaru Sato. Red Beard (1965) is notable for being Kurosawa's last black and white film, his first mixed for stereo, and his last (of 16 films) with Toshiro Mifune (also featured in High and Low). A LOT could be written about these men and their films, but I'll let the links tell most of the detailed story.
Another reason for presenting this album is the terrific sound - I suspect that even the audio tracks of dvd edtions of these films are not as pristine and sharp as the transfers made for this record, obviously struck from the original magnetic 35mm tracks. So, on with the show - here are both sides of this fabulous slab of vinyl.
