Long in the works, this weighty box set represents the complete recordings of Harry Bertoia - the furniture designer, sculptor, and sound artist who produced eleven albums in the late '70s all of which were released on his own Sonambient imprint, many of them posthumously, as he died in 1978. Bertoia first achieved acclaim for his mid-century designs for furniture which were formed through lattice works of welded thin steel rods, first commercially available through Knoll and later through Herman Miller. These same thin steel rods became the principle materials for his scultures, many of which featured hundreds of vertical rods mounted to flat bases that would waver and crash into each other with a force as delicate as the wind. The sounds produced by these sculptures are eerie and hallowed - with dense billowing clouds of rich, psychoacoustic overtones and slow decay on the long sustained tones. He produced numerous variations on these sculptures, many of which had made their way into art museums (where they will never be played, only looked at... how fucking sad); and he housed much of his personal collection in a barn near his Pennsylvania studio. This is where all of these Bertoia recordings were made. Throughout the '80s and '90s, the Sonambient lps slowly disappeared from circulation, and in the wake of artists like Andrew Chalk and Alan Lamb generating similarly sublime compositions, Bertoia's work became all the more timeless. Beautifully remastered from the original tapes and housed in a handsome box with 114 page book filled with images, interviews, and expository texts.
Harry Bertoia's sound sculptures developed from years of work as both a commissioned furniture maker for Knoll and as an environmental sculptor who built large scale balancing kinetic pieces, usually out of bronze. But in the 1970s, Bertoia and his son Val began experimenting with resonant properties of metal itself with huge sculptures of vertical metal shafts that were
Unfortunately, this reissue concludes with a folk-rock song from a member of the extended Bertoia family... it's really really awful. Why is it there? Val Bertoia should know better. Consider it a non-bonus bonus track and ignore, while enjoying the rest of this lovely disc.
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Currently a faculty member in the Center for Contemporary Music at Mills College, John Bischoff has been composing music with computers and electronics since the mid 70s, and has always focused his compositions towards malleable forms that best suit live performances. Within this context, Bischoff seeks to position the construction of sound far beyond the common perception of synthetic music as a mere simulation of the intrinsic sounds of traditional instruments. Instead, Bischoff qualifies his work as the realization of a "reflective intention," where he determines sonic structure not only through the predetermined elements which go into a piece, but also through the active process of listening to the music as it happens and responding accordingly. During the '70s when programming involved crude systems of binary code, Bischoff's vision of the possibilities for computer-based composition fused to performative agency seemed implausible; yet in hindsight, his artistic imperatives were incredibly prescient of contemporary tools such as the nearly omnipotent audio synthesis language Max/MSP, which has been at the core of Bischoff's recent work. An aptly named set of compositions, Aperture opens the possibility for multiple readings through a series of diverse techniques ranging from additive synthesis to FM synthesis to sampled-based processes. Each of the pieces on the album was recorded in real-time with no overdubs. Aperture introduces itself with clusters of samples that sprawl with the deliberate pacing of Morton Feldman's later period, yet Bischoff renders what might be recognizable citations of a piano or percussion as pointillist condensations of digitized pixels and precise plastic details. Over the course of the following pieces, Bischoff unleashes coarse streams of electrons which flange and pulse within the caustic firestorm of divergent timestretching, giving the impression that Bischoff is quite literally tearing the fabric of sound. Bischoff also offers a collaboration with Kenneth Atchley and complements the oversaturated physical noise of Atchley's water fountain sculptures with short digital articulations that ride on the top of Atchley's dense textures.
This is Bischoff's first recording in quite sometime, and has been well worth the wait!
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Gorgeous Bartok violin duets played and sung by the wonderful Iva Bittova and Dorothea Kellerova, two sprightly Czech women who roll their own cigarettes. (And there are enclosed photo cards to prove it, along with a red feather to complement the fancy red velvet packaging.) Minor key, impressionistic, and stark, like the soundtrack to Truffaut film. Looks great, sounds great. Really lovely.
Albion's esteemed lord of achingly gorgeous acoustic 12-string instrumentalism returns to sun-dapple your fragile speakers, minds & lives once more with his painstakingly crystalline brand of tender fingerpicked loveliness. Aglow with guitar melodies that sparkle & xylophones that twinkle like campsite stars, throbbing church organs, fluttering flutes that dance around your head like little forest sprites, and the kind of mood that only seems to exist in dreams that you wake up wishing you could remember, Summoning Suns (which features a number of talented sidepersons, including Simon Scott of Slowdive) is James Blackshaw's twelfth (!) studio album by our reckoning, but only the first to feature his voice (with the exception of the occasional background breathing that could be picked up on some of his more sparse early acoustic tracks - seriously, listen for 'em!). What took so long?? The hushed patient sigh of Blackshaw's voice is a perfect accompaniment to his summery yet somber, bright yet bittersweet, lush yet longing compositions, at times recalling the pastoral Renaissance meadowland folk of Amazing Blondel and elsewhere the haunted bedroom whisper of Elliott Smith. Like much of Blackshaw's best work, Summoning Suns sublimely balances stately timeless beauty with faraway unnamable yearning, a faint sadness drifting beneath even the most glorious of melodies - a reminder that even the sunniest days only last until sundown - beautiful and fleeting, just like this record.
We're huge fans of pianist and composer Lubomyr Melnyk, his playing so distinctive, his Continuous Music System and the way he creates dense flurries of notes, and lush chordal cascades - it's transcendent, a sort of swirling, almost psychedelic modern classical / new age hybrid, the sound dreamlike but rife with melodic subtleties and tonal colorations that make his music prismatic and expansive and impossible to mistake for anybody else. We also love Blackshaw, in a field of modern minimal guitarists, mining classic Americana, we often find ourselves drawn to his interpretation, one that's not always so minimal, slipping easily from a Melnyk like style of whipping up clouds of swirling chords and notes, to weaving lush landscapes of dark dreamlike chamber music.
Not sure whose idea it was to put these guys together, or if they were simply the sort of like minded artists who eventually find each other, but whatever the reason, or whoever is responsible, we're so grateful, and glad that this sonic summit took place. And it's just about as fantastic as you might hope. Four long form compositions, both Melnyk and Blackshaw effortlessly unfurling lush swaths of swirling melody, Blackshaw's guitar bathed in the reverb and overtones of Melnyk's piano, the sound sometimes so blurred it's hard to tell who's playing what, and that constant shift is part of what makes this so mesmerizing, the tracks hypnotic and tranced out, dreamy and melodic and woozily tranquil, but still sonically super active, each track is like a thick billowing cloud of dreamy melodic drift, the musical equivalent of a jar of fireflies, look away, and the world is lit by a soft warm glow, but look closely and that light is revealed as a dense whorl of tiny little lights, swooping and shimmering. The sound these two conjure up occasionally slips into something more folky, or more classical, but most often meets right in the middle, heavenly and hypnotic, rife with lilting melodies, and warm sonic swells. When things do slow down, the music settles into a moody melancholy shimmer, but those moments are fleeting, with the two tending to slowly add and build until the sound swirls and swoops and soars skyward, and blossoms once again into something truly transcendent.
The vinyl version is limited to 500 copies.
It's unfortunate that we've not reviewed any of the material from electro-acoustic composer Olivia Block. She had begun making music in Austin in the early '90s, having started a guttural shoegaze project called The Marble Index, but shelved that project upon meeting Michael Northam, John Grzinich, and Seth Nehil. Those three had begun their explorations with field recordings, electrical vibration, found object ruminations, volatile drone, and organized decay, and it was this sensibility that inspired Block to leap into piles of rubble armed with little more than a contact microphone. While all four of these artists emerged from a similar aesthetic, each has wandered down his or her own path, with Block taking more of a musique concrete approach, often bringing in various instrumentalists to provide a particular timbre to accompany her tape machinations, not unlike the early Jim O'Rourke compositions Tamper, Scend, and Disengage. One of those chamber musicians who Block had employed was Kyle Bruckmann. The two had met in Chicago in the late '90s, with Bruckmann contributing to almost all of Block's compositions since 1999. Bruckmann, now based in San Francisco, has quite the career in the realms of avant-jazz / new music / classical-experimentation / whatnot. Despite their decade long collaboration, Teem marks their first proper collaborative body of work.
At the beginning of the record, a scrabbling of small metallic objects builds upon a spiralling drone from Bruckmann's circular breathing through the oboe, followed by a series of descending, purposefully off-kilter melodic phrases from that same oboe. As painterly as this piece is, the second track uses Bruckmann's circular breathing for a far more atonal, bruitist attack through a head-throbbing elongated blurt, that recalls those Hermann Nitsch symphonic noise assaults or Penderecki's scabrous crescendos. Block's sensibility speaks more on this track through the oblique noise attack and transitions into passages of concrete noises from various pre-industrial machines struggling to get started. Glowing drones of feedback hang upon a muffling passage of woodwind errata, eventually building through jittery abrasions again reprising that Nitsch-like howl.
We here at Aquarius Records can be proud that we have an audience who is just as passionate and devoted as we are to a broad spectrum of musics. As much as we would like to, we just can't completely cover every amazing genre, sub-genre, regional dialect, and radical enclave of the world's musical community. We definitely try our best, but just imagine if we did somehow manage, those biweekly email lists would easily triple in size with our fingers spread even further than they already are. While it would be nice to expand our little aesthetic fiefdom, we have to admit that there are plenty of shops around the globe that fill in the gaps. One of those is London's Sound 323, whose niche market emphasizes all things dealing with academic composition, free improv, electro-acoustics, and in particular the pristine aspects of what has been dubbed the "New London Silence." In fact, one of chief protagonists of this London circle of Feldman-esque composers is Sound 323's proprietor Mark Wastell. He along with The Wire's scribe Brian Marley are the editors of a brick of a book published by Sound 323, handsomely designed as an art edition monograph and filled with articles by David Toop, Clive Bell, Brian Marley, Dan Warburton, Andy Hamilton and Will Montgomery as well as texts expounding upon the eroding distinction between improvisation and composition from the likes of Otomo Yoshihide, Bernhard Gunter, Phil Durrant, Steve Roden, Jerome Noetinger, Mattin, and many many other. The book also features a DVD of concert footage from the likes of Keith Rowe, Evan Parker, John Tilbury, Tetuzi Akiyama, Eddie Prevost, John Butcher, and more. Hmm, curious that all of the latest members of AMM make appearances, but no footage from the ensemble that pretty much started the whole push toward the decentered notion of what is composed beforehand and what is created in the moment.
With sound art becoming more and more of a cultural force in the art world (perhaps that should be art with a capital 'A'), Blocks Of Consciousness And The Unbroken Continuum is bound to be one of those historically important documents, detailing one particular cultural phenomenon as it happens by those who are making it happen. At 350+ pages bound in a hefty hardcover book, this is no easy tome to digest; but is well the effort you'll put into it.
You know a record of nothing but flutes has got to be good!!! Well, actually, I suppose that's not entirely true. I like to think that an all flute recording would be perfect, but the harsh reality is it seldom is. But Eberhard Blum's Berlin To Buffalo is not only an amazing 'flute' record, it is an amazing record, period. Minimal and abstract, dreamy and hypnotic, drone-y, bizarre and quite beautiful. It definitely sounds '20th century classical' but it manages to be more than that. The first track is an extended piece for flute and electronics, but the focus is on the flute, and the piece is beautiful in a very traditional way. Lots of space and ambience and melodies are stretched to their limits. The second track of just electronic sounds (okay so the whole record is not just flutes) is really bizarre. Snippets of mumbling voices, far away tones and sine waves, with the occasional burst of polyphonic dissonance and gentle waves of electronic grit and buzz. Sounds quite contemporary actually. Would be right at home on Ritornell or Alien8 or as the soundtrack to an arthouse horror flick. The epic 41 minute final track for multiple flutes is a gorgeous wash of notes and overtones flodding your senses with sounds, warm and rich and thick and shimmering. Quite reminiscent of Phil Niblock, albeit a tad more melodic. One of Andee's favorite records of the year!
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Early eighties ghostly electro-acoustic compositions from this influential Swedish composer, whose music combined poetry and sound in unique timbral combinations. Disembodied voices, music concrete, and eerie high relief soundscaping in textured and nuanced electronics. Limited to 100 copies!
Bbbb-oo-rrr-ing.
Electronic musical pioneer David Borden might not be as famous as a name as Robert Moog, or Don Buchla, but he was in all the same right places at the same right times, beta-testing Moog synthesizer prototypes, taking them apart, blowing them up and repairing them repeatedly in an effort to perfect patching techniques. He formed the first all synthesizer ensemble, Mother Mallard's Portable Masterpiece Company, in 1969, and headed the one of the first record labels devoted to New music and Minimalist composition, Earthquack, that inspired later more prodigious labels such as Lovely Music.
Music for Amplified Keyboards is his 1981 unsung masterpiece made from solo recordings made in the late seventies after the ensemble had called it quits. Long unavailable and remastered from a once thought lost safety master recording, it is great to see this unheralded composer finally getting some recognition. The RVNG label had done a Freakways installment with Borden that included modern synth purveyors such as James Ferraro, Daniel Lopatin and Laurel Halo, but it's nice to hear his original compositions on their own. On par with the works of Michael Nyman, Philip Glass, and Steve Reich, the four long tracks on this release contain a minimalist repetition that is both fluid and continuous, but there is also a pastoral landscapular ennui that has touches of the romantic and human, chilly but not at all cold or distant. Incredibly performed and executed. Another fantastic archival release from Spectrum Spools!
It's no secret we are huge Glenn Branca fans here at AQ. No one has found ways to create such dissonant beauty and mesmerizing power with guitars quite like Mr. Branca. The title piece here, performed in 1981 with 10 guitars and drums and timpani is one of the most impressive Branca pieces we have ever heard. Its inescapable tension wraps itself around your ears and while you feel it's grasp taking a hold of you, you don't really ever want it to end. With young devotees like Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore in the ensemble it's no wonder the piece sounds so perfect and received the long standing ovation it so deserved. But one man in attendance of this performance was not impressed. In fact he had lots to say about it, and nothing positive. That wouldn't be that big of a deal of course if that person wasn't John Cage!! In a clever twist of their long running rivalry and Cage's very public dismissal of Branca's work, Branca decided to follow the title piece on this reissue with a conversation that John Cage had with Wim Mertons about Branca's piece. In the conversation Cage speaks very eloquently as he always did, about his dislike for Branca's piece and his work in general. He goes as far to call the piece fascist, which then led to a very public and bitter tiff between two legends of forward thinking 20th century music. We have to admit that sometimes we actually like hearing Cage talk even more then we like listening to his music. As the rhythm of his voice and the depth of his intelligence is so damn pleasing to take in. While we wish Wim Mertons would have done a better job of defending Branca, we can't blame him for being a bit tongue tied and slow in the face of Cage's eloquent understated fury. We can imagine that if we ever had the opportunity to have a serious exchange of views about music with Cage we probably would have been crazy nervous and marble mouthed. The record ends with a late 80's piece by Branca called Harmonic Series Chords which is a really nice somber piece performed by the New York Chamber Sinfonia. Like two heavyweight champions exchanging blows we feel lucky to get to sit on the sidelines as Cage disses Branca, and Branca's music speaks so loudly for itself. Highly recommended!
Class is now in session with the much anticipated vinyl reissue of Glenn Branca's seminal 1980 debut of post-modern no-wave composition, Lesson No.1. The first release on legendary New York label 99 Records (who also introduced Liquid Liquid and ESG to the world), Lesson No.1 combined the New York school of minimalist composition (Terry Riley and La Monte Young) with the burgeoning ferocity of dissonance and feedback prevalent in no-wave and punk of the time (Sonic Youth, Theoretical Girls, and The Static). While Branca was not the first to combine modern composition and rock tropes, or lead bands with multiple guitarists (Rhys Chatham was doing that first, though his Guitar Trio recording was released much later), Branca's compositions tended to wield much more sonic power and hefty brutal dynamics than Chatham, leaning more toward heavy ear-shattering club performances at CBGB's than respectful art-spaces like The Kitchen.
This reissue includes an extra one-sided 12" of the 16 minute bonus track, "Bad Smells", originally on a John Giorno compilation, Who Are you Staring At? which was commissioned for a Twyla Tharp dance piece. It also features the guitar work of Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo who played in many of Branca's performing bands before forming Sonic Youth. You can hear the churning origins of Sonic Youth's trademark chiming dissonance in every one of Glenn Branca's early big bang epics. Essential!
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There's been quite a little resurgence of interest in the eighties downtown NY scene, specifically the guitar orchestras and proto-post rock of Rhys Chatham and Glenn Branca. This DVD features two live performances recorded in 1995 with an unknown (at least to us) ensemble with Branca at the helm conducting. The music is fantastic, dark and propulsive. Repetitive and trance-like, with churning guitars and tribal drums. Sound remarkably similar to AQ favorites Circle or Salvatore. Visually, there's not a whole lot to see, although it is cool to hear what sounds like your basic rock band, but is in fact a large ensemble, with guitar players struggling to 'rock out' but stuck behind their music stands. The visuals do reflect the music quite nicely though, dark and brooding, with spare lighting and lots of empty space on the screen.
I only ever knew Glenn Branca as "the guitar orchestra guy" responsible for assembling huge groups of guitarists (often well known rock guitarists), to perform huge, throbbing, hypnotic and repetitive compositions -- some for ten guitarists, fifty guitarists, even one hundred guitarists. The recent Rhys Chatham box, reviewed a few lists back, suggested that perhaps Branca's guitar orchestra concept was 'borrowed' from Chatham, as Branca had performed in many of Chatham's multiple guitar ensembles. But in much the same way that we were surprised by the rock-ness of the early Chatham material, this early recording from Branca and his four guitar/bass/drums outfit has much more in common with noisy post punk/post rock: Bastro, Bitch Magnet, Slint and the like, than Ligeti, Penderecki, Messiaen or any of the other names dropped in Lee Ranaldo's liner notes. Extended drony, atonal rhythmic explorations stretch on and on, building horror-movie-minor-key tension, building and building and building, before bursting into unrelenting rock rhythm/riffs. Lots of the more rock parts sound like an instrumental version of North Western punk rockers The Wipers, but with lots of odd dynamics ala Bastro or Slint and with the extended riff repetition of modern minimalism stretching the songs into droning, hypnotic master works. Throbbing and relentless, pounding and intricate, weaving back and forth between ferocious, unrelenting rock-action, and epic, complex geometric stop/start, hypno-minimalism.
An archival release of '70s cassette-tape works by this odd Swiss sound artist, consisting of environmental sounds, ping-pong recording techniques, and other spatial / audio experimentation. Byram thinks most of this is the sound of good European arts funding gone to waste, except for the last piece, which is an absolute mindnumbing half-hour palindromic recitation of German
On a side note: If you come into AQ fairly frequently you may have observed this customer we have that is always knocking shit off the counter. We want to say something to him but we're too embarrassed to confront his hamfistedness, so we're passive-aggressively mentioning it here, for 6000 people to enjoy. Well, said customer has acquired a young apprentice now, and one night the two of them came in together to polish up their anti-social skills. Anyway, the younger fella comes up to the counter to ask about this cd, if we have two of them -- cuz of course these guys must be peas in a pod -- so they can both get one. Well, turns out that the nicely sealed copies we showed 'em both had ever so slight dimples on the upper right hand corner (like a light impression made by a pointed object, so slight as to be practically invisible). Because of this, annoying apprentice desired the display copy instead. But if YOU can deal with the "invisible dimple", we've still got a couple copies.
Forget about the Pop Ambient series, and other modern dreamy music makers, when it comes to simply stunning, calming and beautiful sounds it just doesn't get better then Harold Budd. Now 75 years old, and showing no signs of losing his immaculate touch, In The Mist is quickly becoming one of our favorite Budd records ever. This is how we like his music the best, just Budd and a piano, so stripped down and minimal, yet able to conjure up such a majestic and otherworldly soundworld. Slowly drifting and gliding with an ease and emotional warmth that allows you to tune out the noise of the outside world and return to a place of peaceful surrender. What makes Budd's music so special is that in any other hands the sounds would just be pleasant but not much more, but Budd has this amazing knack for masterful phrasing that injects soft melancholy and real bliss into his compositions.
It makes such great sense that in so many ways Harold Budd is an artist's music maker. We know so many great visual artists who play Budd's music in their studio as it really does give you a clean slate to work from, erasing the clutter and annoyances of everyday life and softly guiding you into places that are filled with spirit and soul. Beyond beautiful!
We've never listed this ambient, avante-garde masterpiece before and when we realized it was Harold Budd's 75th birthday last week, we figured it was the perfect time to honor the man, and the amazing dreamy sounds he has given us over the years.
While best known to some for his collaborations with Brian Eno, and Cocteau Twins, there is also the deep well to explore of his vast solo catalog. But for many, Pavilion Of Dreams originally released in 1978, ranks as one of his best, a perfect melding of 20th century composition and warm, weightless shimmery ambience, creating pieces fragile and prismatic, as if they were suspended in glistening, glimmering bubbles.
While piano is at the center of Pavilion Of Dreams, there is some of the most sensual and dreamy sax we've ever heard, played by Marion Brown, a wildly under-appreciated free jazz artist who played with everyone from John Coltrane to Anthony Braxton, as well as an extensive catalog of his own recordings that deserve to be explored.
The album opens with the 18 minute "Bismillahi 'Rrahmani 'Rrahim", a track that feels like a passage from one of Alice Coltrane's most majestic tracks taken to a new age inside a mystical castle looking over the ocean. Then there's the mezzo-soprano classical vocals of Lynda Richardson are featured in the second and third tracks of the album. Don't let them scare you away. Even if you are not usually a fan of opera or classical vocals, Budd uses them in such drifting and compelling ways. They would have been perfect for a chilling scene in a Stanley Kubrick film. The album closes with "Juno", one of the most perfect ambient daydreams of all time. We realized we've said the word 'dreamy' a ton of times in this review, and well the album is called Pavilion of Dreams, and even though the term dreamy is so often overused, this is a record that really does take you to another state of consciousness. We hear the influence of this recording on so many of our favorite artists like William Basinski, Circle (on Miljard), Colleen, Seefeel, Johan Johansson, Sigur Ros, The Knife, The Durutti Column, Michael Harrison, Koss, Klimek and more... Absolutely essential!
For a label inspired in spirit by Brian Eno's legendary Obscure imprint, we bet once-local label Root Strata was super psyched to be able to release a Harold Budd recording, especially one so incredibly beautiful. Perhaps is a live 2006 recording performed at Cal Arts on the occasion of the memorial of former academic colleague, composer and friend James Tenney. This 75 minute completely improvised piece is Budd at his most moving and restrained. Inspired by a kind of oblique instruction or aphorism given to Budd by Tenney in the seventies, that suggested something "very long, nearly white", Budd creates elegiac clusters of melodic fragments and stretches them out letting long notes decay and drift, never seeming to repeat himself. Only previously available digitally, this is the first time Perhaps has been released in a physical format and comes with absolutely the highest recommendation!!!!
It's great to see these first three essential Sandy Bull lps on Vanguard finally get reissued, as his influence has been felt more and more lately. You can hear Bull's pluralistic presence especially in Sir Richard Bishop, as Bull was among the first key guitar players, along with the UK's Davy Graham, to combine styles and ideas from Middle Eastern, classical, jazz, gospel, rhythm and blues, chamber music and Appalachian folk sources. Yet Bull wasn't a purist, often pushing and pulling these wide-ranging ideas across instruments both acoustic and electric in ways that searched for the interior truth of the material. These were best expressed in his side-long excursionary tracks called "Blends" accompanied by jazz drummer Billy Higgins. Sadly, Bull had a short-lived career plagued by drug problems and illness, but these records are solid proof of his pioneering role in the solo-guitar genre.
There's even a documentary playing in San Francisco soon made by his daughter, K. C. Bull, that folks should definitely check out!
E Pluribus Unum from 1968 is the most experimental of Bull's recordings and perhaps our favorite. Comprised of two side-long tracks, "No Deposit, No Return Blues" and "Electric Blend" this is Bull's full on electric raga record. Using electric guitar and oud through vibrant tremolo effects, as well as Middle Eastern percussion and finger cymbals, Bull explores some psychedelic Bo Diddley territory channeled through the exotic mystique of Hamza El Din. Similar in vein to what was performed in the recently released live recording from 1969, Still Valentine's Day, time has been good to this recording as it sounds like something far more contemporary than its original critics gave it credit for. Perhaps its abandonment of classical sources and acoustic instruments in favor of more populist and drug friendly musical territory turned the more academically-minded musical purists off. And those druggy influences DID send Bull on a path he was never to return from, only recording one more full album after this one. Yet this record, like no other, captured his furthest exhilarating push into the depths of his musical being before he lost himself for good. Highest recommendation!
It's great to see these first three essential Sandy Bull lps on Vanguard finally get reissued, as his influence has been felt more and more lately. You can hear Bull's pluralistic presence especially in Sir Richard Bishop, as Bull was among the first key guitar players, along with the UK's Davy Graham, to combine styles and ideas from Middle Eastern, classical, jazz, gospel, rhythm and blues, chamber music and Appalachian folk sources. Yet Bull wasn't a purist, often pushing and pulling these wide-ranging ideas across instruments both acoustic and electric in ways that searched for the interior truth of the material. These were best expressed in his side-long excursionary tracks called "Blends" accompanied by jazz drummer Billy Higgins. Sadly, Bull had a short-lived career plagued by drug problems and illness, but these records are solid proof of his pioneering role in the solo-guitar genre.
There's even a documentary playing in San Francisco soon made by his daughter, K. C. Bull, that folks should definitely check out!
Fantasias (for guitar and banjo) was originally released in 1963, a year before John Fahey's debut turn on uncanny Americana, Blind Joe Death. It's often stuffed in the drawer behind Fahey's dirty socks though, such as it is that over the years, Fahey has taken a larger chunk of real estate in the guitar soli zeitgeist. But if Bull were to be compared with anyone, his playing style is much more influenced by Pete Seeger. Banjo was Sandy's first instrument and it was with a banjo that he first made an impression on the public as a precocious college freshman. Bull freely admits Seeger as being a mentor of his, and his "Carmina Burana Fantasy" is certainly inspired by Seeger's arrangements of classical pieces that were included on his "Goofing Off Suite" LP (released in 1955). But influenced or no, Bull had his own unique style and both his original compositions and arrangements of existing works are as good as much of the works of either Fahey or Seeger. "Blend", the first track which takes up all of side one (22 minutes), is a beautiful Sudanese-esque duet between Sandy on an open tuned guitar with jazz drummer Billy Higgins accompanying. A track that would make the Sun City Girls blush, "Blend", alternates between dark and slow musings from Bull to intense repartee between Bull and Higgins. Higgins does an excellent job of filling in, and avoids breaking the aesthetic by playing sans snare. The remaining four tracks on the album are all solo banjo and or guitar. Along with the aforementioned "Carmina Burana Fantasy", Bull pulls off a nice overdubbed arrangement of English Renaissance composer William Byrd's "Non Nobis Domine" on guitar, a rousing rendition of Appalachian folk ballad "Little Maggie" on banjo and a final piece simply entitled "Gospel Tune" played on a tremelo laden electric guitar.
It's great to see these first three essential Sandy Bull lps on Vanguard finally get reissued, as his influence has been felt more and more lately. You can hear Bull's pluralistic presence especially in Sir Richard Bishop, as Bull was among the first key guitar players, along with the UK's Davy Graham, to combine styles and ideas from Middle Eastern, classical, jazz, gospel, rhythm and blues, chamber music and Appalachian folk sources. Yet Bull wasn't a purist, often pushing and pulling these wide-ranging ideas across instruments both acoustic and electric in ways that searched for the interior truth of the material. These were best expressed in his side-long excursionary tracks called "Blends" accompanied by jazz drummer Billy Higgins. Sadly, Bull had a short-lived career plagued by drug problems and illness, but these records are solid proof of his pioneering role in the solo-guitar genre.
There's even a documentary playing in San Francisco soon made by his daughter, K. C. Bull, that folks should definitely check out!
Inventions (for guitar, banjo, oud, electric guitar and electric bass) from 1965 is considered to be Bull's best record as it fully covers his wide-ranging tenacity in interpretation and composition. Beginning with "Blend II", another side-long composition accompanied by Billy Higgins, the playing is born of a dark mystique, carving out bits from free jazz melodic motifs, and early-American folk tunes to Lebanese music and North African popular songs. The interplay between Higgins and Bull is more complex than the first "Blend" on Fantasias, with Higgins' standing on his own as a performer rather than a mere accompaniment. Side one ends with a short electric version of Bach's "Gavotte No. 2", which is repeated in a longer acoustic form at the beginning of side 2. The interpretation of Luiz Bonfa's Brazilian classic, "Manha de Carnaval" shows Bull experimenting with multi-tracking as he plays acoustic guitar, bass and oud. Here, Bruce Langhorne and Hamza El Din display their guiding hands on Bull's playing as Langhorne taught Bull the song, and El Din, the oud itself. "Triple Ballade" is a piece by renaissance composer Guillaume de Machaut, a gothic chamber piece performed with guitar, banjo and oud, while the final piece is Chuck Berry's "Memphis, Tennesee" a tremelo-laden rocker with Billy Higgins again on drums that sets the stage for the full on raga blues of Bull's third record, E Pluribus Unum!
If The Boredoms and The Singers Unlimited somehow managed to work out a repertoire of Moondog covers, it may sound something close to this. Or perhaps more accurately, imagine if Juana Molina and OOIOO married folk electronics to a heavy percussive tumult in dizzyingly ecstatic chirping odes to the eccentric avant-street classicist. However you swing it, this is great! Cabaret Contemporain are a modern French quintet who have brought an electro-rock performative approach to the avant aesthetics of 20th century maverick compositions of John Cage, Terry Riley, and notably on this release, Moondog. Enlisting Swedish vocalists Isabel Sorling and Linda Olah, the pair charge the material with rapid-fire vocal acrobatics that add another layer of interwoven rhythm and texture to the plucked strings, sputtering electronics and crashing symbols that all together give the music such amazing energy. Includes the master's most endearing songs, "Enough About Human Rights" and "All Is Loneliness". If you have never heard Moondog before, we'd recommend you check out Viking of Sixth Ave. first. But for fans, this is some brilliantly crazy interpretation!
Released in 1979, the same year as The Ann Steel Record we raved about awhile back, Roberto Cacciapaglia's second release, Sei Note In Logica, exists in an entirely different sonic universe, one closer to his minimal classical leanings. While The Ann Steel Record was a retro-future pop album, Sei Note In Logica is an avant-garde systems composition for voices, orchestra and computer, that takes a six note melodic phrase and runs it through every possible musical combination with a choir of female vocalists (including the processed spoken voice of Ann Steel!) and the instrumentation of marimbas. strings and woodwinds and computer-based electronics. Its emphasis on repetition and rhythm puts Cacciapaglia rightfully in a more well known circle of minimalist composers like Philip Glass, Steve Reich and Terry Riley and is a beautifully epic piece of economic means. Recorded in two parts, this vinyl reissue includes a cd of the vinyl recording plus a bonus version of the acoustic version of the piece with the ensemble without the computer derived enhancements and Ann Steel vocal. It's great to see this on vinyl, but don't hesitate as these great deluxe reissues have a way of disappearing fast! Highly Recommended!
We've been working backwards in the Roberto Cacciapaglia catalog. We started with the eccentric pop of The Ann Steel Record from 1979, then a few lists back moved on to his minimalist systems composed piece, Sei Note In Logica. We'd planned on reviewing his first record, 1975's Sonanze, when Wah Wah originally reissued it, but are glad we waited for this Mupymup version which contains a bonus disc of 15 extra pieces from the period which really detail the beautiful range of this experimental classical composer with both Italian prog and Krautrock ties, and this will most definitely appeal to fans of either genre.
Sonanze is perhaps the most classical leaning release of the bunch, but it definitely has a deep kosmiche feel. Its 10 movements begin with cascading gongs filtered through tape loops against an airy atmosphere of piano runs. Chamber string dramatics lay out the definitive feel of the entire piece of plaintive horns and kettle drums before getting full on cosmic in the Second Movement with pulsating synths and deep phased chanting leading to a percolating soundscape of jaw harp vibrations and swelling strings. The third movement brings in Lubomyr Melnyk-style piano cascades, while the fourth movement introduces a disembodied angelic choir, reminding us of Ligetti's "Lux Aeterna" from 2001: A Space Odyssey. The 5th movement brings in Peter Michael Hamel-style organ arpeggiations devolving into bowed gong scrapes. The 6th movement is very Michael Rother like, with cloudy gliding guitar and on and on it goes, a different feel or instrument in each changing movement, but somehow tied into a deeply introspective and gorgeous whole. Mixed by legendary krautrock producer Rolf-Kaiser Ulrich (Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Ash Ra Tempel), Sonanze is definitely our favorite of the three releases we reviewed thus far (though the Ann Steel scores major points because it's so dang out there!).
The bonus disc is also pretty killer, filled with cosmic new age compositions of Moog and piano, filled with wonderful vocal experiments (check out the proto-Grouper track, "Manuela"), gongs and some abstract soundscapes to boot. So totally recommended and these reissues don't stick around long, so get it while you can!
Asphodel presents three pieces of Cage's symphonic work fortunately without DJ Spooky to add insipid post-modern liner notes or to 'digitally record' the performances. "Atlas Eclipticalis" and "Winter Music" are severely spartan orchestrations for Cage with a huge spaces set between each of the tones, set indeterminately by Cage as he traced constellations onto music paper. Here, the Orchestra of the S.E.M. Ensemble with David Tudor, perform these two scores simultaneously. The liner notes indicate that these two pieces were meant to complement each other, but it seems a little vague in terms of the rationale behind the fusing of the two. Regardless, this performance is quite spectacular.
"103" was composed more as a collection of 103 solos in which each instrument plays a series of single tones with specified windows of time for the tones to be played. Cage had intended for this piece to be performed without a conductor. Instead, the length of each of the 103 solos would determined by a digital clock. However, the performance presented here by the Janacek Philharmonic Orchestra from the Czech Republic was conducted by Petr Kotik. While Cage not surpringly didn't care much for the idea of rehearsing, Kotik believes that the conceptual agenda may be augmented to maintain the integrity of a performance.
"So if a guy brought in a home made cd, you guys would sell it?" So said a homeless guy when I told him that "Branches" -- which had been playing on our house system at the time -- was more the kind of thing we were looking for than the Eric Clapton & Kenny G
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"This landmark Wergo set presents 8 out of 10 volumes from John Cage's unfinished spoken diary. Read in the composer's own inimitable voice, these recordings provide fascinating insights into Cage's musical and life philosophies. These are not simply spoken word recordings -- each volume is sonically composed. Changes in typography in the printed text correspond to simultaneous changes in the stereophonic position and simultaneous changes in the volume of Cage's voice. This deluxe 8 CD boxed set includes a 64-page booklet containing several photographs taken in John Cage's loft and during the recording sessions in 1991, as well as a complete chronology of the composer's life." - Wergo liner notes. This is the new edition of this infamous Wergo document, with new, slimmer packaging and new written book.
What a fucking nut. Two discs of Cage reading, calmly and without expression, cut-up non-sensical passages from Henry David Thoreau's journals, live in Milan, 1977. The audience reaction is, however, quite expressive! Over the two discs the outcry builds: clapping, jeering, stomping, shrieking. Eventually the recording is more of the noise-making audience's near-riot than of Cage's performance, which is certainly in keeping with the man's philosophy of "music". Amazing and absurd. What a fucking nut!
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Never-before-released radio play collaboration between John Cage and writer/artist Kenneth Patchen performed in 1942. In what has to be one of the oddest Cage pieces ever, professional radio voice talents unravel a truly surreal story in straight '40s radio drama style. Replacing the usual radio drama sound effects is a percussion ensemble led by John Cage which punctuates the dialog throughout. Along with muted gongs, tin can xylophones, and marimbula are an assortment of electronic gadgets, including an audio frequency oscillator, electric buzzers and recorded sounds. Also included on this disk is "Credo in us" with Genevieve Blons on shortwave radio, and a 1939 recording of Cage's "Imaginary Landscape" for shortwave radio. Oh, and according to the Cortical Foundation, this cd is limited to a pressing of 1000 copies.
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These legendary "lost" recordings finally see the light of day, likely for a brief period of time only, as LaMonte Young's lawyers will most certainly issue a cease and desist order on the manufacturing and distribution of this, soon (we assume) making this document of seminal underground '60s NYC experimental art-drone music once again unavailable to the general public. Young's complaint revolves around the poor sound quality of this recording of his lengendary (yet largely unheard) ensemble which also featured the Velvet Underground's John Cale, violinist Tony Conrad, VU-founding percussionist (and mystic cult figure) Angus MacLise, and vocalist Marian Zazeela. The admitedly lo-fi mix (yes, it sounds really crude and crappy, although that has it's own obscure, grating charm, of forbidden music struggling to be heard after many decades of silence) is dominated by the twin mesmerism of Cale's and Conrad's strings with the cryptic pitter-patter of Angus MacLise's percussion occasionally making itself heard. LaMonte Young and his wife Marian Zazeela are credited with vocals, but can't really be heard doing anything at all. Maybe that's why he's so pissed off... Really what Young wants is sole composers credit, which seems a bit ridiculous to us (and to Tony Conrad et.al.)...so, we're stuck with this less-than-sonically-perfect document, for at least as long as Youngs lawyers let us...too bad these old dronesters couldn't have worked things out so that Young's supposedly crystal-clear tapes could have been used. Oh well, the triumph of a man's ego over "his" own art.
More music needs to be like this! Open and unfettered yet baroquely mysterious and cryptic; taking strange careening detours that cast endlessly distorting sonic reflections. Minimal but complex, driving and repetitive, yet sloppily unraveling with a ponderous noisy pop undercurrent that is both reverent and perverse. Is this a rock record led by a chamber ensemble? Or an avant-garde composition ambushed by lurching bass and drums? Or both? Makes sense that this album is called Church of Anthrax and both of its high priests are one time Velvet Underground and Dream Syndicate members John Cale and the guru of minimalism Terry Riley.
This one time collaboration from 1971 has just been re-issued and it's never sounded better! Touching on experimental jazz, minimalist composition, free rock and baroque pop yet remaining elusive and restless, never settling neatly into any one genre. It was recorded at a time when such cross-pollination of sounds was not only new but very necessary. John Cale plays all sides of his musical personae returning to his avant-garde roots with LaMonte Young in the Theater of Eternal Music but infusing it with the noisy economy of The Velvet Underground and the poetic pop of his subsequent output. While Terry Riley allows his more purist minimal aesthetic to become looser and emotive, paving the way towards his soundtrack works a few years later. Add to it the shambling drums of Bobby Columby from Blood Sweat and Tears (uncredited here) and the strange guest appearance of little known singer, Adam Miller (probably best known for the sesame street song, "We all Live in the Capital I") and what we have is this truly odd and hypnotically amazing document. Something that sounds more Germany than New York, like a collaboration between Can and Ralf and Florian of Kraftwerk or between Faust and Cluster. Or more contemporarily and unlikely, say between Wooden Shjips and Shogun Kunitoki with a guest vocal appearance by Thom Yorke of Radiohead!
The title track opens with a deep low multi-horned drone before the bass and drums kick into what begins to sound like a more driving version of The Kinks'"Powerman". But instead of going into a formal song structure, the riff repeats with Riley's pipe organ laying circular filigree riffs over the top, maintaining a constant lurch forward, and glassy saxophone stabs and atonal guitar rising from underneath creating an uneasy rhythm that slowly unravels into a propulsively droney stew. The air clears for the beautiful "Hall of Mirrors in The Palace of Versailles" with Cale on piano and Riley on solo saxophone trading off building and lilting riffs that rise and coalesce into shimmering tones. It's the moment that feels unique to each of them: the melodic minimalism of Cale's Dream syndicate days, and the all night time-delayed sax pieces of Riley's "Poppy Nogood and The Phantom Band". But with its mirror imagery and gorgeous repetitions, it feels wonderfully cinematic like a lost score for Alain Resnais' "Last Year at Marienbad". The next track, "The Soul of Patrick Lee" is perhaps the strangest because it's the only one with vocals, which wouldn't be unusual for John Cale as he wrote it and it sounds like him, but oddly he relegates the singing duties to his friend Adam Miller, an obscure singer-songwriter who wrote a Partridge Family tune and sang the above mentioned Sesame Street song. This track provides a breather of sorts, a short baroque folk ballad interlude between the other longform pieces, but it's like a haunting theme that adds to the mysterious soundtrack feel of the whole record. "Ides of March", the longest piece, features chugging piano riffs and skittering drums over a looped but drunkenly lopsided groove that wavers in and out of sync, building in a weird way where all the notes that seem off finally becoming locked in and right. Closing the record is the short "Protege" which ups the vampy piano riffs and Moe Tucker like drums before careening into a swift blast of noisy distortion. A sudden ending to this curious record that leaves us wanting more. Thankfully there's the repeat button!
Released on AMM's Matchless label, "Chamber Music 1955-64" is a retrospective of the early compositions from the late British composer Cornelius Cardew. After studying with Stockhausen in the late '50s, Cardew quickly shifted his personal aesthetic
The liner notes for Cardew's "Four Principles on Ireland" state that Cardew enjoyed three stylistic phases of musical development. The first phase found Cardew breaking from the canons of the Royal Academy of Music in the 1950s and collaborating with
Even though Cornelius Cardew composed this piece from 1963 - 1967, the world premier complete recording of "Treatise" did not see the light of day long after his death in 1998. That's not surprising, considering that the manuscript of the score is 193 pages long, and serves as an open ended graphical display rather than a collection of specific notations. There are no suggestions as to
Another collection of work from Cardew's final period of utilitarian compositions informed heavily by Maoist doctrines of Communism, "We Sing For The Future!" has been performed by pianist Frederic Rzewski, founding member of Musica Elettronica Viva.
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The Cortical Foundation has been reissuing some amazing documents of avant-garde sound art from the past century, including this composition from Scratch Orchestra ringleader and AMM memeber Cornelius Cardew. This work presents three paragraphs from the much larger musical text of "The Great Learning" and is composed of sustained pipe organ tones in particularly malevolent chords, short stabs of police whistles, sheets of hammering tribal drums with human voices howling against the drums, and complex vocal choirs. All of the text that runs through the compositions are incantations from the Confucian text "The Great Learning" which lays down a basic ethical and political code. However, the recitation of these texts sounds very much like the perversions of Catholic liturgies from the black masses of the Satanic Church with an authoritative delivery, an almost Gnostic indecipherability, and a bleakly somber overtone. Cardew's intentions for using this text are to express the inherent human failings of attempting to live up to the most basic of moral codes. Despite his pairing the metaphor of failure with the distinctly sprirtual overtones in the work, Cardew may not be actually talking about spiritual collapse or the failure of religions. Rather, "The Great Learning" postulates that if there is a higher state than mankind, then it will be our goal to attempt to find a means to that state, even if that is an impossible goal. Altogether, this is an wonderful if at times terrifying work.
Both Cornelius Cardew and David Bedford were leading proponents of avant-garde composition in England during the '60s. Cardew's experimentation with graphical notation and a democratization of performance through improvisation were radical departures from the controlled strategies of his former mentor Karlheinz Stockhausen. His most successful realization of these ideas was the epic 7 hour composition "The Great Learning," a composition based on the set of Confucian texts of the same name which lays down a basic ethical and political code. This piece was actualized by his unprecendented Scratch Orchestra, an ensemble filled with professional and untrained musicians given simple instructions as well as the mandate to respond according to how the performance itself wanted to be performed, not by how the composer intended it to sound. "The Great Learning" comprised of 7 paragraphs, each with its own unique set of parameters. A few years back, we had offered a collection of recordings from "The Great Learning" published by the Cortical Foundation; yet, due to the continued medical situation that persists with Cortical Foundation's owner Gary Todd, that album has gone missing. However, this collection through Deutsche Grammophon includes 2 of the paragraphs (number 2 and number 7) from the same (and possibly only) session documented on the Cortical album. The recitation of these Confucian texts -- with Paragraph 2 as a tumultous drum and voice procession and Paragraph 7 as an angelic choir -- sounds very much like the perversions of Catholic liturgies from the black masses of the Satanic Church with an authoritative delivery, an almost Gnostic indecipherability, and a bleakly somber overtone. Cardew's intentions for using this text are to express the inherent human failings of attempting to live up to the most basic of moral codes. Despite his pairing the metaphor of failure with the distinctly sprirtual overtones in the work, Cardew may not be actually talking about spiritual collapse or the failure of religions. Rather, "The Great Learning" postulates that if there is a higher state to mankind, then it will be our goal to attempt to find a means to that state, even if that is an impossible goal. Later aligning himself with Maoism, Cardew's unwavering optimism for man's ability to escape the confines of oppression is most articulate within this outstanding composition.
That isn't to take anything away from David Bedford, who had been a member of Cardew's Scratch Orchestra. In his two beautiful vocal pieces, Bedford conveys a majestic impressionism of sound, drawing upon the poems of Kenneth Patchen. Where there is an undeniable tension and dischord within the Cardew pieces, there is a lightness and ephemeralism found within Bedford's. Altogether, the four pieces make for a very complementary pair of recordings.
