Current musings in Vermont

I'm up in Vermont this weekend for New Year's Eve festivities. Now, you all my know my dislike of christmas and most things that come with it, but you may not be familiar with my dislike of romantic comedies. I'm not going to explain why I dislike them, because this isn't the space for that, and really, isn't it obvious? Anyway, to avoid watching a combination of those two things (oh the horror of Love Actually) I'm being antisocial and listening to music in the loft.

Long ago Mr. H the 3rd lent me John Coltrane's Ascension. I just finished listening to Edition II, which seems to have been first on the CD. I enjoyed it thoroughly and am currently listening to Edition I. Now, I feel the need to write here in the context of having read this article linked to from aldaily earlier today. Perhaps that article is even what prompted me to take on such a lengthy listening exercise.

So yes, I listen to a lot of contemporary rock and such things that could be called pop. However, I like to think I also have the patience to actively listen to lengthy pieces. I really enjoyed this track which weighed in at 40'57". The thing that I'd like to comment about here is my (admittedly less than well educated) opinion about the construction of this music. Derek Bailey's life work aside, I understand that improve does not happen in a vacuum, and that this piece was performed by people with a context of working together, who likely had an overall feeling/plan/idea of what they would like to do in this particular span of playing.

What makes this music particularly challenging to me, is that I'm not sure this music was meant to be consumed. By that I mean I don't see it being performed for the purpose of having people listen to it passively. In having this arrangement of context rich musicians moving towards (or was it away from?) a general idea, I believe the conversation metaphor is most appropriate. Yes, there are ideas being passed back and forth and they all relate to each other in various ways, but the overall outcome cannot be known until the conversation has been had. This is akin to standing next to a group of fairly interesting people at a party, and purposefully eavesdropping on their conversation. There is no grand idea that the group as a whole is struggling to convey to a rapt audience, and most of the work seems to be done in spite of that audience. So yes, this is a challenge to me, and it takes patience, because I feel like I'm fighting to keep up with this organic evolution of the music, having only what is immediately present to assist in what to look for next.

In writing that last paragraph, I began to wonder, perhaps witnessing the struggle is what the performance is all about? Is this a group of people inviting you to watch them engage in an active process, and not to be as a witness to their storytelling? I could scrap the entry with this new observation, but I'll leave it in hoping it may foster future conversations. (More music theory research, or perhaps even the liner notes may stifle such wonderment on my part entirely, but I'm enjoying the naked speculation.)

Back to the Parlour Guitar and Spinnet Piano

Lately I've been craving music. Social music. Music that people want to listen to and play together.

The article that the following snippet was taken from touches on the shifting role of music as a social activity and other issues quite well.

Writing for Stylus Magazine, Chris Dahlen explains:
"My biggest regret as a writer is every time I wrote about an artist for any reason other than that they were a human being with a full life that was worth setting to paper. Every time I meet someone with a new perspective on music, it makes my life better; every time I talk to an artist who’s gritting his teeth because he hasn’t made it bigger, it kills me. This isn’t how most people use music now. Music is more important than fame."

The full article appears here.

October Mix

So, it seems I've let September pass me by without a feeble attempt at a post. Well in the spirit of rectification, I've decided to post the tracklist for my October Mix. Seeing as I'm not too savvy when it comes to posting MP3s, you'll have to dig up these tracks and recreate it on your own.

October Mix
1 - Idle Hands Are the Devil's Plaything - Palace Brothers
2 - Bird Stealing Bread (live) - Iron & Wine
3 - Running to the Ghost - James Blackshaw
4 - Wind Waltzes - Michio Kuihara
5 - My Dreaming Hill - Flying Saucer Attack
6 - Stereo Music for Acoustic Guitar, Bucla Music Box 100, Hp Model 236 Oscillator, Electric Guitar, and Computer - Part One - Keith Fullerton Whitman
7 - Hey Mamma Wolf - Devendra Banhart
8 - A Hand to Take Hold of the Scene - Okkervill River
9 - Strange Lights - Deerhunter
10 - Inside of the Pocket - Chihei Hatakeyama
11 - One Too Many Mornings - Bob Dylan
12 - Soon-to-Be Innocent Fun / Let's See - Arthur Russell
13 - Where Are You Now? - Wynn Walent
14 - Fine Italian Hand - Town and Country

p.s. I always list song titles first on compilations because I choose them as individual pieces rather than units of a given musician's work.

Preoccupation

Although I've signed up for E-Music and enjoy the service immensely, I continue to wonder if acquiring more music the answer to my wonders and doubts about contemporary ways of listening and producing it. Switching primarily to mp3 listening has lessened the amount of physical space and resources I need to devote to amassing music, but that is only a small part of the process.

While a bit pretentious in its choice of examples (I would have loved at least one pop song or piece of 21st century music in which silence is key), I enjoyed the following article on the ubiquity of music and the possibilities and problems of solitary listening.

The Colonization of Silence

Tony Conrad Droning On

Listening to Inside the Dream Syndicate Volume I and Outside the Dream Syndicate, I was struck again by the freeing feeling I had upon first hearing Tony Conrad's Early Minimalism boxed set. Although the recordings are primarily focused on Conrad's violin work, the drones remind me of many afternoons and evenings spent practicing long tones on my saxophone. I had always enjoyed playing them, but the jump between these tones and focusing on the sound of the individual notes and preparing a more varied piece for performance was always a hard one for me to make. The process of practicing was always profoundly meditative.

I think I had intended this as the start of a longer entry, but I think it will do on its own.

Urban Noise and Thoughts on John Cage

I read this article from Dusted Magazine this morning:

http://www.dustedmagazine.com/features/630

It reminded me of John Cage's desire to listen to the sounds of the city around him rather than the set sounds of records. I've often thought of following Cage's lead and selling or giving away my CD collection en masse. (I don't think I could do it piece by piece. It would be too heart-wrenching, and in the process, I'd probably realize the extent of my attachment to them and sit down and cry for a while.)

To the Mediocre

There's a truly fantastic album that I should be reviewing. Hisato Higuchi's Dialogue is a 38-minute capsule of guitar and breath that's held my attention for a few months now, but for the past few days, two other albums have pushed it out of my mind. The Arcade Fire's latest album Neon Bible may be the best-selling, hopefully intentional, tribute to Bruce Springsteen ever performed. Almost any song off the record would fit perfectly onto Born to Run. The combination of earnestness and bombast sucks me in despite myself.

Like a good muso, I used to recommend Springsteen's Nebraska to people, claiming that it was Bruce's stripped-down masterwork, and yet I don't listen to it very often. However, each time "Born to Run" or "Thunder Road" or even "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out" comes on I find myself happy and engrossed. Likewise, I want to clap and sing along with the Arcade Fire's "Antichrist Television Blues" even with it's heavy-handed Christian imagery. I do still laugh a bit when their transplanted Texan vocalist pines in "Windowsill" that he doesn't "want to live in America no more." Funny coming from the frontman of the biggest Canadian band of the moment.


Crooked Fingers Dignity and Shame doesn't pull off the tribute to a classic rock icon trick quite so well. Eric Bachmann sounds like he desperately wants to be a folkier Niel Diamond, and yet a couple of the songs hit me just right. "Sleep All Summer" demands repeated listens for its yearning and a couple of its lines. It certainly doesn't go in for subtlety. Our male narrator is hit with feelings "like a tidal wave", and I ask myself why I keep listening to this song. Earlier in the album, the equally strident power ballad "Destroyer" is a guilty pleasure, especially when the narrator states blankly, "destroyer..." before a ridiculous guitar solo emerges on top of the repetitive piano chords that ground the song until the fade out.

To Begin

Seeing as I could never figure out how to add a comments feature to repetitionandvariation, I decided to start a new blog dedicated exclusively to music.