Monday, October 17, 2011
Power of Zeus were a hard rock/psychedelic group that had the misfortune to get signed to a Motown subsidiary. The folks at the label really had no experience with this kind of music, and the result of their efforts packs less of a punch than it might. The band members have expressed dissatisfaction with the album, claiming that it did not capture their live sound and, regrettably, they never got another chance.
Before writing them off as a footnote to the psychedelic movement, however, we have to admit that many of the songs presented here are quite good. The band had a lot of unique ideas, solid musicianship and the charm that only a Hammond Organ can bring. A couple of the tracks teeter on the edge of the then burgeoning progressive rock movement, while simultaneously delivering quite a trip to those inclined to such things.
The albums highlight is, at least for me, the seven and a half minute "The Death Trip" which, as the title implies, chronicles a man's journey into the afterlife. Apart from being spooky as all get out, it also rocks really hard. The climax has the singer screaming "I see the light!" over swirling and majestic Hammond chords, and is sure to get your adrenaline pumping. The closing track, "The Sorcerer of Isis," is similarly dark, although not quite as intense, with Eastern influenced guitar lines and mystical lyrics. The band's singer cites it as best capturing their live sound. "In The Night" is a personal favorite, and although a pretty straightforward rock song, it touches on the Devil and things that go bump in the night in a very satisfying way.
The rest of the album is filled out by capable, if somewhat mainstream, hard rock and the obligatory flower power hippy lovefest "Green Grass and Clover." While not a masterpiece, this album is a solid slab of seventies hard rock/psychedelia, and ranks a good deal higher in my book than Iron Butterfly's debut. It is sure to please fans of Uriah Heep, Deep Purple and Atomic Rooster.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Luc Ferrari is something of a legendary figure in the strnage world of Musique Concrete/sound collage. Few composers have devoted so much time and effort to creating sounds which 99% of the population would not consider to be actual music. Thankfully for the other 1%, however, he remained an unstoppable force of unique and interesting composition for half a century, right up until his death in 2005.
Like John Cage before him, Ferrari was able to hear the beauty in everyday environmental sounds, and this posthumous album puts this quality on display wonderfully. Here we are treated to three long pieces. The first of these is a continuation of Ferrari's "Presque Rien" series, in which environmental sounds are edited down and assembled in such a way as to almost form a loose narratives. Conversation snatches in French and Italian, animal noises and ambient sound blend together with the occasional rhythmic pattern to make a fascinating pastiche. Most of the time the edits are barely noticeable, but occasionally you can pick out repetitions and carefully constructed patterns indicative of the care taken by the composer.
The second piece is similar in nature, but longer and for me more engaging. It consists of a half hour of Ferrari strolling through a small town in Algeria, and the sheer variety of sound he captures is staggering. Bells, roosters, donkeys, locals singing, gun shots and many other exotic and beautiful noises forma rich tapestry of sound. This piece dates all the way back to 1978, but to me it sounds just as fresh and modern as anything else here. The final work abandons field recordings in favor of a more traditional example of Musique Concrete. It is well thought out and well constructed, but personally I prefer the field recordings for their magical ability to transport the listener to another time and place.
The only problem I have with this release is the bizarre approach to track indexing, in which each composition is broken up into seemingly arbitrary sections, but that's a very minor complaint given the quality of the music itself. Luc Ferrari is a definite must for those interested in electro-acoustic music, field recordings or Musique Concrete. And while the uninitiated will likely dismiss it is "just noise," those with an open mind and vivid imagination will find music like this refreshingly unique and beautifully evocative.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Third Ear Band is the fortuitous result of a struggling group of rock musicians having most of their instruments stolen. Left with no amplifiers, guitars, keyboards or drum kits, they were forced to make do with a violin, a cello, an oboe and some hand percussion and assorted other small noisemakers. The ensuing sound came to earn them some unexpected popularity and record deals were soon forthcoming.
This release combines their first two studio albums, "Alchemy" from 1969 and a self-titled release commonly known as "Elements" for reasons that will soon become apparent, from a year later. The music is very loosely structured, and the melodies and instrumental palate create a sound that is somewhere between the music of medieval Europe and the more exotic textures of Indian classical music. The band have managed to capture a feeling of mystery quite well both with their sound and cover art littered with alchemical symbols and imagery from the dark ages.
The first album contains many short pieces of different character and energy levels, while the second has four long tracks, each named for the four elements of classical antiquity: earth, air, fire and water. These last are accompanied by appropriate sound effects, which may seem a bit silly and over the top to some, but I find it enhances the mood nicely. On the whole, it's hard to say which album I prefer. They are both enjoyable in different ways. When I want to here a theme fully fleshed out and developed over the course of ten minutes, I turn to "Elements," but when I'm in the mood for short bursts of contrasting styles "Alchemy" suits me just fine.
It is unclear how much of the material here is improvised, but I suspect that the answer is "most of it." There seems to be some general plan as to themes and structure, especially on "Elements," but the individual parts do not have the feel of careful composition, which I think lends an authenticity to the music that is quite exciting. The melodies are not the kind that western ears have become accustomed to, and these albums would doubtless prove too dense and inaccessible for many people, but those who enjoy Indian ragas or medieval polyphony should find plenty to love in the Third Ear Band.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Let me begin by saying that, for an Italian band named Goblin known for doing horror movie soundtracks, this music is surprisingly unscary. But then again, I suppose it takes a lot to scare someone who listens to Throbbing Gristle on a regular basis. I do not wish to imply, however, that Goblin is not a good band. On the contrary, they are generally excellent.
This compilation spans more than a dozen film and TV scores the band wrote and performed, and while some of the later stuff is forgettable (the love theme from St. Helen is horrid), there is a lot to enjoy here. Early scores like Profundo Rosso, Suspiria, and La Via Della Droga showcase Goblin at the height of their powers. The musicianship is top notch and there is some real creativity absent from the vast majority of film music.
Stylistically, this disc is extremely varied. The scores range from vaguely creepy syth-fests to hard rock, to psychedelic, to funky jazz. The band pulls each of these diverse styles off with aplomb. The melodies are fun and engaging, and the short running time of most of these cues keeps the listener from becoming bored.
Unfortunately, the fact that most of this music was written in the seventies shows pretty plainly, and some of these scores now sound pretty dated, but they are enjoyable nevertheless and Goblin is an important enough band that most serious music lovers will want to have a compilation such as this in their collection.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Lull is the side project of Mick Harris, perhaps best known as the drummer for the extreme death metal band Napalm Death. What can one expect from such a celebrated noisemaker? Certainly not anything like this. Let me just say that Lull lives up to its name. Don't expect any aggression here.
The record consists of a single, hour long track of an extremely minimal ambient drone. There is some motion, and indeed some evolution in the sound, but it all happens at a glacial pace and it took me several listens to even be aware of some of the subtleties going on beneath the surface. From what I can tell, the tones are produced electronically and there are a number of layers shifting back and forth on top of one another like the slow grinding of tectonic plates. The atmosphere is fairly dark and sinister, but it doesn't hit you over the head like some of Lustmord's stuff.
"Continue" probably works best as a background record, something to listen to while you do other things. Given that it makes the ambient music of people like Brian Eno or Harold Budd seem like speed metal, it would probably be difficult for most people to give it their full attention for very long. That being said, it does provide a nice atmosphere and does what ambient is supposed to do: lurk unobtrusively on the edge of your consciousness.
On a personal note, I once hosted "ambient night" at my college discotheque with the sole intention of preventing anyone from dancing (a rousing success, I must say) and I used this record as the grand finale to my set. I think only one person showed up that night.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
One of the things I love most about Prog Rock is the sheer audacity of some of the bands and their ridiculous ideas. What we have here is an entirely instrumental concept album about a game of chess prominently featuring the Krumhorn, an obscure Renaissance reed instrument that sounds a bit like a bassoon. You'd be hard pressed to find a modern band willing to embark on such a silly undertaking, and yet it works brilliantly.
The record is divided into four lengthy tracks, each supposedly representing a phase of gameplay. "Opening Move" begins with a peaceful and pleasant melody, painting a picture of a friendly game played outdoors on a warm summer day. The tension gradually increases as the "friendly game" turns into a heated battle of minds. The next track, "Second Spasm," starts as a lively dance tune in 6/8 time played on recorders. The music is relentless fun and cheerful, while maintaining a fast pace indicative of the fierce competition imagined to be happening on the chess board.
Side two opens with the more reserved "Lament," in which our protagonist mopes about his diminishing prospects of victory, before launching into the triumphant finale, "Checkmate." Throughout, the band do a nice job of developing their motifs in an almost symphonic fashion. Rather than simply stringing a collection of unrelated themes together, they reuse melodies within the individual movements, playing them in a variety of different ways and always maintaining the listener's interest.
It's hard not to love this record. It's so wonderfully idiosyncratic, with its Renaissance feel augmented by the modern flavor of keyboards and bass guitar. The melodies are catchy and very happy sounding. It's an album that makes me smile every time I hear it. Whether you're a fan of Prog Rock, Renaissance music, or just looking for something fun and uplifting, you're likely to find something to enjoy on "Red Queen to Gryphon Three."
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I owe all of you an apology for the inexcusable lack of updates. I could say that I've been busy with school and work and various side projects, all of which would be true, but the real reason is that I just haven't been motivated to write about music lately. Today, however, one of my favorite music related websites, Progarchives, decided to add Throbbing Gristle to their database (a poor decision, I think, but oh well) and I feel compelled to contribute a review.
Throbbing Gristle are frequently and quite correctly credited for inventing the genre we commonly know as "industrial." Their abrasive, post-punk, nihilist noisemaking ushered in a whole generation of lienated misanthropes who felt they could relate to machines better than to their fellow human beings. After several albums of relentlessly abrasive material, however, TG decided to go another direction on "20 Jazz Funk Greats." The title is obviously tongue in cheek, but there is a grain of truth behind it. This is certainly TG's jazziest, as well as their funkiest record. Most of the tracks are laid back and subtle. hey are still just as menacing as ever, but this time the threat is more akin to being slowly poisoned rather than stabbed in the face.
Chris Carter's subdued electronics, trending ever closer towards straightforward dance music are heavily utilized here, but everything sounds far away and cloaked in a mysterious English fog. Geneis P-Orridge is as creepy as ever with his deadpan ramblings, the standout being the genuinely disturbing "Convincing People." One track entitled "Exotica" gives a clue to the inspiration for the album. There is indeed an element of Martin Denny and Les Baxter's method of creating evocative palettes designed to take the listener away to distant and exotic locales, although here this time it will not be anywhere so safe and welcoming as Polynesia. There's even a vibraphone to complete the tribute.
My favorite track on the album is the borderline mainstream "Hot on the Heels of Love." It is a perfectly produced slice of rhythmic electronica that could easily have been a club hit. It also features the all too rarely heard oice of Cosey, the groups only female member, breathily repeating the words "hot on the heels of love / waiting for help from above" in a tantalizing whisper.
"20 Jazz Funk Greats" is not Throbbing Gristle's best work, but it is an easy jumping off point for beginners, who might be a little intimidated by the band's more aggressive material. More importantly, this is the album that really shows just how influential TG were. Together with Kraftwerk (and maybe Tangerine Dream and Gary Numan) this album played a defining role in shaping the sound of modern electronica.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Of the four albums in Brian Eno's "Ambient" series, the third installment is the least well known and sounds the least like the others. This is perhaps because it is the only one not to be released under Eno's own name, but instead credited solely to Laraaji. I am giving Eno credit above, however, because of his typically adept recording and engineering, and anyway it's his series.
What we have here is a series of pieces for solo zither, enhanced ever so slightly by synthesizers, bells and studio techniques, performed by street musician Laraaji (born under the slightly less exotic name of Edward Larry Gordon.) There are three "Dances" on the album and two "Meditations," the former being high energy and rhythmic while the latter are relaxed, free form and meandering. Much like in the work of Philip Glass and Steve Reich, the constant motion in the dance pieces after a time begins to seem like a static texture that simply hangs in the air for the listener to experience. Although this may seem to be in opposition to conventional notions of what ambient music is, the label does make sense in that these songs create an atmosphere rather than a dynamic musical composition. It also must be remembered that at the time ambient music was still a relatively new concept and Eno was blazing new trails as he went along.
There are Celtic as well as Asian idioms in the music, which is an odd pairing and creates a sound both exotic and difficult to pin down. Some of the figures Laraaji plays could be equally at home on a dulcimer in Wales or a zither in Egypt or a koto in Japan. The very lowest strings on the instrument rattle percussively when struck, and Jaraaji creates some wonderful rhythms down there while maintaining the drone like motion in the upper register. The amazing thing is that that he manages to make each of these five pieces sound completely distinct from one another. The problem with a whole album of music for one instrument is that the lack of timbral variety can become tedious if not handled carefully. That such tedium never occurs here is a testament to the inventiveness and skill with which Laraaji handles his instrument.
The meditations are more tradional "New Agey" ambient fare, but as always Eno avoids being trite or cliche in how he handles the sound. The amount of reverb applied is tasteful and the music is thoughtfully contructed in a way that works just as well for active listening as it does when functioning as furniture music. This may well be my favorite of the four albums in Eno's "Ambient" series, simply because it is so different from anything else he has done before or since.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
If you love the sound of the accordion, but polkas just aren't avant garde enough for your tastes, then this may be the record for you. Pauline Oliveros has long been a practitioner on the instrument and is not shy about using it in unusual ways.
"The Wanderer" collects three lengthy pieces recorded live in 1983 (resulting in the slightly irritating fact that we have to put up with occasional coughing and applauding from the audience), each featuring the instrument, and with the title track incorporating an entire accordion orchestra. The first track is a sparse affair, a duo for accordion and bandoneon that is characterized by long silences interrupted by sudden bursts of sound. It was originally performed by Oliveros and David Tudor atop a see saw and was meanth to explore the sonic changes resulting from the up and down motion. Such subtlety is, unfortunately, not captured on this disc, but once you stop listening for melodic or rhythmic paterns and learn to just appreciate the sound of the instrument itself, there is a definite beauty that emerges.
This is even more evident on the twenty minute title track where a group of more than twenty accordions play together, resulting in a mesmeric shimmering of reeds that surround simply modal melodies. Eight minutes in, percussion joins the mix and the piece erupts into energetic dance like rhythms. The various rhythms and contrapuntal patterns interlock wonderfully and it's a very exciting piece throughout.
The final track is called "Horse Sings From Cloud" and is loosely scored for any number and variety of instruments using simple words like "Sound," "Breath," "Listen," and "Change." The version here is for accordion, harmonium, bandoneon and concertina. It is primarily a drone piece and this combination of instruments works very well because of their similar, but not identical, timbres. Each one has a different limitation on the amount of time that they can sustain a given pitch, and this results in a sort of out of phase pulsing. It's the simplest piece here, but also probably the most lovely, although it can take some time to get over the seemingly harsh dissonances if you're new to this kind of music.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
King Crimson is a little more mainstream than I like to get on this blog. However, I feel the need to defend this wonderful album from its many detractors.
"Islands" is the most heavily maligned of all of King Crimson's 70's studio albums, and based on its reputation, I took my time in acquiring it. When the fortieth anniversary remaster of it was released, I saw it as an opportunity to complete my collection and boy am I glad that I did! It has since become one of my very favorite records from the group, second only to their debut and maybe "Lizard."
"Islands" is the fourth studio album from the continually disintegrating band headed by Robert Fripp. Given the fact that the personnel vary so frequently, it's remarkable that Fripp was able to get anything at all recorded, let alone something of such high quality. The album consists of six generally lengthy songs and maintains a somewhat more laid back atmosphere than King Crimson is known for, but the record is not without its intense moments. I find both the title and the cover art to be extremely appropriate; the theme of little spots of color surrounded by emptiness is embodied perfectly in the music here.
The opening track, "Formentera Lady," begins with brooding cellos which gradually give way to a rather pastoral song without much drama. This all changes with "A Sailor's Tale," an energetic and orginal piece recalling the bombast of "21st Century Schizoid Man." However, unlike King Crimson's second album, "In The Wake of Poseidon," "Islands" avoids simply rehashing earlier material and all of the songs have a personailty of their own. "The Letters" is extremely powerful both musically and lyrically and "Ladies of the Road," while admittedly somewhat crass, is saved by the Beatles-esque vocal harmonies in the chorus. Finally, we are treated to an orchestral piece and the expansive melancholy of the title track.
The musicianship is excellent all around, especially considering that Fripp, lacking a bass player, had to teach all the parts to the singer note for note. Fripp's banjo influenced solo on "A Sailor's Tale" is unlike anything I've ever heard on an electric guitar. The drumming is universally great.
With regard to the remixing and remastering on the fortieth anniversary edition, it seems to me to be very fine. Stephen Wilson of Porcupine Tree has handled all of the engineering here and while I am no fan of his music, his capacities as a technician are impressive. Graciously, the previous thirtieth anniversary version (as well as numerous bonus tracks) has been included in its entirety for comparison and the new version is much more dynamic and engaging.
I am not sure what has prmpted listeners to reject "Isalnds" over the years, but as far as I am concerned it is one of King Crimson's finest works and deserves more recognition than it gets. Any fan of the group owes it to themselves to pick up a copy at their earliest convenience.
Monday, January 10, 2011
One of the more joyous and exciting examples of free jazz I've heard (although I'm admittedly still a novice in the genre) is the third solo album by saxophonist Pharaoh Sanders. The album is dominated by a thirty minute track entitled "The Creator Has a Master Plan" with brief five minute coda in the form of the song "Colors." Both are similar in texture, although "Colors" is more of a cool down piece after the intensity of what precedes it.
Sanders' tenor saxophone is the principal instrument, naturally, and he has a very rich, unique tone that resonates with a lot of harmonics. However, it's the bed of sound laid down by the other instruments that I find particularly interesting. Flute, trumpet, bass, piano and a variety of percussion instruments including shakers and bells are constantly playing off of one another, forming a complex and beautiful texture to the music that reminds a bit of some early Krautrock records by the likes of Amon Düül II.
There are also vocals, supplied by Leon Thomas, and while the lyrics are of the somewhat trite "peace and love" variety, failing to add much to the recording, he eventually launches into a strange sort of yodeling that is very unique and which soon becomes just another instrument in the mix.
A bit over halfway through, the band moves from loosely improvised jamming into honest to goodness free jazz and all sense of structure collapses and the listener is consumed under mountains of screaming saxophone and frantic wailing by Thomas. All the instruments have such different timbres and they compliment one another so well, though, that it's still easy for the ear to follow individual parts. This results in a vitality and listenability that I have found to be lacking in other similar records that I have heard.
Finally, all the ruckus settles back down and we are left with the pastoral "Colors," in which Thomas' voice is used to great effect as a smooth crooner, soothing us off to sleep after a wild, wild party.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Yay, my little music blog has reached five thousand hits! It's not much, I know, but it makes me happy nonetheless. Many thanks to everyone reading. I hope you have enjoyed it and I look forward to bringing you many more reviews of interesting music in the new year.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Philip Glass is the man most people immediately think of when they hear the term "minimalist music," and while he was neither the first nor the most minimal of this school of composers, he was the most commercially successful and to the victor go the spoils. In recent years, he has been halfheartedly tossing off film scores while presumably rolling around in his piles of money, but back in the seventies he created some truly innovative and amazing music.
"Music With Changing Parts" is probably my favorite Glass piece from this period. It's an hour long, semi-improvisatory composition for his usual ensemble of woodwinds and keyboard instruments. It has since been dismissed by the composer as "too spacy" but personally, I think it's just spacy enough. It begins with a repetitive figure on a lone electric organ which is then quickly joined by other instruments. What I like about this piece is that it evolves so slowly that unless you are paying very close attention, you will not even notice that anything is changing. If you exerpt any given thrity seconds from the piece, it will sound like the same phrase repeared over and over again, but at the end of five or ten minutes, the music will sound nothing like it did in the beginning.
Although there is constant motion througout its length, the repetition gives the piece a drone like quality and it's easy to be swept away by it. Fans of psychedelia will probably find much to enjoy here. Indeed, the motion of Glass's music is not unlike that of a lava lamp.
The concepts explored here would be further developed on the marathon three-disc set of "Music in Twelve Parts," the principle difference being that that work is divided into twelve distinct sections of approximately twenty minutes each whereas this maintains its continuity for over an hour. Both are essential additions to any collection of minimalist music.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Very little is known about this album or the people who made it. It was released in 1981 on Steven Stapleton's United Dairies label and no one has heard anything from the band since. On the CD reissue, the notes claim that every effort was made to get in touch with the artists and that seem to have simply disappeared off the face of the Earth. The natural question is of course: what sort of music might these elusive people make?
The first half of the record is comprised of a four part suite entitled "Incidents in Rural Places." It's a delightfully pastoral bit of studio work, filled with tape manipulations and delay effects. It's vaguely Krautrocky, vaguely psychedelic and more than a little industrial, but it manages to remain relatively accessible throughout and in places is downright pretty. Vintage electronics are all over the place, although used largely for textures and backdrops rather than in a more traditionally musical context.
Things get even weirder on side two. The seven minute track "Organorgan" contains the only thing on the record that sounds like an actual musical instrument - a Hammond organ. It drones along methodically while more tape loops and sound collage strangeness happen around it. It's easy to see why the group took Musique Concret as their name.
Finally, the fourteen minute freakout "Wreath Pose at Sacrifice" concludes the album in a very raucous way. The first eight or nine minutes consist of increasingly bizarre sound collage material, eschewing even the barest semblance of musicality. Then, in a completely unexpected turn, a drum kit enters the mix playing in tight, psychedelic rhythm. There aren't many records that could make something so conventional seem so surprising. The drums hold down the beat for a while before being overwhelmed by swells of harsh feedback. At this point you'll be reminded of Whitehouse or early Merzbow more than anything else. At last, the track fades out with a sampled record of a female crooner and we're done!
There's no question that this is a strange oddity of a record and a nice addition to a collection, but there's also some great and unique music on it, particularly on side one. Side two has its moments to be sure, but the compositions simply don't feel as coherent or well thought out. This is a good buy for people who like the first few Nurse With Wound records and similarly unpredictable and noisy things.