One of the difficult things about improvising, or performing, or any type of creation really, is reaching that level, duende, where everything seems to click, the instrument melts into you, and the music just happens. I know that I’ve never reached it. Duende is a word that literally means ‘quality of passion or inspiration’, in some sense, a sort of ‘spirit’. This past week my Improvisation in Music class gave a performance for the end of the semester. It was eight pieces of music that had all been improvisations by various members of the class, and the title of the concert was “Duende Overload”. However, I feel like it just wasn’t as good as it could have been, for a few reasons.
In Stravinsky’s Poetics of Music a somewhat atypical though, in my opinion, very practical theory on the creative process is given: It doesn’t start with inspiration, but rather the desire to create. As Stravinsky says, “inspiration is chronologically secondary”. Furthermore, he goes on to mention that inspiration can’t be contrived; you can’t go looking for it, you can’t arrange for it, it just happens, but only after you’ve already made the decision to create a work. Duende, I feel, is an augmentation of inspiration. It’s the conjoining of both inspiration and expiration (expiration in its literal sense- exhaling of the breath- though the meaning is figurative), where as soon as a musical idea comes to mind, the body creates it on the instrument, as if the performer were acting like some sort of real-time conversion software, importing inspiration and immediately converting it and then exporting it as an audible format.
If duende is an augmentation of inspiration, then it follows that it cannot be contrived. I felt that naming the concert “Duende Overload” was a contrivance, and may have been the cause, at least in my case, for a performance that just wasn’t of the same caliber as some previous performances.
Take a listen to these two recordings. The first was recorded a few weeks ago. Though the key was agreed upon in advance, we had never actually played the piece. The second recording is the same piece, same musicians, recorded at the concert we gave. It was only the second time we played the piece, but I think it wasn’t of the same quality, perhaps because we went into it expecting what would happen.
The first performance
The second performance
Or maybe I’m just being hard on myself? I don’t know. Stravinsky gives this quote from scripture in his Poetics, “spiritus ubi vult spirat”. That is, the spirit breathes wherever it wants.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
VI. Duende Overload
Labels:
duende,
Essay,
Improvisation,
Maine,
Music,
Philosophy,
School,
Stravinsky
Friday, May 8, 2009
V. Braincore 3.0

On the 25th of April my band played a show at University of Southern Maine with a few fellow bands from our state. The lineup was TBA, Pamola (my band), Eyes Like Fire, Joseph Merrick, and To the Barricades! -- all local hardcore-oriented bands. It was a great time, with some great music.
Here are links to the bands' Myspace pages:
TBA
Pamola
Eyes Like Fire
Joseph Merrick
To the Barricades!
And here are links to a couple demos made available online (including my own band's):
Eyes Like Fire's EP
Pamola's 2009 Demos
I also picked up TTB!'s split with this other excellent Portland-based hardcore band, Dylan Bredeau, on 7". At some point in the future I'll digitize it. However, I'm hesitant to share it and the EP I got from Joseph Merrick without permission, so I may hold off on that.
But I will post these videos, also taken from the show:
Here is TTB!
And here is Joseph Merrick
This was Joseph Merrick's last song from the set, but they had no lyrics for it. So, instead of just playing an instrumental piece to end, they invited anybody who was interested to grab a mic and shout/scream/say whatever he/she wanted. It was awfully entertaining.
It also reaffirms one of the things I love most about this sort of music. I remember reading somewhere Ian Mackaye talking about the DC scene in the 80's, and how at any minute anybody could easily cross the line from being in the audience at a show to being in a band at the show, from spectation to performance, and vice versa. Of course, the Maine local music scene in no way resembles DC. We have far fewer bands, fewer kids to attend shows, fewer venues to play, and greater distances separating us (both Joseph Merrick and my band had to travel about 1.75 hours to get to this show). But the spirit and sense of community is still present, as I think it is in most punk scenes.
This video, while at times humourous or unintelligible, is a reminder that the division between performer and spectator is in many ways contrived and arbitrary. Here is a depiction of audience members (who in some venues are encouraged to sit down, shut up, and pay attention to the performers on stage) improvising along with the band, actively participating in the creation of music, and journeying together as explorers of a musical world, not being shepharded along by some omniscient musical demi-god up on stage.
Labels:
Eyes Like Fire,
Improvisation,
Joseph Merrick,
Local,
Maine,
Music,
Pamola,
Philosophy,
School,
TBA,
To the Barricades,
USM
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Regraped and Shiny Beast- Split
Regraped were a Math-Rock band from Raleigh, North Carolina, active from 1992 to 1997. It was formed by Steve Hren, Ben Iddings, Kip Larson, and Brian Quast (who is currently drumming and recording with polvo!). I’m not exactly sure who plays what or does what, as information on this band is scarce. The most interesting thing to note about this group is the lack of guitar, most often a staple in this sort of music. Instead, two basses are used, like Dianogah, though much more stripped down and at times abrasive.As for Shiny Beast, I have no information. I’ve been looking around on other blogs, record label sites, google, but have found absolutely nothing. They seem to be almost entirely instrumental, at least going from this release. More Math-Rock, with odd metres and this wonderfully scratchy guitar. These guys could also be from North Carolina, judging by the sound, but that is only a conjecture.
This split (1994, Fort Hazel) is pretty solid. Both bands hold their own quite well. It’s a 12”, so they each get roughly 20 minutes. At times I feel like that might be a bit much, especially on the Shiny Beast side (no offense to the band). I’m in no way adverse to instrumental rock music, but I feel like there isn’t enough variety on the Shiny beast side to hold my attention from start to finish. The tracks tend to blend together. For this reason, I think the music would have been much better suited to a shorter format.
The Regraped side is much more interesting. There is a vocalist, which automatically draws us humans in a little bit more than otherwise. The two basses are utilized very well, shifting between rhythmic chugs and the occasional melodic figure atop Brian Quast’s (at least I’m assuming it’s Brian Quast) excellent drumming. This is another way in which the Shiny Beast side is just a little weak- their drummer is good, but not terribly so, and this style of music can be awfully demanding on drummers.
But please don’t think that I’m bashing Shiny Beast here, they are a great band on this split and I really wish I could find more information about them and recordings of them. It’s just that Regraped are in top form on this split, and it’s hard not to make comparisons when two bands put out an album together. Shiny Beast are good, but Regraped are a little stronger here.
On the Regraped side, ‘Constrictor’ and ‘Jabba’ are two personal favorites of mine. ‘Constrictor’ has these great drum n’ bass grooves that give way into textural passages of noisy bass, sometimes overdriven. The vocals are strained and fervent, reminding me of David Yow, though not quite so deranged. ‘Jabba’ has sections that push forward and rock out, treating the basses like guitars, getting full sounds and chords. Very good. Great use of dynamics, with more great vocals.
On the Shiny Beast side, ‘Squirrel Fur Coat’ is a very great track, sounding at times like a more predictable Breadwinner, with a very active bass and, as usual, very noisy and scratchy guitar work.
I apologize if this post seems disorganized, brief, uninventive, etc. etc. As I keep saying, it’s been a busy semester, and I’ve wanted so badly to post more often and share more music. If this post seems rushed or forced, it’s because I couldn’t allow myself to let any more time pass before I posted again. With the semester ending in a few weeks, I’ll have more time to post more regularly. I have so many albums I’ve wanted to cover.
Last, if anyone has more information on either of these two bands, then please share. I’m a little nervous on posting this partly because I know so little, that what I do know, I hope it’s correct.
Download
Labels:
1994,
Dianogah,
Fort Hazel,
Math-Rock,
Music,
North Carolina,
Regraped,
Shiny Beast
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
IV. Phenomenology of Music- The Ontology of a Piece in Benson's "The Improvisation of Musical Dialogue"
Very sorry for lack of posting. This semester has been unbelievably busy- in a good way- and has left me with little time to reflect and write about music. I can promise to be more consistent, but I'm afraid I'd break that promise. I'll promise to try. I'm very anxious to post more music soon, I have several records that I can't wait to share and discuss, including Gastr Del Sol, Regraped, and members of the June of 44 Genealogy. This post is on a chapter I read from a book for my class on Improvisation in music. I couldn't find a usable picture for cover art, but the link to the book on Amazon is included at the end. This was not written as carefully as an essay should be- it's more of a reflection and reaction, so if I'm unclear then please say so.
A chapter from Bruce Ellis Benson’s "The Improvisation of Musical Dialogue" titled ‘The Ergon within Energeia’ attempts to deal with issues of identity and distinction between the many aspects of music- work vs. piece, the score vs. the sound, and performance vs. improvisation vs. composition.
An important distinction is that between the ‘work’ and the ‘piece’. As Benson sees it, ‘work’ carries a sense of completeness- it contains within itself all the possible interpretations, even those unimaginable by the composer, and would seem to require only the score to be real. The ‘piece’ carries a sense of incompleteness- it’s changing, growing, being interpreted and reinterpreted over and over, every new performance and experience enriching and changing the precise identity of the piece—sort of an existentialist view.
Benson’s problem with the concept of the ‘work’ is that it would seem to be ‘superhistorical’, able to exist without any history of performance and interpretation, while having its origins in some historical moment. It would seem to be a sort of Platonist interpretation- the ‘work’ being in a sense ‘recollected’ by the composer, having its existence outside of history, represented by the score. For Benson this is a problem, and he seems to move toward the more Existential concept of the ‘piece’- always changing.
The piece ‘opens a world’ in which we ‘dwell’. It requires preservation as much as it does creation. It would seem that when the composer writes the score, he or she is creating ‘potential’ music, or envisioning this world while not actually dwelling within it. Performance is required to make the piece more ‘real’- as this is the point where inhabitants begin to enter and live in the ‘world’ of the piece. Every new inhabitant is crucial, even if he or she follows the conventions of former inhabitants. A jazz musician may improvise a solo on a piece’s debut performance, then a month later another musician may improvise his or her own solo based on that original solo. A few years later a third musician may borrow ideas from the second solo and use them in a new solo, or perhaps as an elaboration on a melody that occurs elsewhere in the song. Every interpretation is important, even reinterpretations of reinterpretations.
Benson makes the analogy to language- any speaker will over time develop his or her distinct style of speech— oft-repeated expressions, peculiar ways of phrasing certain constructions. I for instance often say “don’t worry about it” followed by some piece of advice whenever a friend presents to me a dilemma or a problem. Even though I constantly repeat the phrase, it enriches the conversation in a distinct way and is in no way redundant— context is important, which leads perfectly towards Benson’s Existentialistic concept of the piece- I ate breakfast yesterday after a lifetime of activity, then again today I ate breakfast after a lifetime of activity, but today’s ‘lifetime of activity’ includes an entire day’s worth of events that had no part in yesterday’s ‘lifetime of activity’, making each act of eating breakfast in a sense different.
So, if the identity of the piece is always changing and being enriched, how do we discern what is and is not a form of any given piece? Benson suggests Wittgenstein’s ‘family resemblance’ as the method. That is, we don’t use some essential characteristic (like the score) as the way by which we decide when two performances are of the same piece, but instead look at the ways all the performances have overlapping similarities with one another, like how members of a family may not all have the same nose, but mom and her daughter may share hair color while the son and mother share eyes and the father shares with his son a particular bone structure and the daughter and father have the same complexion.
However this notion of identity has me a little concerned, because at this point I’m not sure how to talk about a piece of music. Can I still point to one specific instantiation of the piece, for instance, Fugazi’s recording of ‘Shut the Door’ on ‘Repeater’, or must I point to all instantiations, which would include the video of Fugazi performing an altered version of ‘Shut the Door’ I posted on this blog some time ago and the recorded version and any other live renditions I can discover? I think I’m safe just pointing to one instantiation, but following Benson’s argument it would seem that to use only one instantiation would be to use an inexact and ‘incomplete’ form of the piece. Not sure what to do there.
Benson’s argument eventually comes to link Performance and Improvisation very closely. Each act is both a ‘presentation’- featuring alterations, however slight, that hadn’t yet occurred in the piece and ‘representation’- reproducing recognizably the elements of the piece, enough so that by means of family resemblance we can discern the identity of the piece. It’s important to note that Benson doesn’t think of this process of improvisation and performance, this continuous changing and enriching of the piece, as continual ‘progress’. He very beautifully says the whole point is to make the music “say something to and be useful for us”. Later on he says, “Pieces of music are synonymous with musical practice”. It’s all about entering the ‘world’ of the piece, dwelling within it, and altering it to suit your tastes.
Amazon
A chapter from Bruce Ellis Benson’s "The Improvisation of Musical Dialogue" titled ‘The Ergon within Energeia’ attempts to deal with issues of identity and distinction between the many aspects of music- work vs. piece, the score vs. the sound, and performance vs. improvisation vs. composition.
An important distinction is that between the ‘work’ and the ‘piece’. As Benson sees it, ‘work’ carries a sense of completeness- it contains within itself all the possible interpretations, even those unimaginable by the composer, and would seem to require only the score to be real. The ‘piece’ carries a sense of incompleteness- it’s changing, growing, being interpreted and reinterpreted over and over, every new performance and experience enriching and changing the precise identity of the piece—sort of an existentialist view.
Benson’s problem with the concept of the ‘work’ is that it would seem to be ‘superhistorical’, able to exist without any history of performance and interpretation, while having its origins in some historical moment. It would seem to be a sort of Platonist interpretation- the ‘work’ being in a sense ‘recollected’ by the composer, having its existence outside of history, represented by the score. For Benson this is a problem, and he seems to move toward the more Existential concept of the ‘piece’- always changing.
The piece ‘opens a world’ in which we ‘dwell’. It requires preservation as much as it does creation. It would seem that when the composer writes the score, he or she is creating ‘potential’ music, or envisioning this world while not actually dwelling within it. Performance is required to make the piece more ‘real’- as this is the point where inhabitants begin to enter and live in the ‘world’ of the piece. Every new inhabitant is crucial, even if he or she follows the conventions of former inhabitants. A jazz musician may improvise a solo on a piece’s debut performance, then a month later another musician may improvise his or her own solo based on that original solo. A few years later a third musician may borrow ideas from the second solo and use them in a new solo, or perhaps as an elaboration on a melody that occurs elsewhere in the song. Every interpretation is important, even reinterpretations of reinterpretations.
Benson makes the analogy to language- any speaker will over time develop his or her distinct style of speech— oft-repeated expressions, peculiar ways of phrasing certain constructions. I for instance often say “don’t worry about it” followed by some piece of advice whenever a friend presents to me a dilemma or a problem. Even though I constantly repeat the phrase, it enriches the conversation in a distinct way and is in no way redundant— context is important, which leads perfectly towards Benson’s Existentialistic concept of the piece- I ate breakfast yesterday after a lifetime of activity, then again today I ate breakfast after a lifetime of activity, but today’s ‘lifetime of activity’ includes an entire day’s worth of events that had no part in yesterday’s ‘lifetime of activity’, making each act of eating breakfast in a sense different.
So, if the identity of the piece is always changing and being enriched, how do we discern what is and is not a form of any given piece? Benson suggests Wittgenstein’s ‘family resemblance’ as the method. That is, we don’t use some essential characteristic (like the score) as the way by which we decide when two performances are of the same piece, but instead look at the ways all the performances have overlapping similarities with one another, like how members of a family may not all have the same nose, but mom and her daughter may share hair color while the son and mother share eyes and the father shares with his son a particular bone structure and the daughter and father have the same complexion.
However this notion of identity has me a little concerned, because at this point I’m not sure how to talk about a piece of music. Can I still point to one specific instantiation of the piece, for instance, Fugazi’s recording of ‘Shut the Door’ on ‘Repeater’, or must I point to all instantiations, which would include the video of Fugazi performing an altered version of ‘Shut the Door’ I posted on this blog some time ago and the recorded version and any other live renditions I can discover? I think I’m safe just pointing to one instantiation, but following Benson’s argument it would seem that to use only one instantiation would be to use an inexact and ‘incomplete’ form of the piece. Not sure what to do there.
Benson’s argument eventually comes to link Performance and Improvisation very closely. Each act is both a ‘presentation’- featuring alterations, however slight, that hadn’t yet occurred in the piece and ‘representation’- reproducing recognizably the elements of the piece, enough so that by means of family resemblance we can discern the identity of the piece. It’s important to note that Benson doesn’t think of this process of improvisation and performance, this continuous changing and enriching of the piece, as continual ‘progress’. He very beautifully says the whole point is to make the music “say something to and be useful for us”. Later on he says, “Pieces of music are synonymous with musical practice”. It’s all about entering the ‘world’ of the piece, dwelling within it, and altering it to suit your tastes.
Amazon
Labels:
Bruce Benson,
Essay,
Fugazi,
Improvisation,
Music,
Phenomenology,
School,
Wittgenstein
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
III. Improvisation, Conversation, Argument
The philosopher in me loves arguments, debates, and conversations. Different perspectives or ideas bouncing off one another and (hopefully) progressing forward together towards some (un)anticipated goal, or conclusion. It’s why Plato wrote dialogues, not monologues. Of course we have examples of philosophers who were of the opposite belief- Descartes felt he could achieve significant certainty on his own, proceeding carefully and methodically. Either method works to some extent, either one is useful. However I tend to think that it is the conversation that can yield the most interesting results. Each participant has a vast catalogue of opinions and thoughts that differ from the other participants, meaning that there are certain connections and realizations that one person will arrive to while others do not.
Improvisation works the same way. Solo improvisation is powerful and successful when the improviser is proceeding methodically or recklessly, but not apathetically. However with a solo improvisation I would think that the likelihood of excellent accidents or realizations occurring would be diminished. But in a group there is a much greater chance that someone will do something that for some reason evokes an unexpected reaction/contribution from some other player. Just like a conversation- whether or not there is an intended end, the path will be full of unexpected/unforeseen steps.
An absolutely necessary aspect of an improvisation/conversation is listening closely. It is perhaps the most important part. If inattentive, then it will be harder to process and connect what others are doing to what the improviser/converser has stored in his or her mind. There is a brief time within which to react, and not listening actively may lead to missing the chance to react.
Here is a video of Don Caballero performing “You Drink A lot of Coffee for a Teenager”. This is Don Cab’s final 90’s lineup- Damon Che on drums, Ian Williams on guitar, and Eric Emm on bass. The current Don Cab lineup retains only Damon Che and is considerably less impressive. I’ll be posting more thoroughly on Don Cab in the future, so for now I’ll be brief. Don Cab were an instrumental ‘math-rock’ group from Pittsburgh that recorded on Tough & Go records through most of the 90’s. Early records had a distinct Slint/Breadwinner influence while their later records (up until the excellent ‘American Don’) started to move towards more tapping, looping, and polyrhythm akin to Pele.
Don Caballero were clear that what they performed was never ‘improvised’, and that each song was tightly and carefully composed. But as you watch this video it is clear that though their songs were so carefully crafted performance still required an intense amount of listening and reacting, which in a sense does qualify Don Cab as improvisers.
Also, seeing as how Don Caballero recorded on Touch & Go I should mention that, if you haven't already heard, Touch & Go are stopping many of their label operations, laying off some employees, and ceasing Production and Distribution deals that they have struck with several other independent labels from Chicago and elsewhere. It's too bad, T&G has always been an excellent label and I hope they can survive this economic crisis and continue to put out great music in the future.
Improvisation works the same way. Solo improvisation is powerful and successful when the improviser is proceeding methodically or recklessly, but not apathetically. However with a solo improvisation I would think that the likelihood of excellent accidents or realizations occurring would be diminished. But in a group there is a much greater chance that someone will do something that for some reason evokes an unexpected reaction/contribution from some other player. Just like a conversation- whether or not there is an intended end, the path will be full of unexpected/unforeseen steps.
An absolutely necessary aspect of an improvisation/conversation is listening closely. It is perhaps the most important part. If inattentive, then it will be harder to process and connect what others are doing to what the improviser/converser has stored in his or her mind. There is a brief time within which to react, and not listening actively may lead to missing the chance to react.
Here is a video of Don Caballero performing “You Drink A lot of Coffee for a Teenager”. This is Don Cab’s final 90’s lineup- Damon Che on drums, Ian Williams on guitar, and Eric Emm on bass. The current Don Cab lineup retains only Damon Che and is considerably less impressive. I’ll be posting more thoroughly on Don Cab in the future, so for now I’ll be brief. Don Cab were an instrumental ‘math-rock’ group from Pittsburgh that recorded on Tough & Go records through most of the 90’s. Early records had a distinct Slint/Breadwinner influence while their later records (up until the excellent ‘American Don’) started to move towards more tapping, looping, and polyrhythm akin to Pele.
Don Caballero were clear that what they performed was never ‘improvised’, and that each song was tightly and carefully composed. But as you watch this video it is clear that though their songs were so carefully crafted performance still required an intense amount of listening and reacting, which in a sense does qualify Don Cab as improvisers.
Also, seeing as how Don Caballero recorded on Touch & Go I should mention that, if you haven't already heard, Touch & Go are stopping many of their label operations, laying off some employees, and ceasing Production and Distribution deals that they have struck with several other independent labels from Chicago and elsewhere. It's too bad, T&G has always been an excellent label and I hope they can survive this economic crisis and continue to put out great music in the future.
Labels:
Don caballero,
Improvisation,
Math-Rock,
Music,
Philosophy,
School,
Touch and Go
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
II. Specialization
There certainly is a way in which Specialization is restrictive. Obviously, Specialization contains within itself a great deal of restriction, as it dictates that the Specialist study and perfect a single method, occupation, instrument, etc. This could be a musician who perfects classical violin, a composer of swing jazz, or a dancer who only knows ballet. We prize virtuosos, and we enjoy listening to the fastest guitar shredder, the most gifted pianist, or watching the most graceful dancer of classical ballet. We love to behold perfection.
But then consider the music of Java, Gamelan. I’ve been studying Gamelan in one of my classes, and it is in such stark contrast to our Western sense of music. If pieces are written, it is only a sketch, and often only used by the players outlining the main melody. The players who play the high pitched melody lines often elaborate and ‘improvise’ by doubling their parts, repeating sequences of notes, etc. to fill in empty spaces caused by the rhythm halving its tempo, a change called Irama. There is no equal temperament or standard tuning, so every Gamelan ensemble sounds different and familiar pieces will sound different every time. Furthermore, many musicians play multiple instruments, and everyone is familiar with all the other parts.
Gamelan has a sound that relies on the integration of every instrument’s repetitive part into the overall blend. In some ways it represents the community- each member contributing his or her respective part for the general welfare and continuation of the group. I have to wonder if these different approaches to music- the communal nature of Gamelan and the specialized nature of Western Classical- have powerful effects on the way the cultures think.
Specialization, though it can easily be incorporated into an ensemble, is in many ways an individual-oriented phenomenon. Could this promote an emphasis on the individual, and therefore the precedence of the individual over the community? Also, is it a good thing for knowledge to become compartmentalized?
I like to think of knowledge as pitches in a chord, and as the chord sounds, the different pitches collide with one another, producing overtones that would not have been so easily audible if the pitches had been sounded by themselves. Specialization requires intimate knowledge, but if the Specialist X has intimate knowledge of things A and B and Specialist Y has intimate knowledge of things C and D, then isn’t it a possibility that some advanced knowledge contained within C or D could react with something contained within A or B to illuminate some problem or lead towards new knowledge? It’s true that we do communicate, and often times specialists from different fields collaborate closely. But if Western culture is slowly fostering a sense of traditionalism, specialization, and individualism, then how long until we begin to collaborate less frequently?
I think ‘total integration’, as Anthony Braxton (Father of Tyondai Braxton, from Battles) says, is necessary to remind people that things blur together, and the lines between disciplines are in many ways arbitrary. Here is a quote from Anthony Braxton that was used in a text for one of my music classes,
Though the terms relate to the arts, I think Braxton’s views here can be applied to most disciplines- Philosophy, physics, prose, mathematics, etc. More Holistic views could complement our Reductionist views, leading to better understanding overall.
Anthony Braxton at Last.fm
But then consider the music of Java, Gamelan. I’ve been studying Gamelan in one of my classes, and it is in such stark contrast to our Western sense of music. If pieces are written, it is only a sketch, and often only used by the players outlining the main melody. The players who play the high pitched melody lines often elaborate and ‘improvise’ by doubling their parts, repeating sequences of notes, etc. to fill in empty spaces caused by the rhythm halving its tempo, a change called Irama. There is no equal temperament or standard tuning, so every Gamelan ensemble sounds different and familiar pieces will sound different every time. Furthermore, many musicians play multiple instruments, and everyone is familiar with all the other parts.
Gamelan has a sound that relies on the integration of every instrument’s repetitive part into the overall blend. In some ways it represents the community- each member contributing his or her respective part for the general welfare and continuation of the group. I have to wonder if these different approaches to music- the communal nature of Gamelan and the specialized nature of Western Classical- have powerful effects on the way the cultures think.
Specialization, though it can easily be incorporated into an ensemble, is in many ways an individual-oriented phenomenon. Could this promote an emphasis on the individual, and therefore the precedence of the individual over the community? Also, is it a good thing for knowledge to become compartmentalized?
I like to think of knowledge as pitches in a chord, and as the chord sounds, the different pitches collide with one another, producing overtones that would not have been so easily audible if the pitches had been sounded by themselves. Specialization requires intimate knowledge, but if the Specialist X has intimate knowledge of things A and B and Specialist Y has intimate knowledge of things C and D, then isn’t it a possibility that some advanced knowledge contained within C or D could react with something contained within A or B to illuminate some problem or lead towards new knowledge? It’s true that we do communicate, and often times specialists from different fields collaborate closely. But if Western culture is slowly fostering a sense of traditionalism, specialization, and individualism, then how long until we begin to collaborate less frequently?
I think ‘total integration’, as Anthony Braxton (Father of Tyondai Braxton, from Battles) says, is necessary to remind people that things blur together, and the lines between disciplines are in many ways arbitrary. Here is a quote from Anthony Braxton that was used in a text for one of my music classes,
“I think that everything is connected and that the challenge of the next time period is not simply the advancement of a concept of entertainment or of music as separate from life, but rather the move towards three-dimensional, holistic experiences with music, image logics and dynamic spirituality all connected—including physicality, dance, movement. I’m looking for total integration.”
Though the terms relate to the arts, I think Braxton’s views here can be applied to most disciplines- Philosophy, physics, prose, mathematics, etc. More Holistic views could complement our Reductionist views, leading to better understanding overall.
Anthony Braxton at Last.fm
Labels:
Anthony Braxton,
Gamelan,
Improvisation,
Music,
Philosophy,
School
Rachel's- Handwriting
Rachel's are a post-Rodan group featuring primarily Jason Noble (of Rodan and Shipping News), violist Christian Frederickson and pianist Rachel Grimes. However over the years many friends have collaborated and contributed, making the group feel more like a collective. Rachel's began in Louisville intitially as a solo project for Noble, and is currently on a hiatus. This is Rachel's debut album, Handwriting (1995, Quarterstick). This album is justified as a part of the June of 44 genealogy in that Jeff Mueller is credited on this album as the Orator, which could possibly refer to the indecipherable words being spoken during the ambient section of 'Full on Night'.Handwriting opens with ‘Southbound to Marion’ - A repetitive, pensive, brooding piece that utilizes piano and strings and acts as an overture of sorts for the rest of the album. There are a couple distinct sections, each one subtle, and generally on the softer side of dynamics, making the crescendo toward the end even more impressive. A brief and pretty coda ends the piece on a soft but firm note.
‘M Daguerre’ is a jarring stylistic contrast to ‘Southbound’, kicking things off with a sinister jazzy groove. The guitar makes an appearance, thunderous and wind-like, supporting each other part. The groove continues, with the strings providing support and occasional melodies. Suddenly the music shifts into a more classical-infused passage, with more melancholy tones that breaks down into free, open noise. Scratchings, noodlings, scrapes. From this point there begins an alternation between the jazzy groove and the more classical passage, until out of this passage rises a stirring harmonic figure. The piece morphs into an awe-inspiring, magnificent blend of drum set, strings, and piano that pushes forward, the guitar supplying an almost ambient texture to the overall sound. The contrast between the beginning and the end of ‘M Daguerre’ is stunning, and beautiful.
‘Saccharin’ continues the dark, brooding sort of sound heard in the opener, using only strings. The strings become more active, pulsing forward and growing in both volume and intensity. And then they cease, and there follows a moment of silence. From this point, the piece finishes with a slightly more optimistic-sounding string arrangement. “Frida Kahlo’ offers a nice change of pace from the dark and unsettling sounds of ‘Saccharin’, featuring only the piano playing a short and captivating composition. The changes in tempo, the pushing and pulling of the beat, really demonstrate the freedom the pianist has, and the way in which the pianist is able to improvise in a subtle way on a composition.
‘Seratonin’ brings back more strings, playing a haunting piece with a dark, tense mood. I have to admit, the beginning of the first melody reminded me of the theme from ‘The Godfather’, a movie I don’t care for too much. After over two minutes of this suspenseful feeling the strings hold a chord for a few seconds, and after it fades into silence, a less unsettling section comes in, and end the piece on an anxious, timid feeling.
‘Full on night’ features a sparse and lovely guitar intro that picks up into a beautiful movement of piano, drum kit, and guitar in a 5/4 groove that is soon punctuated by the sparse guitar from the beginning. Bass, Piano, and Drums seem to come in and out in waves, occasionally backing up the guitar and often leaving it by itself. The music begins to fade as the sound of a train moving in the distance arises. There then follows several minutes of tape loops, ambient and dark. There is an incoherent voice over a loudspeaker, the sounds of metal scraping against metal, atmospheric churnings, and engines chugging. The contrast with the beginning of the track is intriguing, and the reason behind the sudden appearance of tape loops is unknown. A very interesting piece.
Handwriting closes with ‘Handwriting’, a short and somber piece that restates themes from ‘Southbound to Marion’ in a new key, book ending the album in a way that seems to suggest that there is a logic to the sequence of tracks.
I think this due to some terms used in a review of ‘Handwriting’ found here that describes the album as “Aural Cinematography”. The more I thought about this, the more I realized that this album does in fact have that sort of ‘film-score’ quality to it. It seems to tell a story without words, though the details of the story are entirely left up to the listener. It is because of this that I find this album to be rewarding with every listen, and certainly a terrific example of post-rock that brings something unique to the table.
Rachel's on Last.fm
Purchase
Download
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
