There's this amazing story about Bertrand Russell's initial reaction to Ludwig Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Rumors circulating in print and philosophy departments for decades suggest that, upon completing Wittgenstein's groundbreaking philosophical work, Russell took his own current work on epistemology and logic and threw it in the trash. The story goes, with Wittgenstein effectively addressing a series of questions about language and knowing, and presenting an approach that simultaneously grabs logical and mystical methods, Russell closed up shop and promptly began work on political and ethical problems. The idea was, academic philosophy was some sort of progression of specific questions that could be addressed, and, presumably, answered; upon answering those questions, Wittgenstein's work closed doors for other philosophers. Russell's new work in ethical and political issues would find a world much more malleable and less concrete working area than the atmosphere for logical philosophy in the early 20th century.
This story has been running through my mind lately, as I think of different traditions and mixtures of sounds jumping through my speakers. What captures my mind is the extreme difference between music and philosophy as exercises of the soul -- whereas philosophy, in our culture, is addressed as a closed series of questions with objective entries that are considered through their manner of submission and then logically questioned and dissected through further literature, music engages traditions through unfolding, from the creative acts that result in artifacts that we consume and judge, to the spiritual energy and attitudes that invoke emotions, allow us to recall experiences, and exercise our memories. Music criticism often misses this mark -- there is an academic aspect of criticism whereby writers log each and every record, influence, or attitude that stands behind a release. In this regard, records are cut off at the level of artifacts, and our consumption of those records are turned into a type of intellectual criticism that finds each record literally as such: an entry, a record of sound, a development in a tradition.
Yet, experiencing psychedelic music following Can, The Byrds, The Velvet Underground, My Bloody Valentine, etc., or any other genre you might think of, is not the same as working on philosophy after, say, The Critique of Pure Reason. We don't simply go to work at the university and track different entries of logical questions and criticisms of knowledge in journals and classrooms, or train minds according to these paradigms. No. We breathe it -- we crank it, we let it run through our bodies, we let our souls run wild through its repetitions. While it might be true to write things like, "Lorelle Meets the Obsolete captures the sensuality made possible in psychedelic music by The Raveonettes' version of Jesus and Mary Chain's repetitions," that does little to capture the breathtaking energy of their most recent release (or, any of the recording artists involved in that sentence). Music is much more than entries into catalogs of tradition and critical responses in journals; in this regard, our subjective experience must go beyond the basic understanding or logic of influences, past labels, scenes, etc. Philosophy of music is rather impossible; music criticism, then, is something else.
***
Over the years, Permanent Records Chicago / Los Angeles has done a particularly good job of unearthing original stock releases from old record labels or individual artists, and I was intrigued by one of those projects late last year. In town for a vacation (I think), I marched to Permanent and requested an original stock copy of End Result's Ward EP (Ruthless). Aside from the experience of gripping a completely new, unplayed piece of wax that's almost as old as me (I have yet to purchase "mint" records from the 1960s or 1970s. Maybe when I win the lottery or something), the music was a completely unexpected blur of distorted tirades and boisterous horns. I mistakenly expected a hardcore record, or some kind of really up-front noise or blistering punk; instead, I found bold creation, the type of boundless music that many cite but few actually allow. There's a certain threshold, I feel, even when people write about bands that go "beyond the limits" or "play without bounds." End Result demolish that threshold. I suppose some might just scratch their heads or call it crap, but then again, the horns, the unhinged vocals, it's all there for a reason. We are mistaken if we allow ourselves to believe that meaningful or purposeful music must be structured.
I became particularly interested in the EP thanks to an obsession with Ono's Albino (Moniker) LP -- their visionary rhythm and blues shone through the experimental elements of their sound, placing much more emphasis on sharp, visceral beats than most outsider music. Specifically, the prominence of the vocals suggested a certain "pop" feeling about the production of the affair -- if you allow yourself to focus too much on the noise and execution from the players, you'll forget that this is spiritual music; this is vocal music. Keeping the vocals up encouraged a shamanistic relationship between the leader, the band, and the listener. Call and response, a stomp, righteous, rather than vengeful, noise: it would be so easy to get lost on the surface here, but if you dig deep and allow your soul to be guided, you will find the urge to dance, you will find this amazing empathy. I been changed -- that's not a question between the players and the listener, that's a statement from experience. It is a subjective fact, rattling through your entire being.
Yet, this End Result record keeps coming back to me, and so does the Ono LP, as I finally experience Rojo by Obnox (Permanent). In Cleveland, we commuted via bike to work, nearly every single day -- summer or winter, rain or shine. What you need to know, when listening to albums by people from Cleveland, is that there are these grand infrastructures that rule the city. The city was built for many more people than currently inhabit the place. There is complete freedom in that, in a way, in that the city is there for your taking; and yet, on the other hand, there is broken glass, every damn day, in the bike lanes. Without fail, it doesn't matter how the weather is, there will be broken glass in your bike lane. Practically the only bike lanes in the city -- during the time we were there, anyway -- were on these gigantic bridges that took commuters from either the east or west side of the city, across the Cuyahoga River, across the industrial valley. The city was in layers, unfolding beneath the bridges, houses and bars in the Industrial flats, small neighborhoods sprawling all out from these grand infrastructures. There's a real Institutional Disconnect on the East Side of the city, too, where grand University buildings and Museum campuses are barricaded a boulevard away from vacant buildings, houses clearly excluded from the strengths of those institutions. Don't get me wrong, there are people working on some solutions to housing and development issues in Cleveland, but the point is, there is a lot more class division visible to the eye. It's not like Chicago where, for the most part, the grand centers of commerce and culture are generally removed from blight. In Cleveland, vacancy is everywhere, if only because the infrastructure is in a daily battle against the number of people that live there.
This spirit just runs through Bim Thomas's solo work, in that it's as real as glass shredding your tires in the bike lane, it's as strong as the greatest infrastructures of rock'n'roll, and it's as fucking free as all the blight and vacancy and beauty and violence and love that comes from living in the unsupervised shadows of grand infrastructure. There is not a shred of noise that is out of place on Rojo, and as Obnox, Thomas's percussion work takes his hardcore lessons from This Moment in Black History and Puffy Areolas and simply explodes it beyond the wildest outbursts of even those bands. Not unlike the Ono album, Obnox's work places rhythm and percussion at the forefront. THANK YOU, someone understands that this is rock'n'roll. At the end of the day, that's just how I feel about Ono, and that's how I feel about Obnox, too. These artists are producing unbelievably spiritual music that resonates with their locales, their eras, their legacies; it is tense like freedom fighting against coercion, it is optimistic like love against violence, and it is emancipatory like rhythm and creation against stasis.
***
At the turn of the new year in 2012, I rearranged my records in alphabetical order. Previously, I had one box of "pop" records, and one box of "other" records. This ensured that if I wanted a Lumerians record, I wouldn't mistakenly grab a Cyndi Lauper record (there's an argument somewhere that if you like 1980s music, Lauper made one of the pinnacle pop records, like, almost up there with Let's Dance by Bowie. And if you don't like Lauper or Bowie (or, more fairly, Let's Dance), that's fine -- more Cyndi Lauper records for me. I can't even claim that purchase, btw, someday I need to write an, "LPs my wife purchased that I didn't even know I liked." Sometimes great and unexpected music stands in your blindspots). Anyway, now all my albums are in order.
The honest truth is, I've been trying to find ways to put together words to review Jacco Gardner's Cabinet of Curiosities (Trouble In Mind). 2013 is the year of Chicago, first and foremost, where all those fine people making outsider music, producing outsider music, and releasing it, flex their muscle and show San Francisco that, really, we've got some crazy shit in our water out here, too. One of the best arguments in the Chicago vs. San Francisco argument in 2013 is simply the sheer output by Chicago-related labels. Trouble in Mind is one such label. Gardner's release is his debut, and the talented multi-instrumentalist produces largely key-driven pop songs that are complete fantasies. Not dreamlike or hypnogogic, like repetitive music, but fantastical in sheer production -- there's an unending brightness to the production, which is especially effective in displaying Gardner's extended chord progressions and minor-chord excursions.
Filing the record away is a fantastic reminder of how musicians can revisit strands of different traditions without being bound my logic, or they can revisit previously recording paradigms and perfect the assumptions that formed those paradigms. Specifically, I get to file Gardner's LP among Capitol psych monster reissues by Gandalf (s/t) and The Food (Forever is a Dream), as well as The Folk Implosion (Dare to be Surprised; Communion), and The Fresh & Onlys (this analogy stops at Echo & The Bunnymen and Bruce Haack. Sorry). Aside from asking whether bands with names filed under F and G make more interesting psych-pop records than bands with names under the other 24 letters, it strikes me that Gardner succeeds with assumptions that The Food and Gandalf didn't ever get to perfect (due to break-ups, marketing inefficiencies, shifting consumer attitudes, or something like that). Gardner records psychedelic music that is lush and orchestral, but it is not ever over-bearing. It maintains a lightness and sharp-attitude that the Capitol psych monsters don't always have (some of their symphonic studio arrangements are really interesting, but sometimes it's less rock and more heavy-handed or "psych for future ages" kitsch). On the other hand, Gardner uses extremely straightforward song structures, not unlike The Fresh & Onlys, but he seems to pack more into those structures, in terms of plot, storytelling, and chords. While The Fresh & Onlys make music that is more intense than Gardner's, Gardner captures a type of pop sensibility that is lurking beneath The Fresh & Onlys and realized on Cabinet of Curiosities. Of course, I could be making all this up because it's not immediately apparent while listening to either band that Gardner or Fresh & Onlys share a common thread; but, it's a fragment of a thought or feeling I got when filing records away. Hmmm...
***
One last trip on key-driven psych. In a completely different direction, Moonrises' Frozen Altars (Captcha -- another "Year of Chicago 2013" breakout label) LP blasts dissonant, fuzzy dirges over in-the-box rhythms thanks to a swinging key and drums section. Unlike a lot of psych albums, the drums on this album sound like they're based around the snare much more frequently, than say tom-heavy build-ups or crazy fills. On Ben Baker's foundation, Libby Ramer's keys are omnipresent, presenting a strangely mellow vibe (I say strangely simply because the album ends up meandering to extremely intense and noisy places), a kind of steady coolness amidst the greatest storms. This key and drums foundation frequently offsets Plastic Crimewave's guitar attacks, which sound more intense and dissonant thanks to the execution of the rhythm and keys. Frankly, this is a sound where all players could have pummeled into oblivion, and given their individual talents, they could have made a good record doing that, too. But, the swinging rhythm offsets the squalls from the guitar, and when they all kick-in together, the moments are more intense because of their restraint in other places. Moonrises almost feels as jazz as it is psych, for its offsetting lead and rhythmic elements, as well as its moodiness.
Plastic Crimewave's guitar sound follows very similar timbres, in some places, as his tone on the Djin Aquarian & Plastic Crimewave Sound collaboration, Save The World (Prophase). One of the striking features of his tone on Moonrises is that it is a direct fuzz sound, without the appearance of egregious effects mashing (not that there's anything wrong with stomping on pedals, but sometimes a well-done fuzztone is all the world needs). Anyway, there's this reverb sound that appears on both albums, one that is simple regeneration or short, slapback echo. It's such an ear-catching sound, because it makes the fuzz sound HUGE. Now, I wasn't certain if it was Plastic Crimewave playing those sounds on Save The World, but a similar regenerative, short echo appears on Moonrises. It's a strong effect, given the simplicity of elements and rhythmic execution of the record.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
'Spective Audio Update
'Spective Audio has physical, CD copies of Travis Bird's Bourgeois Treats available. Now shipping!
Also available are a few copies of "Six" b/w "Popsicle" by The N.E.C. "Six" was named one of the Top Atlanta songs by Latest Disgrace. Jason at 7 Inches blog called the single, "immense rolling psych rumble," noting its "hypnotic swirling rhythm." This single was limited to 100 copies, only a handful remain, this is it!
Check out the audio while you consider picking up one of these copies!
Some copies of The N.E.C.'s Last Point of Radiation LP also remain! Limited screenprinted inserts are still available (~20 remain), with clear vinyl copies (limited to 200 copies). This is a driving psych-rock masterpiece that captures The N.E.C.'s intense live sound.
Individual copies are available, or bundle 'em with the 7" to save $$$.
RARE OPPORTUNITY: There are only two copies of these custom, clear/color mixes. This is it, custom-made by the pressing plant. Label and band have the rest. Email: spectiveaudio [at] gmail [dot] com.
I also have a few tapes remaining, including Return by The Leavitt Ours, and a rare Leavitt Ours CDr.
Also available are a few copies of "Six" b/w "Popsicle" by The N.E.C. "Six" was named one of the Top Atlanta songs by Latest Disgrace. Jason at 7 Inches blog called the single, "immense rolling psych rumble," noting its "hypnotic swirling rhythm." This single was limited to 100 copies, only a handful remain, this is it!
Check out the audio while you consider picking up one of these copies!
Some copies of The N.E.C.'s Last Point of Radiation LP also remain! Limited screenprinted inserts are still available (~20 remain), with clear vinyl copies (limited to 200 copies). This is a driving psych-rock masterpiece that captures The N.E.C.'s intense live sound.
Individual copies are available, or bundle 'em with the 7" to save $$$.
RARE OPPORTUNITY: There are only two copies of these custom, clear/color mixes. This is it, custom-made by the pressing plant. Label and band have the rest. Email: spectiveaudio [at] gmail [dot] com.
I also have a few tapes remaining, including Return by The Leavitt Ours, and a rare Leavitt Ours CDr.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Anonymous Expression: Two Years at Foxy Digitalis
Years ago, I started this massive, meandering, almost undefined project. What did I want to listen to? Working in Chicago's Loop, I would rush out during lunch hour and rummage through the Chicago Public Library's massive music collection. I would pick up anything that I could find -- classic albums I'd yet to hear and albums by bands I'd missed, as well as music from around the world, classical composers, you name it. This winding project did not seem to have a purpose at the time, but in hindsight I realize that it had a sort of objective, cataloging ideal attached to it. Rather than simply listening for purposes of expression, or sheer enjoyment, I was also following the back story of music that I already loved, or filling in gaps in my listening experience.
In 2011, I joined the ranks of Foxy Digitalis's writing staff, thanks to a tip from Travis Bird and the generosity of Brad and Eden. Not long after joining Foxy, I received this wondrous brown box crammed full of promotional CDs and CDRs. Opening the box was one of the most shocking experiences of my life, as I was thrust into a world of concrete, physical copies of music that I had no clue existed. This music stretched the globe -- my initial shipment featured labels as diverse as Rune Grammofon and Kill Shaman, and I was introduced to artists such as Conrad Schnitzler and Pleq.
From the start, I dove into researching and learning about the music I reviewed. I had no clue how to write about drones or electronic beats. I had no idea how knowledgable I was supposed to sound about the music; how could I place myself within the massive catalogs of these labels, genres, and artists whose existence just smacked me in the ears?
While I started writing reviews in tentative descriptions, I soon caught on to trends I liked, and I started to feel the music. Following my jump into Permanent Records Chicago's well-curated aesthetic, and my explorations of psychedelic music, I learned to submerge my mind into the expressions of these fiercely independent artists I was faced with reviewing. Slowly, I learned to join forces with them; to let their experience of making their independent statements run through my blood, to try and view the world from their perspective, to try and convey the feeling their music provided me.
Foxy Digitalis turned me on to a world of truly independent artists; independent outside of strong distribution networks, independent bedroom labels, independent apartment shows, independent artists working in galleries, independent visionaries incorporating music into one element of their overall design. My being shifted from cataloging and building this amazing history of music, this wonderful knowledge of what was released and pressed into consumable format, and shifted into embracing the experience of music.
I learned to embrace the subjectivity of music. With no possible way to catalog my knowledge of releases and genres I had not experienced, I blended in with the music. What did this song convey? What was the goal of the artist? How did they use their space? How did it feel, listening to it? Did it stop me in my tracks? Only then might I move into cataloging the specific sounds that appeared on each disc, tape, piece of wax, whatever -- I could no longer afford to simply sit and write a report of what appeared on each recording; I now understood that I had the unique opportunity to convey experiences of art.
I learned that there is no subjective and objective reality. Rather, each point in reality has objective and subjective aspects. There is a subjectivity to each object, and an objectivity to each subject; they run together, corresponding with one another as mind/form or spirit/matter, exuding a sort of pre-established harmony -- if you want to see it, showing a type of vital hylomorphism, where the aspects of form and matter cannot be treated separately or considered without the other. There is no independent object, there is no independent subject; there is creation, moving, existing, constantly shifting, unfolding in its very being. I learned this through Foxy Digitalis; I learned to turn away from the mere cataloging, and to embrace and merge with the creative surges.
Thanks to the generosity and hard work of Brad and Eden, and the community of my peers at Foxy Digitalis, I was able to experience music I never knew existed. I was able to constantly enter a world of wonder, a world of pure creativity, a world of expression, of powerful, anonymous music. I thought that I previously loved music, but in many ways, my time at Foxy Digitalis transformed my very being into communion with music; there is no longer any separating my experience of music from the music itself. I am now at ease with what I have not heard; my urges to hear everything no longer stem from some desire to understand and catalog the history of music, but to engage with and experience each artist's expression.
Although Foxy Digitalis will no longer exist in its classic form, I believe that our group of writers will carry its spirit forward into our new endeavors. The lessons I learned over the last two years will never leave me, and for that, I am grateful.
Thank you, Brad and Eden.
***
Foxy Signing Off
My author archives: http://www.foxydigitalis.com/foxyd/?author=77
Best of 2012
2011 Year Review
Features:
Castles Galore! Or, how Thee Oh Sees Recovered America
A Place to Bury Strangers Interview
Instrumental Express: Disassembly Aims Beyond Jazz & Rock
The Men Interview
Moniker Records Spotlight 1 and Spotlight 2
Rotted Tooth Recordings Spotlight
Moonwood Interview
Beyond the Garage: Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees
Inspiration and Derivation: Music Critics and their Times
In 2011, I joined the ranks of Foxy Digitalis's writing staff, thanks to a tip from Travis Bird and the generosity of Brad and Eden. Not long after joining Foxy, I received this wondrous brown box crammed full of promotional CDs and CDRs. Opening the box was one of the most shocking experiences of my life, as I was thrust into a world of concrete, physical copies of music that I had no clue existed. This music stretched the globe -- my initial shipment featured labels as diverse as Rune Grammofon and Kill Shaman, and I was introduced to artists such as Conrad Schnitzler and Pleq.
From the start, I dove into researching and learning about the music I reviewed. I had no clue how to write about drones or electronic beats. I had no idea how knowledgable I was supposed to sound about the music; how could I place myself within the massive catalogs of these labels, genres, and artists whose existence just smacked me in the ears?
While I started writing reviews in tentative descriptions, I soon caught on to trends I liked, and I started to feel the music. Following my jump into Permanent Records Chicago's well-curated aesthetic, and my explorations of psychedelic music, I learned to submerge my mind into the expressions of these fiercely independent artists I was faced with reviewing. Slowly, I learned to join forces with them; to let their experience of making their independent statements run through my blood, to try and view the world from their perspective, to try and convey the feeling their music provided me.
Foxy Digitalis turned me on to a world of truly independent artists; independent outside of strong distribution networks, independent bedroom labels, independent apartment shows, independent artists working in galleries, independent visionaries incorporating music into one element of their overall design. My being shifted from cataloging and building this amazing history of music, this wonderful knowledge of what was released and pressed into consumable format, and shifted into embracing the experience of music.
I learned to embrace the subjectivity of music. With no possible way to catalog my knowledge of releases and genres I had not experienced, I blended in with the music. What did this song convey? What was the goal of the artist? How did they use their space? How did it feel, listening to it? Did it stop me in my tracks? Only then might I move into cataloging the specific sounds that appeared on each disc, tape, piece of wax, whatever -- I could no longer afford to simply sit and write a report of what appeared on each recording; I now understood that I had the unique opportunity to convey experiences of art.
I learned that there is no subjective and objective reality. Rather, each point in reality has objective and subjective aspects. There is a subjectivity to each object, and an objectivity to each subject; they run together, corresponding with one another as mind/form or spirit/matter, exuding a sort of pre-established harmony -- if you want to see it, showing a type of vital hylomorphism, where the aspects of form and matter cannot be treated separately or considered without the other. There is no independent object, there is no independent subject; there is creation, moving, existing, constantly shifting, unfolding in its very being. I learned this through Foxy Digitalis; I learned to turn away from the mere cataloging, and to embrace and merge with the creative surges.
Thanks to the generosity and hard work of Brad and Eden, and the community of my peers at Foxy Digitalis, I was able to experience music I never knew existed. I was able to constantly enter a world of wonder, a world of pure creativity, a world of expression, of powerful, anonymous music. I thought that I previously loved music, but in many ways, my time at Foxy Digitalis transformed my very being into communion with music; there is no longer any separating my experience of music from the music itself. I am now at ease with what I have not heard; my urges to hear everything no longer stem from some desire to understand and catalog the history of music, but to engage with and experience each artist's expression.
Although Foxy Digitalis will no longer exist in its classic form, I believe that our group of writers will carry its spirit forward into our new endeavors. The lessons I learned over the last two years will never leave me, and for that, I am grateful.
Thank you, Brad and Eden.
***
Foxy Signing Off
My author archives: http://www.foxydigitalis.com/foxyd/?author=77
Best of 2012
2011 Year Review
Features:
Castles Galore! Or, how Thee Oh Sees Recovered America
A Place to Bury Strangers Interview
Instrumental Express: Disassembly Aims Beyond Jazz & Rock
The Men Interview
Moniker Records Spotlight 1 and Spotlight 2
Rotted Tooth Recordings Spotlight
Moonwood Interview
Beyond the Garage: Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees
Inspiration and Derivation: Music Critics and their Times
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Experiencing Vinyl
My reviewing packages from Foxy Digitalis exposed me to a lot of great music this year, including spectacular vinyl releases by Spires that in the Sunset Rise and Pink Priest, the challenging, dynamic experimental work by Anthea Caddy and Thembi Soddell, and tapes that include Million Brazilians, Hulk, Flesh Coffin, and more.
This year I've also traded a lot of vinyl and benefited from plenty of enjoyable listening experiences, from small-scale private press releases to new LPs from some of my favorite acts (Lumerians, Nada Surf, A Place to Bury Strangers, etc.).
Chicago drone artist Cinchel helped me start 'Spective Audio by agreeing to release his drone.dump on tape and including his individual watercolors with those layered drones; he also contributed some of his work for the Vital Sound compilation. Cinchel is not only my friend, but a thoughtful drone guitarist and sound manipulator, and he shows the development of his work on his 2012 release, Stereo Stasis. When Aristotle argued against Plato's philosophy, he said that we love the truth more than we love our friends; in this case, I love Cinchel's work because it's great to see him develop as an artist, and you should take the merits of his work beyond my word. Cinchel executes three pieces that alternate between boundless, airy imagination and intense, truncated cycles, accompanied by singular packaging to accompany the privately pressed release.
"Revelations Upon Waking (mysteries)" opens Stereo Stasis (self) with a spirit of wonder that conveys the joy of perceiving the world's elements and vitality. Ringing tones alongside unfolding drones produce robust layers; the release is decadent and royal without sacrificing the fast-paced metamorphoses of perceiving reality. Cinchel foreshadows his next two pieces with fast decay and slightly glitching timbres, which he completes with fully truncated, suspended drones. A fragile keyed melody line lays a ringing foundation for the fluctuating, modulated lead sequences on "Wandering/Collapse/Breakdown/Ultimate Heat Death," Cinchel's third piece that occupies the entirety of the B-side. Overall, Cinchel carries a warm, nearly organic tone throughout the vinyl, developed crystal clear sounds that almost ring like the most effective clean tones of paisley pop. One is truly aware of the coextension between imagination and perception through clear production.
"Static (Homeward Bound)" shifts from the delightful perception of "Revelations..." to the cyclical objects themselves. There is a roaming, underlying decay that completes these slowly rising cycles, suggesting a process of toil or repetition. True suspension. As these cycles truncate and return, Cinchel produces seams or rolling waves, presenting tangibles objects to experience through this drone. "Wandering..." completes these themes, riding symphonic crescendos and consistent swelling to a beautiful culmination in tremolo'd, fluctuating tones that are clustered with high frequencies to replicate a shimmering arpeggio of elements. A dramatic shift completes the piece with high frequencies decaying into dramatic bowing, building and releasing tension into a static, washing sound that overwhelms the frequencies. Those rolling waves crash into breakers, completing the release through intense, otherworldly sequences.
Opposite Cinchel's private press drones, which remind me of Pink Priest's LP Swallow Your Dreams (La Station Radar) and the extensive ambiance of Michael Vallera's work, Moniker Records' founder Robert Cole Manis turned me on to Corum's Beguiling Isles (Psychic Sounds) LP, which he recommended during a mid-summer stop into Permanent Records Chicago. Along with the Psychic Sounds Library's work on the Million Brazilians tape I reviewed this year, Corum's work bends and twists sounds into mystical, challenging tones. At his best, Corum's work is nearly atonal, bending instrumental elements into swirls of engaging trance. I hesitate to call the work ambient, as it conveys attitudes as much as spaces or places; it's deeply spiritual, anonymous, culture-bending music.
Into the world of structured music, upon following the threads of Permanent Records and aQuarius Records mailing lists, I began following S-S Records this year. I jumped into some older releases from the label, landing a copy of Cheveu's American pressing on S-S at newly minted Hausfrau Records in the Detroit-Shoreway Neighborhood of Cleveland. I also picked up a copy of Michigan Haters by Sightings, and a Dan Melchior release, in order to canvass the spectrum of alternately playful and brutal acid jazz and blues. It might be music older than 2012, but this label stands out with its creativity and quality.
After reading about the album online, I encountered Bruce Haack's Electronic Record for Children (Mississippi/Change) at Hausfrau Records. Upon testing the first cut of unfettered synthetic madness, I was sold, and the straight-up positivity and consciousness-building attitude of this album was quite a treat. Haack's project bleeds honesty, showcasing great faith in the ability of music to transform our minds and our experience of reality. Of course, it helps that this type of pedagogical and "electronic" attitude might only have ever been found in the 1960s, but Haack's work stands out as a beacon of hope against the cynicism and commercialism of the hippies (or most exploitation psych). It might not be as experimental or strange as The United States of America, but Haack's work still portrays this feeling of endless optimism and potential in these new synthesizers and electronic effects.
On a journey to space from Haack's release, one might also encounter Lumerians, that singular Bay Area group that boasts two masterful albums in as many years. While last year's Transmalinnia (Knitting Factory) found the group placing their droned out instrumental experiments against rather concise, energetic psych rock songs, this year's Transmissions from the Telos Vol. IV (Hands in the Dark / Permanent) explodes those instrumentals into this other-worldly, free form fusion. One of the great successes of Transmalinnia was this hypnotic, dream-like feeling that crept throughout the instrumentals on side B, building this progression of dreams that exceeded the structures of the songs. On Transmissions, the group invert the formula, moving between three energetic, jazzed up compositions that trade in structured songs for this type of free, universal rhythmic end of krautrock. As the popularity of krautrock explodes in songwriting, there are dense appropriations as well as synthy, electronic appropriations of that movement, but Lumerians surpass all of that with their logical completion of the movement's most unfiltered, robust moments.
The release concludes with a foreboding drone on the B-side, exuding tones that sound downright menacing comparing with the bright A-side. This side-long work decays into a bare rumble, as though the group can no longer sustain these transmissions. By contrasting their A-side, Lumerians complete their compositions by exceeding the bounds of their previous releases; they enter another world, promising and new, a world with objects and experiences that overwhelm communication, compromising transmissions. The group turned the expectations from their previous work into something creative and surprising. In the future lore of krautrock, one wonders when it will be reported that the group sold something at a crossroads in exchange for an ability to leap into the future with experimental sounds.
This year I've also traded a lot of vinyl and benefited from plenty of enjoyable listening experiences, from small-scale private press releases to new LPs from some of my favorite acts (Lumerians, Nada Surf, A Place to Bury Strangers, etc.).
Chicago drone artist Cinchel helped me start 'Spective Audio by agreeing to release his drone.dump on tape and including his individual watercolors with those layered drones; he also contributed some of his work for the Vital Sound compilation. Cinchel is not only my friend, but a thoughtful drone guitarist and sound manipulator, and he shows the development of his work on his 2012 release, Stereo Stasis. When Aristotle argued against Plato's philosophy, he said that we love the truth more than we love our friends; in this case, I love Cinchel's work because it's great to see him develop as an artist, and you should take the merits of his work beyond my word. Cinchel executes three pieces that alternate between boundless, airy imagination and intense, truncated cycles, accompanied by singular packaging to accompany the privately pressed release.
"Static (Homeward Bound)" shifts from the delightful perception of "Revelations..." to the cyclical objects themselves. There is a roaming, underlying decay that completes these slowly rising cycles, suggesting a process of toil or repetition. True suspension. As these cycles truncate and return, Cinchel produces seams or rolling waves, presenting tangibles objects to experience through this drone. "Wandering..." completes these themes, riding symphonic crescendos and consistent swelling to a beautiful culmination in tremolo'd, fluctuating tones that are clustered with high frequencies to replicate a shimmering arpeggio of elements. A dramatic shift completes the piece with high frequencies decaying into dramatic bowing, building and releasing tension into a static, washing sound that overwhelms the frequencies. Those rolling waves crash into breakers, completing the release through intense, otherworldly sequences.
Into the world of structured music, upon following the threads of Permanent Records and aQuarius Records mailing lists, I began following S-S Records this year. I jumped into some older releases from the label, landing a copy of Cheveu's American pressing on S-S at newly minted Hausfrau Records in the Detroit-Shoreway Neighborhood of Cleveland. I also picked up a copy of Michigan Haters by Sightings, and a Dan Melchior release, in order to canvass the spectrum of alternately playful and brutal acid jazz and blues. It might be music older than 2012, but this label stands out with its creativity and quality.
On a journey to space from Haack's release, one might also encounter Lumerians, that singular Bay Area group that boasts two masterful albums in as many years. While last year's Transmalinnia (Knitting Factory) found the group placing their droned out instrumental experiments against rather concise, energetic psych rock songs, this year's Transmissions from the Telos Vol. IV (Hands in the Dark / Permanent) explodes those instrumentals into this other-worldly, free form fusion. One of the great successes of Transmalinnia was this hypnotic, dream-like feeling that crept throughout the instrumentals on side B, building this progression of dreams that exceeded the structures of the songs. On Transmissions, the group invert the formula, moving between three energetic, jazzed up compositions that trade in structured songs for this type of free, universal rhythmic end of krautrock. As the popularity of krautrock explodes in songwriting, there are dense appropriations as well as synthy, electronic appropriations of that movement, but Lumerians surpass all of that with their logical completion of the movement's most unfiltered, robust moments.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Why Knowledge Matters
Ancient Greek philosophers posed one of the greatest questions in history: "How can someone know what is good and act otherwise?" Perhaps in its most famous incarnation, this problem passed from Socrates to Plato and Aristotle, providing the foundation for a theory of virtue and necessarily linking knowledge, ethics, science, and politics. This question is great not because of the philosophical ground it covers, and not because of its greatest proponents and navigators. This question is great because it places the demands of knowing and acting at the core of society.
Through simple observation, one finds that humans frequently act in ways that are contrary to their better judgment. Perhaps our desire for pleasure overpowers our sense of what is good for us, or our appetites get the best of our minds. From that extra slice of pizza to that verbal slight, perhaps our most prevalent ethical experience is one of feeling that we acted against our knowledge of what is good.
The problem of akrasia -- that someone knows what is good and acts otherwise -- places the demands of knowing and acting at the core of society by linking our actions to our educations, upbringings, classes, etc. While the decisions we make may be our own, we can only act as well as our societies allow. If our goal is to act well to achieve excellence -- or virtue, we need to live in circumstances that allow us to learn what is good, form habits that help us enact what is good, and situate our character to goodness. If we are deprived of education, our ability to know what is good will be impaired; if we are deprived of nutritious choices, our ability to form good appetites will be impaired; if we are overburdened with our labor, we will have fewer opportunities to strengthen our character with good habits. Within these circumstances, we can still act, but our conditions of action will keep us from achieving and maintaining excellence.
The debate about the impact of a community on an individual is extremely obscured in American politics. Faced with the idea of pure individual responsibility on one hand, or a constellation of determined circumstances on the other, Americans are immediately deprived of a clear understanding of how they are linked to one another and how they depend on one another. Interdependence does not predetermine our actions or disposition, just as individual will is not completely culpable in our actions or dispositions. We cannot simply will it to be so and place the burden of ethical responsibility on our shoulders; we cannot simply allow our neighbors, communities, and government to guide us and provide for us. As Americans, we are only offered two choices of determination, which are both false.
The greatest impediment to achieving virtue in American life is the assumption of individuality and the relation of the individual to society. We are assumed to be individuals that entered into society to protect our holdings and our interests, gaining the strength in concert to establish, protect, and sort through our rights (which are simply our claims to our own interests and holdings). Here, we find no organic link to our communities outside of the understanding that we're all mutually afforded the ability to make claims in favor of our interests. Our strongest social bond afforded by American politics is the ability to know that our interests are protected and that together we can ensure that we can make claims on behalf of our interests.
In this type of contract between individuals, knowledge is cheapened to a basic function that allows us to know our rights and be aware of our ability to defend our rights. Goodness is entirely absent from this equation, for knowing what is good is hardly required to protect our interests. We "know" what is good by knowing that we can protect our interests through society; working to achieve excellence, form good habits through good actions, and secure good character through these good actions and knowledge is entirely unnecessary in American life. This is what it means when someone pats you on the back and says you're a good guy in America -- you know that you can protect your interests, but you don't step on my claims, and you act in a way that ensures security of our interests. You can be a "good guy" in America even if you have rampant desires, unchecked appetites, and mediocre actions, so long as you do not overstep the bounds of others' claims while securing your own.
Knowledge, in this case, simply coheres with institutional and contractual arrangements. All that we need to know is what we can control or acquire through our own claims, holdings, and interests, and there is no basic requirement for knowledge beyond the basic contract. (This is why it is beneficial to American politicians to lie; it is their goal to protect interests and the ability to make claims about those interests, which has absolutely no requirement to cohere to any good).
This is the fatal mistake of American politics; there is no need for society to recognize that our interactions and relations and actions with one another develop our character, our ability to know, and our ability to do good things because such collaboration is beyond the scope of society. "Sure, it'd be great if we could accomplish that," one might say, "but it's a fantasy because individuals simply don't work together that way." Placing individual interests at the center of American society, and securing those interests through our social arrangements, renders excellence entirely superfluous to society. It's a bonus, not a necessity.
Yet, our appetites are linked to what we know and what we can learn, and our desires to act in specific ways will be linked to our appetites and our knowledge. It doesn't matter if WE say "we're simply individuals linked in concert to secure our interests and protect our rights," we're interconnected at every level of society. This does not mean that we are determined; it's simply a reality to human politics. We misunderstand this because we no longer understand ourselves as political animals, necessarily linked through our very being. We understand ourselves as individuals, first and foremost abstracted from society.
By placing individuals at the core of politics, we remove the need to know what is good in order to act well; acting well in our society merely needs to relate to securing holdings and staying out of the way of others' claims to their holdings. We remove the need to form good appetites or desires, because our appetites and desires simply need to correspond to our ability to secure our interests. As a result, when we act, when we work in society, we completely remove the conditions for goodness from our actions, and we completely remove what is good from our actions and desires. This, of course, makes us akratic -- no matter how well we protect our interests, no matter how well we ensure our rights, we have removed ourselves from excellence. It is no wonder that our political debates so sorely misunderstand our very own relationships to one another and our society.
Through simple observation, one finds that humans frequently act in ways that are contrary to their better judgment. Perhaps our desire for pleasure overpowers our sense of what is good for us, or our appetites get the best of our minds. From that extra slice of pizza to that verbal slight, perhaps our most prevalent ethical experience is one of feeling that we acted against our knowledge of what is good.
The problem of akrasia -- that someone knows what is good and acts otherwise -- places the demands of knowing and acting at the core of society by linking our actions to our educations, upbringings, classes, etc. While the decisions we make may be our own, we can only act as well as our societies allow. If our goal is to act well to achieve excellence -- or virtue, we need to live in circumstances that allow us to learn what is good, form habits that help us enact what is good, and situate our character to goodness. If we are deprived of education, our ability to know what is good will be impaired; if we are deprived of nutritious choices, our ability to form good appetites will be impaired; if we are overburdened with our labor, we will have fewer opportunities to strengthen our character with good habits. Within these circumstances, we can still act, but our conditions of action will keep us from achieving and maintaining excellence.
The debate about the impact of a community on an individual is extremely obscured in American politics. Faced with the idea of pure individual responsibility on one hand, or a constellation of determined circumstances on the other, Americans are immediately deprived of a clear understanding of how they are linked to one another and how they depend on one another. Interdependence does not predetermine our actions or disposition, just as individual will is not completely culpable in our actions or dispositions. We cannot simply will it to be so and place the burden of ethical responsibility on our shoulders; we cannot simply allow our neighbors, communities, and government to guide us and provide for us. As Americans, we are only offered two choices of determination, which are both false.
The greatest impediment to achieving virtue in American life is the assumption of individuality and the relation of the individual to society. We are assumed to be individuals that entered into society to protect our holdings and our interests, gaining the strength in concert to establish, protect, and sort through our rights (which are simply our claims to our own interests and holdings). Here, we find no organic link to our communities outside of the understanding that we're all mutually afforded the ability to make claims in favor of our interests. Our strongest social bond afforded by American politics is the ability to know that our interests are protected and that together we can ensure that we can make claims on behalf of our interests.
In this type of contract between individuals, knowledge is cheapened to a basic function that allows us to know our rights and be aware of our ability to defend our rights. Goodness is entirely absent from this equation, for knowing what is good is hardly required to protect our interests. We "know" what is good by knowing that we can protect our interests through society; working to achieve excellence, form good habits through good actions, and secure good character through these good actions and knowledge is entirely unnecessary in American life. This is what it means when someone pats you on the back and says you're a good guy in America -- you know that you can protect your interests, but you don't step on my claims, and you act in a way that ensures security of our interests. You can be a "good guy" in America even if you have rampant desires, unchecked appetites, and mediocre actions, so long as you do not overstep the bounds of others' claims while securing your own.
Knowledge, in this case, simply coheres with institutional and contractual arrangements. All that we need to know is what we can control or acquire through our own claims, holdings, and interests, and there is no basic requirement for knowledge beyond the basic contract. (This is why it is beneficial to American politicians to lie; it is their goal to protect interests and the ability to make claims about those interests, which has absolutely no requirement to cohere to any good).
This is the fatal mistake of American politics; there is no need for society to recognize that our interactions and relations and actions with one another develop our character, our ability to know, and our ability to do good things because such collaboration is beyond the scope of society. "Sure, it'd be great if we could accomplish that," one might say, "but it's a fantasy because individuals simply don't work together that way." Placing individual interests at the center of American society, and securing those interests through our social arrangements, renders excellence entirely superfluous to society. It's a bonus, not a necessity.
Yet, our appetites are linked to what we know and what we can learn, and our desires to act in specific ways will be linked to our appetites and our knowledge. It doesn't matter if WE say "we're simply individuals linked in concert to secure our interests and protect our rights," we're interconnected at every level of society. This does not mean that we are determined; it's simply a reality to human politics. We misunderstand this because we no longer understand ourselves as political animals, necessarily linked through our very being. We understand ourselves as individuals, first and foremost abstracted from society.
By placing individuals at the core of politics, we remove the need to know what is good in order to act well; acting well in our society merely needs to relate to securing holdings and staying out of the way of others' claims to their holdings. We remove the need to form good appetites or desires, because our appetites and desires simply need to correspond to our ability to secure our interests. As a result, when we act, when we work in society, we completely remove the conditions for goodness from our actions, and we completely remove what is good from our actions and desires. This, of course, makes us akratic -- no matter how well we protect our interests, no matter how well we ensure our rights, we have removed ourselves from excellence. It is no wonder that our political debates so sorely misunderstand our very own relationships to one another and our society.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
"The Last Point of Radiation" Updates
Last Point of Radiation will be available from 'Spective Audio on Tuesday (July 10, 2012!). Clear wax and limited screenprinted inserts are available. Black wax currently unavailable at the source.
-Look for the LP at Permanent Records Chicago and Permanent Records L.A. -- support your local record shop!
-Also look for the LP at Sound Effects Records out of Athens (including European mailorder!)
-Check out Jason's review of "Six" b/w "Popsicle" at 7 Inches, home to excellent daily 7" vinyl reviews (highly recommended for private issue releases and music from all fields). Here's an excerpt about "Six:"
"A hypnotic swirling rhythm with massive cave reverb, a big delay on the subtle background vocal just hinting at something slightly sinister. But the psych fog isn't content, always ramping up the dense sound with tom fills, letting loose for a moment as this nonstop guitar line explodes in pure distortion, speed bass and cymbal crashes. They keep upping the ante. The 33 speed giving this whole rolling rhythm the space to spread out and keep reaching higher and higher. A wah pedal screeching the distortion into something impassable. Really capturing the energy of this sound these guys are putting together as a nonstop pummeling force... that ends suddenly with the humming feedback of effects."
Thank you, Jason!
-The N.E.C. play their release show on August 4, 2012 at The Earl in Atlanta. The band will have copies of the LP available, and openers include Vital Sound I contributor Soft Opening, Abby Go Go, and Women's Work. $7 / 9:00 PM, don't miss it!
-Check out the latest download from Last Point of Radiation here! "N.O.W." showcases the trio's songwriting abilities, contrasting the hazy drive of "Six" with a persistent boogie. This one should agree with your ears whether you favor C.C.R.'s swamp choogle or Lumerians' dense psych pop.
-This is the latest stop on The N.E.C.'s voyage, and they bring their intense, energetic, and dynamic live sound to wax. Featuring extended meditations and concise, driving rock statements, The N.E.C. showcase their ability to carry forward structured songs while exploring layered psychedelic regions on Last Point of Radiation.
***
PAYPAL: $18 USD PPD / international shipping calculated on an individual basis. Contact for other shipping options. spectiveaudio [at] gmail [dot] com -- for PayPal and for email inquiries.
-Look for the LP at Permanent Records Chicago and Permanent Records L.A. -- support your local record shop!
-Also look for the LP at Sound Effects Records out of Athens (including European mailorder!)
-Check out Jason's review of "Six" b/w "Popsicle" at 7 Inches, home to excellent daily 7" vinyl reviews (highly recommended for private issue releases and music from all fields). Here's an excerpt about "Six:"
"A hypnotic swirling rhythm with massive cave reverb, a big delay on the subtle background vocal just hinting at something slightly sinister. But the psych fog isn't content, always ramping up the dense sound with tom fills, letting loose for a moment as this nonstop guitar line explodes in pure distortion, speed bass and cymbal crashes. They keep upping the ante. The 33 speed giving this whole rolling rhythm the space to spread out and keep reaching higher and higher. A wah pedal screeching the distortion into something impassable. Really capturing the energy of this sound these guys are putting together as a nonstop pummeling force... that ends suddenly with the humming feedback of effects."
Thank you, Jason!
-The N.E.C. play their release show on August 4, 2012 at The Earl in Atlanta. The band will have copies of the LP available, and openers include Vital Sound I contributor Soft Opening, Abby Go Go, and Women's Work. $7 / 9:00 PM, don't miss it!
-Check out the latest download from Last Point of Radiation here! "N.O.W." showcases the trio's songwriting abilities, contrasting the hazy drive of "Six" with a persistent boogie. This one should agree with your ears whether you favor C.C.R.'s swamp choogle or Lumerians' dense psych pop.
-This is the latest stop on The N.E.C.'s voyage, and they bring their intense, energetic, and dynamic live sound to wax. Featuring extended meditations and concise, driving rock statements, The N.E.C. showcase their ability to carry forward structured songs while exploring layered psychedelic regions on Last Point of Radiation.
***
PAYPAL: $18 USD PPD / international shipping calculated on an individual basis. Contact for other shipping options. spectiveaudio [at] gmail [dot] com -- for PayPal and for email inquiries.
Friday, June 22, 2012
The Blankest Year: A Retrospective
Cleveland doesn't have a grid system. Since the Cuyahoga River splits the city, chances are that if you live on the west side, you will be unable to find a clear path to the east. Nevertheless, my wife and I trekked to the Ohio City RTA last night en route to the Beachland Ballroom. Nada Surf, a vital part of our music core and one of our greatest cultural points of agreement, were the main attraction at the Beachland, and we had our path all set.
Unfortunately, we took the #37 bus in the wrong direction from the east-side RTA terminal. Nevertheless, we quickly righted our path, captured another #37 headed in the proper direction, and found ourselves at the Beachland just in time to watch the stage set up for Nada Surf. Nearly two hours passed, and the destination-rock club standing in the middle of a desolate stretch underscored our journey, while the promise of Nada Surf ensured that we never felt truly lost.
Foundations, backbones, reference points are crucial to sustain life and identity. Over the years, I have come to realize that Nada Surf are perhaps my greatest cultural backbone -- this is the 17th year I have spent following them. They introduced me to the whimsical promise of pop song structures, ensuring me that weird, wonderful, and downright righteous sounds can commandeer the pop world. As they blissfully maintained their own world through studio album after studio album, they also served as my reference point back to the world of pop. No matter how strange my tastes became, I always had a backbone that advanced the world of power pop for each step I took.
When I was in middle school, "Popular" took the alternative buzzbin by storm. I even remember one of our scholastic "fun" readers discussing the song to teach irony alongside Shakespeare lessons at Milwaukee Public Schools. It was that back half of High/Low that truly turned me on to the extensive promise of power pop. The churning, dissonant moments of "Icebox," laid against understated, driving intensity of "Psychic Caramel" and "Hollywood," and serene build-up of "Zen Brain" stayed on my mind as much as my CD player. I even used "Icebox" to explain to my dad why I needed my first distortion pedal, a year-long guitar playing veteran at that point.
Restlessness and clarity are two themes that reach throughout Nada Surf's recorded output. At each point, there's a feeling that the whole operation might jump off the rails due to their sheer energy. Yet, the group maintain the type of clarity that only a soul in perpetual motion can produce. Without studio tricks, without psychedelic baggage, without grandiose concepts, Nada Surf take pieces of the world, bit by bit, and wrap it with their shimmering perspective.
I was born into the generation indoctrinated by pop radio dominated by the alternative buzzbin, a strange world of one-hit wonders and extremely odd hits that was hardly seen since the 50s and 60s. If most bands in the 1980s earnestly tried to replicate the sonic gems and structures of 1960s songs, the 1990s bands replicated the spirit of the "what's next" pop turns from the early-to-mid 1960s.
If this sheer power vacuum of rock and culture produced a lot of material to weed through, it also showed a generation the value of digging deep for pop gems. My first digging experience followed Lou Barlow's and John Davis's soundtrack for KIDS, and Folk Implosion's hit "Natural One" lead me to dig for records by Slint and seBADoh -- Spiderland and Harmacy were my first scores, thanks to car rides to Atomic Records. I had no idea then, but with Nada Surf and the alternative 1990s, the record collecting seed was planted in my brain. I certainly learned that if you dig, you will find unbelievable truths in culture.
1998 sure seemed like a rough year for Elektra. They had in their possession two of the greatest albums of the 1990s -- the robust, Acid Archives-worthy Head Trip in Every Key by Superdrag, and the sonic twists and turns of The Proximity Effect, Nada Surf's follow up to their major label debut. They somehow managed to see no hits in either LP, and the ensuing battles are part of 1990s major label history. Last night, as the band played lush versions of "80 Windows" -- filled out my additional guitarist Doug Gillard -- I smiled with joy, remembering those years I spent trying to track down a copy of The Proximity Effect once it was freed from major label control. That journey was certainly worthwhile, as the trio followed some of the dissonant, mellow, and expressive hints on High/Low to their logical conclusion.
Joy was there in heaps last night. My wife and I danced away to our favorites off LET GO, which was the soundtrack to our first year of dating. Nada Surf used their pop chops to capture those slight dissonant elements once again, producing a landmark album by one of the strongest 1990s bands to make it through the turn of the century. The trio's lush pop, both danceable and powerful, ran circles around the minimalist "rock-is-back" swagger of the early 2000s MTV-U bands. Nada Surf soundly proved that they emerged from that 1990s power vacuum unscathed and the strength of their musical interaction was that much better for all their battles.
Even as a switch flipped in my mind, and I rummaged deeper and deeper into psychedelic sounds over the years, the strength of Nada Surf's pop ability remained my backbone. At each step of the way, they were there to remind me of where I came from -- as I moved from 1990s LPs by The Dandy Warhols to The Velvet Underground, and deeper still, Nada Surf answered with The Weight is a Gift and Lucky, two studio albums that masterfully split the difference between their previous two LPs while advancing their sonic sensibilities and whimsical sense of humor.
This power came to a head in their rendition of "Paper Boats" last night, which the group sustained into a repetitive closing sequence that built textured-layer upon textured-layer over that song's haunting chord progression. Playing from that song's subdued pattern to its emotional kick-in, the repetition of that outro provided the opportunity to reflect on each of Nada Surf's strengths. I felt those ever-so-slight dissonant twists running alongside that singular unadorned emotional clarity that follows those restless patterns.
The whole sequence of "Paper Boats" reminded me of my favorite part of their latest studio LP, The Stars are Indifferent to Astronomy. As "When I Was Young" turns from its spare acoustic opening to a slow-burning full band kick in, there's this magnificent synthesizer passage. This expansive synthesizer maintains the crescendo between the acoustic and full-band elements, until the kick-in cannot hold off any longer. It's probably my favorite pop moment of the year, a perfect example of how Nada Surf can procure these tiny little segments that are fantastical, slightly "off," or slightly out of structure, and seamlessly insert them into their songs.
And, "Here I am," Bo Diddley would say. I felt a certain joy last night that I have not felt in some time -- from being completely lost and aimlessly wandering in our temporary city to finding familiar faces and feelings through pop records. So much of what I love in each and every type of music I listen to is inherent in Nada Surf -- the strength of the story, the strength of emotional clarity, the strength of personal vision.
Matthew, Daniel, and Ira (and Doug) executed those musical elements perfectly last night, and the whole time, it seemed like they were playing for their lives. Following that emotional apex in "Paper Boats," they flat-out laid it on the line for each of the songs that closed their set, and their powerful, deep-cut favorites encore. And here laid the other side of their appeal -- the beautiful part about a strong foundation, a great backbone is that you have a fine opportunity to dance it all away.
Unfortunately, we took the #37 bus in the wrong direction from the east-side RTA terminal. Nevertheless, we quickly righted our path, captured another #37 headed in the proper direction, and found ourselves at the Beachland just in time to watch the stage set up for Nada Surf. Nearly two hours passed, and the destination-rock club standing in the middle of a desolate stretch underscored our journey, while the promise of Nada Surf ensured that we never felt truly lost.
Foundations, backbones, reference points are crucial to sustain life and identity. Over the years, I have come to realize that Nada Surf are perhaps my greatest cultural backbone -- this is the 17th year I have spent following them. They introduced me to the whimsical promise of pop song structures, ensuring me that weird, wonderful, and downright righteous sounds can commandeer the pop world. As they blissfully maintained their own world through studio album after studio album, they also served as my reference point back to the world of pop. No matter how strange my tastes became, I always had a backbone that advanced the world of power pop for each step I took.
When I was in middle school, "Popular" took the alternative buzzbin by storm. I even remember one of our scholastic "fun" readers discussing the song to teach irony alongside Shakespeare lessons at Milwaukee Public Schools. It was that back half of High/Low that truly turned me on to the extensive promise of power pop. The churning, dissonant moments of "Icebox," laid against understated, driving intensity of "Psychic Caramel" and "Hollywood," and serene build-up of "Zen Brain" stayed on my mind as much as my CD player. I even used "Icebox" to explain to my dad why I needed my first distortion pedal, a year-long guitar playing veteran at that point.
Restlessness and clarity are two themes that reach throughout Nada Surf's recorded output. At each point, there's a feeling that the whole operation might jump off the rails due to their sheer energy. Yet, the group maintain the type of clarity that only a soul in perpetual motion can produce. Without studio tricks, without psychedelic baggage, without grandiose concepts, Nada Surf take pieces of the world, bit by bit, and wrap it with their shimmering perspective.
I was born into the generation indoctrinated by pop radio dominated by the alternative buzzbin, a strange world of one-hit wonders and extremely odd hits that was hardly seen since the 50s and 60s. If most bands in the 1980s earnestly tried to replicate the sonic gems and structures of 1960s songs, the 1990s bands replicated the spirit of the "what's next" pop turns from the early-to-mid 1960s.
If this sheer power vacuum of rock and culture produced a lot of material to weed through, it also showed a generation the value of digging deep for pop gems. My first digging experience followed Lou Barlow's and John Davis's soundtrack for KIDS, and Folk Implosion's hit "Natural One" lead me to dig for records by Slint and seBADoh -- Spiderland and Harmacy were my first scores, thanks to car rides to Atomic Records. I had no idea then, but with Nada Surf and the alternative 1990s, the record collecting seed was planted in my brain. I certainly learned that if you dig, you will find unbelievable truths in culture.
1998 sure seemed like a rough year for Elektra. They had in their possession two of the greatest albums of the 1990s -- the robust, Acid Archives-worthy Head Trip in Every Key by Superdrag, and the sonic twists and turns of The Proximity Effect, Nada Surf's follow up to their major label debut. They somehow managed to see no hits in either LP, and the ensuing battles are part of 1990s major label history. Last night, as the band played lush versions of "80 Windows" -- filled out my additional guitarist Doug Gillard -- I smiled with joy, remembering those years I spent trying to track down a copy of The Proximity Effect once it was freed from major label control. That journey was certainly worthwhile, as the trio followed some of the dissonant, mellow, and expressive hints on High/Low to their logical conclusion.
Joy was there in heaps last night. My wife and I danced away to our favorites off LET GO, which was the soundtrack to our first year of dating. Nada Surf used their pop chops to capture those slight dissonant elements once again, producing a landmark album by one of the strongest 1990s bands to make it through the turn of the century. The trio's lush pop, both danceable and powerful, ran circles around the minimalist "rock-is-back" swagger of the early 2000s MTV-U bands. Nada Surf soundly proved that they emerged from that 1990s power vacuum unscathed and the strength of their musical interaction was that much better for all their battles.
Even as a switch flipped in my mind, and I rummaged deeper and deeper into psychedelic sounds over the years, the strength of Nada Surf's pop ability remained my backbone. At each step of the way, they were there to remind me of where I came from -- as I moved from 1990s LPs by The Dandy Warhols to The Velvet Underground, and deeper still, Nada Surf answered with The Weight is a Gift and Lucky, two studio albums that masterfully split the difference between their previous two LPs while advancing their sonic sensibilities and whimsical sense of humor.
This power came to a head in their rendition of "Paper Boats" last night, which the group sustained into a repetitive closing sequence that built textured-layer upon textured-layer over that song's haunting chord progression. Playing from that song's subdued pattern to its emotional kick-in, the repetition of that outro provided the opportunity to reflect on each of Nada Surf's strengths. I felt those ever-so-slight dissonant twists running alongside that singular unadorned emotional clarity that follows those restless patterns.
The whole sequence of "Paper Boats" reminded me of my favorite part of their latest studio LP, The Stars are Indifferent to Astronomy. As "When I Was Young" turns from its spare acoustic opening to a slow-burning full band kick in, there's this magnificent synthesizer passage. This expansive synthesizer maintains the crescendo between the acoustic and full-band elements, until the kick-in cannot hold off any longer. It's probably my favorite pop moment of the year, a perfect example of how Nada Surf can procure these tiny little segments that are fantastical, slightly "off," or slightly out of structure, and seamlessly insert them into their songs.
And, "Here I am," Bo Diddley would say. I felt a certain joy last night that I have not felt in some time -- from being completely lost and aimlessly wandering in our temporary city to finding familiar faces and feelings through pop records. So much of what I love in each and every type of music I listen to is inherent in Nada Surf -- the strength of the story, the strength of emotional clarity, the strength of personal vision.
Matthew, Daniel, and Ira (and Doug) executed those musical elements perfectly last night, and the whole time, it seemed like they were playing for their lives. Following that emotional apex in "Paper Boats," they flat-out laid it on the line for each of the songs that closed their set, and their powerful, deep-cut favorites encore. And here laid the other side of their appeal -- the beautiful part about a strong foundation, a great backbone is that you have a fine opportunity to dance it all away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
