Two Tickets to Sirius

I may not be having the level of success that, say, Kyle Gann or Darcy James Argue were during their recent bouts of radio silence, but relative increase in non-Internet activity is sort of the same.

A compatriot of mine has been delving into oboe works of Karlheinz Stockhausen (only two thusfar, one with feedback!) over the past couple weeks and alas now we have the occasion to put together a whole concert, if we so dare. DJA has a compedium, as well the best picture ever.

I've been somewhat ambivilent about the man, his obvious advancements are tempered by the seemingly extraneous bullshit he demands to get the damn things actually performed. (Clown makeup? Unitards? HELICOPTERS????) I will admit that perhaps this is coming from a rawk/free jazz background where people who come from different planets are less of a novelty.

Part Deux (many weeks later...): I didn't realize that hitting the save button when making further edits pulled the post entirely from the Interblag. My bad. This does give me the opportunity to mention this account of Stockhausen's funeral. (I believe I found the link via Alex Ross, but can't exactly remember.)

Despite being written by someone who is also insane, the account typifies both what I admire and really dislike about the man. As anyone who has been to a concert presentation of strictly electronic music can attest, it's hard to remain solemn for music that someone has hit "play" on. To have electronic music at your funeral, that's a bold manuever. It may seem cold and impersonal, but is it? Depends on the tune, I guess. Besides, now it's been illustrated that you can play at your own funeral! Every musician's dream!

The episode of the Russian student with the camera, on the other hand. Yes, if you should ever get your way it should be at your funeral. But the latent rage! It cements this idea that inanity and eccentricity must be accepted part and parcel with genius. Perhaps I would be more successful if I were more reverent to composers. Sorry, guys.

Celebrity Deathwatch: IAJE Edition

Concerning the passing of Michael Brecker, the Internets agree that Mark Turner said it best (although we all heard it first on Do the Math)

Fuck those motherfuckers who don't give it up for Michael Brecker.

In the jazz circles I rolled with in Wisconsin, Brecker was nigh invincible. I can't think of anyone else that a widely diverse of pretentious jazzholes can unanimously agree on, especially someone who could be unapologetically accessible while continuing to blow your goddamn brains out.

One of the first posts I made to this blog was bitching about how classical composers seem to only achieve acceptance upon death. I've mellowed this stance a bit, if you're dead anyway why not let it be a final press release. I hope that happens in the case of Alice Coltrane, who we lost almost simultaneously. Any dumb bastard can talk about Giant Steps or the albums with the classic , but the real hipsters know to go later to find the hard stuff. I'm going to go listen to Live at the Village Vanguard Again!....again.

Celebrity Deathwatch - Holiday 2006 Edition

It is often said that deaths come in threes, so I was waiting for the tres before commenting on either of the two previous. However, it's getting unfashionably late for me to discuss the late Mr. Brown.

Dial M has a really great tribute that ropes in the idea of hip-hop (and funk and so on) being a music of vertical complexity rather than horizontal. Probably just best to follow the link rather than have me try to explain it, it makes sense. I also suggest another reason that the Hardest Working Man in Show Business was so damn fonky. Much like Reich and the minimalists would the next decade, James Brown didn't just master the beat. He was the beat. YouTube fails me in illustrating this, but either the PBS Rock and Roll series or the oft-syndicated History of Rock and Roll has priceless footage of James Brown in action. One of his saxophones cracks the note, and James Brown whips his head around looking straight at the offender and hits on the beat "You know I got you!" That guy was fucked.

Also something I hear about preventing Boston, and often by extension the rest of the nation, from descending into race riots singlehandedly.

I can't say much about Ford, being his prominence was outside my lifetime and the scope of this blog. You were a President, thumbs up for that even if you weren't elected.

(Current news is predicting that this trifecta will be concluded rather shortly, even if there's another recently deceased pair that probably have more in common.)

RIP SotL

I worked as the metal director for WLFM for close to three years, and I found a lot of cool bands that way. It's always a bummer when a band you dig calls it quits, but when Swarm of the Lotus announced they were hanging it up it stung just a little more. Their independent debut was one of the first CDs that came through when I had just started my show (prior to my staff position) and Sizzle and I played the shit out of it. Having been such an advocate I actually felt proud when I opened the package and saw that they had been signed by Abacus for their second album.

One of the downsides to my job was that all these cool bands were never coming anywhere close to Appleton. Therein lied one of the excitements of moving to Boston, I'd be able to actually see these sweet bands! Unless I can make it to their last show I won't be seeing them live, I think it's in Baltimore alas. Now if Drunk Horse breaks up I will be pissed.

Check out here for the "A-Bomb Rock" that could have been.

You Had a Lot to Say, You Had a Lot of Nothing to Say

CBGB's is dead, all hail CBGB's. The Times has perhaps the most fitting eulogy to the little club that could, appropriately with Patty Smith dealing the fatal blow. The overall sentiment seems to be stated best by Ms. Smith herself:

“Kids, they’ll find some other club,” Ms. Smith insisted during her set. They’ll find a place, she continued, “that nobody wants, and you got one guy who believes in you, and you just do your thing. And anybody can do that, anywhere in the world, any time.”

I was lucky enough to actually poke my head into the mecca a year ago when the Save CBGB's campaign was hitting its peak, and I can't say I disagree. The place is (was) a filthpit, but an extremely charming filthpit. It wasn't so unlike the bars I had seen and played shows in back in Wisconsin, right down to the bottles of PBR. Would this place be any different than Oshkosh's Reptile Place if it hadn't launched a million billion important bands? Well yes, it's still (was) in downtown Manhattan. Despite all the history it still wasn't Disneyland (although I did find myself in Times Square more often than I'd rather), it was the goddamn archetype. Later than night I saw two unavoidably better shows, one at the Knitting Factory. It has its own claim as fostering great stuff, but the pretention was a little thicker there. Not nearly the sense of drive, a lot of hipster dancing. Now the other show, in some guy's basement. There was potential.