As anyone who regularly reads this site would know, I'm not the sort of person who callously nitpicks reviews and reviewers, but:
1. Full disclosure: I haven't heard the new Fiery Furnaces album, and I don't consider myself a fan of the band.
2. It's fairly well known that the reviewer is a huge mark for Fiery Furnaces
3. Knowing #2, this website gave the reviewer a platform for fawning over one of his favourite bands. Now hang on a minute, I'm certainly not saying that critics shouldn't be assigned reviews by bands they like. Naturally, you'd expect that a band's fans would excel at describing what makes that band's music so great, and you'd also expect that a critic (who also happens to be a big fan) would excel at communicating this in a balanced and sober way without having the review come off as a piece of fan fiction. There are a million good reviews of this sort, for example, check out this review of Depeche Mode's most recent album. But there's nothing ressembling actual criticism in this FF piece, it's all "nakedly emotional" this and "brilliantly crafted" that, the boring old knee-jerk "this album doesn't sound like the band's past work ... it's because they made a progression" intro meme (Band Makes Progression From Their Last Album -- Film at 11 ... such hard-hitting, insightful music criticism), one OTT compliment after another, strained attempts to canonize the band's work through desparate comparisons to the best work of Bob Dylan and Elton John, and downright batshit claims such as "Eleanor's vocal cadences are as distinct and unmistakable as anyone in contemporary pop this side of Snoop Dogg and Lil' Wayne" (shielding the band's uber-indie scenester rep behind sacred contemporary chart icons -- "look you guys, don't hate on this album, I like rap music too!").
4. In light of #3, the album earns 7.8/10. People (rightfully) complain about readers paying too much attention to number/letter/star grades in music reviews, at the the expense of reading what the critic actually had to say about the album. Here, we have the reviewer going out of his way to say great things about the album, only to have a completely unremarkable 7.8 attached to it, which just reeks of the editorial stench of "some people might ridicule us if we give yet another good grade to yet another album of college kid indie wankery, especially considering to whom we assigned this review, and besides, we only bust out the 9.4's for up-and-coming bands because we might want to take credit for breaking those bands six months after the fact. Except that we certainly don't want people to think that we're hating on FF because that sort of band is our bread and butter, so let's compromise -- 7.8/10."
The story behind the "true" inventor of the iPod has been getting some play (hat tip to RA), and it's worth a read as long as you ignore certain gaps in the logic (e.g. Apple shielded themselves from a patent infringement suit by "admitting" that a third party (NOT Apple themselves) invented the iPod ... huh?) but you hardly expect the tabloid-y Daily Mail to legally and factually precise in a story such as this. Especially when the story claims that Kramer is one step away from the poor house but still makes a point of shilling his latest super-duper-gonna-change-the-fabric-of-the-universe invention. But hey, that 30-year old drawing (if real and not some sort of garbage-y fake) does look a heck of a lot like a real iPod ...
Read this interview with DJ Poontz, you'll thank me later. You might dismiss this as high school toilet humour that completely fails in its supposed purpose (i.e. to make you want to hear his music), and I wouldn't argue too strenuously against that viewpoint. But I'd rather read more interviews like these than any more theoretical eyesores like the lauded Kode 9 interview from the Wire, whose micro-detailed, analytical trip through the tiniest minutiae seems to just suck all the fun out of music making and music listening. (I have never understood the appeal of this sort of theoretical treatment, or why genres like dubstep and grime are magnets for that sort of thinking and writing).
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Moritz von Oswald Trio, "Vertical Ascent", or "Why does he always have to sound like TV Victor these days?" Also: Juan and Luke!
This is another new release that simply isn't resonating with me ... I love the idea of three techno mavens picking up guitars and exotic percussion instruments and going all jazz/dub on us, but there's just nothing going on here, it's all style and atmosphere with none of the risk taking that makes for quality improvised music. I feel as though I'm supposed to be impressed and find myself lost in sound just because the album was mastered in an echo chamber or something.
Speaking of men, myths, and legends, I heard Juan Atkins spin this past weekend. After a bit of a wimpy patch at the start, he turned on the slamming Detroit goodness and just didn't stop. He hit the classics patch around 4:30 AM ("Strings of Life"/"No UFOs"/"I Feel Love"/some Basic Channel stuff) and I was completely worn out ...
On the same note, Planetary Assault Systems' "Temporary Suspension" is slamming my ass against the wall right now. This stuff is nearly indistinguishable from Luke Slater's mid-90's PAS work, and I love how he dabbles in e.g. electro-pop just for kicks ("I Can Complete You") but always finds a way to return to the PAS material, which simply never seems to age.
Speaking of men, myths, and legends, I heard Juan Atkins spin this past weekend. After a bit of a wimpy patch at the start, he turned on the slamming Detroit goodness and just didn't stop. He hit the classics patch around 4:30 AM ("Strings of Life"/"No UFOs"/"I Feel Love"/some Basic Channel stuff) and I was completely worn out ...
On the same note, Planetary Assault Systems' "Temporary Suspension" is slamming my ass against the wall right now. This stuff is nearly indistinguishable from Luke Slater's mid-90's PAS work, and I love how he dabbles in e.g. electro-pop just for kicks ("I Can Complete You") but always finds a way to return to the PAS material, which simply never seems to age.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Musik In Berlin
Yeah, yeah, Berlin is changing all the time, but the biggest changes these days aren't with the buildings, but with the people. The city is jam packed with tourists -- I think there were even more tourists in the city this month than there were during the World Cup in 2006 -- and Berlin's newly mainstream appeal means everything in the city is a lot more expensive than it used to be. Beer prices are about a Euro more, on average, than three years ago, new CDs are consistently in the 15-20 Euro range, and I found fewer crazy good bargain bin deals at my usual stops (e.g. Dense, Neurotitan). Dense has moved from its old home on Danziger Strasse and is now on Petersburger Strasse, however, some things don't change -- you still have to look carefully to find it, because the name of the store only appears in faded lettering on one of the windows. It blends in with the surrounding shops and I walked right by it twice before finally noticing it. Just like old times. Even armed with an address, you still have to search for shops tucked away behind buildings and down creepy alleys.
After getting rejected from entry to Berghain, we moved on to plan B, which was Pan/Tone live at the new Tresor club (it's a couple of years old, but I've never been to the new location so it was new for me). I didn't think they could possibly replicate the feel of the old club in a new location, but they somehow did it. First off, ignore the huge brick monstrosity of a building that houses the club, just head inside. Upstairs, you'll find the half-dancefloor, half-bar section that houses the Globus floor. Now, this section can hardly be called edgy (particularly the bar section with its plain, student pub atmosphere), but that was always the case for the Globus section of the club. Downstairs, you have to pass through a long, dark, cold corridor with blank grey stone walls, and as you walk, the sense of fear and mystery grows as the thundering hard techno music grows louder and more ominous. The empty old wooden shells of safety deposit boxes have made the move from the old club, as have the steel grills and the merchandise alcove. For me, The music had too many elements of 1991-era hardcore/rave for me on this night, but the atmosphere was fantastic. The DJ's on the Globus floor were better, and Pan/Tone just killed it with his punishing live set.
On the weekend I was there, the parties were great but not "Berlin great". The best may have been the Vakant 5yr anniversary (Onur Ozer, Jeremy P. Caulfeld, many more), but none of us really wanted to trek out to Rechenzentrum so we didn't seriously consider going. OTOH, the schedule for the next weekend was just insane. On my weekend there were no real dream lineups, but the week after featured a handful of them, beginning with the various Red Bull Music Academy events (including a Moderat gig on the day I left Berlin ... damn), but the Friday party at Watergate was the stuff of legend, with various Perlon stars plus Villalobos, Baby Ford, and a live performance by Isolee. WHOA. It was a great week for concerts, and if I'd gotten my shit together I could have seen Leonard Cohen, NIN, Suzanne Vega, Nouvelle Vague, Ron Carter ... and didn't see any of them. We wanted to see La Roux, but it sold out. However, I did see a great performance of Jewish music in a charming, lovingly dilapidated ballroom that dates back to 1913, chilled until 6AM listening to techno on the riverside rafts of Club der Visionnaire, and finally saw "Berlin Calling" starring Paul Kalkbrenner. It's Berlin, you can't do everything, or even 0.00001% of everything.
After getting rejected from entry to Berghain, we moved on to plan B, which was Pan/Tone live at the new Tresor club (it's a couple of years old, but I've never been to the new location so it was new for me). I didn't think they could possibly replicate the feel of the old club in a new location, but they somehow did it. First off, ignore the huge brick monstrosity of a building that houses the club, just head inside. Upstairs, you'll find the half-dancefloor, half-bar section that houses the Globus floor. Now, this section can hardly be called edgy (particularly the bar section with its plain, student pub atmosphere), but that was always the case for the Globus section of the club. Downstairs, you have to pass through a long, dark, cold corridor with blank grey stone walls, and as you walk, the sense of fear and mystery grows as the thundering hard techno music grows louder and more ominous. The empty old wooden shells of safety deposit boxes have made the move from the old club, as have the steel grills and the merchandise alcove. For me, The music had too many elements of 1991-era hardcore/rave for me on this night, but the atmosphere was fantastic. The DJ's on the Globus floor were better, and Pan/Tone just killed it with his punishing live set.
On the weekend I was there, the parties were great but not "Berlin great". The best may have been the Vakant 5yr anniversary (Onur Ozer, Jeremy P. Caulfeld, many more), but none of us really wanted to trek out to Rechenzentrum so we didn't seriously consider going. OTOH, the schedule for the next weekend was just insane. On my weekend there were no real dream lineups, but the week after featured a handful of them, beginning with the various Red Bull Music Academy events (including a Moderat gig on the day I left Berlin ... damn), but the Friday party at Watergate was the stuff of legend, with various Perlon stars plus Villalobos, Baby Ford, and a live performance by Isolee. WHOA. It was a great week for concerts, and if I'd gotten my shit together I could have seen Leonard Cohen, NIN, Suzanne Vega, Nouvelle Vague, Ron Carter ... and didn't see any of them. We wanted to see La Roux, but it sold out. However, I did see a great performance of Jewish music in a charming, lovingly dilapidated ballroom that dates back to 1913, chilled until 6AM listening to techno on the riverside rafts of Club der Visionnaire, and finally saw "Berlin Calling" starring Paul Kalkbrenner. It's Berlin, you can't do everything, or even 0.00001% of everything.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A few random musical happenings in Bulgaria
1. Samael, Sepultura, Kreator, and Lordi all played in Sofia this year. Within a few weeks of each other. In wintertime, of course (did you really have to ask)? Dream Theater are playing in July. With metal, it's business as usual in Eastern Europe.
2. Everyone who wasn't singing along with the Czech folk songs in the Czech pub in Nessebar was grinning like an idiot.
3. Our conference boat trip was mostly soundtracked by classic early 90's Eurodance. Haddaway's "Life", people! Wow!
4. The couple who salsa danced to "Hotel California" in the Irish pub in Sofia.
5. In the same Irish pub, I had a premonition (sometime around the 4th U2 song played in the first hour after I arrived there) that they'd play Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" and it would close the bar down, for all intents and purposes. And how about that, this is exactly what happened.
2. Everyone who wasn't singing along with the Czech folk songs in the Czech pub in Nessebar was grinning like an idiot.
3. Our conference boat trip was mostly soundtracked by classic early 90's Eurodance. Haddaway's "Life", people! Wow!
4. The couple who salsa danced to "Hotel California" in the Irish pub in Sofia.
5. In the same Irish pub, I had a premonition (sometime around the 4th U2 song played in the first hour after I arrived there) that they'd play Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" and it would close the bar down, for all intents and purposes. And how about that, this is exactly what happened.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Michael Jackson RIP
I'm typing this in Nessebar, Bulgaria, participating in a bubble of science that exists within its own bubble in this beautiful little vacation spot where people go to bake on the beach, wander among centuries-old ruins, and generally feel cut off from the world. I suppose this is how they feel at Glastonbury (minus the occasional mud and rain), where everything happening out "there" is somehow not real, or is happening in some parallel universe. Nobody is talking about the death of the biggest pop star the world has ever seen, even though BBC news is on the TV in the hotel lobby. Nobody was paying attention to it.
I heard about Michael Jackson's cardiac arrest before I went to bed last night. So I knew what to expect when I woke up this morning, which certainly diminished the shock factor. All of this is simultaneously the most and least surprising celebrity death that I can remember. Surprising because his death was sudden, he was so young, and because most people (and this is one of the few times that "most people" can be stated literally, as in "most people in the world", without hyperbole) can't remember a time when Michael Jackson wasn't a phenomenon nearly on par with many major world religions. But it's also not surprising because he's been wasting away, very much in the public eye, for decades. There's the weirdo stuff we know about (the plastic surgeries, the air filters he and his kids wore in public), the stuff we don't (who knows what sort of pills and drugs he took over the years to cure his ailments both real and imagined), and it all sums up to a picture of a profoundly unhealthy man.
I honestly have no idea if Michael Jackson was a child molester or not (the courts say no), but no matter what bad stuff he was accused of, I always thought back to a comment made by his close friend Elizabeth Taylor. She claimed they had a lot in common and truly understood each other because they both knew what it was like to have never had a childhood. He didn't have what 99.9999% of people take completely for granted -- whether you were happy or miserable, whether you were beat up everyday or had everything handed to you, we all had the chance to grow up. I always felt sorry for Michael Jackson. It doesn't excuse anything he may or may not have done (or said), but I always tried to remember Elizabeth Taylor's comment and to understand him just a little bit better.
That's why I felt good about the way that his critical reputation has been rehabilitated over the past several years. During much of the 90's, it was hard to get away from "Michael Jackson, fading popstar and batshit personality" and to remember "Michael Jackson, superstar and creator of some of the finest pop music ever made". After he went into seclusion following his trial (of course, he moved to Bahrain, so this was not something accidental), the well of eccentric Michael Jackson stories dried up, and the only thing left was to talk about the music. Plus, a new generation of pop stars emerged (Britney, Justin, Usher) who grew up idolizing him, weren't afraid to show it (in their music, in interviews, and in their videos) and honestly didn't seem to give a crap about what kind of person he was. Their brains seemed permanently dialed in to the image of the man-child they watched on MTV and whose moves they imitated in their basements every day. Michael Jackson's music becoming cool again might be the best example you can find about art trumping life (att: Phil Spector), and although we might be conflicted about that as human beings, as music fans it's comforting to know that Michael Jackson's status as a creative genius and certifiable music legend will be forever safe.
I heard about Michael Jackson's cardiac arrest before I went to bed last night. So I knew what to expect when I woke up this morning, which certainly diminished the shock factor. All of this is simultaneously the most and least surprising celebrity death that I can remember. Surprising because his death was sudden, he was so young, and because most people (and this is one of the few times that "most people" can be stated literally, as in "most people in the world", without hyperbole) can't remember a time when Michael Jackson wasn't a phenomenon nearly on par with many major world religions. But it's also not surprising because he's been wasting away, very much in the public eye, for decades. There's the weirdo stuff we know about (the plastic surgeries, the air filters he and his kids wore in public), the stuff we don't (who knows what sort of pills and drugs he took over the years to cure his ailments both real and imagined), and it all sums up to a picture of a profoundly unhealthy man.
I honestly have no idea if Michael Jackson was a child molester or not (the courts say no), but no matter what bad stuff he was accused of, I always thought back to a comment made by his close friend Elizabeth Taylor. She claimed they had a lot in common and truly understood each other because they both knew what it was like to have never had a childhood. He didn't have what 99.9999% of people take completely for granted -- whether you were happy or miserable, whether you were beat up everyday or had everything handed to you, we all had the chance to grow up. I always felt sorry for Michael Jackson. It doesn't excuse anything he may or may not have done (or said), but I always tried to remember Elizabeth Taylor's comment and to understand him just a little bit better.
That's why I felt good about the way that his critical reputation has been rehabilitated over the past several years. During much of the 90's, it was hard to get away from "Michael Jackson, fading popstar and batshit personality" and to remember "Michael Jackson, superstar and creator of some of the finest pop music ever made". After he went into seclusion following his trial (of course, he moved to Bahrain, so this was not something accidental), the well of eccentric Michael Jackson stories dried up, and the only thing left was to talk about the music. Plus, a new generation of pop stars emerged (Britney, Justin, Usher) who grew up idolizing him, weren't afraid to show it (in their music, in interviews, and in their videos) and honestly didn't seem to give a crap about what kind of person he was. Their brains seemed permanently dialed in to the image of the man-child they watched on MTV and whose moves they imitated in their basements every day. Michael Jackson's music becoming cool again might be the best example you can find about art trumping life (att: Phil Spector), and although we might be conflicted about that as human beings, as music fans it's comforting to know that Michael Jackson's status as a creative genius and certifiable music legend will be forever safe.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Sunn O))), "Monoliths and Dimensions"
I can see where a lot of the praise is coming from with this one, i.e. Sunn O))) break with formula and add strings and angelic choirs to their already dense sound, but any album that begins with drudgery like "Aghartha" will dampen my enthusiasm to some degree. It's not such a horrible track, but the vocals are downright risible at times, and what's more, appear annoyingly upfront in the mix.
From then on, things get a lot better. Sunn O))) are becoming more and more similar to black metal with each new album, and that type of evolution can only be a good thing. The standout track is certainly "Big Church" -- if they were looking to record a track that would defy you to avoid using any and all cliched descriptions (floating to the heavens on an angelic cloud of noise-cum-spirituality, etc.), then they succeeded beyond all expectations.
From then on, things get a lot better. Sunn O))) are becoming more and more similar to black metal with each new album, and that type of evolution can only be a good thing. The standout track is certainly "Big Church" -- if they were looking to record a track that would defy you to avoid using any and all cliched descriptions (floating to the heavens on an angelic cloud of noise-cum-spirituality, etc.), then they succeeded beyond all expectations.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
MUTEK revisited (V)
MUTEK10 wrapped up on the weekend, but I've still got one show left in my queue:
9. Matthew Dear
May 30, 2003:"Then Matthew Dear seems to double the volume, get darker and wildly nastier, while the beats come full circle to take on the role of full body massage."
This set, which at the time fit comfortably into the sound of Montreal's then red-hot microhouse scene, was recorded during Dear's time working under the False moniker for M_nus. He's more of a follower than a leader here (albeit a very talented follower), and it's simply amazing to think about how much better his music became when he started pushing the boundaries of the genres he dabbled in, rather than trying to comfortably slot himself within those boundaries (as he's doing here). The first half of the set is exuberantly dancefloor friendly, but the second half is darker and more sinister. It's a small jump from the first half to "Leave Luck to Heaven"'s strange combination of microhouse bounciness and bored vocals, but thankfully he stayed clear of that path in favour of the second half's more twisted, destructive side, which foreshadows a) the twisted, hypersexual sneer of Audion, b) the Bowie-esque dark pop of "Asa Breed", and c) Richie Hawtin's set that immediately followed.
It's a shame that we'll never get to hear Hawtin's jaw-dropping set from that night -- he was the only artist who forbade recording and streaming of his performance that year, citing the need to prevent unreleased material from being widely circulated. Months later, those unreleased tracks made up the bulk of "Closer", which is one of the decade's best albums. Otherwise, I really wish that the rest of MUTEK's complete archives were still accessible, although I can understand why they're not, given MUTEK's and many of the artists' tremendous growth as brands of considerable value (at least, I assume that this a key reason why). I doubt that my top two requests would ever show up on possible future versions of the podcast, since nobody ever talks about these artists anymore, but I'd lop off a toe to hear Mens/Koolwyk from 2002 (skin-flaying bass-heavy techno minimalism with rapid-fire test pattern video images), and especially Philippe Cam from 2001 (one of the most memorable techno gigs I've ever seen, perhaps my all-time top "Ballad of a Thin Man" moment, in fact, something happened that night and I STILL don't understand exactly what it was).
Bonus mini-review! Even though I wasn't there in 2005, I thought I'd cover this one too just because I love the new Moderat album so much (much jealousy toward those who saw them at MUTEK this year):
Apparat
Left to his own devices (i.e. when not collaborating with other artists), Apparat's music tends to be too trebly, too bright, too reliant on sparkling, looped melodic leads. I mean, ripping off 1996-1999 period Orbital can't be a bad thing, but Orbital always understood the value of pathos, better than just about all of their peers. This set might be lacking in emotional depth, but it makes up for it with it's "perfect execution", to paraphrase the blurb from the podcast. It flows smoothly and brilliantly between euphoric highs and more subtle lows, and decisively nails the big finish with its noisy, chopped up beats. Whew ...
9. Matthew Dear
May 30, 2003:"Then Matthew Dear seems to double the volume, get darker and wildly nastier, while the beats come full circle to take on the role of full body massage."
This set, which at the time fit comfortably into the sound of Montreal's then red-hot microhouse scene, was recorded during Dear's time working under the False moniker for M_nus. He's more of a follower than a leader here (albeit a very talented follower), and it's simply amazing to think about how much better his music became when he started pushing the boundaries of the genres he dabbled in, rather than trying to comfortably slot himself within those boundaries (as he's doing here). The first half of the set is exuberantly dancefloor friendly, but the second half is darker and more sinister. It's a small jump from the first half to "Leave Luck to Heaven"'s strange combination of microhouse bounciness and bored vocals, but thankfully he stayed clear of that path in favour of the second half's more twisted, destructive side, which foreshadows a) the twisted, hypersexual sneer of Audion, b) the Bowie-esque dark pop of "Asa Breed", and c) Richie Hawtin's set that immediately followed.
It's a shame that we'll never get to hear Hawtin's jaw-dropping set from that night -- he was the only artist who forbade recording and streaming of his performance that year, citing the need to prevent unreleased material from being widely circulated. Months later, those unreleased tracks made up the bulk of "Closer", which is one of the decade's best albums. Otherwise, I really wish that the rest of MUTEK's complete archives were still accessible, although I can understand why they're not, given MUTEK's and many of the artists' tremendous growth as brands of considerable value (at least, I assume that this a key reason why). I doubt that my top two requests would ever show up on possible future versions of the podcast, since nobody ever talks about these artists anymore, but I'd lop off a toe to hear Mens/Koolwyk from 2002 (skin-flaying bass-heavy techno minimalism with rapid-fire test pattern video images), and especially Philippe Cam from 2001 (one of the most memorable techno gigs I've ever seen, perhaps my all-time top "Ballad of a Thin Man" moment, in fact, something happened that night and I STILL don't understand exactly what it was).
Bonus mini-review! Even though I wasn't there in 2005, I thought I'd cover this one too just because I love the new Moderat album so much (much jealousy toward those who saw them at MUTEK this year):
Apparat
Left to his own devices (i.e. when not collaborating with other artists), Apparat's music tends to be too trebly, too bright, too reliant on sparkling, looped melodic leads. I mean, ripping off 1996-1999 period Orbital can't be a bad thing, but Orbital always understood the value of pathos, better than just about all of their peers. This set might be lacking in emotional depth, but it makes up for it with it's "perfect execution", to paraphrase the blurb from the podcast. It flows smoothly and brilliantly between euphoric highs and more subtle lows, and decisively nails the big finish with its noisy, chopped up beats. Whew ...
Sunday, May 31, 2009
MUTEK revisited (IV)
8. Tim Hecker vs 242 Pilots
May 29, 2003:"Then, after a couple of exercises in sound/visual synchronization by 242 Pilots, it launches into their improvised visual accompaniment with Tim Hecker. He's dead-on awesome, combining noise and splendour while holding the room in his own personal trance."
You can grab a recording of this from MUTEK podcast #9, but be warned that it's not a complete version of the gig. The first twenty minutes were the "exercises in sound/visual synchronization", musically this resembled Thomas Brinkmann's vinyl-slicing experiments far more than what you'd typically get from Tim Hecker. I'm listening to the complete recording, the MUTEK version picks up once Hecker's warm, enveloping, airy tones kick in, as the set begins to focus on "Radio Amor" material.
So, what else can I say about the great Tim Hecker? He is one of the most reliable artists of the decade, and also one of the most formulaic. Both are meant to be compliments. He has found a signature style that works wonders for him, and I'm completely OK with continuing to listen to sets like these from now until he chooses to stop making them or quits music altogether. He takes his formula and alters it depending on how melancholy he wants his music to be (with choice of additional black metal or shoegaze add-ons) and away he goes. He is to the 00's what Stereolab were to the 90's -- he has about three songs and keeps rewriting them over and over, but those three songs are so damn good that the endless recycling scarcely seems to matter.
May 29, 2003:"Then, after a couple of exercises in sound/visual synchronization by 242 Pilots, it launches into their improvised visual accompaniment with Tim Hecker. He's dead-on awesome, combining noise and splendour while holding the room in his own personal trance."
You can grab a recording of this from MUTEK podcast #9, but be warned that it's not a complete version of the gig. The first twenty minutes were the "exercises in sound/visual synchronization", musically this resembled Thomas Brinkmann's vinyl-slicing experiments far more than what you'd typically get from Tim Hecker. I'm listening to the complete recording, the MUTEK version picks up once Hecker's warm, enveloping, airy tones kick in, as the set begins to focus on "Radio Amor" material.
So, what else can I say about the great Tim Hecker? He is one of the most reliable artists of the decade, and also one of the most formulaic. Both are meant to be compliments. He has found a signature style that works wonders for him, and I'm completely OK with continuing to listen to sets like these from now until he chooses to stop making them or quits music altogether. He takes his formula and alters it depending on how melancholy he wants his music to be (with choice of additional black metal or shoegaze add-ons) and away he goes. He is to the 00's what Stereolab were to the 90's -- he has about three songs and keeps rewriting them over and over, but those three songs are so damn good that the endless recycling scarcely seems to matter.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
MUTEK revisited (III)
6. Senor Coconut y Su Conjunto
May 31, 2003: "Despite the novelty graphics on the video screen (Space Invaders, robots, etc.), it's obvious when seeing them that they are no novelty act. Musicianship this good is no joke. Marimba and vibraphone players with this sort of dexterity aren't looking for laughs. I'm sure the majority isn't well versed with the Kraftwerk originals, but the band holds the crowd in the palms of their hands for a solid hour and a half. And Uwe Schmidt, despite sticking out somewhat by being the only band member dressed in a full suit, plays the role of the anti-star and stands off to the side with his laptop and lets the rest of the band be the stars. If you didn't enjoy this show, then you have no pulse."
Why did I think that the crowd wouldn't be familiar with the Kraftwerk originals? There must have been some reason for such an usual comment, but I can't for the life of me remember what it could have been. Comments from people I talked to before the show? Were people not singing along during the set?
When you're as prolific as Atom Heart, almost anything you do will have a limited shelf life, performance-wise. In this case, he got out while the gimmick was still hot. The world didn't need Kraftwerk songs done in mambo, salsa, and cha-cha-cha styles, and a few of these songs don't lend themselves well to the styles at all (e.g. "The Man Machine", "Trans-Europe Express"), but songs like "Neon Lights" and "Showroom Dummies" are just gorgeous -- you could probably slot these tracks into rotation at a salsa bar and anybody who didn't know the original songs would carry on dancing without batting an eyelash. And that massive, fifteen-minute "Musique Non Stop", complete with a round of instrumental solos, forgives just about any earlier miscues.
I don't understand why they didn't switch the order of the encores ("Expo 2000" should have been the first encore, with "Tour de France" as the second, and final encore that closed the book on this chapter of Senor Coconut for good) but otherwise, this performance is about as good as anyone could have possibly expected.
7. Bola
May 30, 2002: "When one goes years between releases and live gigs, you'd expect nothing less than all the stops pulled out. And he complies by mainly avoiding the blippy curiosities that have surfaced on Skam lately, and covering his songs in the lush ambiance that he's best known for."
One of the things I really loved about this show were the lush, colourful visuals, which were a relatively new thing for techno gigs at the time. Now, video accompaniments of the quality presented by Bola are pretty much the standard, or at the very least, nobody would look at them in 2009 and say that the artist had "pulled out all the stops". If I saw this gig today, I'd be far less impressed, right? Right?
I disowned Bola and anything Skam-y for a long time. In 1998, I was convinced that this stuff was the future of techno, nothing less than the next major step forward for electronic music, on par with the pioneering sound of the Detroit originals. HAHAHAHAHA. On just about any given day, I'll tell you this was my all-time biggest musical fortune-telling blunder. By 2002, I had stopped drinking that particular flavour of Kool-Aid, but was still fairly stoked about seeing Bola, whose album "Soup" remained special to me.
IDM is about as dead as dead can be, even deader than it was in 2002, but dammit if this set doesn't sound shockingly fresh. Maybe it's just because I haven't listened to Bola in a while (i.e. it's fresh all over again because I've dug up something ancient that nobody bothers with anymore), but the connections between this and contemporary dub techno have never seemed clearer (although today's dub techno is itself largely a turn-back-the-clock genre that is simply reprocessing the same Basic Channel records, but whatever, things run in cycles, current is current). Bola's music was ahead of its time in that the more serene moments perfectly anticipated the bedroom "pop ambient" style, and he balanced the funky/lush divide better than just about any other IDM-er.
This is my favourite of the "revisited" sets I've heard thus far. Who would've thunk it??
May 31, 2003: "Despite the novelty graphics on the video screen (Space Invaders, robots, etc.), it's obvious when seeing them that they are no novelty act. Musicianship this good is no joke. Marimba and vibraphone players with this sort of dexterity aren't looking for laughs. I'm sure the majority isn't well versed with the Kraftwerk originals, but the band holds the crowd in the palms of their hands for a solid hour and a half. And Uwe Schmidt, despite sticking out somewhat by being the only band member dressed in a full suit, plays the role of the anti-star and stands off to the side with his laptop and lets the rest of the band be the stars. If you didn't enjoy this show, then you have no pulse."
Why did I think that the crowd wouldn't be familiar with the Kraftwerk originals? There must have been some reason for such an usual comment, but I can't for the life of me remember what it could have been. Comments from people I talked to before the show? Were people not singing along during the set?
When you're as prolific as Atom Heart, almost anything you do will have a limited shelf life, performance-wise. In this case, he got out while the gimmick was still hot. The world didn't need Kraftwerk songs done in mambo, salsa, and cha-cha-cha styles, and a few of these songs don't lend themselves well to the styles at all (e.g. "The Man Machine", "Trans-Europe Express"), but songs like "Neon Lights" and "Showroom Dummies" are just gorgeous -- you could probably slot these tracks into rotation at a salsa bar and anybody who didn't know the original songs would carry on dancing without batting an eyelash. And that massive, fifteen-minute "Musique Non Stop", complete with a round of instrumental solos, forgives just about any earlier miscues.
I don't understand why they didn't switch the order of the encores ("Expo 2000" should have been the first encore, with "Tour de France" as the second, and final encore that closed the book on this chapter of Senor Coconut for good) but otherwise, this performance is about as good as anyone could have possibly expected.
7. Bola
May 30, 2002: "When one goes years between releases and live gigs, you'd expect nothing less than all the stops pulled out. And he complies by mainly avoiding the blippy curiosities that have surfaced on Skam lately, and covering his songs in the lush ambiance that he's best known for."
One of the things I really loved about this show were the lush, colourful visuals, which were a relatively new thing for techno gigs at the time. Now, video accompaniments of the quality presented by Bola are pretty much the standard, or at the very least, nobody would look at them in 2009 and say that the artist had "pulled out all the stops". If I saw this gig today, I'd be far less impressed, right? Right?
I disowned Bola and anything Skam-y for a long time. In 1998, I was convinced that this stuff was the future of techno, nothing less than the next major step forward for electronic music, on par with the pioneering sound of the Detroit originals. HAHAHAHAHA. On just about any given day, I'll tell you this was my all-time biggest musical fortune-telling blunder. By 2002, I had stopped drinking that particular flavour of Kool-Aid, but was still fairly stoked about seeing Bola, whose album "Soup" remained special to me.
IDM is about as dead as dead can be, even deader than it was in 2002, but dammit if this set doesn't sound shockingly fresh. Maybe it's just because I haven't listened to Bola in a while (i.e. it's fresh all over again because I've dug up something ancient that nobody bothers with anymore), but the connections between this and contemporary dub techno have never seemed clearer (although today's dub techno is itself largely a turn-back-the-clock genre that is simply reprocessing the same Basic Channel records, but whatever, things run in cycles, current is current). Bola's music was ahead of its time in that the more serene moments perfectly anticipated the bedroom "pop ambient" style, and he balanced the funky/lush divide better than just about any other IDM-er.
This is my favourite of the "revisited" sets I've heard thus far. Who would've thunk it??
Friday, May 29, 2009
MUTEK revisited (II)
5. Deadbeat/Monolake webjam
May 30, 2002: "To add a note or sound to the music, all one does is point and click at the desired spot in one of the stanzas. Scott's additions are in blue, Rob's are in red. All is composed on the fly. In real time. And following it is as easy as watching the bouncing ball - white dots sweep through the stanzas indicating the position in the music. "
Here's another one that hasn't aged well, or to be more fair, loses a lot when deprived of the live visual element. And that's not really a criticism -- the whole point of this was to pull off a real-time performance between two collaborators thousands of km apart, so it shouldn't matter too much if the resulting music doesn't come off well as a stand-alone piece. Sure, the music meanders quite a bit, and is mostly just two guys switching loops on and off for thirty minutes, but what do you expect considering the stated improvised nature of the performance and the fact that the musicians couldn't communicate with each other except via a few dancing dots on a computer screen? It feels like they didn't have a clear idea of where they were headed during the first ten minutes or so, but once they hit the intermittently beatless portion about halfway through and Monolake's icy ambient bits start floating about, then it starts to feel more like a cohesive piece of music.
May 30, 2002: "To add a note or sound to the music, all one does is point and click at the desired spot in one of the stanzas. Scott's additions are in blue, Rob's are in red. All is composed on the fly. In real time. And following it is as easy as watching the bouncing ball - white dots sweep through the stanzas indicating the position in the music. "
Here's another one that hasn't aged well, or to be more fair, loses a lot when deprived of the live visual element. And that's not really a criticism -- the whole point of this was to pull off a real-time performance between two collaborators thousands of km apart, so it shouldn't matter too much if the resulting music doesn't come off well as a stand-alone piece. Sure, the music meanders quite a bit, and is mostly just two guys switching loops on and off for thirty minutes, but what do you expect considering the stated improvised nature of the performance and the fact that the musicians couldn't communicate with each other except via a few dancing dots on a computer screen? It feels like they didn't have a clear idea of where they were headed during the first ten minutes or so, but once they hit the intermittently beatless portion about halfway through and Monolake's icy ambient bits start floating about, then it starts to feel more like a cohesive piece of music.
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