KURT SCHWITTERS - “Ursonate”

KURT SCHWITTERS - “Ursonate”

a bit crap? the futurists were a riot, from the absurd nihilistic manifestos to the compositions themselves. it should be kept in mind that they were painters not musicians. the text for this a capella piece, which gained a cult following of sorts with the crowd of one of my classmates:

lanke trr gll (”trr” a bit higher in pitch)
pi pi pi pi pi (ascending in pitch)
uuga uuga uuga uuga

lanke trr gll
pi pi pi pi pi
zuuga zuuga zuuga zuuga . . .

iiuu (really stretch out the “ii”s in this section)
ziiu
iiuu
ziiu . . .

about charlemagne palestine

about charlemagne palestine and types of listening and all:

until the advent of recording in the 20th century, after all, classical music was expected to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for most people. so was any type of music that required a special performer. the only music you heard over and over was that which you or a family member (or maybe a close friend) could make yourself. (a beethoven symphony wasn’t considered inferior to “happy birthday” because it was heard less often). all the forms and conventions of classical music were established with this in mind. a case could be made that the symphony was designed to be a special event, like a theatre performance, not as something to be experienced regularly. modernist composition is still widely seen as continuation of the “classical” (an unfortunate term in this case but preferable to the even more unfortunate “serious” or “art”) music tradition.

the effect of the new medium of recording on musical content is an interesting question. it is believed by some that concert piees have become less repetitive and more complex. (this does not, of course, apply in the case of minimalism). but though we can take more time to absorb a piece over repeated listenings, are we less accustomed to paying close attention — to listening — on a given listening? when satie composed his “furniture music,” to be treated as background music during intermissions at a concert, people stopped and listened anyway. he ran through the room shouting “parlez!” now we are bombarded with background music. how has this changed the ways we perceive, value, and appreciate music?

and different types of music do of course generate meaning and value in different ways. and the one-time experience — be it one of deep listening or throwaway surface-level indulgence or nostalgic reverie — can of course be as or more meaningful as the familiar habit. (i, for example, have no intention of making “peace of mind” or “crucify” part of my regular listening). and where i might find led zeppelin or a sonic youth spoken-word track absurdly cheesy most times, the times when i do buy into the cheese give them value. i think there’s been at least one time when any given piece of music in my collection has seemed lame.

(you opened this up, tom, with your non-single, non-link post).

speaking of emo,

speaking of emo, what the heck is emo anyway? does a great job of answering just that, with extensive chronology of the different styles, recommended records, and tongue-in-cheek emo fashion tips. very illuminating.

native nod - tangled

native nod - tangled

more mid-90s adolescent angst, this time male and louder and played on guitars and dissonant. also one of the greatest guitar rock songs ever. beautifully pungent trebly chords are arrayed in triumphantly tragic progressions then left to swim through murk. the rhythm section beats a solemn tattoo, solemn through all the changes of time and tempo. a panicked voice bleats “i love you” in desperation. if emo is dead, let this be the memory that survives.

tori amos - crucify

tori amos - crucify

sigh a skeleton of my own, i suppose (though maybe old r.e.m. would be more appropriate to the way tom used the term). or a ghost from my abject adolescence. or something. all i know is i heard it on the radio after not having heard in maybe a couple of years and swooned as helplessly as ever and if i’m going to stick up for boston and the pumpkins i might as well lay it all out.

this isn’t her best song, mind you. if i was to try to pick what is, i’d reveal my knowledge of under the pink more than you’d like. and i’m aware of the kate bush-imitation critique but that doesn’t mean i’ve put on the dreaming anytime recently. and nostalgia might provide an excuse for the weak but there must be a reason i got nostalgic in the first place right so

it’s not the lyrics. not in any semantic way, at least, and it never was. “delivery” would be much nearer the mark. kate bush’s voice is ’stronger,’ conventionally at least, but i don’t plan to start listening to opera any time soon. the cracks and whispers and near-misses express in themselves, even if fragility is all they express. the ornaments on “chains” make the song — maybe because they’re somehow reminiscent of indian classical vocal ornaments (which my mom hears in morrissey’s melismas too –may well be something there) or maybe because they make sonic the search of some sort that the lyrics seem to be about from what i heard.

and make alluring as well — amos is after all a consummate miserabilist.

future bible heroes —

future bible heroes — i’m lonely (and i love it):

“surely you’ve gone too far now,” i told myself. “sure, 69 love songs was great but it wasn’t that long ago that you put down that huge import price for the 3-CD set. and then that gothic archies cd from the trip to new york. and those copies of get lost and charm of the highway strip are still getting lots of play. how much stephin merritt do you really need? and how much is healthy? and, more than anything, he didn’t even produce this record. his lyrics and vocals are pretty fabulous but it’s the elaborate studio arrangements, the ukeleles and clarinets piled on top of goofy electronic raindrops and raspberries, the miked slinkies, the shoegazed-out new-wave concoctions that, if not define his greatness, at least, well, complete the equation. what side are you on, sound or songwriting?”

a surprise then that chris ewen should turn out the star of this ep. the lyrics and vocals do round things out quite nicely but the pristine technopop constructions are what really glisten here, from the dripsody-perfect drops of the title track to the waves crashing behind the “cafe hong kong” to the headphones-compatible blips of the broken-hearted last dance “good thing i don’t have any feelings.” all traces of organic mess are cleaned out of the magnetic fields, leaving polish and shine and, in jane suck’s words, “hearts held together with cellophane tape.”

and merritt does round things out. “i’m lonely (and i love it)” is a refreshing change of attitude, expressed through some of his finest rhymes. everyone’s heard the line about mt everest by now so instead i’ll quote “i’m lonely as narcissus gazing in his mirrored pond/ wearing all the clothes you hate and going back to blond/ staying out all hours in my seedy demimonde/ if you have something to tell me please don’t correspond.” “good thing” is one of the finest new-wave melodies, delivered in his bleakest voice, reminiscent of a crooning michael gira. “my blue hawaii,” an ebm track about the tourist resort island is an acquired taste but not too hard to acquire.

claudia gonson’s vocals are the most dubious element of the record. while she suits some of merritt’s more indie-pop-informed arrangements, her affectless girlish delivery doesn’t stand up as strongly in this colder, harder climate. at best, she presents merritt’s melodies and lyrics without getting too much in the way.

but that production . . .

boston — peace of mind

boston — peace of mind: what is so perversely appealing about this? summer and joy pervade the helium harmonies, the meticulously-crafted and sports-car-sleek just-enough tough-pop guitar riffs, and the snappily driving beat. nearly as bluesless, more coolly efficient, and a lot more fun than kraftwerk. the precursor to “never let you go” indeed. for four minutes, aor is justified.