Archive for December, 2001
Tuesday, December 18th, 2001
It is now 4:45 am. I’m currently sitting at a computer lab computer trying to bang out a 20-page paper in one day and one night. I’ve been listening to music on headphones using the computer’s CD-ROM drive. I have no idea what the sound card and audio hardware on this machine is, but something weird is going on with it. When I listen to my music, especially CDs with strong stereo separation, certain parts of the mix get highlighted whereas others go really quiet. I’m hearing percussion in some songs on Kid A that I’ve never heard before, for instance. On the one hand, this is sort of annoying, but on the other, it’s actually kind of enlightening. Either way, though, it’s distracting me from the work I should be doing. Hmm.
My primary form of procrastination has been the popmatters.com reviews archive - I’ve found some pretty interesting stuff in there. Like, for instance, the only really really negative review of Mogwai’s My Father My King that I’ve yet read. Or, a review of a Sigur Rós concert that I think captures the awe and wonder of a good live show by that band - yeah, it’s gushingly positive and over the top, but that’s appropriate, I think. Or maybe my opinion of Sigur Rós is just way overinflated (but I knew that already). There’s also weird stuff like the statement that Sunny Day Real Estate’s The Rising Tide “would have been right at home alongside classic albums by Rush, Marillion or Kansas.” Umm… maybe. But not really.
Hehe: the new Pitchfork review of Radiohead’s I Might Be Wrong makes a point - over and over again - of calling the album an EP. A little bitter?
Saturday, December 15th, 2001
On second thought, I guess “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima” is a pretty descriptive name; at least, it lets the listener know what the mood is going to be. But I’m sure there are still tons of examples that I could have used.
So Sigur Rós played “Njósnavélin” on Craig Kilborn’s show last night. I thought it was a great performance. I’ve heard the song twice in concert (I think), and I think it’s really beautiful. I’m quite surprised, though, that they would have been asked to play that particular song - it’s one of their sparsest, most subtle pieces, and it’s pretty repetitive to boot. My roommates certainly didn’t like it very much. Curious choice. In any case, I was sort of pissed because they cut off the last few minutes of the song - and with a piece that moody and laid-back, you’ve gotta have a proper resolution. Sigh.
Friday, December 14th, 2001
Here’s something weird: in Classics Today’s review of Kaija Saariaho’s Sony release of “Amers”, “Graal Théâtre”, and “Château de l’Âme”, this is the first paragraph:
I do wish modern composers could write music without giving their pieces, shall we say, counterproductive titles. Graal Théâtre (Grail Theater, as if this translation clarifies any questions you might have) is simply a violin concerto. Amers (which means “sea-marks”) is a cello concerto. I suspect that the two works sound more like each other–that is to say, like Saariaho–than the former sounds like the Jacques Roubaud book that donated the title, or the latter sounds like a sea-mark, whatever that is. I don’t plan to read Jacques Roubaud in order to see in exactly what context these words appear, nor do I expect anyone else will either (assuming you read French); and even if I did, I doubt the experience would shed any special light on Saariaho’s violin concerto purely as music, which is of course the only thing that should concern us here. In the final analysis, such conceits (for that is what they are) accomplish nothing but to further alienate potential listeners, distancing them from the music before they’ve even heard a note, and sending them on a frustrating, irrelevant quest for some extra-musical answer to the question of what the music “means”. It’s a pseudo-intellectual indulgence we could well do without, although it’s only fair to note that Saariaho certainly isn’t in any way unique in this respect in the field of contemporary music.
This seems to imply that the reviewer wants all classical pieces to be named after what they are. As in, any variation from “Symphony #14″ or “Cello concerto #2″ is bad, and having any sort of creative title is a “pseudo-intellectual indulgence”. What really bewilders me, though, is the idea that creative titles will “alienate potential listeners”. Maybe me popular-music background leads me to believe strange things, but I’d think that boring old descriptive titles would do more to scare off potential listeners than a title like, say, “Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima”.
The choice of that example is not fortuitous, incidentally; I’m listening to that Penderecki CD now, much to the distress of my roommate.
Thursday, December 13th, 2001
So I’m going through and listening to all my CDs in reverse alphabetical order by title. This is something I tried a couple years ago (though not in reverse order, that was a weird whim this time around), but I never did finish because I kept getting all these new CDs to give my attention to instead. This time around, I’m in a phase where I can’t afford to keep buying new stuff, so it should be a bit easier. I’m being pretty lenient with myself as well… letting myself listen to what I want, but when I finish doing that I move back to the ordered list. I’m in the middle of the W’s now… just finished listening to Wadachi by the Japanese band Compostela.
I’ve been reviewing a lot of the stuff I listen to as I go, but since Wadachi isn’t prog at all, it doesn’t really fit in. But I’d like to say something about it here… this is a fascinating CD, featuring a trio with two instrumentalists who play mostly saxophones, along with a tuba player (tuba-ist?). Apparently their music mixes klezmer influences with Japanese street music, but since I’m not really familiar with Japanese street music I can’t really comment on that. I will say that the klezmer influence is pretty obvious. But there are also some really neat departures from that overall style, including a piece that sounds almost traditionally symphonic before segueing perfectly into a bouncy klezmerish workout. There’s good stuff here… I’m impressed. I wasn’t taken by it when I first got it, but now I quite like it.
Other listening today is a new one that I picked up, a compilation of relatively short Penderecki pieces on EMI Classics that I picked up because it has “De Natura Sonoris” and “Capriccio” (and, of course, “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima”). The Governor’s School orchestra played “De Natura Sonoris” - just No. 1, I think - this summer, and it fucking blew me away, so it’s about time I got a recording of it. It’s as good as I remembered. Now, there was also a Lutoslawski cello concerto played at that same concert that kicked my ass even more (mostly because of the cellist, Tom Kraines - one of the Governor’s School instructors and a graduate of Julliard) - I’m going to have to go hunt it down as well.
Friday, December 7th, 2001
Music I like - or at least am familiar with - that’s been on TV (all of these have been noted by myself or others on rec.music.progressive, but I felt that they were surprising enough to write about them again):
- Jethro Tull’s “Thick as a Brick” in a Hyundai ad
- Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” in South Park
- Múm’s “i’m 9 today” in a Sony Vaio ad
I was probably most surprised by the Múm - the idea of Sony using the music of an obscure Icelandic electronica outfit would seem rather far-fetched, but I guess not. The music didn’t really fit the ad all that well, I didn’t think - or maybe that’s just because it’s not your typical advertisement background music, so it just seemed a bit out of place.