The Rest Is Noise

You know that sound a steel saw makes when it cuts through rebar or other metal?  That's the sound most typically produced by Arto Lindsey on his electric guitar at Big Ears on Saturday "morning" (actually, 12:00 noon to 1:00 p.m., but it felt like morning after two days of festival late-night hours).  So this is more or less what we woke up to on Saturday.

Make no mistake - we're not complaining - it was a bracing, energetic set, and woke the audience up better than three shots of cappuccino.

The music programming at Big Ears was every bit as eclectic as our taste in music - in the four days of the festival, we heard ambient minimalism, the gentlest of solo piano and solo violin, jazz from piano standards to free-form avant-garde, folk songs, the post-rock of Godspeed, electronic dance music, a bit of pop rock and a bit of bluegrass, and even modern classical.  The rest, to play on Hamlet's words, is noise.

And what glorious noise it was!  We could go on and on, but we think we've unpacked as much of the Big Ears experience as we care to or need to, and this may well be the last post on the topic (time to move on to other things).

Speaking of noise, the festival closed out with the frighteningly intense Rhode Island scuzz-noise band Lightning Bolt.  If Algiers' music is "post-punk" and Godspeed's "post-rock," then Lightning Bolt is "post-music."  It's noise with little to no art to it, and that's what makes it so great and the most fitting way to end the high-concept festival.  Their single goal seems to be to whip the audience up into as much of a frenzy as possible.

Here's a little taste of Lightning Bolt as captured on our iPhone.  Honestly, this was one of the more melodic portions of their set - it got more anarchic from here.

   

We've got the usual music sets cued up for the next month or so (see the sidebar listings) and then in early May we have Atlanta's Shaky Knees music festival.  So between coverage of that and our ongoing, Friday-night Dreaming of the Masters series (RIP Cecil Taylor!), there should be no shortage of posts about music on this blog. 

Dreaming of the Masters

According to today's New York Times:

Cecil Taylor, a pianist who challenged the jazz tradition that produced him and became one of the most bracing, rhapsodic, abstract and original improvisers of his time, died on Thursday at his home in Brooklyn. He was 89.

R.I.P., Mr. Taylor.  Another of the Great Ones has departed.  During his life, Taylor received a Guggenheim fellowship (1973), a National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Masters award (1990), a MacArthur genius grant (1991), and the Kyoto Prize (2014).  The Times obit quotes poet and critic A. B. Spellman's 1966 appraisal of Taylor:

“There is only one musician who has, by general agreement even among those who have disliked his music, been able to incorporate all that he wants to take from classical and modern Western composition into his own distinctly individual kind of blues without in the least compromising those blues, and that is Cecil Taylor, a kind of Bartok in reverse.”

I never had the privilege of seeing Taylor perform live, but I distinctly remember a photograph of him that had a profound effect on me - Taylor sitting at the piano, playing, and in front of him, where classical musicians would put their sheet music, he had a photograph of a ballerina, her limbs blurred in the picture by her motions.  It was as if he were transcribing the blurred image into multiple scales played all at once and going in all directions, just like the dancer's limbs.  A quick search through Google Images didn't yield that photograph, but did provide this poster:

and this score to one of Taylor's compositions:

Here's Side 1 of a Cecil Taylor recording that had quite an impact on me, an underappreciated 1974 solo improvisation titled Spring of Two Blue J's.

I'm not sure what it says about me (if anything) or the state of modern music (if anything), but when I first purchased a copy of Spring of Two Blue J's sometime back in the late 70s, I found it nearly unlistenable, and initially regretted my purchase.  It seemed too abstract and I couldn't find an obvious access point from which I could jump into the dense musical textures, and the LP sat near the back, rarely-played section of my record collection.  But in later years and especially now, I can accept the music as it is and for what it is, without needing my hand held as I wade into the deeper passages.  My question is did this particular recording by this particular musician change me and teach me how to appreciate dense, non-linear music, or did everything else that I've listened to over the years allow me to be more open minded and open eared, and come to enjoy this just the way it is?  Like whether or not Princess Laia had a third nipple, I'll probably never know.

Coincidentally, I was just thinking that it was about time for this series to move from covering mostly tenor  saxophonists and start addressing jazz piano before this very compelling, almost urgent, reason to cover Cecil Taylor arose.

Synchronistically, the title of this post series, Dreaming of the Masters, is taken from the Art Ensemble of Chicago's series of recordings of the same name, one of which was from their many collaborations with Cecil Taylor.

Meanwhile, Back at Big Ears

So this happened around 7:00 p.m. on Saturday, March 24 in Knoxville, Tennessee. While nothing more needs to be said, here's another little taste of Mr. Ribot for those of you wanting a little more.

Mind

I may have asked this here before, but why do we finish the sentences in our mind?

Putting aside the question as to why our inner dialog is even in sentences to begin with, I've never surprised myself with the ending of one of the mental sentences I've started.  I've never thought, "Oh my gosh!  I was anticipating that I was going to think this one thing, and then I totally surprised myself at the end of the thought with something completely unexpected!"  Once we know what we're thinking, why drag the thought out to it's bitter end?  And when I just referred to the end of a thought, why did you automatically understand that I meant the end of my mental sentence?

Actually, cutting off one's mental sentences is a pretty good meditation technique.  While sitting, as soon as you realize that you're constructing a sentence in your mind, cut that sentence off mid-thought right at the moment of realization.  And then as soon as you realize you're thinking, "Well, that ended that," then cut off that sentence, and then the next, and then the next, and so on.  To be perfectly honest, they never really stop, at least for me, but with enough cutting off, the voice does get very quiet and the thoughts get fewer and further in between, allowing one glimpses of the silence in between.  Try it some time.   

If that doesn't work for you, you may go the whole other way and engage the mind by asking yourself some of the questions research scientist Philip Johnson-Laird asks in the prologue to his 1983 book Mental Models:

• Why is it that we cannot think everything at once, but are forced to have one thought after another?  


• Our memories exist together. Why can't we call them to mind all at once?


• Why are there silences when we think aloud?  Are we thinking at those moments, or are we unable to put our thoughts into words? 

The more we search for our mind, the harder it is to find.  

Did Princess Leia Have A Third Nipple?

We'll finish unpacking the remainder of our Big Ears experience later this week, but first let us ponder those questions to which we may never have an answer.

The Five Greatest Songs of All Times (Diamanda Galas Edition)

Diamanda Galas at Big Ears 2018 

The GOAT songs take many different forms. Depending on mood, depending on style, depending on context, any given song may or may not qualify as a GOAT.  So instead of crossing genres and boundaries, this week's list of the five GOAT songs will focus entirely on one artist, Diamanda Galas, who we got to see in an astonishing concert during this year's Big Ears festival. We typically use the term "show" instead on "concert" to describe live sets, but to be sure, Ms. Galas puts on "concerts," although those concerts are quite the show.

Honestly, our biggest question of the evening was whether Diamanda was a vampire or a wraith.  If real life were Skyrim, we would have slayed her just to see if she was carrying any void salts, but the so-called consensus reality being what it is, no one was harmed during the performance.

Anyway, here are our five favorite Diamanda Galas songs of all times.  The first clip, Skótoseme ("Kill Me" in Greek) is worth watching if for no other reason than to see a young Jon Stewart from 24 years ago, as well as Diamanda in rare goth-punk mode and a glimpse of what her career might have been like if she had decided to go the rock-music route instead of the concert-hall route (also, the bass player is from a little band you may have heard of called Led Zeppelin).  Galas' cover of The Thrill Is Gone is a good example of how she can bend and contort any song to her own style.  Das Fieberspital (The Fever Hospital) is based on a German expressionist poem about the stigmatization and horrid suffering of yellow fever patients, and if it doesn't give you nightmares, you're a braver person than I.  You Don't Know What Love Is is a live recording that captures not only Galas' unique piano style, but also the disciplined, sustained control she has over her voice - if nothing else, listen around the 5:00-minute mark to hear her hold one note for nearly 30 seconds (just try singing along to appreciate what she's doing).  Judgement Day is another live recording, and even the most casual listen will indicate why it's included in the Top 5 GOAT list.  Honestly, Diamanda Galas makes Zola Jesus and Florence Welch sound like, well, Kate Nash.

Did you make it through all that?  Good.  Now, finally, just for the lulz and your reward for hanging in there, here's an unintentionally hilarious local (La Jolla, California) news segment about a Diamanda Galas performance, as reviewed by some anchors who just don't get it. 

Easter

Recognizing the distinct possibility that we've been getting more than a little bit obsessive with our unpacking all the performances we saw at the Big Ears Festival, let's take a Zen moment to pause and return to the here and now and recognize that it's springtime, that today's Easter, and that this is the brief time of year my azaleas are in bloom.

This holiday always recalls English band XTC's baroque-rock masterpiece Apple Venus Volume 1 and in particular the song Easter Theater. 

And speaking of Easter, I couldn't resist posting this picture:

Happy Easter, everyone!

Four Tet Et Cet. at Big Ears

One of the highlights of the Big Ears Festival for us was probably the late night set by English electronic musician Four Tet.  He didn't take the stage until midnight after we had been on our feet and watching various live sets since 12:00 noon that day, but the music he played transported us beyond our physical limitations and complaints and his 90-minute set passed quite pleasantly. 

Although considered by many an EDM performer, Four Tet foregoes the extravagant light and video shows featured by many EDM performers and concentrates instead on the music.  We think that in his mind he's an electronic musician, not just a beats producer or a DJ for a dance party.  In fact, he played in the dark, his equipment illuminated only by two table lamps, and he let the audience dance, sway, or just stand there in awe in the dark as they so chose.  Here is a sample of his set that I found on YouTube, and as you can see, while he makes great music, it's somewhat less than visually compelling.

For contrast, here's a clip from Kelly Lee Owens, who was up before Four Tet and entertained the crowd with her singing, dancing and psychedelic projections as she performed her trance-like music.

Don't get us wrong, though - we're not complaining about Four Tet's lack of razzle-dazzle - as a matter of fact, we admire him for sticking to the music and letting his artistry speak for itself, rather than striving to constantly entertain a bunch of ADHD kids on ecstasy.  And we're not alone - unseen to most of the audience but visible from our position right up on the stage, Kelly Lee Owens herself was dancing backstage throughout almost the entirety of Four Tet's set.  Here's another little taste of Four Tet:

But the point of this post is that as great as the Four Tet set was, the next day, Four Tet performed an improvisational duet under his real name, Kieran Hebden, along with Mats Gufstasson, Norwegian sax monster from the jazz band The Thing.  The pairing of an English EDM musician with a skronky Norwegian jazz musician might seem like an odd arrangement and perhaps it was, but the two are both skilled improvisers and played off each other beautifully, and as it turns out not only was their set our favorite of the festival, it was one of the top five performances we've ever seen in our long life of listening to live music.  Ever.  Life-time top five (no shit).  As before, here's a small sample.   

The first half of their set, which was just one long improvisation, was led by Kieran's ambient soundscapes and textures, with Mats filling in odd, like-minded sounds between the synthesized notes, and the second half of the set was most definitely dominated by Mats, who built up to an epic free jazz rant, with Kieran hanging on to his coattails for the ride. As I recall, this is around the mid-point of the set, the transition from one lead to the other.

And here's Mats as he started taking over the set, exploring the upper stratosphere with Kieran's electronics the wind beneath his wings.

Here's our own video of Mats at full-throated intensity near the peak of his performance.  We were initially reluctant to post this because it could be misunderstood out of context, but if you've watched any of the videos above, we think you're ready for this.

We were literally speechless after the set.  Kieran and Mats were both triumphantly jumping around the stage together and embracing because they both knew that they had just nailed it.  

The videos don't really do justice to the set due to their brevity (you kind of have to be along for the whole ride to get it) and the limitations of YouTube's sound compression compared to that of a live performance, but trust us - this was truly an astonishing thing.  

These are the moments you go to live shows to experience.  This is what it's all about.

A few more photos of the set to close out this post before we embarrass ourselves with our gushing enthusiasm.

Dreaming of the Masters

We've posted Alice Coltrane here before, but after seeing members of her ashram perform last Sunday at Big Ears, it just feels sort of natural to post her again.

Alice's journey is a remarkable story.  The widow of arguably the most towering of the titans of jazz music, she kept John's legacy alive for several years before developing her own jazz sound featuring harp, piano, and frequent guest collaborator Pharoah Sanders.  But somewhere along the line, before departing this mortal coil in 2007, she formed an ashram in Southern California and adapted spiritual singing and chants into her own music.  Here's a vastly different version of her classic Journey to Satchidinanda.  

Naturally, it was members of her ashram that performed at Big Ears and not the late Ms. Coltrane herself, but still - the ashram of the widow of John Coltrane - it was a rare opportunity to get so close to one of the departed masters.

Bela Fleck and Abigail Washburn

Tonight, live in Atlanta, Georgia, newgrass-bluegrass musicians extraordinaire Bela Fleck and Abigail Washburn will perform at the venerable Variety Playhouse.  They're the only act listed on the lineup and doors open at 7:00, so there's a good chance we could get home from the show before 11:00.  If, that is, we were going - which we're not, not because we don't like the musicians (we do) but because we just saw them at Big Ears last Saturday.

Sure, tonight's set will be a great show, but is Grammy-winner and MacArthur Genius Grant recipient Rhiannon Giddens singing with them, like she did at Big Ears?  No, we didn't think so. Is the adventurous new-music string quartet Brooklyn Rider playing with them, like they did at Big Ears?

 
No, we didn't think so.  But will tonight's set include pregnant clogging?

Probably. Sure.  We'll grant you that much. Abigail's almost certainly still as preggo as she was on Saturday, and probably no less inclined to clog when the set calls for it.  Still, not to sound like snobs, tonight's show at the Playhouse should be a great set, even without Giddens and Brooklyn Rider, especially for those who can appreciate the intersection of traditional bluegrass and Americana with innovative, eclectic improvisation.

We had been wanting to hear Bela live ever since we first heard his debut LP way back in 1990, and it sort of amazes us that it's actually taken this long to finally get the opportunity.  Here's Sinister Minister from that long-ago LP, featuring the outstanding Victor Wooten on bass.

And finally, as long as we're unpacking the Big Ears experience and all, here's a nice profile of Bela and Abigail that aired on CBS' This Morning in 2015.

Incidentally, Washburn also did a set at Big Ears with Chinese zither master Wu Fei which, unfortunately, we missed.

Algiers at Big Ears

Tonight, live in Atlanta, Georgia, native sons Algiers perform at the venerable Drunken Unicorn. They headline a great lineup that includes Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires, Omni, and Mourning, featuring A Blkstar.  It's such a good lineup, in fact, that we're not going - too many bands for a weeknight and the doors don't even open until 8:30. We'd be lucky if Algiers even takes the stage before midnight, and we wouldn't get home until well past 1:00 a.m.

 

Not to worry, though - we just saw Algiers perform at Big Ears, a full-capacity, SRO performance at The Standard, a repurposed industrial space along the Knoxville railroad tracks.  

It wasn't the best Algiers performance we've seen, TBQH.  The band suffered from a poor sound mix at the club, and frontman Franklin James Fisher had to appeal several times to the soundman to turn up his monitor.  Also, bassist Ryan Mahan wasn't able to play on this tour, reportedly being detained in London, England for some undisclosed reason, and despite the able assistance of a guest bassist, the band seemed somehow off their usual game.  Still, an Algiers performance, even on an off day, is a special set and something to behold, as I could tell by the blown minds of many in the audience around me after their set was over.   

Today, we stumbled across this video of Algiers from Big Ears.  This isn't the performance that we saw at The Standard, but a "secret show" they performed the next day at The Pilot Light, a tiny, hole-in-the-wall space a couple blocks from The Standard and not announced to the public until an hour or so in advance of the show (we were at Bela Fleck and then later John Medeski during their secret show). Still,the set list and the performance are much the same, and if anything, they seem to be suffering fewer technical difficulties than they had to endure at The Standard.  So if, unlike us, you weren't able to attend Big Ears 2018, or if, like us, you're not going to their Drunken Unicorn set tonight, here's perhaps the next best thing - a faithful video of their secret show performance at the Pilot Light.

Laziness

Milford Graves (r) and Jason Moran (l) at the Bijou Theater, Big Ears 2018

My dear friend L. sent me a link to an NPR article reviewing this year's Big Ears Festival.  Not only was it a good read, but it gave me a night's respite from posting, because instead of further unpacking the festival experience, I can just post the link right here and let you read it for yourself while I take a night off.

G'night, y'all!  Happy reading!