PUNGO: “1980-81” ****

Recorded 1980-81

 

Nobody remembers Pungo.  Tolerance?  Certainly.  Nord?  Yes.  Tenno?  Yes.  Inryofuen?  Maybe.  But Pungo?   No. 

 

Rewind.  Tokyo 1980-81.  The long-forgotten era of Prime Minister Suzuki, the Pope’s visit to Japan, Kurosawa’s “Kagemusha” and Chiyonofuji’s nascent dominance in sumo.  This was still a pre-bubble economy, fast diversifying after the second oil shock. 

 

Frequent attraction at Shinjuku’s ABC Hall, Pungo were essentially an idea of Yuriko Mukôjima (then Yuriko Kamba) and her friends, with Masami Shinoda among them.  Unshackled by requirements of musical virtuosity and critical of the stubbornly conservative Japanese society, they easily co-opted like minded amateurs.  Musically this implied the creation of austere, anthemic amalgams delivered in an egalitarian, colloquial fashion, amusingly covered up by genuine counter-culture convictions.  The predilection for makeshift pathos of revolutionary hymns corresponded, belatedly, to European left-wing sensibilities, as evinced by Stormy Six or Sogennantes Linksradikales Blasorchester.  But their musical idealism was informed by anti-aesthetics of post-punk. 

 

Akihiro Ishiwatari and Pungo’s engineer Ken’ichi Takeda went on to launch an even more straightforwardly leftist A-Musik.  They invited Shinoda.  Pungo’s subversive spirit lived a little longer in the poorly documented supergroup Fake which co-opted the likes of Tenko, Chie Mukai and Keiji Haino.  Sadly, Yuriko Mukôjima’s musical traces after 1981 were sporadic at best (Che Shizu, Lars Hollmer).  The late Masami Shinoda continued on his folk-jazz and anti-jazz pathway.  His art was to Tokyo what Curlew were to New York and Goebbels-Harth to Frankfurt.  

 

 

 

Rakutsu

After a curtain-raising sleigh bells jingle, accordion and bass intone a triste anthem.  The melody emerges slowly like revolutionaries from their conspiratorial gathering.  Painstakingly, Takashi Satô unearths his tympani meter.  Masami Shinoda’s weathered, proletarian alto saxophone carries the burden of a somber, urban ballad.  Yukio Satô’s ischaemic electric guitar fuzzes its way out of muck with adhesive anonymity. 

 

Teema

In one of collective hallmarks, Pungo launches into kabuki-like melismas ingeniously followed by galloping drumstick work.  Saxophone and guitar skronk jump in, setting the stage for Yuriko Kamba’s excoriating exclamations.  Two female dancers apparently participated in this live show.  It could be a French passepied, dependent on guitar and saxophone in latter-day Mahjun style.  But the parenthesis does not last and the band quickly reverts to the very Shintoist ascetism of howl’n’drum.  After a short silence, unconventional kabuki-like barking snaps at a cheaply romantic ballroom acoustic piano (Yuriko).  The final belongs to the shaggy, contrarian guitar.

 

Mikai no tango

Yuriko Kamba’s singing adjusts to Meguo Hisashita’s tangoed drumming.  The effort founders, torpefied by sudden hardcore blitz.  Yuriko yells the text against a raucous band led by Shinoda.  When the tango section returns, it does so in splashy, sloppy guitar chords.  Shinoda’s aylerian alto improvises lacrimoso over the choppy dance from Richueala’s shores.  Jirô Imai’s bass and Yuriko’s acoustic piano trudge wearily forward, but not for long. 

 

Shido

Rather than “playing”, Yuriko drums piano keys in a rashly muted mode reminiscent of early Reportaz (NB, the recording is of equally poor sound quality).  The performance is dramatic, barren and lackluster.  Imai’s bass landslide selectively stresses the beat.  After several austere repetitions, Shinoda intones the melody, but is quickly contested by the piano.  A rather disjointed percussion duo of Akihiro Ishiwatari and Takashi Satô scuttles around with amateurish, chronically offbeat drumming.  The racket keeps Shinoda’s lead from becoming too fluent and jazzy, but his hoarse manner continues to weave in the background, flanked by Yuriko’s irate shouting.  Satô’s minimal, truncated guitar shales evoke the Contortionists’ Jody Harris from around the same time. 

 

Yôdodo

The now familiar kabuki howling is on this track exclusively female and less audacious than previously.  When tribal drumming and bass fall into the groove, Shinoda improvises freely.  The demoniac wailing vaticinates Kwaidan imagery, unaffected by unsophisticated bass ostinato and rather basic four-handed drumming.  This is programmatically incompetent naïvism at its very best.

 

Ikenai

This memorable musical o-bento opens with a funky bass line and rotoreflective cymbal.  The chorus will swing from branches, aping an echoing, loony line: “ouah-ouah-ouah”.  A reggae-like guitar and a Pogues-type accordion give this bolero a very passé complexion.  As usual, the saxophone is more agile than the rest of the skittery band.  Yukiko keeps admonishing that we must not (“Ikenai”).  An unexpected countdown – “one-two-three-four” – and a counterblast of saxophone, guitar and violin rises from this ash heap like a step pyramid.  The band quickly returns to the funky groove, with the innocuously half-baked “ouha-ouah-ouah” and piano tremolos.  But the countdown returns – and so does the tidal wall.  The “reggae” guitar exits the scale and nothing appears in place anymore.  The alternation between the “song” and the Sun Ra-like cacophonous ziggurats in increasingly rash and unpredictable.  With each iteration, the band further purifies its exercise of deconstruction. 

 

Oiji

This is Pungo pared down to the co-leaders.  Yuriko’s accordion is tuning in slowly, abandoned in the environment of daily crackle, chores and voices.  Then, two saxophones and accordion deliver a harsh fanfare, through which Yuriko’s girly voice barely penetrates.  This track was recorded live in Kyoto and Shinoda appears to be playing on two saxophones at the same time, Roland Kirk-way.   An ocean of accordion harmonics waves gently, buoying the girly vocal.  Until Shinoda’s squeal drowns out everything else. 

 

Shinteema

After this duet, we have 14 taiko players rattling in this ingeniously entitled “New Theme”.  We can detect discrete shamisen, but before the jumpy “new” theme becomes just another Okinawa song, a megaton wind orchestra swamps it – covering a range from piccolo to tuba.  The guzzling big band emboldens the large chorus to sloganeer in the good old tradition etched in by the previous generation (early Tokyo Kid Brothers).  When the wind instruments wilter, solo chanting and piano will dominate for a moment.  The typhoon of taiko drumming and the crowded chorus wander on with their festive cheer about a traditional festival, tongue in cheek.  Pungo assembled here an incredible array of talent for mere cameo appearances – several bass players, dancers and violinists, including Chihiro Saito from avant-prog anti-melodists Lacrymosa.  This certainly was not the unique occasion.  We know that Phew also sang live with expanded Pungo.

 

Habanera

More of Iradier than Bizet, this is a farewell dance for saxophone and drum in slow, inevitable decay. 

 

***

 

PUNGO: “1981-82” (1981-82)

 

A-Musik remains the closest in the spirit to Pungo.  Shinoda’s later career blazed the trails of philosophical folk-jazz, but never lost its porous, unsettling quality.  Pidgin Combo were an international effort with Tom Cora.

 

A MUSIK: “E ku iroju” (1983)

Takuya NISHIMURA – Masami SHINODA: “Duo” (1986)

PIDGIN COMBO: “Long Vacation” (1988-89)

COMPOSTELA: “Compostela” (1990)

COMPOSTELA: “Wadachi” (1991-92)

 

For Shinoda completists, his scraggy, prismatic alto can also be found on. 

 

Kumiko SUYAMA: “Yume no hajimari” (1986)

CHE SHIZU: “Nazareth Live shû 1” (1983-1992)

MAHER SHALAL HASH BAZ: “From a Summer to Another Summer” (1985, 1989)

CASSIBER: “Live in Tokyo” (1992)

 

Yoshihide Otomo was Compostela’s fan.  His Ground Zero also sampled Shinoda’s alto saxophone with Cassiber on the unforgettable classic “Kakumei Kyôgeki”:

 

GROUND ZERO: “Kakumei kyôgeki” (1995-96)

Published in: on July 12, 2008 at 9:10 am  Leave a Comment  
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ARCHIMEDES BADKAR: “II” *****

Recorded 1974-76

 

 

Archimedes Badkar were a sizable conglomerate of highly talented Swedish musicians who enjoyed straddling the uncertain ground between European folk traditions, unjazzy improvisation and exotic panethnicity.  Although on vinyl few of their compositions extended 10 minutes, the free-flowing form of these pieces indicates that their musical adventures must have been more lengthy affairs.  

 

The band’s debut was recorded in a movable line-up of Per Tjernberg (keyboards), Peter Rönnberg (guitar), Matts Hellqvist (guitar and bass), Christer Bjernelind (bass), Kjell Andersson (drums), Tommy Adolfsson (trumpet), Jörgen Adolfsson (saxophone) and Pysen Eriksson (percussion).  Multi-instrumentalist Ingvar Karkoff later replaced Rönnberg, but only appeared on the second LP.  By the time Archimedes Badkar recorded its third LP, Bengt Berger and Peter Ragnarsson took responsibility for the increasingly complex polyrhythmic exoticism. 

 

Clearly, Archimedes Badkar fully digested the seeds planted in Sweden by Don Cherry in the early 1970s.  Despite the various influences – Balkan, Indian, or West African – the band’s unquestionable musical literacy always allowed them to maintain a sense of balance.  It remains a fresh and engaging experience over three decades later.

 

 

 

Förtryckets sista timme

The double LP begins with a riddle.  Ottoman-sounding lute will weave its gentle threads throughout this first piece, but we are not sure who the player is.  The original LP mentions Anita Livstrand as the officiating tambura player, but some later tracks convince us that she probably handles the droning Indian tambura, not the long-necked Iranian tambura or Yugoslav namesake derived from Turkish saz…  Whoever the virtuoso of this oud-sounding lute is does a heck of a job.  The drone ration is provided by Jörgen Alofsson on static viola.  Pysen Eriksson adds his hand drums with divagations transplanted from raga scales.  As discrete accompaniment is being procreated from an intercourse of tambourine and electric bass, the “oud” lays out uplifting, floating, quasi-improvised beadwork.  Then the viola drone and rhythmic tiles whittle down, allowing the “oud” to handle the spotlight with C-tunings.  The track picks up pace and sidewinds with Christer Bjernelind’s locked-in bass becoming more prominent.  This sublime example of damascened ethno-jazz-folk was written by Christér Bothen, one of Don Cherry’s disciples.

 

Efter regnet

Peter Ragnarsson on digressive tabla and Christer Bjernelind on glimmering, breezy mandola anchor the rest of the band.  Somewhat laconic and parsimonious, the viola lurks behind, overshadowed by faint, subharmonic vocalizations.  Tangential (Indian) tambura plays a very marginal role here – only occasionally pitching in a short phrase.  Throughout the piece, the sensorial and subtle timbral organization evokes the Italian band Aktuala which featured a very young Trilok Gurtu around the same time.  When violin and mandola finally intone a springtime tune, things get progressively denser, with superimposition of patterns moving in various directions. 

 

Vattenfall

This sequel, recorded several months later, is a much faster acoustic guitar theme that evolves into a pleasant theme for multiple lutes and bass. 

 

Rebecca

A sprightly folk song is played on clarinet solo (Kjell Andersson) and mandolin.  After the competent intro, an unwieldy recorder and triangle add some enhancing accents. 

 

Jorden

Sleigh bells invite us to a Nordic ride.  Polarized drone emerges from electric guitars, painting static aquarelle circles.  The bells and coppery jangle occasionally bulge from inside the drone, some generated by faster handiwork and some by dissolute pick scrapes.  At the end, only sleigh bells bid farewell.

 

”Charmante Yérévan” en lät från Armenien

This traditional Armenian song was arranged by Per Tjernberg and Kjell Westling of Arbete och Fritid.  Westling, who had recently recorded with Bengt Berger in Spjärnsvallet, appears here on flutes, disambiguating the melodic lines.  The remaining instruments – electric piano, mandola, acoustic piano, drum and bass – conform to the Sweden’s vintage ‘world music’ style of that era and comparisons with Arbete och Fritid cannot be easily avoided.  When Per Tjernberg’s clavinet rolls into the cusps of twists and hooks, Samla Mammas Manna’s tongue-in-cheek playfulness comes to mind as well.  There are even more references when the duo of Tommy & Jörgen Adolfsson on trumpet and saxophone takes over.  This album was recorded barely four months after Tommy Adolfsson participated in the recording of Berits Halsband’s eponymous LP.  From all this personal distraction emerges an intoxicating classic of European folk.  The candid cascade is finally cut off by the bass and electric piano.

 

Afreaka II

This track prepares us for the abstract sound that Jörgen Adolfsson would soon develop on Iskra’s monumental avant-garde jazz recordings, with bells, chimes, free form acoustic guitar and excursions into piano morphology.  Drumsticks hurt themselves against a metal frame, while less bruised participants embark on a timbral research of mandola and mandolin (Jörgen Adolfsson).  After a short silence, sparse scraps of isolated notes contend with hollow bamboo clacking and half-mute gongs.  Unexpectedly, acoustic guitar quilts a West African-sounding picking line, quickly falling into a groove and gaining support from an army of shakers, rattles and vibraslap.  The resulting, obsessive drumming on woodblocks (Bengt Berger) reminds me of a raucous, percussive trip on a Senegalese ferry not long ago…  Here, Archimedes Badkar engages with passion in a tribal jam, fading out all too soon.

 

Radio Tibet

The first question is – “is it a tuba, or is it a Tibetan trumpet”?  Recalling my own visits to Tibetan monasteries, this sounds rather quiet and unobtrusive by comparison.  Crash cymbals resonate, with long sustain before we can identify the horn sound to be (most probably) Bb bass trumpet.  It is endowed with a round, full sound – way more responsive than the long Tibetan trumpets and more easily likened to a trombone.  When Ingvar Karkoff’s electric guitar tinkers gently with reverb, he is ends up being entirely swallowed by the resulting echo.  Meanwhile, crotals shimmer fluently, ebbing and flowing in and out of focus.  The layers accumulate, impasto style – Pysen Eriksson pitches in on palo de agua and some metallic tubes send out graceful overtones.  By now Karkoff’s guitar turns into a Günter Schickert-like echo guitar, albeit sans its rock rhythm.

 

Tvä världar

Surprisingly, this is formed around additive rhythms on acoustic piano, reminiscent of Steve Reich’s easily recognizable style, and complete with invading horn waves.  Only mandolin’s barely tangible clipping adds a differing shade.  We have sitar and chimes with splashes of liquefied color; and a soprano saxophone sketching a melancholic line.  In a bow to systemic syncretism, the violin chips in in a more Paul Zukofsky-like manner (more active, squeezing many more notes per measure).  These claddings are carried on loops of various lengths and begin to diverge just when a straight-ahead rock drum intervenes.  Once, twice.  Then nothing.  Thrice.  Is this going to be another rock version of classical American minimalism?  L’infonie’s “Vol.33” (1970) comes to mind – the very first of many rock adaptations of Terry Riley’s most famous composition.  But Archimedes Badkar is not launching into rewriting the rules of the genre.  The band will incorporate a salient trumpet, a feeble piano and the Indian tambura forever condemned to its background role. 

 

Jugoslavisk dansk

This is a merry “Yugoslav” dance scored for saxophone, tambourine and solo clarinet.  With some additional ingredients from reticent acoustic piano and bass, the band spins endlessly – there so much buoyancy with just a couple measures!  We would have to wait for Matt Darriau’s Paradox Trio to get a real mouthful of these Balkan hooks. 

 

Indisk folkmelodi och ett tema av Ingvar

Indian tambura drone translates for us the Swedish title (Indian folk melody).  Very un-Indian recorders replace subcontinental shawms and clavinet substitutes for…  well only Ingvar Karkoff would know for what.  The rhythmic framework is maintained by Moroccan bandir and tambourine.  In a fluid, conversational development, Per Tjernberg syncopates on his acoustic piano within the limits of the upbeat theme.  Archimedes Badkar perfected a thematic evolution in which melodious prayers are born from exotic percussive foam, something that this piece does very well.

 

Tvä hundra stolta är

The closing track is a very distinct affair, opening with non-realist cello bowing.  All the other contributions will remain contingent on this – electronic organ overtones, violin squeals and mourning.  It is a highly intense piece of improvisation zooming on a rather unusual instrumental combination.  The violin and cello will seek some classical cues, but to no avail; the exploration will remain free form.  Kjell Anderson scrapes and grates his drums but dares not to beat them.  The plaintive violin brings back the ghost of Dave Cross. 

 

 

***

 

Archimedes Badkar climaxed around the time of “II”, but their first LP is equally recommended. 

 

ARCHIMEDES BADKAR: “Badrock för barn i alla åldrar” (1974)

ARCHIMEDES BADKAR: “II” 2LP (1974-76)

ARCHIMEDES BADKAR: “Tre” (1977)

ARCHIMEDES BADKAR: “Bado kidogo” (1979)

 

For those who enjoy the ethno-jazz side of Archimedes Badkar, several early efforts by Bengt Berger are also worth tracking down:

 

RENA RAMA: “Rena Rama” (1973)

SPJÄRNSVALLET: “Spjärnsvallet” (1975)

Bengt BERGER: “Bitter Funeral Beer” (1981)

BITTER FUNERAL BEER BAND: “Live in Nürnberg“ (1984)

 

Jörgen Adolfsson’s Iskra developed a very different, free form style that at first approach may seem sterile.  These records do, however, reward listeners’ commitment.  You do not have to be the lover of European free jazz to enjoy them.

 

ISKRA: “Jazz i Sverige 1975“ 2LP (1975)

ISKRA: “Allemansrätt“ (1976-77)

ISKRA: “Besvärjelser“ (1979)

 

As mentioned before, Tommy Adolfsson starred on Berits Halsband’s eponymous LP.  The band’s music falls more into avant-fusion category.  It is highly rewarding and has aged very well.

 

BERITS HALSBAND: “Berits Halsband” (1975)

 

Archimedes Badkar’s extended line-up overlaps partly with the ever eclectic Arbete och Fritid and with Don Cherry’s Swedish formations.  Both will qualify for separate treatment.

Published in: on July 10, 2008 at 6:07 am  Comments (3)  
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PRP GROUP: “Today Was the Happiest Day of Your Life” ***

Recorded 2004

 

Prp Group are (were?) a British trio of Ashley Clarke (drums), Richard Riz Errington (guitar, electronics) and Michael Clough (bass).  In the 1980s, all three were active in another formation known as Rancid Poultry. 

 

Prp Group’s sound is based on a smooth, interactive flow between the three, fully enfranchised musicians.  Often yielding to the lure of rock jamming, the band has been on a continuous quest for definitive sound.  Each recording seemed to tap into different deposits of experimental rock – from tropospheric space jams, through post-punk’s self-regulating ostinatos, to smelting guitar trio feedbacks. 

 

It is not clear if the band is still in existence.  Their output from earlier in this decade documents well various phases of their stylistic research.  At the same time, their intriguing CDRs carried a promise that they would eventually go beyond the rehearsal stage.

 

 

Ptarmigans

The track begins with a subterrestrial bass vibrato and rim shots from Ashley Clarke.  The succulent bass morphs into a regular ostinato, underlying the contrast with the dissicated drumstick work – in an (unintended?) resemblance to good old A Certain Ratio.  After about 20 turns, cymbals check in, cushioning a cleanly combed electric guitar which reverberates in the distance.  The guitar’s tickle and giggle iterations become brassy, gaining an almost timbales-like resonance, but the high-pitched notes’ call for the timbales answer will remain aperiodic.  A drum’n’bass dialogue walks in spryly, despite Jah Wobble-like bass tuning.  One just can’t dispel the memory of PIL’s “Fodderstompf” from 30 years ago (ouch !).  This is definitely not a space rock jam as we have known it from many talented US bands over the last decade.  Rather, Prp Group stays quite restrained and almost reluctant to engage in disorienting crotchets.  Although the extended, slow moving structure allows the guitar to improvise freely, Richard Errington appears surprisingly constrained, incorporating fairly minimal variance.  Finally, the drumming becomes more forceful and some additional treatments rear their buzzing heads.  This is when additional wooden percussive effects appear – sounding like angklung or a small bamboo xylophone. 

 

Shatner’s Bassoon

This piece starts with cyclonic electro-fluctuations and an extra-metric drumming hiccup – regular enough to sound like a sample.  The hi-hat is quite lonely in its chore, groping for understanding bass figure.  Some droning cylinders pivot incessantly – now you hear’em, now you don’t.  The repetition is slowly earning a loop-sounding, systemic character and the accent shifts offbeat.  Soon afterwards, it is reduced to pure, sputtering electronics.

 

Cow

Michael Clough’s relaxing bass exposes an obsessively simplistic, 9-note songlike phrase.  Languid drums and dry guitar clang do little to distract us from this self-defeating idea.  Echoing drum rims, acoustic guitar, purring electronic surge, crash cymbals and ratchet will all apportion some non-linearity, but the lack of convincing development is problematic.  Dub treatment selectively tackles drum reverb, but Adrian Sherwood this is not.  Some of the echoplex treatments are even a little childish, and those that do work are overfamiliar – a metallic pipe effect, alternatively extended reverb and damping of cymbals.  This amounts to little more than explorations into sustain and muting.  The listener’s attention is finally rewarded by “chopsticking” on a hard surface – light and multiplied many times over until smeared out into a buzz – a moment worthy of François Bayle or Bernard Parmegiani.  Unfortunately, a marching version of the elementary theme ruins the tail end.  A rocket lift-off noise will lead us directly into the next piece.

 

Dub Version of the Previous Track

This misleading title picks up where the “Cow” left off, but throws “dub” out of the window.  Yes, we do have reverb and even much of that, but it turns the aural environment into flywheels of electromagnetic buzz, fraught with sizzle, frizzle and feedback.  The pitch control is fairly slow; the amplitude control a little more varied.  The oscillations fingerpoint some blackbird tweets, panning between the right and left channel.  There is some intentional feedback from a speaker that sounds as if it had caught the waveforms from a fluorescent bulb nearby.  With the top range teeming with swarms of insects and the lower end hammering resoundingly, the days of contemporary studio luminaries (Milton Babbitt or Richard Maxfield) seem to be back.  Just the (very acoustic) drumming occasionally adds a non-academic twist to the concoction.  Again, this track will seamlessly sublimate into the next one. 

 

The Elephant Charmer

The carry-over drumming intensifies, increasingly emphatic and bruising.  Ashley Clarke pounds with abandon to the limit of our Faustian imagination.  It could almost segue into “it’s a rainy day, sunshine baby” as in the recent live recordings of the Diermeier-Peron version of the legendary kraut-band.  Prp Group will instead keep socking, with a riffless fuzz guitar sustaining its chords.

 

***

 

The discography of prpGroup is limited to relatively short CDRs.  Positions 1 and 2 were later collected on one CDR entitled “Penfruit/Babylard”.  Likewise, 3 and 4 can be found on one CDR.  Unfortunately, I have not heard position 5. 

 

1. PRP GROUP: “Penfruit” (2001)

2. PRP GROUP: “Babylard” (2002)

3. PRP GROUP: “Snib” (2003)

4. PRP GROUP: “Sun Pie in a Custard Pie” (2003)

5. PRP GROUP: “Soil Pipe” (?)

6. PRP GROUP: “Today Was the Happiest Day of Your Life” (2004)

 

Aside from Rancid Poultry, Clough had also played in duo with Errington (as Clothearz) and with Clarke (as AMA).  At the moment, Sonic Asymmetry is not aware of any other recordings by PrpGroup.  Are you?

 

Published in: on July 8, 2008 at 6:06 am  Comments (1)  
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Lars HOLLMER: “Viandra” *****

 

Recorded 2001-2007

 

The world would be much gloomier a place without Lars Hollmer.  The Swedish composer, accordionist and keyboard player was the key force behind the legendary Samla Mammas Manna and has over the last quarter of the century developed a unique melodist vocabulary, drawing inspiration from both European folk music and baroque.

 

Holed up in his “Chickenhouse” home studio in Uppsala, Hollmer has regularly brought to Nordic light series of highly successful accordion miniatures.  Whether in stately fugues and cantatas, jolting polkas and farandoles, rapid scherzos and capriccios or pensive lullabies and bagatelles, Hollmer’s final synthesis remained highly original and instantly appealing.  Despite his frequent references to the traditional dances of the European north, the relative paucity of direct quotations has kept him apart from the Scandinavian folk renaissance of the last 15 years. 

 

Some of Zamla’s fans reproach Hollmer for not replicating the band’s sound more faithfully.  But Zamla was always more than just Lars Hollmer.  His solo records lack the band’s contorted time signatures, contrary motions, Coste Apetrea’s guitar twitches or extended, mirthful extemporations.  Still, Hollmer’s recordings more than compensate for that with cliché-free emotional content and open minded attitude to a variety of musical traditions. 

 

 

 

Viandra

This is not the first time that Hollmer opens his record witch such an unassuming, feathery tune.  His accordion knits slow, reedy gables.  Harmonic mellotronics materializes, setting the stage for middle register, consonant melodic line.  But the gracefulness of the piece distracts from the otherwise unstable periodicity of the epicycles carrying not one, but several charming sub-themes. 

 

Mirror Objects

This time mellotronics invites us to a poignant waltz.  Hollmer’s accordion merely serves harmonics.  The piece stays afloat, eerily tinged with 1940s’ tenebrism. 

 

Sök

The track begins with a low-key glockenspiel, then moving on to a full quartet sound.  Michel Berckmans enters on stately, silicate English horn, joined by Santiago Jimenez on violin and Andreas Tengberg on cello.  The isostatic character of the piece first smacks of distant memories of a music school, save for the seasoned pizzicato.  The band burgeons in an atmosphere of serenity, later carmelizing into decorative baroque quatrefoils. 

 

Snabb

In a radical change of pace, “Snabb” introduces high volume, bass-laden digital drum setting for a melodica and accordion line.  In turn, the subsequent transition will draw on Miriodor-like, keyboard-led neo-classicism.  The rest of the piece is be filled by the contrasting alteration between the drum episode (courtesy none other than Morgan Agren of Mats & Morgan fame) and the classicizing keyboard answer.  Towards the end, the robust pummeling will be enriched by tinny, hollow kalimba touches. 

 

Moldaviska

This track was apparently inspired by a Moldavian girl who appeared in a movie to which Hollmer wrote a score.  A short divertimento for accordion, melodica and acoustic piano proves Hollmer’s willingness to constantly refresh his format with new sources of folk inspiration. 

 

Påztema

A wistful, songlike cavatina of highest caliber.  It is delivered camminando with the basic bass line from the keyboard bass, and the melody spinning through melodica.  Ulf Wallander on tenor saxophone adds some agility to lower registers, enhancing the bass line.  This is one of the most romantic moments on this record.

 

Prozesscirk

The full quartet returns with strings and accordion interplay – a format that can scarcely escape comparisons to Astor Piazzolla’s legendary dramaturgy.  Glockenspiel and keyboards are in clear lead, hosting a concordant, ashy veil of bassoon, cello and violin.  A double of violin and accordion paint a theme that hangs over like cirrocumulus.  This could easily qualify for Hollmer’s another film score. 

 

Merged with Friends

Piano and melodica open in a gentle, tender, optimistic tone.  This is Hollmer’s well-trodden format – first the exposition without the bass line and then the primary theme repeats it with the support – this time performed by Berckmans’ organic bassoon.  The piano will provide some variation before fizzling out.

 

Konstig

A trio with bassoon and violin.  The track’s rhythmic mobility converges on melodica’s excesses – well supported here by the bassoon.  Then, a surprise transition leads to an eerily familiar, ecstatic melodic adventure.  On the way down, the more prominent violin provides a welcome textural enrichment.  The non-linear seams that tie together the hummable refrain will probably exclude “Konstig” from the radio, but otherwise its bold and swinging panache would beat commercial melodists hands down.

 

Baladeis

A stately, contrapuntal fughetta with Berckmans on bumblebee bassoon.  Its glyptic polyphony is appropriately artful and elegant.

 

Strutt

A polka written for accordion and melodica.  It throws us back to Hollmer’s hard-driven folk dances from his early LPs.  Even if the intention is a little facetious, the resulting jumpy repetition is ludic and frivolous.

 

Lilla Bye

This delicate berceuse cradles us with mandolin and random cuckoo vocals from Hollmer’s three granddaughters.  The multi-focal arrangement of vocalizations and the choice of flocculent instrumentation bring to mind some of Albert Marcoeur’s more lyrical moments. 

 

Första 05

Violin and cello slog along chained in some doomed pilgrimage.  This is another baroque piece, quiet and solemn.  The initial ricercar sets the key for the bleak string development – somewhat reminiscent of Univers Zero’s metaphysical dirges. 

 

Alice

We wake up from the nightmare into a happy sunrise serenade.  Hollmer’s granddaughter officiates here in a “singing” part, thanks to the author’s innocuous nepotism.  Luckily, Zamla’s Coste Apetrea provides some assistance on mandolin.  It is full of sparkling, youthful optimism. 

 

Överdagö

Michel Berckmans’ autumnal oboe sobs slowly.  When glockenspiel and violin rejoin, Berckmans switches to harmonic bassoon.  Santiago Jimenez steps to the fore, and engages in a downcast, rueful duet with Hollmer’s accordion.  This brings back inescapable memories of long evenings en el barrio de Boca…

 

Foldron Menad

Hollmer’s introspective string samples set up Jimenez to perform a love call which sounds like a Hungarian gypsy whine.  Somber, cheerless shadows are cast against an unobtrusive sampled chorus and a poignant cello line.  This quiet composition is marvelously evocative but at the same time pleasantly restrained.

 

Folkvandringslåt

This much earlier track has been added to round off the entire set on a more optimistic note.  A simple dance played by Lars on accordion and keyboards possesses parameters of a polka – the quintessential accordion dance.  Yet some of the keyboard developments are unmistakably Hollmerian and when he begins to spin around, it could just as well be Colombian cumbia.  The artist is such an emporium of themes that this array of influences turns each dance into a highly idiosyncratic proposition.  There is only one Lars Hollmer.

 

*** 

 

Until the very recent appearance of the supreme “Viandra”, it was position 4 that was most often drawn from the shelf.  However, 2, 3 and 5 are equally recommended.  Positions 1 and 8 are live performances of two different bands – extremely lively and brimming with cheerfulness to clear up any gloomy day.  Both 1 and 9 make extensive use of traditional themes.  From position 7 onwards, Hollmer spent a lot of time digging into his considerable inventory and inevitably some peripheral sketches crept into the public domain.  Positions 14 and 15 are artistic résumés transposed onto a micro-Japanese and macro-Canadian context, respectively. 

 

1. RAMLÖSA KVÂLLAR: Ramlösa Kvâllar (1977-78)

2. Lars HOLLMER: “XII Sybirska Cyklar“ (1975, 1980-81)

3. Lars HOLLMER: “Vill du hora mer“ (1981-82)

4. Lars HOLLMER: “Fråu natt idag“ (1983)

5. Lars HOLLMER: “Tonöga“ (1984-85)

6. Lars HOLLMER & the LOOPING HOME ORCHESTRA: “Vendeltid“ (1987)

7. Lars HOLLMER: “Vandelmässa“ (1972, 1983-93)

8. LOOPING HOME ORCHESTRA: “Live 1992-1993” (1992-93)

9. FEM SÖKER EM SKATT: “Fem söker em skatt“ (1987-1994)

10. Lars HOLLMER: “Andetag“ (1993-97)

11. Lars HOLLMER: “Autokomp A(nd) More“ (1982-1991, 1998)

12. Lars HOLLMER: “Utsikter“ (2000)

13. Lars HOLLMER’s GLOBAL HOME PROJECT: “Sola“ (2001)

14. Lars HOLLMER & Yukiko MOKOUJIMA DUO: “Live And More” (2003)

15. FANFARE POURPOUR & Lars HOLMMER: “Karusell Musik” (2006)

16. Lars HOLLMER: “Viandra“ (2001-2007)

 

Other recordings labeled by Hollmer or his LHO can be found on various compilations from the 1980s and 1990s: “Ré Records Quarterly Vol.1 No.1”, “Festival MIMI 89”, “Hardi brut”, “Angelica’92”, “Angelica’93”, “Haikus urbains”.  He also appeared on numerous recordings of other musicians – Fred Frith, Wolfgang Salomon, Volapük, Miriodor, Guigou Chenevier among them.  Naturally, there are also various other recordings of Samla Mammas Manna, Zamla Mammaz Manna and Von Zamla.  Sonic Asymmetry will return to these one day with great pleasure.

 

Hollmer is also a member of the international combo Accordion Tribe.  His classic compositions belong to the band’s repertoire, showcasing slightly different arrangements.  The last of the three CDs is more Hollmer-heavy.

 

ACCORDION TRIBE: “Accordion Tribe” (1996)

ACCORDION TRIBE: “Sea of Reeds” (2001-02)

ACCORDION TRIBE: “Lunghorn Twist” (2005)

Published in: on July 6, 2008 at 4:37 pm  Comments (3)  
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CURRENT 93: “Nature Unveiled” ******

Recorded 1984

 

In the early 1980s, Current 93 and its founder David Tibet were a pillar of England’s esoteric underground.  But while most bands continued to explore the debris of industrialism, David Tibet entered a then uncharted territory populated with mystic obsessions – the occult, Aleister Crowley’s hermetism, Comte de Lautreamont’s nihilism, monotheistic and Buddhist spiritualism, near-death experiences.

 

At its best, Current 93 was neither hierophanic nor iconoclastic.  Tibet, supported by the studio talents of Steven Stapleton never attempted to express the ineffable.  Rather, the focus of the early recordings was on the tortured, medieval scenery juxtaposing the angelic and the demoniac, the Gnostic mysteries and the Gothic splendor.  This is not to exclude that David Tibet was, indeed, prodded in this direction by genuine afflatus. 

 

The multilayered productions of 1984-1986, heavy on echoing Judeo-Christian chanting, tape manipulation and abrasive recitations became lasting classics.  During these years, Tibet and Stapleton were frequently supported by John Fothergill, John Murphy, Nick Rogers, Annie Anxiety, Roger Smith, Tathata Wallis, Steven Ignorant, John Balance and Rose McDowall.  Most of these artists appeared in many other formations at that time.

 

The real mystery is why after 1986 David Tibet lapsed into an artistic coma and launched an interminable string of records riddled with supposedly apocalyptic, but mostly puerile rhymes.

 

 

 

Ach Golgota (Maldoror Is Dead)

The side-long composition initiates us into an atmosphere of petrifying horror.  A malevolent beast inhales and exhales with painstaking precision – claustrophobically close to our ears.  This abominable, monstrous sonic motif will recur throughout the composition.  But the focus of the recording is on the emotional power of ancient Christian chants.  Although much has been made of David Tibet’s interest in Gregorian monophonies, the character of the vocal drone that buttresses the choir makes it more likely to be of Byzantine or Coptic tradition, singing to the glory of Pantocrator.  The contrast between the horrifying proximity of the beast and the exalting drones emanating from Temenos is almost unbearable.

 

The mighty choir proceeds slowly, undisturbed an electronic burr that Steven Stapleton extracts from his repertory.  A third seam is being added – a repulsive, dantesque, porous male voice lurches out, overreliant on open vowels.  When the voices multiply, the carnivorous, guttural breathing returns.  All this bathes in a dark stew of deep echo and reverberation which drown out pathologically insomniac piano chords.  An alcove occludes reeds and percussive shingles; a bassoon hides in the baptisery…  From the demoniac voice germinates a smeared out, abrasive recitation.  The echo, sustain and slow release make it impossible to capture the sense of the prayer.  The dejected piano chords thrust as if from a different dimension, arousing the catacomb-dwelling beast again. 

 

The hummed damnation is exposed to some spuriously sub-rhythmic repetition while the agonizing, condemned voices remain the focus.  This last part of the composition is more openly electronic.  Crippling electromagnetic beads mutate into a sizzle and then smelt into slabs, cross-mutating with the demon’s voice.  Colloidal, radio-magnetic clouds appear in an excellent display of shock-awe electronics from John Murphy, John Fothergill and Nick Rogers.  The vocal reaches an expressive climax, subsuming the sprawling infra-growl.  This all clears the apse for the final howl of anguish and pain.  Stapleton allows his internal combustion engine to move in slow motion.  Like a stream of felsic lava, it all slowly cools down, rarefying the ambience.

 

The Mystical Body of Christ in Chorazaim (The Great in the Small)

Like a clerestory that lets in a beam of light, this composition’s evanescent beauty relies on the recurrent choir of nuns, immersed in a faded echo.  Afar, sampled strings hand over a dolorous refrain.  Meanwhile, a deeper, thermospheric layer overcasts the sampled rhythm.  Two more sonic mappings will blend into the imagery of malaise: a male Gregorian choir, extensile, twisted and disfigured; and Romanic declamation pleading the Lord for absolution. 

 

The correlation between the two choirs does not seem to be aleatoric.  The female waves rhythmically lash in and out, in torment and lamentation.  The Gregorian choir endeavors to find the inner sanctum.  A didjeridoo buzzes with its elliptic, see-saw abandon.  Tragic mellotron strings join the thick, tessellated lattice.  Disorienting cut-ups close this section, leaving the listener to marvel at the colonnades resonating with the song of solitude that still emanates from the female choir.  Quite unnecessarily, some sequenced synthesizer bleeps percolate through the Gothic walls.  Angelic voices soar, instantly infected by tape speed changes, direction reversals and trajectory vacillations.  Only the “nun” choir perseveres, oozing in and out inexorably. 

 

In the last section, a skronk of a wooden cart parades behind our ears, leaving a sfumato rut in the loam for the female choir.  The buzz returns, jarring and increasingly prominent.  Initially a minutia, it ferments into a pervasive sonic canopy, haunted by Annie Anxiety’s howling apotheosis of final damnation. 

 

 

***

 

Between 1984 and 1986, Current 93 could do no wrong.  It is difficult to choose between these remarkable recordings, which married successfully Tibet’s hermetic visions with Stapleton’s undeniably novel studio creativity.  Then came “Imperium” and the spell was gone.  Tibet somehow decided to pioneer a very different style – a particularly loquacious form of apocalyptic folk.  It stomped and it strutted with menace, but despite Steven Stapleton continued involvement it never appealed to Sonic Asymmetry.  A long list of these recordings would be out of place here.

 

CURRENT 93: “Lashtal“ EP (1983)

CURRENT 93: “Nature Unveiled“ (1984)

CURRENT 93: “Dog Blood Rising“ (1984)

CURRENT 93/ NURSE WITH WOUND: “Ballad of a Pale Girl / Swamp Rat“ SP (1984)

CURRENT 93: “Live at Bar Maldoror“ (1985)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Gyllensköld, Geijerstam and Friends.  Live at Bar Maldoror (1985)

CURRENT 93 / SICKNESS OF SNAKES: “Nightmare Culture“ MLP (1985)

CURRENT 93: “In Menstrual Night“ (1986)

CURRENT 93: “Dawn“ (1983, 1986)

CURRENT 93: “Imperium“ (1986)

 

This is not to say that David Tibet’s talent simply evaporated.  In the late 1990s, he recreated some of the old magic on several records.  These are heavily studio-manipulated affairs, with “Faust” probably the most engaging of all.  “The Great in the Small” is an interesting concept, squeezing into one LP the multilayered themes from previous records.  “In a Foreign Town” is an electronic fresco created for Thomas Ligotti’s writings. 

 

CURRENT 93: “The Starres Are Marching Sadly Home“ ½ LP (1996)

CURRENT 93: “In a Foreign Town.  In a Foreign Land“ (1997)

CURRENT 93: “Faust“ (2000)

CURRENT 93: “The Great in the Small“ (2000)

 

Regrettably, the last three are the exceptions to the otherwise dominating folksy mannerism in which the most recent output has been mired. 

 

Current 93’s older tracks from the early period can be found numerous compilations:  “Myths 4”, “The Fight Is On”, “Devastate to Liberate”.  More recently, the band also participated on “Hot Buttered Xhol” – a tribute to the legendary German band.

Published in: on July 5, 2008 at 8:57 am  Comments (1)  
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NON CREDO: “Impropera” ******

 

Recorded 2006

 

The duo of LA-based drummer Joseph Berardi and singer and multi-instrumentalist Kira Vollman first surfaced in the late 1980s.  After early experiments for vocal and percussion, they began to explore a richer palette of sounds, incorporating accordion, cello, clarinets, keyboards, viola, marimba, bass and radio.  Such was their thirst for chromatic wealth that the duo apparently tried to broaden the format by co-opting other musicians, an attempt that eventually failed. 

 

Their strength lies in Kyra Vollman’s capricious vocalizations rooted in the heritage of musical theater and the traditions pre-dating 19th century bel canto.  But her classically trained vocal ability strays often onto operatic arias, haunting siren songs, menacing lectures – all delivered at a clip elusive even for an attentive ear.  The sound perfectionism is achieved through ample access to the duo’s Zauberklang studio.  The textural wealth of their material belies the predominantly improvisation-based musical creativity.

 

This is musica di camara moderna of the highest order.  It was, therefore, with great pleasure that the globally dispersed audience welcomed the long delayed update on Non Credo’s oeuvre.

 

 

NUDO E CRUDO

Prima Punta

Carried by an orderly harpsichord continuo, Kyra Vollman commences her recitativo secco.  Her classically trained voice, laid against the spiky keyboard strokes, inevitably brings comparisons to Opus Avantra.  But when her clean, lyric soprano goes arioso, she is more dramatic and serious than Donella del Monaco ever was.  The aria decelerates exhibiting her light, flexible tone.

 

8 Bit Whore

This is the first time Joseph Berardi unleashes his flaring matrix of samples and percussion.  Entering with a snare drum he will refocus our attention like a magician.  This is a blindfold test that even the most attentive listener will struggle with.  First an old, edgy jazz trumpet emerges from Berardi’s keyboard-induced samples.  When exotica congas begin their jabber we are transported to the cigar-filled dens of early 1950s Cuba.  Dark piano arpeggios do not disrupt the quick runs of a damned, wild rumba.  An atmosphere of Santeria jazz is further bolstered by sampled tenor saxophone.  Over this plethora of references, only a live bass clarinet makes some brief, free commentaries.  Do not expect it to sing in Spanish…

 

Hubris and Greed

An engaging contrast sets in between wild, obsessive woodpecking and indifferent humming.  Vollman whispers a text about a miser bum – formerly a failed stand-up comic.  She conveys this rather sad story with no compassion, on the contrary – there are shades of spite.  The doorway cracks, opening the way to traumatic giallo of groovy Italian films.  These samples approach the innocuous suspension of a vintage Ennio Morricone or Piero Piccioni.  Vollman’s recites the text with a low-pitched, critical, almost perverse voice which contrasts with her trained, clear vocalizations. 

 

Bella Donna

Dull, deadpan thuds and backwardated buzz reach us from Berardi’s sample bank.  In a display of melismatic virtuosity, Vollman the Witch meets here her operatic persona. 

 

Trouser Role

For a fraction of a moment, a Philip Jeck-like old record scratching suffocates us with ample color of the bygone era – lupine, vermillion, chamois, ochre.  Vollman’s exuberant vocal show ranges from contralto rapping scat and non-descript coloratura to extortionate theatrical firecrackers.  Her range is so extreme and the transitions appear so latex-smooth that Shelley Hirsch’s early experiments come to mind.

 

Faux Afro

Vollman’s bass clarinet is left here alone, struggling with sampled, mechanic, piston and cylinder cum bass sample, known from Marie Goyette’s exquisite recordings.  Given the slightly minimalist background, the bass clarinet soundpainting evokes John Surman’s electronic period, even though the sound palette is very different here.  The track ends up on a pyre.

 

Deep, Deep Down

Again the affected, exorbitantly accentuated story-telling reminds us of Shelly Hirsch.  Kyra Vollman goes guttural, jumps over to fricatives, nearly chokes on ingressives, excels in oval vocalizations, then gargles and regurgitates duck-like semi-diphthongs.  All along an organ sympathizes with the vocal boneless wonder. 

 

Via Nino

This time Berardi offers us sampled strings.  In itself, such a trite proceeding could almost lull us into somnolence, but there is a novelty here – a    m e l o d y.  The suspense is (again) redolent of Italian film style of 1960s and 1970s.  Even though the rhythmic buoyancy tends to fingerpoint mirth, the actual vocal effect is haunting and intimidating.  Vollman’s vocal strings rise so effortlessly that the texture pleads for some friction.  Graters and metal gongs are au service, bringing back a more terrestrial atmosphere. 

 

Heaven Help Us

A tight, nervous, mysterious cry for help with Vollman officiating in two roles – a naïve one and an experienced one.  Some metallic clang and a refined basso underpin this modern cantata.

 

Interval One

A babble arises from a crowd.  A crankshaft volunteers a clank: “Clank”. 

 

SONO CONFUSO

Sicka Siam

This second movement of “Impropera” begins simplistically, with a rhythm machine and a melodica.  Clobbered, marching music depicts a nightmarish vision of person locked up in Bangkok “on trumped up charges”.  A guitar, crawling ad libitum, responds with jangles while the bass clarinet performs over a sampled piano form.  The melodica swishes back.  Despite a very contemporary production, it is here that we recognize Kyra Vollman from her prudish-sounding debuts some 20 years before.  A string-like sample eventually takes over, cut up to pieces by the melodica’s flat-footed, pathetically constrained, plastic improvisation. 

 

Stock and Trade

Another diplay of vocal Fireworks from Vollman.  Bubbly, gaseous electronics is overpowered by a thorny effect – as if someone let a metal bar hit running wheel spokes.  Jaded warnings echo “nothing new”.  Samples glue distant drumming and a barely perceptible groans.

 

Sleeping Beauty

This is a depressing story of abandon – with a devastatingly simple, horrifying electronic pulse that occasionally triggers log drumming.  Vollman’s impudent recitativo seamlessly yields to soprano arias.  Her demoniac whisper spits out some macabre lines.  It seems that the bass clarinet parts are little more than an extension of her considerable vocal techniques.  In any case, her staccato tonguings appear to indicate it. 

 

Odor of Sanctity

More inertial, expansive bass clarinet lays out its dusty souvenirs without urge.  Vollman’s treatment is first breathy, then moves to a fuller tone, particularly impressive in the mid-range.  The samples showcase furtive strumming, augmented by Bernardi on long drums.  The clarinet’s tremolo rides epicycles around sampled Byzantine touches.  This is Non Credo at its most atmospheric and ill-bient. 

 

Interval Two

In a dreary, industrialized repetition metallic wrenches hit some object regularly, while backward tapes collect distorted voices. 

 

FACCIA BRUTA

Faux Cazzo

“Impropera’s” third movement begins with dilated, kimberlite prepared piano chords, ladle-full of Cageian nostalgia (“Sonatas and Interludes”).  Manifold keyboard sheets are overlaid, some muted, some metallic, accompanied by shell-shocked percussive blasts.  Meanwhile, Vollman impersonates a seductive siren from an aquatic, Greek myth.  Detonating rhythms distract her into a baritone-like phrasing, even though her voice cannot reach that pitch. 

 

Laptop Dance

A tabla sample was clearly picked for the dud resonance rather than intricate Indian meters.  Rotary patterns let the music flow slowly, despite all the fluttering, honking or factory sirens.  Sirens?  Well, not really.  When the sample is allowed to fan out fully, it proves to be a jazz big band.  It is an eerily familiar sequence, but I cannot recognize the source (if you can – please leave a comment below – I am not going to venture a guess that this is Count Basie).  Vollman’s bass clarinet improvises all along, which is formally captivating; bass clarinets usually bend easily and do not have a projection that allows them to come to the fore from a full big band backing.  The prepared piano returns, in an emotional, malleable moment.  So does the washboard. 

 

Vienna Fingers

The track opens with a marching snare drum.  But the jolt comes from the castanets’ sticky kiss.  Vollman’s detached vocalizations turn into angry complaints about “a lie”.  Then a trio of harpsichord, castanets and snares prepares the ground for operatic soprano aria.  Glockenspiel’s transparent tinge seeps through it all.  In her insolence-inspiring martial whispers Vollman tends to sound Germanic – her consonants are devoiced and stilted, vowels angular and glottal.  Is it a pastiche?  Not more than American actors’ performance in some of the older “Second World War” movies.

 

Epilogue

This epilogue takes us back to harpsichord continuo and recitativo secco from the opening.  Upon reflection, Vollman’s dramatic mannerism probably brings her reaches an octave higher than the Italian counterpart, referred to at the beginning.  The harpsichord is too busy to be just a classic obbligato.  Rather, its arpeggiated ad-lib facets evoke the instrument’s rebirth parented by modern virtuosi and their partners – the 20th century composers. 

 

***

 

For a ‘band’ whose productions have been appearing for 20 years, the total output has been relatively thin.  Of the three official CD, I consider their last one as the most accomplished. 

 

NON CREDO: “Reluctant Host” (1988)

NON CREDO: “Happy Wretched Family” (1992-1994)

NON CREDO: “Impropera” (2006)

 

Non Credo’s tracks can also be found on several compilations, such as “Bad Alchemy Nr 11” and “Poetic Silhouettes”. 

 

Prior to forming Non Credo, Berardi played in a quirky art-pop combo Fibonaccis.  They have left behind several recordings, the most prominent of which bears some resemblance to Non Credo’s early format:

 

FIBONACCIS: “Civilization and its Discotheques” (1987)

 

Both Vollman and Berardi have been appearing in numerous other formations – Fat and Fucked Up, Kraig Grady, Punishment Cookies (she), Double Naught Spy Car, Obliteration Quartet, Eastside Sinfonietta (he).  Although the duo has apparently contributed music to many films and performances, none of this material is currently publicly available. 

 

Published in: on July 4, 2008 at 6:07 am  Leave a Comment  
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ONLY A MOTHER: “Romantic Warped” *****

Recorded 1989

 

 

Only a Mother were something very, very different.  Theirs was a most revolutionary combination of ear-bending musical satires with highly unusual arrangements incorporating instruments from marching bands, rural backyards and the philharmonic halls.  Although many bands claimed to be cognizant of small town America’s musical traditions, Only a Mother were the wittiest, sharpest and most iconoclastic of them all.  Back in the 1980s, only Eugene Chadbourne attempted to provide a similarly detached social commentary by rewriting the history of America’s non-academic, white music. 

 

Frank Pahl from Michigan began to perform under the OAM moniker in the mid-1980s.  Despite a nebulous character of the formation, whose line-up overlapped with several other Midwestern bands, the basic core coalesced around Pahl with exceptionally talented multi-instrumentalist Marco Novachcoff, violinist Mary Richards, bassist Bobbi Benson and percussionist Doug Gourlay. 

 

The quintet was ahead of the game in their pleasing syncretism.  From medieval troubadour themes, through atonal improvisations for percussion to short folk sketches for toy instruments, Only a Mother never failed to generate a sense of fun – which is remarkable given the frequently morbid lyrics in their quixotic “songs”.

 

 

 

Elephants

A spontaneous assortment of shawms, ocarinas and whistles produces a multi-reed, inconsequentially tossed-up microcosm.  Frank Pahl appears as a super rapid singer, agonizing over bizarre misadventures of a young hitch-hiker.  It is unclear if autobiographical reminiscences mix freely with fantasy, or vice-versa…  For a relatively simply structured song, the acoustic orchestration is sumptuous – replete with flutes, clarinets, harmonium and a chorus.  When Mary Richards fiddles adroitly her descending notes we discover with some surprise that the tune is actually a waltz…  There is some affinity here with small choral works of Marek Grechuta, but given the light years that separate these artists, this could be little more here than accidental convergence, not a quotation. 

 

Mysterioso

The instrumental track opens with a bellowing violin à la Art Bears and crumpled percussion (is this the “sheet metal wakka” from the liner notes?).  Pumped up by Bobbi Benson’s comical double bass, this miniature is bluegrassy in all but its name and unusual instrumentation – complete with two organs and mandolin.  The high-pitch violin, placed here in unison with Marko Novachcoff’s harmonica has something of a hirsute, rural quality fondly remembered from Bob Dylan’s “Desire” (1975).  Although the acoustic bass keeps the band in pace, it all sounds wonderfully makeshift and ramshackle. 

 

Pardon mon Faux Pas

This could be a train song, were it not for its ironic grit and the notation that makes it “anti-country”.  This ode to provincial boredom is all the more truculent and trenchant thanks to cello’s raspy sul tasto.  The acerbic, biting irony (“ain’t a question of what you know, It is who you know that counts”) is almost tragicomic. 

 

Spinning

In a complete change of emotional spectrum, the band invites us to a medieval dance.  Irish recorder and Mary Richards’ astral vocals bring back the memories of Pentangle, Trees or Trader Horne.  This is medievalism at its most profane, a Carolingian feast within an earshot from the nearest campanile.  The timbres are appropriately selected – flute, bass viola, mandolin, melodica and a simple triangle.  In between, a more virtuosic, frictionless violin fast forwards the atmosphere by a couple of hundred years. 

 

Rack # 1

The entire band appears on percussion instruments in what apparently is an ‘ancient track of unknown origin’, assembled by Doug Gourley.  The topsy-turvy tuning approaches Harry Partch’s idiosyncratic experiments, although Frank Pahl & Co remain far more unassuming in their endeavor.  The racket is further augmented by horns brought from a sports arena and a toy xylophone. 

 

Rubbydubs, Mugwamps, and Wobblies

This could be a country-and-western ballad, nonsensical, iconoclastic and fed with the staple of acoustic guitars, mandolin and violin.  This last instrument evokes again the aforementioned “Desire” – in articulation rather than intention.  The band maintains a distance to the codified Nashville formula, not least thanks to the second-dimension lyrics.  Pahl does not try to force a Southern twang and operates in unashamedly nasal Midwestern accent.  Bass clarinet, out of its philharmonic element, overlays a woody chalumeau tone. The final vocal roar and a guitar clink chop off this welcome musical heresy.

 

Warp # 17

A valse macabre scored for accordion and violin with some assistance from a cumbersome bass saxophone and crystalline electric organ.  It is a doomed, eternally delinquent track of merciless damnation.  An accoustic guitar dances forlornly in the middle.  Nightmarish, deviant “oompapa, oompapa” oversees the swiveling theme, repeatedly displayed on reedy accordion and organ.  There are other “Warps” in Only a Mother’s catalogue, but “# 17” certainly belongs to the classics of American instrumental music of 1980s… 

 

Bucket of Brains

Marko Novacchoff’s farting bassoon harmonizes dryly for the rest of the band.  Soon Mary Richards lurches out and hysterically yelps out some necrophiliac story.  Her convulsive drama reaches out for the upper registers, but some stabilizing decency emanates from the lower range occupied by woodwinds.  The “song” advances by fits and starts with basso ‘humungo’ and bassoon picking up the pieces here and there.  Haunted vocalizing and the brassy “percussion” workshop accompany the messily strummed guitars and mandolins. 

 

Trigger Happy

This is another of those anarchic pseudo-country numbers.  Nervous guffaws and whistling introduce Ken Stanley’s text ridiculing advice fossilized in old proverbs.  Like a Pandora’s Box of giggling dwarfs that got out of control, the clownish song hops and pops…   Pahl wields his mandolin, strumming along with abandon.  There is probably more chortling per square foot here than on Frank Zappa’s momentous “Lumpy Gravy”.

 

Fingers of a Pumpkin

Another “medieval” track, but this time with a multi-storied tapestry of rococo arrangements (string trio, harmonium and cymbal).  The idea is alluringly simple – the melody flows, bursts out with the cymbal and bass drum, and then returns to the violin line.  Only the vacuum-filling mandolin is reminding us that these are Midwestern cornfields, not than a French conservatory. 

 

Doodley Squat

This simple, working class ballad is initiated with predictably Spartan instrumentation – over-reliant on Novachcoff’s harmonica.  It sports a typical structure – two stanzas, a round-off-it-all refrain with intensifying dynamic and a smoother instrumental bridge to another stanza.  The music is so overly conservative that only the socially critical text (referring to the 1980 attempt on Reagan’s life) prevents listeners’ gullibility.

 

Rack # 2

This is the second of those ‘Harry Partch’ moments on the record.  Although Only a Mother lack Partch’s ‘spoils of war’ or his ‘chromelodeon’, they the click, clack, tick-tac and occasionally scrunge awright (don’t get a wrong impression.  Sonic Asymmetry is fanatically fond of Harry Partch’s music).

 

Simple Song

At the outset, Doug Gourlay treats us to the rainy shimmer from a palo de agua (now, that must have been at least as simple as the title, we presume).  The rest of the band will combine the inputs from harmonium, cello, violin and acoustic bass into a tuneful song with vocal parts jackknifed octaves apart (Pahl and Richards).  Critical of middle America’s self-satisfied solipsism, the song has a wonderfully anti-professional, or at least-anti-academic feel, despite the seductive melody line.  The long coda descends the scale with determination. 

 

The Romantic Side of Ken’s Cat

A richly percussive moment of atonality, covered with animal-like calls from valved eccentricity of euphonium and extendaphone.  Climactic shouting precludes any development.

 

A Song for Mud

Here’s a longer chug-a-chug.  Pahl’s quavering voice delivers a morbid narrative about a disappointed first love.  Woodblocks and half-muted alloys barely catch up with the song’s progress.  The rapid scrubbing relies mostly on violin and acoustic bass.  When the bowed, burly bass retrenches the line-up, balalaika erupts, unapologetic for its belated hyperactivity.  The chorus eventually bids farewell to the bewildered audience…

 

 

***

 

The band’s first two LPs are the classics of the genre – “Romantic Warped” being probably the more folky of the two.  “Naked Songs for Contortionists” reworked some of the earlier material.  I have not heard the last two positions listed here. 

 

ONLY A MOTHER: “Riding White Alligators” (1987)

ONLY A MOTHER: “Romantic Warped” (1989)

ONLY A MOTHER: “Naked Songs for Contortionists” (1991)

ONLY A MOTHER: “Feral Chicken” (1994)

ONLY A MOTHER: “Dusty Nuggets” (1988-1998)

ONLY A MOTHER: “Damned Pretty Snout” (1998)

 

Before donning the hat of a one-man-orchestra, Frank Pahl began his solo career frequently supported by his companions from Only a Mother.  Certainly the early efforts, as well as “The Back of Beyond” are highly recommended.  I have never heard “Loose Threads”.

 

Frank PAHL: “The Cowboy Disciple” (1991)

Frank PAHL: “The Romantic Side of Schizophrenia” (1992-1993)

Frank PAHL: “Loose Threads” (1995)

Frank PAHL: “In Cahoots” (1997)

Frank PAHL: “Remove the Cork” (1998)

Frank PAHL & KLIMPEREI: “Music for Desserts” (2001)

Frank PAHL: “The Back of Beyond” (2003)

Frank PAHL: “Euphoniums Solo” (2004)

Frank PAHL: “Songs of War and Peace” (2005)

 

Pahl also appears in Scavenger Quartet, a more sedate and developed affair with little relationship to the sophisticated enthusiasm of the early days.  Little Bang Theory is a new and promising adventure for toy instruments.

 

SCAVENGER QUARTET: “Whistling for Leftovers” (2001)

SCAVENGER QUARTET: “We Who Live on Land” (2004)

LITTLE BANG THEORY: “Elementary” (2007)

 

In the early days, the musicians from Only a Mother participated in number of formations à géometrie variable.  Plug Uglies, Major Dents and Sublime Wedge were the most important of these, but unfortunately cassette recordings and samplers remain the only documents:

 

SUBLIME WEDGE: “Sublime Wedge” (1987)

SQUIDBELLY PHLEGMFOOT & the PLUG UGLIES: “Mass Murder 101” (1989)

 

Only a Mother can also be found on “Studio Animals” and “Bad Alchemy Nr.11”.  Frank Pahl’s compositions appeared on “Passed Normal, vol.5”, “Haikus urbains”, and “Musique du jouet”.

 

Published in: on July 2, 2008 at 6:55 pm  Leave a Comment  
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ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Morbus” ****

 

Recorded 2006, 2007

 

 

The juicy name and squelchy logo hide the considerable talent of keyboard player Dirk Jan Müller who since the early 1990s has been recording increasingly inspired jams in volatile constellations.  But mid-1990s he was joined by guitarist Dirk Bittner, but it took several more years before the core of the currently active band took shape.

 

Electric Orange seeks inspiration in the long tradition of rock jamming, but often straying from the well-trodden format into unexpectedly hooked arrangements and exploratory parentheses.  For all those who miss the extraordinary inventiveness of German music over a generation ago, Electric Orange brings a whiff of fresh air, albeit with an aura of healthy déjà vu.

 

Unfortunately, the musicians insist on filling the available CD space with some marginal material, which somewhat mars the coherence of the sets.

 

 

 

Einwahn

We are transported into the unconscious world of childhood memories filled with amusement park hubbub – merry-go-rounds, Ferris wheels, cheesy itinerant businesses.  Regrettably, this evocative anaphora leads nowhere…  Sudden assault comes from a tribal drumming circle that flails its way indefatigably with the hoof-like precision.  Jagging guitar sound and a Hammond-soundalike localize the ghosts of their stylistic patrons.  An extraordinary power emanates from the band – unwavering, tight and compressed.  When the organ begins to chuckle on its own bobsled ride, the Second Hand’s supreme “Death May Be Your Santa Claus” comes to mind.  The potent chug-along is vibrant and jubilant, quite unlike the title (“delusion”). 

 

Rote Flocken

Electronic hairpin serpentines open with pre-recorded, tinny voices in heraus-pronounced German.  The organ cradles us in a comfy rut allowing the guitars to explore various registers.  Snippets of distorted recitation probe the über-conventional organ & guitar riffing.  Impotent trumpet, piano strings, unidentifiable samples and percussive glimmer penetrate the herringbone structure of this track. 

 

Span 5

In a natural segue, a more resonant guitar grit punctures the trippy organ – bass – drumset perfection.  The crystal clear mix allows our senses to tune into the various guitar pitches simultaneously.  On top of the range, distant wah-wah scrambles for attention in a patchy cooperation with eerily evocative organ (Dirk Jan Müller must have grown up on young Richard Wright’s fastidious harmonizing).  Silvo Franolic’s cymbal splashes pile up layers of dense cloud formations.  The rest of the band needs to soar above these vigorous explosions.  And soar it does.

 

Morbus

The title track sounds like a tribute to Brainticket’s organ-led vortex, spinning tenaciously with the ease of “Cottonwoodhill” and taking us for a whirring steamroller ride.  Deposits of annunciatory voices are laid behind these gyrations, while a strained, pentatonic recorder bores holes in this cylindrical domain.  A full-scale guitar cum organ convulsion bursts in flames, only to reveal the unstoppable magmatic flow.  Screechy recorders will have the last word.

 

Errorman

Initially, the organ, guitar, bass and drums quartet adopts a more leisurely, trotting pace.  In a monumental entrée, the rhythm section veers off towards the ecstasy of vertigo-inducing passages.  Tom Rückwald appears on bowed acoustic bass, doubled on choir-emulating mellotron.  Silvio Franolic treats his plump drums and tinkling cymbals with measured, downy mallets.  Bittner’s voice is full of painful agony, but despite its menacing quality, the uncanny, tubular vocal carries also crosstextual messages from a long-lost pedigree (e.g. Silberbart, 2066 & Then).  Mellotron’s fake celestial strings close this pleasant déjà entendu…

 

Flohfunknest

Acoustic guitar succumbs to a sound forest of hand drums, cortales, and thrown coins.  A funky interaction arises from the thumping electric bass and teasing soft rolls harvested with brushes by the drummer.  The band unleashes sonic debris – stereotyped ‘Bahnhof’ announcements, flippant effects from someone’s oral cavity, persuasive girls, manual tooth brushing, an old-time alarm clock, an electric shaver.  But underneath, this is but a circular funky rondo – a fairly conventional musical joke.

 

Traumama

We are now almost on a midsummer, Latin party terrain.  When the initial frenzy clears, a female voice adapts to the reigning climactic condition.  The hyperactive, but harmless, blithe beach guitars are reminiscent of latter-day Can’s dubious explorations into oases of rhythmic optimism.  Several isolated notes on a Spanish guitar shut this chapter.

 

Kratschock

After this 2-track parenthesis, the mood turns again, courtesy a threatening harmonium.  This catatonic instrument, rescued from oblivion 30 years ago by Univers Zero, is accompanied here by an intimate guitar, organ, drums and flute.  Electric Orange brings yet other memories of their nation’s formative Blütezeit.  The way the dispassionate recitation has been mixed in brings to mind the declamations by Walter Wegmüller or Sergius Golowin.  Acoustic bass and breathy flute frame the structure, supported by molten organ, much like early Gila – both in gesture and in form. 

 

Wald

First, vitreous sound of unknown provenience.  Next, a very international sound of a noisy schoolyard.  Then, sustained bass notes and mysterious harmonium gear the band to inchoate harmonic trajectory.  All these attempts are instantly spoiled by monorhythmic swelling and an angular organ chord.  This is a disappointing moment – the band creates anticipation that it does not live up to for several long minutes.  The prominence of the organ layer does not allow the muscular rhythm section to generate a punch worthy of Neu’s “Negativland” or Glenn Branca’s “Ascension”.  And even then, the idea would have been epigonic.  When Bittner’s singing breaks in, one is seriously puzzled – not sure if this is a parody, a dance number or a piece of failed space rock trapped in the troposphere and unable to overcome earthly gravity.  The harmonium and synthesizer fail to save the day, as the formulaic, isometric pounding is never too far behind. 

 

Reaching

This is a ballad for acoustic guitar and bass, delivered with a slightly distorted, rippling voice.  The apparent ingredients are there (mellotron, and flute), but the tune correlates poorly with the stronger moments on this CD. 

 

Schöhl

Crippling electronic intro yields to an official pre-announcement worthy of West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.  Fast bongo runs and a pulsating bass leave much space – enough for the organ and guitar to accentuate the beat.  Each time the guitar repeats its two-chord routine, the bongo woodpecker wakes up.  Additional distortion is provided by simmering synthesizer effects. 

 

Sarau

Waves of low amplitude electronics wash on a sailboat fitted with organ and bass.  A toned down organ coupled with Josef Ahns’ ascending flute legato has many precedents: Ove Volquartz of Annexus Quam (“Beziehungen”), Herb Geller of Brave New World (“Impressions on Reading Aldous Huxley”) or Rainer Büchel of Ibliss (“Supernova”).  This engaging opening gives way to sub-Saharan hand drum and echoplexed guitar, with the organ ensuring further continuity.  In the final bars, a highly pitched guitar improvises until the final cut. 

 

 

***

 

 

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Electric Orange” (1992-1993)

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Orange Commutation” (1993-1994)

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Cyberdelic” (1995)

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Abgelaufen” (2001)

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Platte” (2003)

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Fleischwerk” (2004-2005)

ELECTRIC ORANGE: “Morbus” (2006-2007)

 

I have not heard the first three positions.  The general impression is that the band’s inventiveness has progressed on the most recent CDs.  “Morbus” was mastered by Eroc, krautrock’s ultimate studio joker.

Published in: on June 30, 2008 at 8:04 pm  Leave a Comment  
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ONE STARVING DAY: “Broken Wings Lead Arms to the Sun” ***

 

Recorded 2002

 

One Starving Day stand out among the new league of Italian bands which struggle to find their own musical idiolect in the intense urban traffic of contemporary avant-rock influences. 

 

The quintet, founded by Pasquale Foresti (vocals, samples and bass), includes Marco Milucci (guitar), Francesco Gregoretti (drums), Andrea Bocchetti (guitar) and Dario Foresti (synthesizer, samples and vocals). 

 

Critics usually shower One Starving Day with any number of labels affixed by such nifty terms as “post-“, “sludge-“, “doom-“ and such like.  None of these help to analyze the sound achieved on the band’s first full-length CD.  Whatever category One Starving Day falls into, the band reaches the high water mark.  Through the mutually dependent forces of attraction and repulsion, the musicians achieved a rare equilibrium between the aesthetics of abysmal ugliness and intumescent restraint. 

 

 

 

Black Star Aeon

Dario Foresti unleashes sequenced electronic stitches that loom and vanish repeatedly like slowing rotors of an unidentifiable flying device.  Sustained organ coatings and low-range buzz almost transport us to long oxidized Teutonic shores of Sand, Code III and Cosmic Couriers.  Bowed guitar and splashy cymbal overtones eventually hit the road.  An infernal machine awakens slowly from its catacomb, steadily lurching forward with delicate acoustic guitar cupids fluttering around.  Crunching guitars under its paws, the beast sniffs around before advancing further, oiled by sampled strings and achromatic synthesizer.  A repugnant, noctilucent growl penetrates this gruesome, outlandish imagery.  The drummer thumps out liquefied life forms from the monstrous apparition.  Along with deep, intimidating bass rumbles and sustained cybernotes, Francesco Gregoretti is solely responsible for solidifying the stationary bridges between the anguished stanzas. 

 

Secret Heart

Cello-like scale passages provide a suspenseful invitation into this dusky, pictorial piece.  Phlegmatically and unenthusiastically, a rich inventory of tones is stockpiled by the guitars, the synthesizer and the samples, all dipped into the solution of buzzing molasses.  From the didactic electric static, there emerges a guitar line and a menacing mid-tempo rhythm section.  Mushy surface swivels from the self-serving synthesizer.  Finally, the stately guitars strut forward like larger-than-life totems.

 

Fate Drainer

Unobtrusive electric guitar plants linear seeds in a frail, vulnerable groove.  The painstaking sowing is observed by sampled strings, and a rising crescendo from the other instruments.  Pasquale Foresti’s recitation is barely audible, but it does add a creepy sense of foreboding.  The band then changes direction, throttling back and eventually locking in the twin guitars in a comforting melodiousness.  Mutated, dissonant shouting and vocal altercations quickly subvert this open-sky ambience until a cosmic pause sets in with abrasive, plasmatic keyboard work and sustained organ notes.  The full band then offers a reprise of the initial theme.  Anguished, paranoid vocal turns this into an unexpectedly traumatic experience. 

 

Leave

Hand percussion and strummed bass tug each other hesitantly, spied on by a synthesized swirl.  The languorous pace and the dulled mix of the sluggish rhythm section here may be responsible for the inexorable comparisons with Godspeed You Black Emperor.  But in stark contrast to the Canadian formation, the Italian band juxtaposes a piano sound and sample strings with the leader’s unnerving, calamitous vocal nihilism.  As usual, the structure of the track is broken and a more introspective section relies on skin caning and birching, with some ruffled synthi sound interwoven into the infrastructure.  Back on stage, Marco Milucci’s and Andrea Borchetti’s guitars slog their way in a more eloquent and less pedantic fashion. 

 

Silver Star Domain

A frigid, apathetic piano solo struggles with its own parapraxes.  It does not attempt to correct them and for a moment the circular repetition brings to mind Corrupted’s most Pharaonic labyrinths.  Instead, Dario Foresti allows for the theme to evolve naturally, in a liturgic, elegiac fashion.  Raw, uninspired synthesizer peers somewhere from above…

 

***

 

This is so far the band’s only full-length recording.  Other compositions appeared also on samplers – “Emo Diaries 7” and “The Silent Ballet Compilation Series”, neither of which I have heard.  Apparently a new CD has been in gestation for a while. 

 

ONE STARVING DAY: “Broken Wings Lead Arms to the Sun” (2002)

 

Published in: on June 29, 2008 at 8:41 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Iva BITTOVÁ & Vladimir VÁCLAVEK: “Bílé inferno” ******

Recorded 1997

 

Iva Bittová stormed into the European avant-garde musical scene in the mid-1980s.  Born into a musical family with mixed Gypsy and Slavic roots, she incorporated elements of central and eastern European cultures into her repertoire without ever falling into the clichés of the so-called world music.  Trained in Brno as a violinist and singer, she developed a unique, conversational style that somehow appealed to the international improvisational scene on the eve of the political changes in Czechoslovakia. 

 

Armed with an arsenal of various vocal, violin and viola techniques, Bittová often betrays her theatrical tendencies.  Her music achieved an artistic peak during the period of collaboration with Vladimir Václavek, a gifted musical narrator whose sensual guitar-based songbooks only recently have attracted acclaim for their earthy authenticity. 

 

In this memorable duet, Bittová and Václavek often draw on influences from folkloristic dances and bucolic balladry.  They achieve astounding, complex textures and organic unity despite a narrowly scoped orchestration.  It is in the simplicity of “Bílé inferno” that lies its immortality. 

 

 

 

Vzpomínka

At the very outset, a disconsolate, Euclidean viola strikes us with its plaintive weeping until acoustic guitar dashes to its succor.  Soon after, Iva Bittová’s muscular vocalizing invites us to a jig lifted from Breughel’s village paintings.  The carnevalesque ambiance is further enhanced by jocular violin pizzicato and Václavek’s wordless accompaniment.  He then begins a lilting recitation, supported by a guitar stripped down to its harmonic and rhythmic role.  Even his congenial vocal, always in key register, carries only scraps of melody.  The refrain relies entirely on Bittová’s intrepid violin playing and her agile voice.  When the duo picks up pace, Ida Kelarová joins the increasingly bold chorus and tambourine.  In a more musing, calmer setting of pizzicato and unadulterated guitar, Václavek recites the final stanza of this “Souvenir”. 

 

Uspávanka

After several guitar chords one can recognize Václavek’s signature style.  Iva Bittová vocalizes here, accompanied by contextual shakers.  A five member-girls’ chorus produces a silvery, luminous echo.  Bittová sings and the girls reciprocate with youthful sparkle.  With its minimal instrumentation, this song evokes European students’ monochord bonfire incantations.  The percussion is restrained to the body of acoustic guitar and shakers, and yet, the isometric progression is vibrant and jumpy.  Some of the stanzas are acknowledged by Bittová and the pre-puberty chorus.  Then Jaromir Honzak appears on acoustic bass and the late Tom Cora on cello.  Their bowless duo will support the acoustic guitar chords till the end.

 

Sirka v louži

The ceramic, humble filigree begins with Bittová on tinkling kalimba and Václavek on bony guitar.  This time her singing reminds us of an apparition from a fairy tale.  Although she eschews Gilli Smyth’s vocal equilibristic, Bittová’s cornucopia of fanciful, theatrical effects is impressive.  Chromatic violin and sparse percussion accompany the torrent of her excited, breathy polysyllabism. 

 

Sto let

To an 8-bar figure on acoustic guitar, Iva Bittová whispers, clicks, and betrays her talents of variegated interpretation.  Her fiddle imitates blackbird calls and her onomatopoeic vocal covers a wider range than in previous songs.  When So Pakju’s text is finished, a frenetic village jitterbug emerges from a crafty, cliché-free interplay of guitar, percussion, fiddle, kazoo, bugle (Frantisek Kucera) and acoustic bass (Jaromir Honzak). 

 

Kdoule

Instead of a chord intro, the highest string plucked delicately.  The pattern is kinetically repetitive, minimalistic, almost autistic.  Frantisek Kucera accentuates the hollow walking line on Indian ghatam and Bittová’s delivers her extensive narrative with hushed, abstemious voice.  This burgeoning structure is overlaid with beige strokes from Turkish saz, but Václavek dodges any temptation to engage in simplistic Anatolian references.  His saz graces the listener with jangly, clipped resonance.  As in most compositions on the record, an eventual turn has to come.  Here it happens courtesy intrusive cello trills from Tom Cora. 

 

Zelený víneček

An exquisite vignette for piano and vocal from Ida Kelarová.  The heartfelt, exuberant melody line is based on a traditional folk song from Slovakia or Western Ukraine.  Kelarová and Bittová sing in unison with some assistance from girls’ chorus.  When Honzak’s joins on oily, metamorphic bass, the airy song is instantly brought down to jazzy (under)ground.  Although Bittová’s vocalizing will append it with a more familiar, vanguard element, the piano and a male vocalist (is it Honzak?) add an unexpectedly Karnatic hue to this oddity.  In the end, Kelarová and Bittová will repeat the entire folk song, solving the transitory puzzle in the process.

 

Moucha

The lyrics of this song (“the Fly”) lent the title to the entire CD.  It begins with obsessive mandolin tremolos and a viola mistreated by some terrorist who decided to saw the miserable instrument, instead of bowing it.  Still, the mandolin relentlessly advances, unaffected by the grim vocal and viola tortures in the background.  This out-of-tune intro will be closed by a scat worthy of an old Urszula Dudziak record.  Having changed the decorum, Bittová’s excellent diction will deliver the stanzas.  Her pitch ratio is well controlled and her voice is occasionally multitracked, with some polyphonic humming buttressed by the viola.  Her story-telling sanguine and elegant, supported by Václavek’s guitar which provides a reliable, comfortable backbone. 

 

Moře

After a short, classical sounding violin, the ambiance is warmed by westerlies from a slide guitar.  Tom Cora’s ascetic cello is dramatic, almost redemptive.  So is Bittová’s vocal manner, punctuated by frightening whiplashes from castanets.  Frantisek Kucera sustains some lines with an eerie conch shell before the band collapses into a sonic exploration of tone colorings, using deep echo, and tiny percussive effects.  When the theme returns, Bittová’s vocal again plunges into pain and agony.  Castanets fly around an aura of tragedy which contrasts with the metaphoric text.  “The sea is a beautiful face”, we hear.  It all ends with conch shell.

 

Starý mlýn

One of Václavek’s solo classics with instantly recognizable acoustic guitar phrasing.  His sober, approachable baritone tells us a story of an old windmill.  It is striking how much emotion he can extract from an unsophisticated chord progression and such minimal instrumental code.  Contrite shakers and cryptic finger rattling on the guitar are the only sources of diversification here. 

 

Je tma

In a more exotic setting, Iva Bittová’s magical whispers are met by sonorous tingling from listless African bow harp.  The tar-shaded, wooden atmosphere is mysterious and occult.  Impenetrable doors crackle nightmarishly.  This is not world music.  It is spine-chilling underworld music.

 

Churý churúj

The longest composition on this record begins as duo of acoustic guitar and viola.  The novelty here is in Bittová’s spiccato – allowing for the bow to bounce naturally of the strings.  But the effect is muted and void as if this was a ping pong ball bouncing (a technique known from flat guitar explorations).  Either way, this fragment is masterfully arranged – rustling, breezy, good-humored.  Václavek murmurs as Bittová hesitates between wordless singing and whispering.  After this lengthy introduction, Václavek’s warm guitar finally intones the song proper.  “Get Up Johanka” alerts Bittová.  Kucera joins with his flugelhorn watercolors, softening somewhat the violin’s edge.  When the text ends, the “spiccato” strokes recur… 

 

Zvon

“The Bell” begins slowly as if to illustrate ponderous movements of the clapper.  The guitar’s notes emulate the sequence of a handbell group, with individual sounds allowed to die out, rather than damped.  Bittová appears with her sour viola and her opening vowels evoke again Indian, nasal singing style.  As she recounts the bell’s daily chore, Václavek and the choir girls echo back a heart-warming “bim-bam”.  When Kucera’s granulated trumpet joins, the texture becomes more condensed in a fascinating show of mutually stimulating harmonies.

 

Hujlet

Mordechaj Gebirtig’s classic text is reproduced here by Bittová in original Yiddish.  The unsettling text reminds the young to enjoy the youth as the winter will soon set in…  Although Bittová and Václavek’s music evades klezmer touches, it fits perfectly the long lost world of crowded central European streets.  A thunderous drum and assorted percussion provide a pivotal build up for unstable violin and predatory vocalizing. 

 

 

***

 

“Bile inferno” has remained a one-off.  No other position in either artist’s discography has quite lived up to the intensity achieved there.  Still, Václavek’s poetic canticles should not be missed.  In particular RALE’s “Twilight/Soumrak” is an absolute must for those who enjoyed “Bílé inferno”. 

 

RICHARD-FUKUSHIMA-VÁCLAVEK-BIELER WENDT: “Arminius“ (1993)

RALE: “Ah zahrmi“ (1997)

RALE: “Twilight/Soumrak“ (2000)

Vladimir VÁCLAVEK: “Pisne nepisne“ (2003)

Vladimir VÁCLAVEK: “Jsem hlina, jsem strom, jsem stroj“ (1991, 1993, 2005)

Vladimir VÁCLAVEK: “Ingwe“ (2005)

Vladimir VÁCLAVEK & Milos DVORACEK: “Zivot je pulsujice pisen“ (2007)

 

Iva Bittová’s unquestionable talent did not always find the appropriate format.  Her first duet with Pavel Fajt was a revelation, but the harsh remix of most of the same songs on the second LP lost some of the charm of the debut.  From her later output, I particularly recommend “Ne nehledej” – a more lyrical chronicle performed in a style often bordering on Indian vocalizing.  In the recent years, she returned to film acting and her recording career in the US has been less prolific.

 

The discography below is limited to the records I know. 

 

Iva BITTOVÁ & Pavel FAJT: “Bittová & Fajt” (1987)

Iva BITTOVÁ & Pavel FAJT: “Svatba” (1987)

Iva BITTOVÁ & DUNAJ: “Dunaj” (1988)

Iva BITTOVÁ: “Iva Bittová” (1990, 1994)

Iva BITTOVÁ: “Ne nehledej” (1994)

Iva BITTOVÁ – DUNAJ – Pavel FAJT: “Pustit musis” (1995)

Iva BITTOVÁ & Vladimir VÁCLAVEK: “Bílé inferno” (1997)

Iva BITTOVÁ: “Classic” (1998)

Iva BITTOVÁ & NEDERLANDS BLAZERS ENSEMBLE: “Ples upiru” (2000)

Iva BITTOVÁ: “Cikori” (2001)

Iva BITTOVÁ & BANG ON ALL CAN STARS: “Elida” (2005)

 

Bittová appeared on many other compilations, not least on Fred FRITH’s famed “Step Across the Border” LP and the documentary film under the same title.  Some other performances have been captured on “Haikus urbains”, with Pavel FAJT on “Ré Records Quarterly Vol.2 No.1” and “Festival MIMI 88”, with Tom CORA on “Hallelujah Anyway”, with TARAF DE HAIDOUKS on “The Man Who Cried”.  In 1989, Frith dedicated his first String Quartet (entitled “Lelekovice”) to Iva Bittová.  It can be found on his “Quartets” (1992). 

 

Vladimir Václavek’s DUNAJ mostly performed and recorded without Bittová.  These documents, often supported by Pavel Fajt, are taut, aggressive affairs for post-punk ears.  The bands E and KLAR propose an update on this format.

 

DUNAJ: “Rosol” (1990)

E: “Live” (1990)

DUNAJ: “Dudlay”  (1993)

DUNAJ: “IV” (1994)

E: “I Adore Nothing” (1994)

KLAR: “Motten” (1995)

DUNAJ: “La La Lai” (1996)

KLAR: “Live CZ 97” (1997)

KLAR: “Between Coma and Consciousness” (2002)

Published in: on June 28, 2008 at 12:17 pm  Comments (1)  
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