Michael Smith - Mi Cyaan Believe It (Mango, 1982)
Not to be confused with either the Chicago singer-songwriter or (God forbid) the Christian pop guy of the same name, Jamaican Michael Smith was a reggae poet somewhat in the mold of Linton Kwesi Johnson (in fact, Johnson co-produced this along with Dennis Bovell). Though Smith delivers his dub poetry in a format that bears some similarity to Johnson, he's definitely got a style all his own. With his deep voice, and subtle-but-deliberate delivery, he's dramatic and distinctive while remaining totally understated. His lyrics focus on sociopolitical injustices being perpetrated in Jamaica, and he espouses revolution in an extremely intelligent manner. Bovell's bass really drives the arrangements, with deep, heavy lines that occasionally bear a touch of funk. The production is extremely inventive, sometimes actually transcending genre, and bringing out the hard-hitting, emotional impact of Smith's work. The fact that Smith was gunned down the same year this debut album came out, in what's assumed to have been a political assassination, is one of the great tragedies of reggae music.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Monday, April 05, 2004
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Max Neuhaus - Electronics & Percussion: Five Realizations (Columbia, 1968)
Back in the '60s, when you could get away with a lot more than you can today, avant garde composer David Behrman wangled a gig producing a series of New Music records for Columbia's Masterworks division under the title Music For Our Time. These included the original recordings of Terry Riley's "Rainbow in Curved Air" and "In C" among other things. One of the other records included in that series was this one by experimental percussionist Max Neuhaus. Neuhaus had already worked with Pierre Boulez and Karlheinz Stockhausen by the time of this record's release. He went on to expand beyond percussion to high-concept sound installations, in which he's still involved to this day, but this record was highly lauded among the few who give a shit about such things, and has been said to be the first live electronics recording, though I have my doubts about the veracity of that claim.
A quick glance at the worth-a-thousand-words picture on the cover tells you that Texas-born Neuhaus is no academic milquetoast. He stands shirtless and slightly crazed-looking, with long, disheveled hair and beard, surrounded by a huge array of drums, gongs, and other percussion, and foregrounded by by large speakers that have what look like car batteries wired to them and seem like they could explode at any moment. The five pieces featured are appropriately visceral, but definitely not without their subtleties.
Earle Browne's "Four Systems" just uses four cymbals as sound sources, but given the processed white-noise timbres Neuhaus produces, cymbals would be several rungs down on anyone's list of guesses. Morton Feldman's "The King of Denmark" is a much more muted piece, heavy on mallet percussion, and full of both space and pointillistic tone colors. Sylvano Bussotti's "Coeur Pour Batteur - Positively Yes" uses a high-powered miking technique that picks up not only the natural resonances of the instruments, but even Neuhaus's own body movements and breathing, which makes for some pretty crazy sounds. Stockhausen's "No. 9- Zyklus" has Neuhaus running the gamut of his considerable percussion battery and utilizing random-chance elements built into the piece. Actually, all these pieces involve chance elements, graphic scores, and performer-composition spontaneous interaction, that's kind of a theme, but I forgot to mention it at the top. The last piece, John Cage's famous "Fontana Mix (Feed)", around which Neuhaus based a whole other album that's been recently reissued, is all based on the feedback generated by miked percussion. Neuhaus doesn't even strike any of his instruments, he just turns up the mikes enough to induce feedback and controls the various tones from his mixer. As you can tell, the main players in avant garde composition are represented here, and Neuhaus does them proud. This thing is out on a pricey Japanese CD, but I was able to find a copy of the original LP for 10 bucks, so if you've got a turntable (and if you don't, why the hell are you reading this blog?), try tracking the record down.
Back in the '60s, when you could get away with a lot more than you can today, avant garde composer David Behrman wangled a gig producing a series of New Music records for Columbia's Masterworks division under the title Music For Our Time. These included the original recordings of Terry Riley's "Rainbow in Curved Air" and "In C" among other things. One of the other records included in that series was this one by experimental percussionist Max Neuhaus. Neuhaus had already worked with Pierre Boulez and Karlheinz Stockhausen by the time of this record's release. He went on to expand beyond percussion to high-concept sound installations, in which he's still involved to this day, but this record was highly lauded among the few who give a shit about such things, and has been said to be the first live electronics recording, though I have my doubts about the veracity of that claim.
A quick glance at the worth-a-thousand-words picture on the cover tells you that Texas-born Neuhaus is no academic milquetoast. He stands shirtless and slightly crazed-looking, with long, disheveled hair and beard, surrounded by a huge array of drums, gongs, and other percussion, and foregrounded by by large speakers that have what look like car batteries wired to them and seem like they could explode at any moment. The five pieces featured are appropriately visceral, but definitely not without their subtleties.
Earle Browne's "Four Systems" just uses four cymbals as sound sources, but given the processed white-noise timbres Neuhaus produces, cymbals would be several rungs down on anyone's list of guesses. Morton Feldman's "The King of Denmark" is a much more muted piece, heavy on mallet percussion, and full of both space and pointillistic tone colors. Sylvano Bussotti's "Coeur Pour Batteur - Positively Yes" uses a high-powered miking technique that picks up not only the natural resonances of the instruments, but even Neuhaus's own body movements and breathing, which makes for some pretty crazy sounds. Stockhausen's "No. 9- Zyklus" has Neuhaus running the gamut of his considerable percussion battery and utilizing random-chance elements built into the piece. Actually, all these pieces involve chance elements, graphic scores, and performer-composition spontaneous interaction, that's kind of a theme, but I forgot to mention it at the top. The last piece, John Cage's famous "Fontana Mix (Feed)", around which Neuhaus based a whole other album that's been recently reissued, is all based on the feedback generated by miked percussion. Neuhaus doesn't even strike any of his instruments, he just turns up the mikes enough to induce feedback and controls the various tones from his mixer. As you can tell, the main players in avant garde composition are represented here, and Neuhaus does them proud. This thing is out on a pricey Japanese CD, but I was able to find a copy of the original LP for 10 bucks, so if you've got a turntable (and if you don't, why the hell are you reading this blog?), try tracking the record down.
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