A nice week down the San Juan river - we'll post some pictures in a day or two, after the swell of missed work abates somewhat.
Rainy Memorial Day weekend here in Boulder, getting ready to re-immerse into not-laid-off-yet land.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Disco Biscuits and the real meaning of Dead
Got off an interview not long ago with Jon Gutwillig, guitarist for the Philly-based Disco Biscuits. They're doing an extravaganza show at Red Rocks in a couple of weeks and I interviewed him for a preview piece for next week's paper.
We touched on a great number of subjects - he's an energetic interview - but one thing stood out for me. We spent some time discussing the Dead - as a player in his early thirties, Gutwillig has a certain perception of the Grateful Dead, as the archetypal founding agent of the current jamband scene.
Which is fair, but in the context of what we were discussing, I found it an intriguingly incomplete view. True enough, the Dead went off on unashamedly self-indulgent jams, sometimes inspired and sometimes (to these ears) labored and tedious. Gutwillig credits their iconic status to this very thing, a fearlessness about treading the outer perimeter of the musical back 40 - my view is that the Dead had a solid base of songwriting, deeply rooted in folk, proto-Americana, blues and jugband, that provided a deep and detailed framework for their instrumental excursions, and for me, their jams lost usually their charm the further from the musical substance of those songs they wandered. They were a songwriter's band long before, and in some ways more profoundly, than they were a jamband.
And most of the younger jambands who followed in their footsteps in the 90's did not have that passion for songs, and thus, for old farts like me, are merely competent icing-lickers by comparison.
We touched on a great number of subjects - he's an energetic interview - but one thing stood out for me. We spent some time discussing the Dead - as a player in his early thirties, Gutwillig has a certain perception of the Grateful Dead, as the archetypal founding agent of the current jamband scene.
Which is fair, but in the context of what we were discussing, I found it an intriguingly incomplete view. True enough, the Dead went off on unashamedly self-indulgent jams, sometimes inspired and sometimes (to these ears) labored and tedious. Gutwillig credits their iconic status to this very thing, a fearlessness about treading the outer perimeter of the musical back 40 - my view is that the Dead had a solid base of songwriting, deeply rooted in folk, proto-Americana, blues and jugband, that provided a deep and detailed framework for their instrumental excursions, and for me, their jams lost usually their charm the further from the musical substance of those songs they wandered. They were a songwriter's band long before, and in some ways more profoundly, than they were a jamband.
And most of the younger jambands who followed in their footsteps in the 90's did not have that passion for songs, and thus, for old farts like me, are merely competent icing-lickers by comparison.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day, Mom
First Mother's Day since my Mom passed in February.
You're not forgotten, Mom.
You're not forgotten, Mom.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Roach, Schulze and being a critic off the clock
I was quite pleased to see a little white box from the USPS waiting for me when I returned from work yesterday - my two new CD's from Steve Roach, Arc of Passion and Landmass. Roach is one of the most prolific and, to my mind, perhaps the most consistently satisfying of contemporary ambient/electronic composers, and as I write this I'm thoroughly enjoying Landmass.
After many years writing about music, I do find that I am gradually losing the nagging sense - guilt, maybe - that my tastes aren't broad enough and my knowledge of music isn't deep enough. The latter, in fact, I've settled up with long ago. I've never claimed, to editors or readers or peers, that I'm a genuine musicologist, with an encyclopedic fluency is broad swatches of genre or chronology. I have too much admiration for the real musicologists, and too reaslistic appraisal of my own contributions. I do know a thing or two (and forgotten much along the way), but my writing is far more based on artist perceptions of their own work, how they place it in context, how they struggle with recording and performing, and my own critical ear turned toward what they do. Living in the now, covering the now, with ears tuned by many years of listening to many things, I think, allows me to do what I do without the baggage and elitism that can easily arise from a true musicologist's field of view.
That may sound like a long apology for being a chump change music writer, but after thirty years, I'm really not inclined to apologize for much.
Having said all that, it's a strangely satisfying experience to simply buy a couple of CD's from an artist I'll almost certainly never cover in a newspaper column, listen and enjoy, and present it to my own aesthetic inclinations without having to present it to a generalized readership. In a sense, it has little to do with what I do in front of a computer every week, and I'm okay with that. More than okay. I know that when I retire from this freelance thing, I can just go back to being a consumer of music. And thankfully, I know what I like.
I also noted that Roach's homepage included a blurb about a recently published book about Klaus Schulze . Schulze was one of those artists that utterly captivated me in the 70's - extended, cerebral electronic meditations, spacey and evocative - and I have a couple of my recently rescued vinyl LP's poised by my USB turntable for conversion to iPoditry.
But interestingly, and perhaps consistent with what I noted above, my experiment in merging my fascination and appreciation for the electronic music pioneer and my writing work was a profoundly unsatisfying experience.
About ten years ago, when I was freelancing for an online music review website, I contacted Schulze to see if he'd be interested in doing an email interview. His manager, Klaus Mueller, responded enthusiastically, so I prepared (hurriedly, which was my first mistake) about 20 questions and sent them off. Schulze works on a Mac, or he did, so the responses I got a few days later were a bit garbled (in those days, text and email formats didn't always play nice between platforms), and perhaps more frustratingly, a few responses were somewhat curt, almost churlish, and frankly, the whole interview scented of patience tested.
My second mistake was noting in a thank you note to Mueller, that I thought a few answers were a little ...condensed....and that (look out) "maybe something was lost in translation." Schulze, of course, is German.
Mueller (aka 'KDM') then proceeded to uncork a load of vitriolic whoopass on me, accusing me of being stupid and ignorant, impolite, rude, disingenuous, phony, a hack writer and (the lowest blow?) of being "from California". Nothing I could say in reply seemed to calm his electrified rage at me, and although I made several attempts to apologize for any misunderstanding, he wouldn't have any of it and concluded this extremely and needlessly nasty exchange with "don't bother us anymore..."
Sorry - all I was trying to do was promote your artist and highlight his long and groundbreaking career. Any wonder why Schulze is virtually unknown in America?
I sent the piece in, they ran it (my editor said he thought it was a decent piece), and I was contacted some months later by Eurock founder and proprietor Archie Patterson , who asked if he could include a thankfully abridged version on a promotional CD he was putting together. Archie has been a staunch, longtime supporter and knowledgeable writer and online importer/vendor of Euro-prog and electronic music, and I would take a moment to encourage anyone interested in this music to visit his website.
In the process of negotiating the interview transfer, I asked Patterson, basically, wtf ??? He knew Mueller pretty well, and he text-chuckled a bit, and informed me that Mueller really dislikes Americans, and Californians especially, and not to take it all too seriously. It was modest reassurance for me, but the whole cluster frankly damaged my estimation of Schulze and his 'organization' beyond repair.
(I would also contrast this with two phone interviews I did with Tangerine Dream founder Edgar Froese, one in the mid 80's and one in the mid 90's, that were engaging, informative and vigorously polite.)
I would rather doubt that any portion of the interview I did with Schulze, although it still exists out in cyberspace somewhere, made its way into this book, but it occurs to me that had I not had this experience, I might be interested in actually picking this up and reading it. But someone else can do that. Schulze's contribution can reside between the grooves of X and Moondawn and Timewind, and while I'd be the first to give him his due in the lengthening history of electronic music, I have little interest in spending any money researching his history and applauding his stature. Perhaps a musicologist would.
In the meantime, Roach's thoughtful, gorgeously crafted mile-deep tonal excursions will do just fine.
After many years writing about music, I do find that I am gradually losing the nagging sense - guilt, maybe - that my tastes aren't broad enough and my knowledge of music isn't deep enough. The latter, in fact, I've settled up with long ago. I've never claimed, to editors or readers or peers, that I'm a genuine musicologist, with an encyclopedic fluency is broad swatches of genre or chronology. I have too much admiration for the real musicologists, and too reaslistic appraisal of my own contributions. I do know a thing or two (and forgotten much along the way), but my writing is far more based on artist perceptions of their own work, how they place it in context, how they struggle with recording and performing, and my own critical ear turned toward what they do. Living in the now, covering the now, with ears tuned by many years of listening to many things, I think, allows me to do what I do without the baggage and elitism that can easily arise from a true musicologist's field of view.
That may sound like a long apology for being a chump change music writer, but after thirty years, I'm really not inclined to apologize for much.
Having said all that, it's a strangely satisfying experience to simply buy a couple of CD's from an artist I'll almost certainly never cover in a newspaper column, listen and enjoy, and present it to my own aesthetic inclinations without having to present it to a generalized readership. In a sense, it has little to do with what I do in front of a computer every week, and I'm okay with that. More than okay. I know that when I retire from this freelance thing, I can just go back to being a consumer of music. And thankfully, I know what I like.
I also noted that Roach's homepage included a blurb about a recently published book about Klaus Schulze . Schulze was one of those artists that utterly captivated me in the 70's - extended, cerebral electronic meditations, spacey and evocative - and I have a couple of my recently rescued vinyl LP's poised by my USB turntable for conversion to iPoditry.
But interestingly, and perhaps consistent with what I noted above, my experiment in merging my fascination and appreciation for the electronic music pioneer and my writing work was a profoundly unsatisfying experience.
About ten years ago, when I was freelancing for an online music review website, I contacted Schulze to see if he'd be interested in doing an email interview. His manager, Klaus Mueller, responded enthusiastically, so I prepared (hurriedly, which was my first mistake) about 20 questions and sent them off. Schulze works on a Mac, or he did, so the responses I got a few days later were a bit garbled (in those days, text and email formats didn't always play nice between platforms), and perhaps more frustratingly, a few responses were somewhat curt, almost churlish, and frankly, the whole interview scented of patience tested.
My second mistake was noting in a thank you note to Mueller, that I thought a few answers were a little ...condensed....and that (look out) "maybe something was lost in translation." Schulze, of course, is German.
Mueller (aka 'KDM') then proceeded to uncork a load of vitriolic whoopass on me, accusing me of being stupid and ignorant, impolite, rude, disingenuous, phony, a hack writer and (the lowest blow?) of being "from California". Nothing I could say in reply seemed to calm his electrified rage at me, and although I made several attempts to apologize for any misunderstanding, he wouldn't have any of it and concluded this extremely and needlessly nasty exchange with "don't bother us anymore..."
Sorry - all I was trying to do was promote your artist and highlight his long and groundbreaking career. Any wonder why Schulze is virtually unknown in America?
I sent the piece in, they ran it (my editor said he thought it was a decent piece), and I was contacted some months later by Eurock founder and proprietor Archie Patterson , who asked if he could include a thankfully abridged version on a promotional CD he was putting together. Archie has been a staunch, longtime supporter and knowledgeable writer and online importer/vendor of Euro-prog and electronic music, and I would take a moment to encourage anyone interested in this music to visit his website.
In the process of negotiating the interview transfer, I asked Patterson, basically, wtf ??? He knew Mueller pretty well, and he text-chuckled a bit, and informed me that Mueller really dislikes Americans, and Californians especially, and not to take it all too seriously. It was modest reassurance for me, but the whole cluster frankly damaged my estimation of Schulze and his 'organization' beyond repair.
(I would also contrast this with two phone interviews I did with Tangerine Dream founder Edgar Froese, one in the mid 80's and one in the mid 90's, that were engaging, informative and vigorously polite.)
I would rather doubt that any portion of the interview I did with Schulze, although it still exists out in cyberspace somewhere, made its way into this book, but it occurs to me that had I not had this experience, I might be interested in actually picking this up and reading it. But someone else can do that. Schulze's contribution can reside between the grooves of X and Moondawn and Timewind, and while I'd be the first to give him his due in the lengthening history of electronic music, I have little interest in spending any money researching his history and applauding his stature. Perhaps a musicologist would.
In the meantime, Roach's thoughtful, gorgeously crafted mile-deep tonal excursions will do just fine.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Best song title ever
Chilling out to Drone Zone this afternoon - a beautiful, ethereal piece by a guy named Tom Vedvik came on, called "Clocks Don't Bring Tomorrow".
Titling ambient pieces is definitely an artform unto itself.
Titling ambient pieces is definitely an artform unto itself.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Other Lives
We wanted to cover these guys when they swang through the area a few months back, but timing and space didn't permit, so were grateful that they booked a show at the B-Side Lounge for next week. Did a short, energized interview with lead singer Jesse Tabish, and story will be out on Thursday (we're working on it right after some overdue blogging hereabouts.)
Gorgeous stuff - poised, almost elegaic folk-rock, dressed in cello and lots of acoustic piano, wrapped in the kind of melancholy gray you'd find on the front stoop of an abandoned prairie farmhouse. I have no illusions they'll be huge, and I'm not sure they should be, but they are well worth a listen.
Gorgeous stuff - poised, almost elegaic folk-rock, dressed in cello and lots of acoustic piano, wrapped in the kind of melancholy gray you'd find on the front stoop of an abandoned prairie farmhouse. I have no illusions they'll be huge, and I'm not sure they should be, but they are well worth a listen.
Skis season done
At the risk of repeating ourselves, ski season has finally closed...at least for me, as the time is now 4:02PM Sunday, and Loveland just roped off the lifts. See ya in November, guys.
No problem - we just hauled about 4000lbs of sod back from Home Depot, and we're a-gonna make a yard.
No problem - we just hauled about 4000lbs of sod back from Home Depot, and we're a-gonna make a yard.
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