Easy-To-Not-Listen-To Music

Now that everything is just great, I brace myself for the unending tidal wave of musical brilliance that is to inevitably flow through my life, now that I know I still have a hankering for it.

But instead of a tidal wave, it’s more of a trickle. I need musical Flomax.

To put it another way, music continued to disappoint, but this time I don't think it was my fault.




Aphex Twin: Selected Ambient Works 85 - 92

This is the happier, peppier cousin to the record that I use for my depressions.  And as I said previously I thought it might serve as a halfway mark to music that was more fun than what I had been listening to during that long, cold winter.

But my (admittedly unreliable) first impression is meh.

My second impression, awful, and in it’s own way, even more depressing than his other record.

And, as is usually the case my third thru whatever-I’m-up-to-now listen, better.

This is one of the first records ever called “electronica”. And the issue, to me, will always be Does It Have Any Soul?  And by that I don’t necessarily mean does it have Aretha Franklin singing on it, but rather, does it have real (or very well faked) feeling to it?

This is a valid question for any kind of music, but especially important for electronica, where there’s less of a reliance on words, and where there’s always a danger that the technology will overwhelm the the human.

That seems a fair way of judging this record. Here’s my reaction to each track, without the track names, because they’re silly.  (ie. “Xtal”, “Tha”, etc. You get the idea. It’s like he’s a member of a Sci-Fi themed fraternity):

1. We start off promisingly enough. Very sleek electronica. But the key element is the woman's voice in the background that humanizes it. 
2. Again, voices in the background - this time spoken - humanize this one, but not as successfully  as before. I like my alienation as much as the next guy so I hang in there. It's somewhat sterile but the ghosts in the machine help.
3. A less cool, and thus more humane, melody and beat that will one day get used to great effect by Erasure. 
4. Here’s where I start to get a Pure Moods vibe link. (Do you have Pure Moods? Of course you do. It’s a phase we all go through. Dont let it get you down. It’s not so bad. But it does kind of announce that you’re middle aged.) For a while I thought I was hearing heavy breathing on this one, but that turned out to be my son Michael exercising. So, thumbs down here, although the bass is trying.
5. And now I just don't care. He's trying to be Eno, and failing. Thank God it’s short.
6. And now he's getting desperate - he speeds things up a bit, but all I’m hearing are a lot of synthesizer farts.
7. And here he tries to be haunting and almost gets away with it. But not quite.
8. Now, this is a pretty cool track, and I can definitely imagine it getting played in clubs, where, you know, humans go. (Not me, cool humans.)  But there’s that whole “we are the music makers” lyric. Well, screw you buddy. We're the ones paying the music makers.
9. And again, not bad. Techno, but not entirely soulless.
10. More, techno, and perfect for that club.
11. Now he goes to outer space, where no one can hear you snore.
12. And then back to Earth, where’s it’s not all that exciting, either.  After a minute or so it perks up a bit.
13. Kind of brooding, in a good way. Kind of peppy too. It’s got the right attitude.

Most of these cuts are pretty long, and to be fair, they usually need a minute or so to kick in. But I don’t know if I’ve got that kind of time.

I suppose that, in its infancy, these are the areas that electronica had to explore, but I find more heart in Eno/Moby/DJ Shadow and even Burial.

From what I understand, Richard D. James (secret identity of Aphex Twin!, Oh my god, I gave it away!) was in his teens when he started out, so in that light, this is quite an achievement.

I also noticed a disturbing resemblance to the type of music they'd play on Miami Vice (another extreme dislike of mine from the 80s), which makes sense given that this collection covers 1985 to 1992.

This is music for those desperate to feel cool. And it works better in a club than it does out here in real life. Or to paraphrase Mark Twain, it’s music that sounds better when you’re not listening to it.

But it’s growing on me. A little.  The big joke on Aphex Twin is that, instead of this being apt for nighttime at a club in the city, how much better this sounds on a Saturday morning when I’m trying to do chores.

As it so happens, I’ve just gotten out of bed. I’m in a tee shirt and haven’t shaved yet, so I can practically pass for Don Johnson. So let me put on that blazer, roll up the sleeves and do the dishes!

To the tune of Aphex Twin.

B

"Crystal"

How Jaybee Almost Got His Groove (Which He Never Really Had in the First Place) Back. Sort Of.

When we last left off, Jaybee was trying to get back what passed for his mojo/groove/rhythm.

He never really had it in the first place - it all of that went to the kids - but you can't blame a guy for trying.

Like I said previously, I had a couple of reasons to sour on music at the beginning of the year. And avoiding music turned out to be not nearly as difficult as it should have been. It made me wonder if I'd lost my taste for it.

So I began to plot my way out. I’d look at the various year end best of lists for inspiration, where I found Wussy, St. Vincent, The War on Drugs piqueing my interest. But I knew I wasn’t in the mood for them at the time.

And the weird electronica and environmental sounds I was listening to led me to consider Aphex Twin, whose Selected Ambient Works, 85-92 might server as a halfway point back to normal, (Volume 2, its evil twin, was such a good companion during a very dark period. Like how you need a fellow drug addict around when you’re trying to quit.) Volume 1 is supposedly poppier, so I thought it would put me in the right direction, and lead me out, towards the records above. But it wasn't time yet.

Well, I finally passed those tests I was studying for, and then wondered if the music urge would come back.

It took about a day.

And what did I decide to listen to?  Why, that other great companion during that very dark time:



Wilco: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot 

Back then, this, and Aphex Twin, were the only two records I could listen to for a three month stretch. And I didn’t even love the record. It was just the only one that fit the mood.

But it does open with a number that reminds me of someone breaking out of cocoon (and then falling on his face, but at the time, I would settle for anything). And now, it seemed like a good transition to real life.

"I Am Trying to Break Your Heat"

The drumming is like how I dance, and it ends like my speeches do - in complete incoherence. But it was exactly what I needed.

I even brought the record to work where all dreams normally go to die. And they didn’t.

Well, by now I’d come out of the cocoon, and I had to take the next steop. Would I stumble?




My Bloody Valentine: Loveless

This was more like a volcano erupting. A dam breaking.  An explosion caught on tape. But, you know, in a good way.

When I first got this record, I found it so anarchic I had trouble finding where the beat was most of the time. Forget about melody.

This song doesn’t have that problem. The “melody” is a drunk slide guitar playing the same figure over and over (and over) again. The beat is basically a t-rex stomping on your head. By 3:23 you have to choose between going mad or just going with the flow. (Of water, not lava. Damn you, mixed metaphors!)

"I Only Said"

But, like I said, it was what I needed. 

So, I ended up feeling my version of normal, which I can’t recommend, but it’s all I’ve got.

Let's see where that leads.

I Don't Want To Hear It Anymore, Part Four: Drowned

‘What’s the hell is that racket?”

Mrs. Jaybee thought the computer was malfunctioning, but it was just me listening to a new CD. (This happens a lot.)

It was mid-January when a Christmas present meant for me finally came in the mail.  And again, it fit this weird, not-interested-in-music mood I was in. (Some mood. My third album and it wasn't even February.)

But those three records were near accidents. Neu! was a perfunctory buy. As You Like It a shot in the relative dark. And now an almost forgotten amazon Wish List item popped up out of nowhere.

Ocean of Sound

David Toop is a, well, I’m not sure what the hell he is, exactly. But he did compile this collection of weird sounds only some of us would call music. He also wrote a book about it, but that’s for another time. Let's call him a musical anthropologist.

He's put together a wide array of recordings that differ in time, place, tone and instrumentation. Why Toop thinks they should sound good together will be something I'll discover once I read his book, but for now I'm left with only the actual experience of hearing it.

And it's quite an experience.

Toop jumps continents/decades/genres with each track. Hence we start with Jamaican dub, but then go to jazz fusion, (which, oddly, doesn’t suck) electronica, ambient, third world, fourth world, classical, shoegaze, and we’re only halfway through the first disc. 

The segue from Les Baxter to My Bloody Valentine is particularly striking. Usually you progress from chaos to beauty, this goes in the opposite direction, and still works.

The one from Paul Schutze to the Velvet Underground isn’t as successful ("I Heard Her Call My Name" doesn't fit easily anywhere except right where it is - at the beginning of side two of White Light/White Heat - right before “Sister Ray”) but I give him credit for trying.

But overall, it’s miraculous how these disparate pieces hang together so well. I think the secret is that Toop doesn't try to make them hang together too seamlessly. He wants you to notice the differences, but at the same time realize how short a leap it really was.

There’s chanting, a Buddist ceremony and various “found sounds”.  My favorites are the Howler monkeys. Not the Monkees (this time), but actual monkeys. At one point, when a ship’s horn blows. Mrs. Jaybee joked “so when’s the train coming?” And sure enough, as if on cue, along comes the train.

Otherworldly, and yet so of this world - just some parts of it I’ve never been to. This is NOT Pure Moods. Not easy listening, either. More like Music to Listen to Alone. And some of it isn't music at all. But if you’re in the right mood it is nature itself.

You can listen intently, or ignore it and it’ll still sound like life is going on around you. 

One listener gave it a so-so review on amazon, and I can’t even argue with it. The review - like the record - makes sense on paper.  But unlike the review, the record also makes sense to my ears. The music. The sounds. Often both.

And like the last time I was in such a funk, and could only listen to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or Selected Ambient Works, Volume 2, I stuck to this record for the better part of three months.

A

When to listen to it: At night. Preferably a dark night of the soul.

When NOT to listen to it: When everything's going great.

“Faraway Chant”

I Don’t Want to Hear It Anymore, Part Three: Any Old Way to Choose It

So it’s mid-January and I’ve decided I’m “not into music anymore”.  The weather is cooperating, too. The cold and snow are beating any enthusiasm I had for beauty right out of me, and you, too, I’m sure.

But I’m still in the middle of my World History Project (some day I’ll explain what this is), and I’m up to around 1600, which means I’m reading and watching lots of Shakespeare. Okay, so it’s not a day at the beach, but under the circumstances I could be doing worse.

So I take Camille Paglia’s advice and check out As You Like It. There are lots of versions of most of Shakespeare’s plays, and since I’d already seen KB’s bitchin’ Henry V and entertaining-as-hell-even-at-four-hours Hamlet, I went with his version of AYLI, which stars Bryce Dallas Howard (Ron Howard’s daughter and Gwen Stacey from Spiderman).

And with a striking change of locale to 19th century Japan, it was almost as good as those other two efforts. One element that really added to my enjoyment was a lovely violin theme that ran with several variations throughout the movie. It deftly combined classical and eastern melodic ideas. Which is a bullsh*t (and maybe racist) way of saying it sounded nice and exotic at the same time.

So, somewhere in between SAD and sad, I broke down and bought it.




Patrick Doyle: As You Like It

And immediately regret it.

Impulse buys are like that.

Now, Jaybee, you might say, it really doesn’t count as an impulse purchase if you actually, you know, HEARD it.

But I would reply, Not So, dear reader!  Any record I haven’t thoroughly researched (allmusic.com, metacritic.com, complete background check on all contributing musicians, etc. - you know, what anyone would normally do) is by definition an Impulse Buy.

The dreaded IB risks diluting the pureness of my record collection! The last time said pureness was threatened was when I got married - when now-Mrs. Jaybee and I combined our record collections. (The Ohio Players? Shalamar? What the hell have I gotten myself into, I wondered?)  But with the help of a Marriage/Music Counselor we worked through it.

And the first listen doesn’t make me feel any better. My first listens are notoriously tone deaf to begin with, and what made it worse were the awful speakers on my crappy laptop.

So now I’m thinking: So this is what it’s come to. I’m now buying soundtrack albums? How sad is that? I’m not the guy who buys soundtrack albums! I’m the guy who makes fun of the guy who buys soundtrack albums, because he does it for the same dumb reasons I just gave above! Now I’m Him!

As you can tell, I’ve never been much of a fan of original soundtrack (OST) albums. Like rock and roll song lyrics that sound profound while being sung by Jim Morrison, let’s say, but look like grammar high poems on paper, soundtracks can rarely stand on their own, and are best left where they are, in the background of the movie, and forgotten at the end of it.

But this movie was so romantic, and the violin theme so lovely, that I thought I’d found a way out of my musical dead end. Maybe I was just getting desperate, grabbing at anything that caught my attention.

But what’s wrong with it, I asked myself. Part of it was that - as should have been expected - the theme I liked so much wasn’t playing throughout the whole movie, as it turned out. If it was, I probably would have had my fill of it by the end of the movie. (For an example of a song - even a great one - being played too much during a movie, check out Muriel’s Wedding, where Dancing Queen must get played at least a dozen times. They could have fit the entire soundtrack on a single. All of which goes to show that “Dancing Queen” must be a tremendous song, because I still like it.)

So a lot of what’s left on the CD is the other stuff I didn’t really notice all that much while the movie was on. And it didn’t sound like it had much personality.

But a second listen - on better speakers - make it sound much, much better. The instrumentals are starting to grow on me, too. Yes, the actual songs with words still annoy me. But every time they do, that damned theme I love so much comes back on.

I still don’t like the soundtracky-ness of it, and what I like best is the same theme played about six different ways.  But you know, it’s real, real pretty.

But, so what? I’m not really into pretty in mid January.

And then it suddenly recedes into the background, as if swallowed up by an Ocean of Sound.

B+

“Violin Romance”

To Be Continued...

I Don’t Want to Hear It, Part Two: Happy Neu! Year

So, like I said, 2014 sucked, and 2015 was offering a compelling reason to just take a break from music altogether.

But sometimes circumstances call out for it. And after hearing about the untimely death of an old friend, I knew I’d need something.

We’d heard he was sick around Thanksgiving and found out he’d died right after Christmas. The wake was on New Years Day.

The next day, I needed to go for a long walk and along the way bought a CD, but my heart wasn’t in it.

The funeral mass was the day after that. We came home feeling drained and numb. I was off from work that week and finally gave myself permission to do nothing. I decided to just lie down and read for a while. I could have opted to listen to nothing, but since I’d just gotten a CD the day before I figured I’d put it on.

So I lay there reading, so tired I felt glued to the bed. I’d nod off occasionally as CD played, so before I knew it, it was over. So I put it on again. And again.

So it was - and I mean this as a compliment - a good substitute for nothing. In a way, it was an expression of nothing. Again, a compliment. I certainly didn’t want to hear singing, at least not in English.




Neu! (1972)

These guys left the pre-famous (if you’d call it that) Kraftwerk because they (the latter) weren’t weird enough. Neu! would eventually be renowned for a synthesizer sound that would later influence David Bowie’s late 70s sound (Low and Heroes, two of my faves) and Brian Eno in general.

On this, their first album, there’s more guitar than synthesizer. Still very drone-y though. And although the six songs are all rather long, and the guitar touches are pretty minimal, the drums keep you feeling like you’re getting somewhere. On paper, it all sounds pretty boring, but because they change up the beats, on the best cuts, it verges on hypnotic.

And they’re not afraid to make noise. And not just musical noise. Noise noise. Like a jackhammer. I mean it. An actual jackhammer. That one’s call “Negativland”. No sh*t.

At times quiet, for a cold cloudy day. And at others, an explosion of distortion and rage. Then it ends with a whimper. On purpose. Works for me!

But it may be music for people who don’t like music, or who are tired of it. Exactly what I needed.

I’ll have to try it again when I’m feeling better.

Neu! musik for the Neu! Year

B+

“Hallogallo”

When to play it: When you’re alone.
When NOT to play it: At a barbeque.

I Don’t Want To Hear it Anymore, Part One:

Winters suck in general, but the winter of 2014/2015 will go down as one of the suckiest of all time. You can look it up.

And the rest of 2014 wasn’t so hot, either. There were a couple of serious illnesses in the extended Jaybee family, and while everybody made it through it all okay, we did get word over the holidays that an old friend passed away.

I would typically be laying a little low (musically and otherwise) during the winter anyway. It’s a good time to sit back and listen to something more contemplative than pop music. Something that fits the cold, quiet Saturday afternoons in January. Jazz, Classical, Folk, World, Weird, but nothing too loud or raucous. 

But circumstances were dampening my enthusiasm even more than usual.

Plus, it turned out I would be studying for a professional certification - one of those things that you value less the closer you get to it. (Sort of the Groucho Marx effect: Who’d want a certification that I can get?) So I knew I’d have some studying to do, and music with vocals would be a distraction (unless it’s Leonard Cohen). 

And when I set out on such a course, it's not enough to simply study. I must do so in the most ascetic, humorless way possible. In other words, No Fun. Fun normally takes the form of music, movies, books, friends. You know, Good Times. But I was abstaining. (Somehow beer and wine make the cut, though.)

It stems from reasons both practical and nonsensical.  On the practical side, I get easily distracted. "You've got a lot on your mind." my Mrs. Jaybee says. But she’s being kind. My head is filled, but like a hoarders apartment, it’s mostly crap.

And while young peoples’ brains are like sponges that soak up whatever knowledge is around, mine is like the stained and crusty one by your kitchen sink that you’ve been meaning to throw away because it's starting to smell funny.

So I had a lot of good reasons to not listen to music in the new year. 

The weird thing this: I didn’t miss it. 

I barely wanted to hear music at all. If anything, the sound of music would just annoy me. (Let’s put aside for the moment that 95% of what I hear annoys me anyway.) 

This would go on - with some minor interruptions - for nearly three months. No iTunes at home, no radio playing while driving, no songs floating through my head during conversations with my boss. 

I began to think I'd reached a new phase of my life. As I said in a recent post, I’d made a resolution to experience a little more life and a little less music. Little did I dream how easy it would turn out to be.

So this was the state of my music obsession. Or in this case, my now non-obsession. 

In the spirit of “less is more”. I opted for silence. 

“I Don’t Want to Hear It Anymore”

To be continued.

Talent vs. Genius, Round Two, or Bad News Bear Hug:

As I’m sure you remember (right!), last year I wrote about the Dandy Warhols and in particular their album Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia, which I liked a lot.

I was prompted to get it because of the documentary “DIG!”, which was about the friendship/rivalry between the Dandys and their idols, the Brian Jonestown Massacre. One couldn’t help but be interested in both of these bands.

As 13 Tales confirmed, the Dandys were the professional ones, who were maybe a little more balanced and career-focused. And indeed, part of the tension between the two bands comes from the Dandys eclipsing the supposedly more talented BJM.

And what about BJM? As you can tell from their name, they’re bad news twice over. Worshipped by the Dandys, they were brilliant but mercurial - drugs, fights, breakups, all usually taking place right on stage - led by genius/megalomaniac Anton Newcombe.

In my younger days I would have immediately gravitated to this obviously misunderstood, greatly maligned gift to Western Civilization, but I’ve since come to believe where there’s smoke there’s fire. So I went for a surer bet - The Dandys - and 13 Tales turned out to be one of the best records I got in 2014.

Plus, the BJM made lots of records. And if I were younger I probably would have jumped into their catalogue head first, getting each one of them. But now I’ve got to be more selective with my time, and I’ve learned that geniuses are prone to inconsistency so why wade through all the records they made on their off days?

So I decided to hedge my bets by getting their 2 CD retrospective. Which, since xgau trashed it would be a hell of a hedge if it turned out to be awful. So it took until my birthday, and an excuse to get someone else to potentially waste their money, for it to be time to jump into the abyss.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre: Tepid Peppermint Wonderland

And people, let me tell you It. Is. Just. Great!  

In what is becoming an increasingly rare occurrence, this record hit me on the first play. Each song - all 38 of them - had something to offer.

Review the Review:

How could something so obviously good have been trashed so thoroughly? So I went back to the xgau review.

“… Newcombe gets a no doubt small, no doubt excessive cash advance to prove his genius…. the world passed on the first time. The world was right, and will be right again every time Newcombe revives.”

Well xgua clearly dislikes this guy. Not just the music. The guy. He’s probably right. (Please watch DIG! to form your own opinion.) He never did have much use for drug people. As the former roommate of one, I can sympathize.

So they’re not role models. But I suspect that many of my heroes wouldn’t stand close scrutiny, either. Gandhi was a great man but I wouldn’t buy any of his records.

In terms of consistency and of how often I want to hear it, this is hands down, the best record I’ve gotten in 2014. The fact that it’s a best-of is the only thing that kept me from putting it at the top of my album list.

But deep down, I suspect I’ve been conned. These guitars may only sound so good because they’re so familiar. But if they’re so familiar why do I keep playing them?

So, back the the xgau review:

“His recombined riffs rarely break the shambolic surface...“

To me, those riffs sit real pretty right there on that surface. Plus I really like the riff, so when it gets recombined, I like that one, too. And I prefer the BJM’s shambolic to the Dandy’s commercial sound.

“and whenever two consecutive lines of lyric grab and hold, they complain.”

Well, yeah. Drug people are like that. Everyone’s against them, all the time. It’s never their fault. Newcombe's voice is nasally whine, so it’s actually pretty well suited to the words, which he's not really emphasizing anyway. Plus, I was never a big word guy, either, especially when the music is this good.

And finally, xgau goes on to contrast the Dandy’s “panache and professionalism” with BJMs (Newcombe’s, really) “heroin and lies”. Harsh, yet true. I really did hate that roommate by the time he moved out.

Did He Hear What I Heard?:

I heard these lovely, echoing guitars. Retro but you can’t tell from where (most of the time). It may be the best “lost sixties album” ever. When you were fifteen, if you ever half-heard a song on the radio and never found out who it was you could do worse than to get this record to make up for it.

On the other hand, when you do eventually track those obscure records down, they rarely live up your recollection. And in a couple of years I may look back on this record with some embarrassment. But for now, I’m basking in that shambolic, druggy, whiny, retro, probably-non-as-good-as-it’s-pretending-to-be record.

Like the Warhols, the BJM aren’t above, ahem, “borrowing” things, but where the DWs grab actual riffs and run, the BJM prefer to just wear the general aura of sixties on their sleeves. I should object on principle, but I just smile.

How many 2 CD sets (38 songs!) can you put on and listen to all the way through?

Brian Jonestown Massacre vs. Dandy Warhols: A Technical Decision:

So, who wins? Well, BJM, but it’s not really a fair comparison. This is a compilation afterall.

It’s also sit around and get high music. If you don’t partake, it’s probably sit around and get depressed music. Or be mad at the world music. Teenage music. Music for losers.

Derivative. Morally wrong. But I’ve never been able to resist music that I shouldn’t like for some theoretical reason.

When things got really heated between the bands - BJM did a song called “Not If You Were the Last Dandy on Earth” and the Dandys threatened to write a song called “You’re Not Sixteen, But Your Girlfriends Are”. So does this mean Newcombe’s a pedophile, too? I prefer to not think about it. The guitars help me do that.

Sixties style guitar rock is right up my alley, so God (along with James Brown, Art Tatum and Monteverdi - the other compilations I got in 2014) forgive me, this is the one I keep playing. Three months after getting it was still going strong. A

When to Listen to: When you’re in kind of a dark place and might otherwise take drugs. This will substitute.

When NOT to Listen: When your roommate has just stolen your rent money to buy drugs.

“Servo”

“Prozac vs. Heroin”