Further into the February 4, 1928 issue of The New Yorker, the talk of Leon Theremin's New York recital continues. After the initial one about pulling music from "the ether," another talks about Rachmaninoff's response to the show (intrigued but not delighted), and finally -- in the weekly "Musical Events" column -- we get a bit more substance:
Radio experts can tell you that Professor Theremin has taken the familiar howl of an unbalanced receiving set and persuaded it to play Schubert's "Ave Maria." The result, which seems to us more important than the mechanics involved in obtaining it, is a tone which varies from something like cello timbre to the vibrations of the musical saw.
The Theremophone is still in a transitory stage, we hear, and it has obvious disadvantages. As the flow of tone is continuous, it is impossible to avoid at least a suggestion of scooping, and there are not yet Teremophonists sufficiently skilled to play rapid or complicated passages... Nevertheless, here is a new musical instrument, which is based on the fundamental principle underlying all instruments and which may, in less time than one might fancy, become part of the orchestra. If this seems romantic, so once upon a time was the notion that the clarinet belonged in good symphonic society.
Romantic, yes. Clara Rockmore did her best to lend credibility to the instrument but it never joined the clarinet in regular orchestras. Theremins did show up in sci-fi film scores, and later in scattered pop songs...though much music retroactively credited to the Theremin was actually performed on the Ondes-Martenot, much to my personal disillusion.
I have seen Theremin and Theremin-ish instruments played; they keep on popping up at Legendary Pink Dots shows in one form or another. It's beautiful to hear and even more beautiful to watch, but does seem to lack diversity and still can't be played at any speed or accuracy (unless, again, you're Clara Rockmore).
For anybody who was enjoying "Repeater," the CKMS old time radio program, I'm sorry to say that no new episodes are being recorded. I understand it had a bit of a following, but the show had started to hang a dark cloud over my Sundays...and I NEED my Sundays.
Also, walking the shows out to CKMS on oppressively hot Mondays was getting old.
For now they're playing re-runs of the show until something else comes along. A resurrection of "She-Devils on Heels," perhaps? I'll keep you posted...
The Theremin finally made its way from Russia to America in 1928, and in the February 4, 1928 issue of The New Yorker they make a strange sort of mention of it...though I can't help thinking they were a little confused about what the Theremin actually did.
There is such a wistful flavor in the newest magic--the instrument that draws music from the ether at the wave of a hand. No one (unless it be makers of musical instruments) can fail to find a plaintive delight in this attempt to comb the infinite, to sift the sad vapor that wraps us. At a surprisingly early age we too realized that we were in the presence of a greater beauty than we could ever hope to express, that we were listening to loftier songs than we would ever be able to hurl back at the sky, even in our lustiest piping moments. At this same early age, we were aware that--for some reason or other--we were going to have to make the attempt. What a mad crochet when the Creator filled the airy regions with a sadness no one could ever distill with word, wand, or song--and then turned loose whole handfuls of mortals who knew they had to try!
Unless they're talking about some OTHER instrument, I don't believe that the Theremin, you know, actually distilled music out of the ether. Thought it probably looked like it did.
I spent all Friday with my headphones clamped on, madly typing essential documentation that all came through at the very last minute. So what did the MuffyPod play for me?
I Don't Know What To Do With My Heart (Ruthie Foster)
Gloria (Laura Branigan)
Amnesia (Stan Ridgway)
The Butcher (The Residents)
We March (Prince)
A Triple Moon Salute (The Legendary Pink Dots)
One Beautiful Evening - Live (Laurie Anderson)
Baby Baba Boogie (Gap Band)
Bingo-Master's Break Out! - Live (The Fall)
Sex on the Flag (K.M.F.D.M.)
This really runs the gamut: funk, R&B, pop, art-rock, punk, and industrial. I think my iPod was as stressed out as I was.
Dog impersonations, wasps, and Nigel's sound-sensitive shirt...click on the picture for more shots of late-night mayhem.
I NEEDED a fun night, and since "you get what you need" (if not always "what you want") I had a rollicking, joyous, friend-filled time...and my outfit didn't even fall apart.
For me, Kate Bush and Thomas Dolby were the gateways out of mainstream music, but The Art of Noise kicked my butt all the way through.
They were always a mysterious entity, shunning band photographs at the beginning and doing enigmatic (and often nerdy) interviews. Born from the production team that Trevor Horn had put together to add synths and sampled tweaks to bands like ABC, Pet Shop Boys, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and Yes, they were "studio rats" who obviously spent far too much time remixing things.
The only member of the original band who didn't fit this aesthetic was journalist Paul Morley, whose job was to direct the band's philosophy. Or something. He did come up with wonderful cover art and some totally confusing liner notes, but judging by his activities in the "new" Art of Noise (saying enigmatic things and jumping around in a hoodie), Morley was not essential.
At the time, producer Trevor Horn was the music world's golden boy. It's difficult to figure out what he did in the band as well, and after the band's nasty split in 1985 -- Morley and Horn wanted to "create art," while the other band members wanted to be "rock stars" -- J. J. Jeczalik said that Horn and Morley were responsible for about 0.4% of what Art of Noise did, which sounds like a pretty fair assessment.
Ah, J.J. The guy with the Fairlight sampler. There's no doubt in my mind that he was the backbone of the band, responsible for "The Noise." Engineer Gary Langan helped tone down and channel J.J.s experiments into workable rhythms, and trained musician Anne Dudley added gorgeous keyboard lines over the herky-jerky beats. They single-handedly invented breakbeats and inspired so much of the music that is still being made today. Prodigy and Fatboy Slim, anybody?
The Art of Noise taught me (and the world) that, as of 1980, you no longer needed acoustic instrumentation to make a song. They were particularly obvious about it in this insane video for "Close to the Edit." I do think it's a video with a manifesto, and I love love love it.
As with so many bands of the period, The Art of Noise eventually went astray. I assume that Anne Dudley was interested in doing more "traditional" work, and their albums got more and more acoustic, at the expense of the production and technology that had previously been their strength. Bongos and backup singers and Tom Jones pushed the Fairlight to the background, and by the time of "Below the Waste" they'd sunk into total mediocrity.
Then, in 2000, Morley, Horne, and Dudley came back. They released a somewhat blah and meandering album about Paul Debussey. For the most part it sounded like an excerpt from Dudley's soundtrack work, but it did have some outstanding moments, like "Metaforce" (another great video).
Albums to check out? "Who's Afraid of? (The Art of Noise!)" (their debut) and "In Visible Silence" (their follow-up, when they still "had it"). Albums to avoid: "Below the Waste" (the bland end of their first career) and "The Seduction of Claude Debussy" (the mediocre attempt at another). For fans only: "And What Have You Done With My Body, God," a 4-CD collection of studio mixes from their first album, showing how "The Noise" evolved. Fascinating, if you like that sort of thing.
This weekend I was determined to relax and have a GOOD time. No stress, no worries.
The day was BEAUTIFUL and I took my cat out on the balcony, so I could sit and read and perhaps repair my tan. Suddenly the cat yelped and ran inside and I realized there were bugs everywhere...not just regular bugs, but WASPS.
You fuckers! Nobody stings my cat and lives! Somehow, overnight, little miss Queen Wasp had built her nest on my front porch. I couldn't go in or out without facing dozens of aggressive little bastards. Something had to be done. I managed to find the only guy in the area who would kill bugs for me on the weekend.
So Vanilla and I drank beer and watched this guy inject poison into the wasp nest. It was terrible fun. Tonight, against the advice of my cab driver, I knocked the goddamn thing down and split it apart with my broom. Look inside! Dead larvae.
Let this be a lesson to anybody who thinks they can hurt my cat. Sting her ear? That's WAR, fuckers.
There's a very nice review of "Our Past Present (Now Then)" over at Tokafi. It spends some time talking about Jim and I having a history of friendship and collaboration, and also dates us with the "fifteen years" number.
Time to go update the dangermuff website, as the review points over there. And hey, time to pay a renewal fee for webhosting as well. Why do all bills show up at once?
As for what's actually happening with UPhold...I've been on a brief hiatus. But soon...
Ugh, I've been reading these awful adverts from "Emily Shops" (Frocks and Frills for Women) for a few weeks now, and they drive me crazy. They're the type of "funny story" advertisement I've been quoting recently, but these are particularly bizarre. Here's episode ten, from January 28, 1928:
"A woman," said the Cynical Bachelor, "changes her mind as easily as she changes her dress."
"Let us be frank, old boy," said He to Whom Feminine Changes are a Natural Phenomenon, "a woman changes her dress often. But, in all things that really matter, she never changes her mind at all.
"For her mind is made up on the vital matter of being always attractive to men. And, granted she can find new dresses that reveal new facets of her attractiveness, she must change her clothes to keep from changing her mind.
"All she needs is some source of clothes that make attractiveness assured. And, if she knows those charming little Salons of Feminine Personality, the Emily Shops, she need never change her mind, and she can always change her dress, to the most fascinating effect."
WHAT? All of these ads make some weird generalization about "feminine psychology." Then, as if the generalization wasn't odd enough, they have to contort it into a promotion for Frocks and Frills...always in a single paragraph, and probably with very little time to think about it. So you get these offensive openings, followed by a "final thought" that's supposed to sell the clothes but only confuses you.
I should have started posting these earlier...if I run across more I'll put them up.
I have to admit that, while reading every issue of "The New Yorker" as part of my morning wake-up routine, I don't read every single article. I skip the sports and architectural articles, while only skimming the features about automobiles, Parisian society, theatrical reviews, art openings, and anything that looks like yet another silly burlesque.
Even so I can confidently state that "Canada" only appears in The New Yorker when they're talking about hockey, smuggling alcohol, or vacationing in Quebec. Even Mexico gets more attention, especially since Lindbergh was doing odd diplomatic fly-bys of Mexico in order to improve relations (and meanwhile Hearst -- the 1920s Fox News -- was publishing jingoistic stories to stir up anti-Mexican sympathies).
Imagine my surprise at finding, in the January 28, 1928 issue, an ENTIRE PAGE devoted to Canada! Though it's only for Canada Dry ginger ale:
For years, visitors to Canada had come back with tales of a wonderful ginger ale. They described its exquisite flavor--they told of drinking it in the Houses of Parliament in Ottawa, in the residence of the Governor-General, and in the Royal Canadian Yacht Club.
Friends would listen and smack their lips and ask if there wasn't some way to purchase it in this country. And the answer was always "No."
Finally, however, the demand became so insistent that it was decided to open a branch in this country, and in 1922 "Canada Dry" was officially brought over to the United States.
In quality, in purity, in the witchery of its matchless flavor, it is, indeed, "The Champagne of Ginger Ales." There is no other ginger ale like it.
Canada Dry only took off in America during prohibition, apparently because it helped to mask the unpleasant flavour of non-standard bootleg alcohols.
Unsurprisingly, prohibition was a boom time for ALL mixers; "Aquazone" has had lavish advertisements in every New Yorker issue since the first, and "Sumoro Orange" (distributed by Canada Dry Ginger Ale Inc.) is a recent newcomer as well. Both these products were unashamedly advertised as mixers...but hey, wasn't alcohol consumption ILLEGAL then? No wonder nobody took prohibition seriously.
It just occurred to me: did prohibition really start the "boom" for mixed drinks? Was it all due to the bad taste of the bootleg booze?
