Retrospective Series #5 - Oh God (Part 1)

I know that some of you are more metal than me.  So I like bow ties and grew up in the suburbs. So what?  Some of you were already burning churches while I was still attending them.  This new series of posts, then, is not for you.  This is for those of us who were encouraged and convinced to rock out to tunes with biblical subtexts.  And still today, I remain fascinated by the social phenomenon that is religion and all of its by-products.  It's all just so fun!!!  After all, there would be no black metal if there had been no organized religion to piss off the members of Venom.  So slowly but surely, I intend to cover the lot of it. 

Being an anti-social 13 year-old, I didn't participate much in church, but I most certainly subscribed to the christian doctrine at that time, just in a private, self-concerned sort of way.  Around that time my family became members of a new Southern Baptist location, which had their youth led by a particular gentlemen known as Eddie.  Eddie was preoccupied with the dangers of secular music and focused his concerns on offering all of us kids alternatives to the mainstream.  I use the term alternative more specifically than generally, as these were exact matches to popular acts.  For instance, if you liked Korn and Rage Against the Machine, you were told to listen to Every Day Life (which was before Limp Bizkit, but uncannily identical).  I recall a poster hanging on the wall that even listed these popular bands and their christian counterparts.  It was all unapologetically derivative, and purposefully so.  The idea was to offer a quick fix for these kids before they were led astray by the questionable content of secular art.
This was the early to mid nineties, when the christian industry was just beginning to evolve past the simple, non-entertaining praise and worship genre, which was utilized in churches for serious acts of spiritualism but not fit for casual listening during parties. The 80s had few pioneers, most notably Stryper, the glam rock sensation that somehow carefully piloted the glamor of 80s arena rock and still managed to give "all glory to god."  They dressed like honeybees, or was it hornets?  By 1994, Tooth and Nail Records, founded by money-hungry Branden Ebel, made christian alternative a common, household genre.  Their early acts were mostly indie, punk, and hardcore, but certainly not without a ska band, which was the easiest sell to christians at the time (there are different theories as to why this was).  The label's earliest roster included bands that while obscure at the time, became quite successful later, some on a grand scale, some with mere cult-followings, such as MXPX, Danielson Famile, Starflyer 59, and so forth.  This was also the first self-identified christian label that was putting out non-evangelical records that were just performed by christians.  The Cootees even had a swear word in one their songs!  How progressive!  Anyway, Tooth and Nail sucks now, just like most other christian rock, but luckily this series is devoted to the past, so let's talk about the memorable acts.

Frodus.  Fuck.  I love this band.  Their full name was Frodus Conglomerate International, a title based on an evil mind-control organization of the same name on an episode of The Monkees.  Their songs are thus about mind control, and the lyrics are written in a manifesto style, with each song continuing a full narrative of their hunt for our heads.  Spastic, stylish, and at times surprisingly anthemic, Frodus delivers.  They left their christian label for a secular one, put out a 7-inch and another lp, then finally broke up in 2000, blaming the Y2K bug.  A reunion tour happened not long after.  Members have been in Black Sea and other projects, and Shelby Cinca composed some electronic music using a gameboy.

Horde.  This band is historically important to christianity, perhaps more than Jesus. Now, there has been LOTS of christian metal.  After all, fundamentalism is based on the same aggressive attitudes as metal, so it was always a good fit, although older generations thought of it as blasphemy.  We had Styper, Living Sacrifice (who began as a Slayer derivative, then have progressively become more... crap), Tourniquet, Extol (I like them), but before most of that was even in the beginning stages, Horde, a solo act by Australian Jayson Sherlock, was ripping Satan a new asshole.  Horde's only album was recorded and released in 1994, just as the second wave of Black Metal was occurring in Norway.  This was the first ever christian black metal record (later the genre would by dubbed unblack metal or white metal), and it fucking destroys.  Everything is there that you would want and expect of black metal: solid state guitars, lo-fi-as-fuck production, blast-beats, shrill screams.  Titillating!  Being that this record was produced at the peak of black metal church burnings and brutal slayings, it was important that Sherlock release the record anonymously.  Endless death threats streamed into the label's mailbox, demanding the identity of this poser.  He survived.  In fact, he even played his only show ever in Norway in 2006, though I've heard there was a second performance just this year.  The record has been re-released multiple times by other labels, and is even currently available on Amazon.

Retrospective Series #4 - Czech It Out! (sorry)

Today's addition to the retrospective series is Vera Chytilová's Fruit of Paradise (Ovoce stromu rajských jíme), an under-celebrated masterpiece of feminist avant-garde from the Czech New Wave.  When I lived in Murfreesboro, TN, there was an after-work routine that I followed.  I would first visit Video Culture, a small independent DVD rental shop stocked full of cult classics, film noir, and porn (some films being a combination of all 3 categories).  This place played a significant role in my goal to view every Criterion Collection release (at the time I had gotten up to about 130 out of 300).  After I made a selection, I would pick up a bag of Taco Bell and then return to my crappy apartment to privately partake in my nightly ritual.  It was at Video Culture that I discovered Fruit of Paradise, re-released and subtitled on DVD by Facets.  At the time, and probably still today, the film was the most visually stunning and musically provocative that I had seen since Holy Mountain, and that's saying a lot.  The film starts with kaleidoscope psychedelics and a trippy song about Adam and Eve, which is loosely used as a metaphoric framework for the film's story.  In this modern-day tale (or as modern as the 70s go), Eva and her boyfriend are attending an outdoor day spa with an anonymous serial killer present among the attendees.  While the narrative is present and developing (and thoroughly whimsical), the film at no point holds your experience directly to it.  The film is so rich in every aspect, one can view it simply for its vivid imagery and soundtrack, which alone act as the best music video you've probably ever seen.  The director's tendency toward slapstick carries over to this film from her first, Daisies, her debut which cost her a sentence of no movie-making for decades by declaration of the Soviets (part of the reason why Fruit of Paradise is so rare).  I could go on about the film's unique score, variations of cinematography (inside the killer's house is done in stop-motion!), and so forth, but this is really one of those films that has to be experienced.  Recommended for fans of Mathew Barney, Alejandro Jodorowsky, and Jean-Luc Godard.

That's Springintgut to You, Pal, and a Big Fuck-You to Sleigh Bells

So I had time to spare around Washington Square and thus decided to stop by Other Music, a record store that could be cooler but does well with its location by NYU and its stock of popular titles. I perused their "Out" section until I was bored with their obvious essential selections of 20th Century composers (which could actually use a good dusting and a restock, must just be there for cred). I then flipped through their "experimental" vinyl (god...) and did my regular routine/ritual of documenting the unheard of artists in my cell phone for a later inspection. Right as I was nearing completion of my store browse, I came across a fascinating piece of collectability. Perhaps it was the fact that the retrospective series has me remembering a time when I was extremely influenced by packaging, but nonetheless, the physical properties of this recording had me in awe.
Above, I have provided an image of the packaging, and below, I have detailed the image for your full understanding. 

I took the record over to the cashier and asked if he knew the story behind it (I was expecting the same experience that I get at Hospital Productions, with passionate clerks excitedly explaining the awesomeness of the music that you are holding), to which he passively responded, "I don't know... it's an art piece." Oh really, fuckwad?  An art piece?  Very interesting.  I'm glad you know the store and its products so well.  You might as well be selling toothpaste at Duane Reade, instead of wasting my time with your bullshit responses.  So it was only like 6 bucks, so I said I would go ahead and get it.  He had to come back to the register since he had already walked away.  I gave him a debit card but told him just to run it as credit.  He asked for I.D.  and insisted that he can't run it without something containing a signature.  Just run it as debit then, you tit basket, and then you can go back to playing your National record with your hyper-styled faux-hawk and your shark-tooth necklace like the indie pop teenie twat that you are.   Man, I couldn't wait to get out of there and go back to my home at Hospital, while Other Music's trying-way-too-hard-to-not-care staff draw stick men on the counter while tapping their toes to whatever co0l-for-the-present-five-minutes band (let's say, Sleigh Bells).  Someone at Other Music, however, has got to be cool, because they sell Buddha Machines and this record in discussion.  I've yet to meet him/her and have only encountered these mainstream shopping mall versions of hipsters.

On to the sound of the record, though.  The artist is German electronica composer, Springintgut, otherwise known as Andreas Otto.  Most information on this guy is in German, so I went to his label's site and translated via Google.  Otto is a classically trained cellist and drummer who - in spite of his distaste for electronic music - began to explore new possibilities for electronic composition back in 2001.  His live performances usually consist of a modified cello and a video game joystick as a sound controller (see video below).  On this particular record, confusingly sharing the same title as his current LP, Park and Ride, the music that begins is what Otto will later describe as an "electronic music cliche," which plays continuously during his speech on the decaying state of music due to the increased involvement of computers and other technology.  So that's the record, a lecture over an example.  Side A fades out, and the lesson continues on Side B (do be careful with your needle placement on this oddly shaped disc).  During the lecture, Otto invites you to view some images with him, and he instructs you on how to find them on the internet (easy to find due to the weird names of the files).  Neat!  I would share the links, but it's way more fun to do while listening to the record, so go find it (and at this point, I really am not sure where else to find it, sorry).

All novelty aside (I'm surprised this is the first time I've actually written that on this blog), Otto's argument is valid and compelling, and this topic is of concern to many contemporary artists. The real charm of his lecture though, is that he is not romanticizing what listeners may call more "organic" acoustics, nor is he rebelling against the idea of incorporating new technologies into composition (after all, his other records are pretty much straight forward electronic music).  He instead offers a quirky bit of guidance to music on computers and ideas of how to translate music notation for artificial/alternative intelligence in attempt to avoid the end-product from sounding, to put it in Otto's words, so "stupid."

Now, going back to my previous mention of new craze Sleigh Bells, whose popularity crutches on its mere over-compressed production, I would like to consider what Otto would have to say about American electronic music, the current cool essentials, and the kid that checked me out at the store.  I can't assume without projecting, but I like to think we'd feel the same.

Here's a clip of Otto doing his thing:

Retrospective #3 - Picks & Lighters

Before I was of drinking age, I lived in a small town about a one and a half hour drive from Memphis. I worked minimum wage jobs, and on pay day, I would excitedly hop into the car and head down to the only two cool record stores of West Tennessee at that time: Shangri-La and Last Chance Records. The latter carried the more hard-to-find, and is thus out of business after several location changes, but it was my favorite. Oh the treasures I would find! And oh how my small-town, inexperienced little mind was blown. Today I will reminisce about another of those bought-for-the-album-cover situations.

I was flipping through the countless rows of vinyl, when I suddenly came across a unique spiral design that caught my eye. Upon further inspection, I realized that this wasn't a print but the band had simply thrown blank white jackets onto a hot eye of a stovetop, burning the design onto the cover. The album credits were then written out in ink pen on the back. There were no song titles listed, simply the band name, Picks and Lighters, where they were from, Knoxville, and the band members names. The record was recorded in 1997, and the band had unfortunately already broken up in 1999 before I had even purchased the record, being sold on consignment at Last Chance for $6.99.

What's truly fucking depressing about this record is how goddamn good it is, and how under the radar it still remains. The band created a warm, bluesy brand of instrumental rock at a time before idiots started saying "post-rock" to describe their teary-eyed bullshit. The only currently available piece of recording from Picks and Lighters today is their last album from 1999, re-released by Ecstatic Yod in 2006 (Update: found a spot, but I'm unsure of their stock: Laboratory Standard).

The music occurs without too many rules but doesn't bore you with nonsense. It breathes but doesn't get too jammy. It's a home recording, but doesn't rub the lo-fi idea in your face like new wannabes such as Wavves. It's simply a sincere and brilliant offering, and modestly so.

Retrospective #2 - mom supports my noise habits

Why am I reviewing a bunch of old media? Because none of these current lazy nonchalants that you fuckers love so damn much are making anything worth a shit!!! So you go to your little Pitchdork and read reviews of the latest irony soaked indie-dance Casio keyboard monstrosity to fill your hunger for newness. Come back and see me when you're ready for quality. Oh, you'll be back. You will.

Today I lust for my youth through a little gem that I like to credit for making me who I am today. America is Dreaming of Universal String Theory by Azusa Plane changed me. At the time of its release, I was merely an impressionable 15 year-old in a small town in Tennessee.

"Mom, can you write me a check for fifteen dollars and mail it to Colorful Clouds for Acoustics?"

"Well, I suppose, since you made all A's..."

"Yay!!!"

I remember placing the disc in my bass-y stereo from Wal-Mart, and drifting away in the thick, crunchy-smooth walls of warm, womb-like fuzz-drone. The satisfied smile on my face could not be removed until my mother would barge in and ask in sincere concern if my stereo was broken.

Azusa Plane was lone member Jason DiEmilio, who sadly ended his life in 2006.

Retrospective Series #1 - welcome to the (dot) matrix

This is the first installment of many, where I look back on my dusty shelves in remembrance of those great records of yesteryear, and what better way to begin than with the music of obsolete technology! This morning while eating my Trader Joe's quiche, I am pulling from the vault my favorite release of 2002 (that is now eight years ago... god...), symphony #2 for dot matrix printers by [The User]. I purchased the LP back when I had a habit of collecting cool album covers (and ended up getting many shit records as a result), and the simplistic and nostalgia-inducing cover of this particular record, decorated merely by a low-res photograph of the original 8 inch floppy disc, had me sold.

The symphony, as the jacket explains it, "...is a performance for fourteen dot matrix printers played by an orchestra of personal computers from the early nineties and conducted by a similarly obsolete file server." Basically, certain text files were created to exploit the noisy operation of dot matrix printers and synchronize the printers' printing of these files into what I consider a highly danceable trip down memory lane.

[The User] is a Canadian art collective, consisting of architect/installation artist Thomas McIntosh and sound artist Emmanuel Madan, and they are still going strong.

The Lock to My Heart Opened by One Thousand Locked Grooves

Several records to review. Hidden, the newest release by These New Puritans, proves that the retrospective wink to classic post-punk isn't always a bad idea, unlike earlier acts such as Interpol, who are still yet to write two distinctly unique songs. The band's brand of epic electronic pop grandeur continues to inventively improve with their second record for the Domino label, with their signature use of electronic tribal beats reminiscent of the chase scene of a cop show topped with quirky orchestra synths and melodramatic subject matter. Closest and most pleasing thing to Robot Ate Me, whom we all rightfully adore (R.I.P. 5RC).

So I went by Hospital Productions the other day because I was getting some tailoring done in the Lower East Side and needed an excuse to buy records, and the nearby location of the shop in addition to the nearby occurrence of my birthday seemed a perfect combination of justification (writes down for straight-edge band name idea). It was at Hospital that I began talking to Anthony about RRRecords, a label that I haven't spoken about on the blog before, and it is just that I do so. Based out of Massachusetts, where you assume there is no noise scene, RRRecords resides, operated by founding father, Ron, who has probably the most elaborate and extensive library of noise known to man. I have yet to visit this palace of avant archives, but it's at least on my bucket list. His label is responsible for a lot of NY bands, such as the low-fi bliss of Can't, and great noise compilations such as my special treasure find at Hospital that day. RRR-1000 consists of 20 artists (Aaron Dilloway, Thomas Dimuzio, Kevin Drumm, more) , each assigned to 50 grooves of the LP. Okay. But here's why this is so fucking cool. The vinyl disc is mastered in 1000 locked grooves, 500 per side, meaning wherever you drop the needle, a fixed loop begins to play endlessly. At no time will you probably ever hear the same noise record or remember what and/or where on the disc you heard something else, for that matter. It's such a playful experience and an endlessly fun interaction with the album. I am in love and am thus cutting this post short so I can go back to experimenting with it.