Monday, December 30, 2019

Great Mistakes, Hong Kong Eyes, 2019




ecoutez oval dar beim jaki lynx (listen to the album here)

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/great-mistakes-2019

"I just passed
a swoony time on earth. I did not dig
that there was more"
-- Charles Olson

saying this album was composed in one day is a great lie. and yet, very little has been heard or previewed before today and everything bearing upon it's current incarnation stands transformed by a hard 12 hours or so of hammering and bellowing the forge, those two contrary actions, the yield of which is what passes as a sign here, and what remains on the heap to be heard and taken in by one's own meaning. apex of the eccentric mood of this year of perplexity, angst, heightening. oddly enough, achievements in themselves, joys even.

the sound of us stretches back here at least until 2017 in a few cases. when I say "us", I mean, the sounds were in my care and they did not find place in publications anywhere else until now. some of the sounds come from Jacek Zielinski (tracks 1, 5, 8) and Filippo Panichi (Hong Kong Eyes).

there are sources in Creative Commons that I should find and provide attribution for in in the coming days as I've drawn on interviews and radio transmissions captured on the fly over the past year and a half that are elusive to my memory at the moment but not anonymous. Hang in there, my teams of neurons bees working on that. field recordings come from bulgaria, berlin, krakow and poznan. i play guitars, piano, electronic devices and percussion on site and in the studio (which can be the stairwell or the attic as the case may be).

The album cover was snatched from a post by Eric Wong. Apparently the wash-down of the protest slogan from the walls in Hong Kong.
 

 released December 30, 2019

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/great-mistakes-2019

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Out-sourcing Invocation to Ayahuma

Helloooooo! Sorry for the strange weblog post but I'm exploring new ways of sharing without FB...



listen once on a lower volume -- or loop -- but also read -- below

"Mankind has obviously reached the end of something"
 -C L R James,
   "Dialectical Materialism and the Fate of Humanity"
(thanks Hap. Savage, for the icing on the cake)

pull the stone out that plugs the bottom of the well
for the water's gone rotten with whatever they've been feeding
let the feed grow wild or forgotten
and let living waters sprinkle the air
living waters from flying rivers
free music has a record of it's own social order
not it's great scare but in it's care
free music beholds bee-cause
free music bees aware
the one about whom there is only one story
in the mansion of hives
in the dark rooms of developing alchemy
in the forest paved with yellow-gold leaves
photonic consciousness vibrates the phi mo
in the the trans-cranial ultra-sound
the strange song called zenzsen
mercury mediated the higher poisons into tincture
the mana pill every chicken knows what's best
the mano podersosa
every eagle knows what's best
the pineal thrill
every owl knows
her flesh of atoms & molecules woven
ayahuma alone doesn't know
ayahuma alone doesn't care
yet creating all beckons
the dissolution

Sunday, December 22, 2019

On Parables, Kafka, Olga Tokarczuk and The Problem of Out Laws


listen here by the click
 https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek/the-problem-of-our-laws-op-389-201

is there too much music? too many people? too many ideas? or not enough love? there are so many things one could say. one of which is there are too many opinions and look here comes another one although look at how it adds up to a kind of polyphony of noise

more often I think there are too many non-listeners. other times I think there's not enough quiet around the listening, as if one had to transform the experience immediate back into logos, speech. the surrounding and settling of the contents in the listening is never allowed to happen. is this because music has become too much like discourse or too defined by discourse?

these things I say inside the noise above 
-- among the noise of other things and peoples --

  one can't deal with the overload as an individual. Either there there really really is is too too too too too too much information or there is in fact no information at all. oh no...

one model of communication asserts that the person has to already know the message they are seeking in order to be able to receive the message when it is sent. this is why there is a tremendous amount of nostalgia posting about the music of the past, as if we are seeking a reassuring narrative and through this the message we've conditioned ourselves to look for will undoubtedly arrive. In this sense there's not too much music but not enough anti-music. 

   Herbert Brun's idea was that it is only in anti-communication that the composer creates the condition in which the listener must find a meaning or a message that has not been predetermined

   Many complain that the words of the wise are always merely parables and of no use in daily life, which is the only life we have. When the sage says: “Go over,” he does not mean that we should cross over to some actual place, which we could do anyhow if the labor were worth it; he means some fabulous yonder, something unknown to us, something too that he cannot designate more precisely, and therefore cannot help us here in the very least. All these parables really set out to say merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and we know that already. But the cares we have to struggle with every day: that is a different matter.
     Concerning this a man once said: Why such reluctance? If you only followed the parables you yourselves would become parables and with that rid yourself of all your daily cares.
    Another said: I bet that is also a parable.
    The first said: You have won.
    The second said: But unfortunately only in parable.
   The first said: No, in reality: in parable you have lost.
 BUT, HOLD ON A MINUTE! Q: WHAT'S THIS ALL ABOUT?


   The Parable of the Problem of Our Laws, written by Franz Kafka, sprang to mind (--> wiki link -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Problem_of_Our_Laws ) -- within the howl of these recent images from Gaza, it shook my mind, again. These impressions combined with the messages streaming through Olga Tokarczuk's recent Nobel Prize speech -- all flowed together in this new sono-podcast, this evolving audio-poem, with synthesizer, shortwave radio, percussion, voice, performed live in the studio. Some words are my own gathered up from scraps of paper and given breath again but the vast majority belong to a passage of Olga Tokarczuk's text (see footnote). The other messages recombine as new sensations, margins of electromagnetic information. With thanks to Karolina Ossowska --without whom I'd have likely not read Olga's work and a special thanks to Tom Carter for the "is there too much music" question, which sparked again the movement towards the anti-music, the unanswerable question... 

https://soundcloud.com/jeff-gburek/the-problem-of-our-laws-op-389-2019

   "The Problem of Our Laws" (German: "Zur Frage der Gesetze")

    The story is a short narrative, where laws of the land are described as esoteric, created by the elite. Thus, being such they are out of the hands by the common people, yet binding. Nobility is seen as the authority, the creator and executor of laws, yet completely separate from those whom they apply to. Yet, these laws create a sense of security among those who follow them, an empty one, since they are in fact a type of cruel joke. Incidentally, the story echoes the labyrinthine system of law and regulations in place among the official in Kafka's earlier novel, The Castle

 Olga Tokarczuk  -- Nobel Prize Winner in Literature for 2018 -- she writes:

    "The flood of stupidity, cruelty, hate speech and images of violence are desperately counterbalanced by all sorts of “good news,” but it hasn’t the capacity to rein in the painful impression, which I find hard to verbalize, that there is something wrong with the world. Nowadays this feeling, once the sole preserve of neurotic poets, is like an epidemic of lack of definition, a form of anxiety oozing from all directions."
  
     Today our problem lies—it seems—in the fact that we do not yet have ready narratives not only for the future, but even for a concrete now, for the ultra-rapid transformations of today’s world. We lack the language, we lack the points of view, the metaphors, the myths and new fables. Yet we do see frequent attempts to harness rusty, anachronistic narratives that cannot fit the future to imaginaries of the future, no doubt on the assumption that an old something is better than a new nothing, or trying in this way to deal with the limitations of our own horizons. In a word, we lack new ways of telling the story of the world.
   
      We live in a reality of polyphonic first-person narratives, and we are met from all sides with polyphonic noise. What I mean by first-person is the kind of tale that narrowly orbits the self of a teller who more or less directly just writes about herself and through herself. We have determined that this type of individualized point of view, this voice from the self, is the most natural, human and honest, even if it does abstain from a broader perspective. Narrating in the first person, so conceived, is weaving an absolutely unique pattern, the only one of its kind; it is having a sense of autonomy as an individual, being aware of yourself and your fate. Yet it also means building an opposition between the self and the world, and that opposition can be alienating at times.

      Paradoxically, however, this situation is akin to a choir made up of soloists only, voices competing for attention, all traveling similar routes, drowning one another out. We know everything there is to know about them, we are able to identify with them and experience their lives as if they were our own. And yet, remarkably often, the readerly experience is incomplete and disappointing, as it turns out that expressing an authorial “self” hardly guarantees universality.

      What we are missing—it would seem—is the dimension of the story that is the parable. "

Monday, December 9, 2019

Jeff Gburek_Ephia_Keith Rowe: Live at Lida Project, Denver, Colorado. Full Recording.




   Some of you may not have known me long enough to know my obsessions and concerns. For 10 years I worked intensively with butoh, body-work, audio-spatiality (once called "psycho-acoustics") and improvisational music with the dancer Ephia Gburek
  The project was called Djalma Primordial Science   www.djalma.com   The subject of this weblog post however is the newly released digital album that documents one of Djalma Primordial Science's meetings with Keith Rowe, founding member of AMM, the person who has, as far as I can tell, still has the cap (feathered) for prepared guitar, as having taken it the furthest. 
  That this was a meeting between artists who took improvisation as a kind of sacrament should not be lost on the person who would listen to these pauses where distance overwhelms the front-lines in fog. This is what happened there in a there no longer there since this is also in a sense a field recroding of a demolished theater space in Denver called the Lida Project. 
   Further details on the Bandcamp page. 
 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/djalma-primordial-science-with-keith-rowe-lida-project-denver-2003
   Jeff Gburek: electro-acoustic guitar on the table, low-input mixer, field recordings. 
   Ephia: movement, stones, bones, vocal tones. 
   Keith Rowe: prepared guitar.

  In addition to thanking Ephia and Keith Rowe for this experience and these memories, I should add a few names. For one, Alana Deloach, who's set up the show at Lida Project. And we should thank the Lida Project itself as an organ, a cave for the imagination, as sonorous space now only in the arcana of our memories and the resonance one can hear in this recording. The other person to thanks is Ian Douglas-Moore who was the first responder to the emergency calls I made to record and music shops in Denver to find amplifiers for Keith to use. Additional thanks to whoever put us up that night. Special shouts out go to the wonderful people we met in Denver subsequent to than evening and who would invite I and Ephia back to perform several more times. 


Sunday, December 1, 2019

"Art is a broken form of magic." Notes on the margins of Helmut Lachenmann's Interculturality & Composition Keynote Speech



   Many years ago now, in 2006 or 2007, I attended Darmstadt's Fereinkurse Fur Neu Musik. Given a scholarship to attend it was difficult to refuse the offer and I accepted without any clear idea why I was going there other than my label in Germany suggested I do it. All I knew of Darmstadt was that Stockhausen and Cage and Cardew taught there. Looking at the list of the faculty I was not familiar with anyone other than Rohan de Saram (who I'd heard perform with Arditti Quartet) and the composer Helmut Lachenmann whose works had interested me since it seemed he had strategies similiar to the electro-acoustic music I was hearing and playing myself in Berlin. I had not read anything written by him and all I had heard left me on the edge of the an incomprehensible sense of adventure in composing. Oddly, this influenced me to go entirely in the opposite direction of composing for other people but rather in expanding my listening capacities and following his lead in the search for compositional material in noise and apparent silence. In a sense, this is ancient history for me now. I seem to have gone far afield or to have abandoned entirely this realm of music even though the courage I feel in going on derives from no influence more obvious to me that his own person. When I showed him my "composition" at one lecture, which consisted of nothing more than a schematic diagram of my current set-up for prepared guitar, piezo boards, electronics, feedback systems, granular synthesis, he paused and said "you know, if you have developed your own system, no one else can tell you what to do or how to proceed". This simple remark would prove to be very inspiring on many levels not least of which was bring me to address the question myself whether or not I had indeed created my own system. I spent years refining down to the most rudimentary elements, refusing to use Abelton, writing my own PD patches and then cracking electronic boards and wiring things in the way that still results in my set-up time taking much longer than the average sound technician can stand.
  
   In any case, I took to liking Lachenmann quickly because he turned out to be the most humorous and open-minded of all the people I had met there. A few lunch sessions were spent talking about the philosophy of Emmanuel Levinas, Paul Celan, Herbert Brun & others -- and Herr Lachenmann tilted his head at one moment, looked me in they eye and said, "I see you read books." For once in recent memory I felt at home and happy that I didn't have to hide the facts of my fetish. Other talks with George Aperghis who admired and encouraged my graphic scores and these exchanges with Lachenmann, whose lectures I attended in German, Italian and English remain with me unto this day and in the time being in Darmstadt (a great culture shock from my dwelling in Berlin), allowed me to wade through the week of cold, luke-warm and bristly contact with the younger representatives of the European new music elite. People from the USA helped as well since they were in no mood to merely sit through concerts and lectures and young composers presentations and they managed to get a local pub to permit us to stage noise and improvised music sets in the later evenings.


   In keeping with the tradition I established, I have kept these notes un-edited. They are a direct transcription of what I heard that day. The title alone was added to my old website and I've sent it in emails and posted it in this way to several forums. I continue this tradition of transparency today even though I could not resist a few editorial interventions (in red)



   Attempt at fragmentary recovery of main features of lecture OHNE TITEL given by Helmut Lachenmann and translated live by Wieland Hoban (an amazing feat in and of itself given the complexity of the ideas & that there was no transcript and Wieland seemed to be staring into the space in front of him like a Sybil or a medium transmitting messages from the ether) .
   Structural note: the bullets are points he laid out and then went back over more sporadically. I was so taken by what he was saying that I didn't write each header down.)

   (Lachenmann makes joke about west meets east as "west eats meat")
-- allusion to the presence of Ravi Shankar in Darmstadt, spoken of later --

1) parasitism of an exhausted (western) society
2)
3) experiments/open ears for…/difference…difficulties…china
4) Nishida/Kyoto school of thought—interface with west
5) Necessity of the euro-centric concept of art (vessel for recovery of analytic diasporadic fragmentation)
6) Shared characteristics of cultures of music as (ritual) evocation of the numinous presence of communal well being
7)
8)
9) European consciousness of art and its relationship to rupture as constructive and intuitive intervention
10) Definition of this rupture with the breaking with/of the magic and precedent to the purification/delivery into (well-being)
11) All great works of art dominated through and through by spirit (structure as formalism is useless to attain to spirit…Nono: refusal to teach Lachenmann until he studied Renaissance art and learned spirit dominates great works main preoccupation)
12) euro-logo-centrism as related to progress and globalism as part of the parasitic and the search for exotic products of global culture—infection of globalism.
13) All one can do to change world is to consistently apply one’s own apparatus for enlightenment in order to renovate culture. This may seem like an intellectual process but in fact it is not and requires more than intellect to be carried out.
14) The misguided form of protest against parasitism in the supermarket of ideas—intellectual obsession, empty cultural critiques, world music, fun, tv, diversion and sport -- as all leading to conservatism of un-reflective culture
15) The attitude of the post-modern is to ask the audience “what do you want?” “how do you like it?” and this illuminates the situation of consumerism and entertainment culture that surrounds and conditions the reception of art and art production itself

Then he elaborates on the points jumping around.

Suspicion of the intercultural parasitism, search for exotic and “intact” culture as panacea rather than focus on renovating exhausted western culture and its own problems. Says in 1968 he used first Chinese gongs in piece—an angry audience interrupts the performance—we can only fight this reactionary feeling in the world by understanding our own positions as Western composers and how we overstep limitations. Says he later learned how offensive were the techniques he applied to the gongs—as if he were a barbarian to torture them in that way.

 To the European he wants to say that something has come to disturb the peace of the concert hall and western culture must find its own way to create using its own means not to rely on appropriating forms from imaginary gods of an external unfallen culture. The secret magic of ogaku, gamelan, Indian music moves something very deeply in our souls which is more important than art itself but it also carries information and it oxidizes toward an aesthetic position in the West with new possibilities. In 1957 there was a concert at Darmstadt of Stockhausen, Nono, Adorno and the Ravi Shankar. Lachenmann was 21 years old. An analytical composer—scolded by Nono for not appreciating that spirit guides all great works of art—Lachenmann said he felt this music left him a guest at the borders of a paradise. Shankar was still then a foreign world, there were no records yet really of this world and Indian cultural contacts with Europe were vague. How could he return the next day to his laboratory of analytical, technoid (sic) procedures? He spent a very uneasy night thinking Shankar’s art seemed to threaten the very existence of music itself with a force immensely greater than music. But the next day, he found himself able to resume his analytical music and laboratory studies in a renewed form imbued with a vigorous utopian feeling, determined to erode and dissolve music itself and return to the basic material of sound.

The musical practice of all cultures is certainly an invocation of some kind of numinous irrational force coming together in a collectively magical ritual. Stravinsky: music or art is the union of that which is most close to us with that which is the most high.

He recounts hearing Goebbels on the radio and the horror in realizing that the Nazi were actually practicing some kind off black magic hypnotism.
Music functions and spreads its effects throughout the world. In every techno club, baroque concert, rock concert, schlager band and concert hall (although he feels he must very cautiously proceed when he says this) we can see that there is a kind of magical ritual involved that conceals a desire for unity. Nowhere have we been able to abstain from such magical rituals. At all price levels the magic becomes a commodity and form of control which the culture industry lives off of. He says he does not feel prepared to talk about the depth of this process but starts of the topic with a recognition that music has always seemed to be some kind of attempt to communicate with gods but that, at least in the western tradition of Christian religion colored by Greek philosophy, the first points of polyphony (as a kind of metaphor for the magical unity) are soon cast as structural elements wherein we enter the picture as human beings imbuing a substance with a form of enlightenment which is also threatened then by analysis, made separate from us and it is only through this alienation, this separation and loss of unity that there is then possible the return to grace through the medium of music presented as a god-feast (sic).

He seems to set up a dialectic dynamic: composition (as structural creation and criticism combined) is equated with the Fall. While the realization or incarnation again is the concert which signifies a kind of re-unification of elements scattered into bits inside the score.

Art then is a form of broken magic. The brokenness precedes the evocation. Negation as sublation of the function that promised us security in the performance is a kind of rupture that brings about a desire in us for sensuous and sometimes erotic feeling, a wounding to the heart and a kind of transgression that also implies a kind of conflict with culture and its taboos but the process of cultural creation must be re-examined and brought to the area which its enlightenment gains access to the potential communion in this magical event. The European virus even as it is practiced in art—transforming the world perniciously—can only be remedied through a thorough exploration and experimentation with all elements being questioned down to the basic aspect of sounds.

It might be that the only religion that is wise enough to assist in this process and it is with Zen that is recognizes its own limitations. There must come something is the situation of “worship” that threatens to destroy the worship, a breaking away, if there is to be any reunification at all.

Sunday, October 27, 2019

Lines with Kazuo Ohno (newly discovered)




        Lines with Kazuo Ohno

   This flower I hold
  is my pain, my neck
falls up into place
  from it's proud
   sunken
wreckage

 Soars up, soars up
 again from whatever was
   lost wings
 lost earth
  into itself again

  There are no remains

  Daily forgetting's feet
    the flower's
  petals' lips trickle
   and falter
     faint and grow
   fonder of the luminous
      shadow all
   footfalls make

   all rubble in the forest of memory
     tiny rubble
       whose luthier of leaves
    the forest of memory
       scatters in tone...

   my head overgrown,
     knots in memory,
      crumbles -- into sodden hollows
     some fungus maybe me
     some tender
     medicinal peat my head
       empties, clears
     against this spine

     my prickly stem
   once holding the fruit of light the sun eats
       bows low as going goes
    and lower still
       do climb the bones
        in the descent beyond hell
   
      the soothing mud
     walking the walk beneath us
       fathoms down in folds
          and that further clatter, do you hear?
             down they go in the deep crater
         with the silly red ones, flickering, a bit rebellious, as
      angels nevertheless rise re-immersed
         in the huddled nest, 
           and the mother is on her way

       whoever you see, first
   
        I fold my hands.
        It's finished for now.
        I think. 


        Jeff Gburek
         Notebooks 2009

Asteroid 2012 DA14: Shortwave Radio as Ear; on the Rattling of the Solar System, a Cosmic Wind, or the Shadows of a Shard of Time



  radio-magnetic archives: listen to the full 4 hours (piece by piece):
asteroid-2012-da14 audio album (cut into smaller tracks)

   On October 3rd, 2019, I introduced these sounds for the very first time to a public audience during a live quadrophonic performance at Murmurans Mundus Conference in Usti Nad Labem in the Czech Republic in the old Hranicar theater complex. Although deployed only in the first 10 minutes of a 32 minute set, they caused some stir, since the delivery system was more than adequate, the sub-woofer rumbling under my feet, until a gentler sound of Black Sea waves over-lapped me, them and the shores, the ears of listeners. These initial sounds registered in the file Asteroid 2012 DA 14, however, went to sleep or kept dormant, in some yogic cryo-suspend, for almost 6 years. This post is about those sounds, their origin, and how they woke up, fell asleep, woke again.

 On Friday, Feb. 15, 2013, the asteroid named 2012 DA14 passed by the Earth within satellite orbiting range.  BBC report  While NASA scientists concurred a year earlier that it posed no risk of impacting our planet, it's nearness caused an emotional and imaginary impact, especially on deep space enthusiasts and star-gazers. It was said this asteroid might even be visible in backyard telescopes if one knew precisely when and where to look. When... was not the problem... if the published time frame was accurate. Where? "Here" was the simple reply. But I wanted to "hear" it more than see some light bounced back from a distant rock through a telescope (which I didn't have anyway).

  Having been a follower of Thomas Ashcraft's (www.heliotown.com) radio-telescopic tracking of space dust and forward meteor scatter using radio noise as a medium in which to observe atmospheric disturbances. I began to learn how to detect in common radios various kinds of ionic and electro-magnetic impulses, such and his forward scatter antennae array in New Mexico might catch. I learned what solar flares and lightening disturbances should sound like in the radio spectrum. With respect to then on-coming Asteroid 2012 DA14, I went in for an amateur experiment tuning 3 radios (short, mid and long wave) to position between stations. My not-so-very-vast array was composed of 10 meters of copper wires in a spidery web attached to the iron balcony and whatever looked like it would capture radio signals including the old piano's sound-board.

   I recorded live for 4 hours applying an Audiomulch down-pitch filter at 7 octaves, 4 octaves & 2 octaves (respective to each radio), hoping to capture some traces of the passage of the asteroid as radio interference. I used smaller cuts of this panorama in various projects over the next years while never seeing any convenient way to share the whole opus. Finally I tried an upload for the whole to soundcloud but after several close but no cigar attempts, I resigned myself to splitting the files into several more digestible ones for streaming and perhaps later re-production. The reason for all this work will become apparent when one listens, perhaps. To my ears it is a rather unusual kind of drone which is neither dark nor light but some mixture of both. A phrase from Thomas Ligeti comes to mind: "a brainless burning beacon". Is it only my imagination that is sounds like the void of space itself? I can't be certain what it is but that the mood induced is both fascinating, frightening, or in any case spooky.

Jeff Gburek
Poznan, October 2019


 P.S. After contacting Thomas Ashcraft about the upcoming publication of these recordings, he had this to say and granted me clearance to share his words with my readers and listeners.


"Very strong work for sure! I kept hearing an underlying chorus which I liked a lot. Not sure if the chorus was there or it came from my own resonances. I respect the intensity and long form. It is testing to the listener which is a quality in itself. I am thinking now that I could have listened at lower volume? I just assumed it should be loud. But maybe it is subliminal as well? Seems like big screen possibilities? Passage through the membrane? Rather unnerving I must say. Sort of has a "heroic" feel?  Like a "heroic" dosage of medicine. Also approaching terrifying maybe? Glad you are exploring these realms. Most artists suppress it. Too much force."


Friday, October 18, 2019

Boussiphone Records. Tape Archives & Recovering Sonic Histories of North Africa

    "I think the Boussiphone catalogue is our patrimony, we should protect it! If we don’t keep it alive it will perish and disappear. Its a pity that the Moroccan ministry of culture doesn’t invest in helping to maintain this Moroccan cultural heritage. We would give it to them for free if they would preserve it in a good way!"   --- Abderahim Bousiff
 


Listen Here:

     After I found a discarded, partially busted old double-cassette boom-box in a bin earlier today, my small cassette tape collection sprang audibly to life... the first to hand... El Arrfa 84, North African drum, horn and vocal music, perhaps Berber, although I find no confirmation, published by Boussiphone. I could find no data about the artists (Cheika Besmellah & El Arfa) on the internets. Information about the label Boussiphone does exist, however, including an interview with Abderahim Bousiff, one of the sons of the founder of Edition Bousiphone...

   for lovers of the North African "thing",  this is a sublime source of sound and sound-history...

https://boussiphone.wordpress.com/2017/04/11/eerste-blogbericht/

  "My father was a huge music lover and he was well connected with the Egyptian stars of the time like Farid El Attrache. But he found that musically in the 50ies and 60ies Morocco was well behind. In Egypt or Libanon they already had fantastic studios in the 60ies and a thriving musical scene with amazing orchestra’s. Morocco only had very crude traditional ensembles, but no real “stars” or renown singers… In Morocco everybody was listening to Egyptian and Lebanese singers. So my father wanted to change this and he started to develop the means to record and publish artists. This would be a first step and it would lay the foundation of a Moroccan music industry. Besides that he would also go out to record folk artists, musicians that would only be known very locally. He recorded them in their villages and would thus preserve their musical legacy.

   "The slogan that we would use was “Boussiphone: source of the musical art”. It would imply that we were at the source of things and that we would help things to flourish. In the many cinema’s in Morocco we would buy publicity before the film would start and our slogan would appear on the screen: “Boussiphone, source of the musical art”. It was intended to spread our name and to attract musicians so that they would know that we could record and publish them. Word spread quite fast and musicians came. We were not restrictive in who and what we would record, therefore we also worked with musicians from Mauritania of Algeria, if they came to us we would publish them. We had a floor in our house for musicians from abroad only and they would live with us for weeks on end like Si Daty and Mounina. I remember well that once we recorded Si Daty and Mounina for the first time in 1967 and we would go out to the soukh and play it to the people and they would start to cry. They were emotional that they could finally play this beautiful music in their house, time and time again.
 

   "We were so proliferate that at one point I believe we had recorded at least one song of all performing Atlas Berber artists, musicians, bands and comedians!

   "In 1967 we imported the first record pressing plant from Europe, and we called the factory Africson. It was part of the “Moroccan Sound Industries” : we had a studio, we could press the records and the sleeves. We had 4 trucks with speakers on to deliver all the records all over Morocco. When there was a good harvest then we pressed more records and we recorded more songs because the people were happy, they had money and they wanted to have a party and be joyful, so they bought more records. We controlled the entire business. A business that we created out of nothing.

   "Our family was well off when we were young and when my father stopped his business we took over. We were 5 brothers, 2 stayed in Casablanca, 2 went to Paris and I came to Brussels. This way business was divided and we each controlled our “territory”.That was around 1969.

  "Here in Brussels we had 2 shops. We had a very efficient way of working: I got the masters from Morocco, I sent it to the local cassette pressing plant, printed the sleeves and then sold them in the 2 shops here in Brussels. Everything was done properly and we declared all the artists to the Belgian Author rights organisation. My brother in Paris did the same, the only difference was that in Paris most Moroccans are from the south whereas in Belgium and Brussels most Moroccans are from the North of Morocco. According to the region in Morocco they come from they have their favorite artists. The titles I would sell thousands of in Brussels my brother in Paris would only sell a couple hundred off and vice versa.


  "Besides artists from Morocco I would also record my own productions with local artists. I would rent studio time in a studio called “Action Video” in Sint-Gilles and make the recordings myself. I would do this with audio cassettes and VHS cassettes. We had all the big Moroccan artists here in Brussels to record: Lemchaheb, Nass El Ghiwane, Cheb Mami, Cheb Khaled, …. The other way was to send a scout with a cheque book to Morocco and make deals with all the artists I was interested in. I sent them to a studio in Morocco or bring them over to Belgium to record here.

   "Later in the 80ies we even started making Berber movies. In 1983 we started making video cassettes. Once the vinyl record industry was over, we sold the presses and where there was once a record factory we built a big film studio. The first video we made was called “Leyeli Atlas” or “Atlas night”. After that over 5000 titles followed. Here in Belgium people didn’t have access to Moroccan films or other visual footage. People didn’t have satellite dishes and even radio was limited. So if they wanted something from their motherland they had to pass by me and I would provide them with cassettes. We rented and sold the videos. We had what they wanted if it were the Berbers from the Rif, south or of the middle Atlas! We had it all!

   "I think the Boussiphone catalogue is our patrimony, we should protect it! If we don’t keep it alive it will perish and disappear. Its a pity that the Moroccan ministry of culture doesn’t invest in helping to maintain this Moroccan cultural heritage. We would give it to them for free if they would preserve it in a good way!"







Monday, October 14, 2019

Call for New Animism: Received, Listening for the Reply. Notes for a Lecture delivered (partially) at Murmurans Mundus Conference, Sonic Ecology & Beyond, October 3-5, Usti Nad Labem, Czech Republik


Call for New Animism: Received, Listening for the Reply 

please be aware that these are only my notes for the talk, not what I actually delivered


Atmospheric Distubances inside Hranicar Gallery Space, Usti Nad Labem 

Call for New Animism: Received, Listening for the Reply 

     my working title for an inquiry into how constructed spaces for listening may or may not be functioning to bring about sensitivity to the actual winds of the real weathers, nueronal or cosmic, global problems and the limits (of controlling) interspecies communications

 --- or ---
Where Does the Listening Really Begin?


   * the working title for the sound performance I presented at the Murmurans Mundus conference  -- but which title was changed to...

Where the Wind Begins, after the actual performance



this is the drawing for my tech rider for my 4 channel dissemination sent to the phonon crew


 Part 1

     Some if you may know the scene from the extraordinary film of Satjit Ray called Pater Panchali where the children hear the sound of the locomotive train & then run to watch as the machine advances down the track belching huge black coal smoke into the sky.
They greet it as the arrival of an exciting new otherness. They wave at the wave of the industrial colonial future that probably does not see them. That its an image of death only seems confirmed much later. But the sound is the harbinger. The film goes on with the music of Ravi Shankar and the images celebrate the beauty wonder of small creatures flitting across ponds and living small lives. The music of the subcontinental Indian culture seems to celebrate and enshrine the lives of small creatures whose weave and shuffle are bound into the biogenetic material that, for those of us who still feel evolutionary heredity in their bones, we can think of as the lives of ourselves, our voices. In the culture of the subcontinent we also find the most ancient respect for the concept of sound as a generative, propulsive and positive force of elan vital. What breathes well lives well. Breath in and out with an O-shaped mouth, you'll feel better. It's this somewhat, or entirely childish way of greeting even the terrific deathly machines with glee which I call animism – the most ancient philosophy among humans perhaps. One thing for sure is that if I wanted a propaganda for animism it would be this one and backing it up is the great Hindu religious and philosophical tradition firmly rooted in waves of sound.

    Yesterday Tomas Senkyrik's lecture and performance also demonstrated a dynamic relation to personal atmospheres that in the American ecopoetics is called “the local” – and the local celebrates and focuses on the lives and sounds of smaller life-spanned creatures whose small and yet crazy passions for life create marvelous resonance regions. Resonance regions is a phrase that I adapted from the environmentalist Peter Warshal 



 – who was concerned with Luminosity Locales. His studies revolved around the unique  ability of biological entities, accidental or not, to store packets of photonic energy for later heat-conductive processes. “The Sun is the initiator of all sugars."  Energy storage for later use is seemingly the essence of the biological paradigm. It takes many locations and many regions to result in this resonance that we call the world, the planet earth, the galaxy, the cosmos. How we store data in the hive-mind may be similar to how primordial life-forms configured their nucleic acid lattices in limestone imprints patterns which are the shock-waves of ancient volcanoes or ridges of sands when sea-water recedes.

  Tomas' presentation of the local resonance is something quite in contrast to Peter Cusacks' presentation of the dessicated Aral Sea Basin and the idea of recording dangerous places. 

In the world of Tomas's Moravia we meet his ears in his yard, at some wetlands 5 or 10 km away, in his basement with fermenting plums, in the dovecote of his grand father. All of these places speak to us of the local and the familiar, the familial, where agency is clear, detectable and in a sense reassuring of life-cycles and continuity with nature. 

Peter's work within the dangerous places, disaster aftermaths, depleted zones, on the other hand confronts us with either an undetected agency or one that is alien and unfamiliar, representing an absence of familiarity, often in the form of the locale of a disaster or a place that is no longer a place, like the coal mines in Germany, holes in the space and time and earth. So, I underline with this two senses of location and distance woven together by technologies. And semantics.

Usti Nad Labem, View from Student Residency Hall, 11th Floor.

Part 2

   "Our world is textile." 
   --  Jérôme Jolibois (Brussels-based Nudian Activist)

  Throughout my talk you will hear me use the metaphor of weaving quite often. It seems inescapable since I've long ago married the cilia of the inner ear with this ticklish interface of neural to and fro whose consciousness is sound. Penelope, wife of Odysseus, is perhaps the most famous weaver, spider-lady, of the West, for she also unweaves by night what she weaves by day -- tricking time and minds -- (the funeral shroud for her missing, thought-dead husband). William Blake also wrote that Space and Time were woven in Enitharmon's loom. Jerome Jolibois' idea about textile fascinates me. He identifies textiles with civilization and clothing, the wearing of which hinders his feeling of being in contact with the winds. The winds are also in my writing here not merely as gusts of air but as carriers of ideas and emotions. We both shelter ourselves from winds but need the winds to push the wheel of the seasons and the signs of those seasons sound clearly in the winds

Very few people can say winds are "insignificant" (unless they've never felt them). The idea that the global environment speaks to us with the phrases of wind is the root of my idea that we should listen to the voices of the planet that are telling us things we might do well to learn. My pleasure therefore is a call for new animism. Listening closely may be the key to the revival, of resonance research and cloud mapping...

"The noise of the world
                                is just wind
                                           changing names
                                                            changing sides"



    These words are taken from Yannick Dauby's recent installation called the Noise of the World, in which he draws a series of portrait-frames around sounds captured at Green Island -- each episode opening and closing with an ominous clanking of prison door. The island was once a penal colony and he explores in some instances the borderless-ness of sound which might have reachrd the incarcerated from the outside world. The prison of listening was an unlucky, unhappy phrase that came to mind, as I imagined all the other senses being limited, most active freedom restricted, no wind to blast, nor to caress, the skin. Often when I sit in my own home or studio positioned optimally at center between my stereo monitors I wonder about what I have been doing with my time, this way, putting myself at center, constructing the middle. But I am more or less free. I am a bit like Penelope though, weaving and unweaving recorded time frames. I am not waiting for Odysseus but maybe trying to deceive the Master Death waiting in the wings

 
beautifully colored & likely toxic sludge by-product of the chemical factory fires in Rouen


Part 3

There is one little fellow named Ecology,
and in time we shall pay him more attention.
   --Kenneth Burke, 1937

(thanks to Minneapolis drummer & afferent musicologist, Davu Seru for the citation)

       My acoustic ecology underwent a sea-change when I discovered, or noticed rather, that I spend a tremendous amount of time trying to micro-manage or construct my sonic environment, creating orchestrations of my surroundings. I re-lived a 2 month back-packing and camping journey through Romania and Ukraine  (listen here) for the next 5 months suing my spare time in Poland piecing together my phonographies into aural idylls. Whether through composing music, walking in the forest, making podcasts, interviewing people, creating soundscapes (sound-escapes) or removing myself from noisy environments, sleeping, traveling as often as possible --  much of this effort derives from the direct experience of the overloaded sensory environments, of stasis and a premonition or intuition, that the production of sound (on my behalf) needs to balance with the environment. This of course stands as a measure of the imbalance I perceive myself standing within, spending most of my year in Poznan, a city of commerce, coal burners and too many automobiles.
        
       Looming evidence of radical climate changes only seemed to make me more reclusive
and I perceived myself drifting not in the direction of the lobbying sort of activism, because I am aware of the ideologies and unquestioned metaphysics of science, there are too many tricks and trolls in the climate debate politics -- so I choose too and more in touch with my musical and poetic predecessors, the shamans. This is turn leads not towards politics and politicians but to listening to the people who I travel among while listening to their acoustic resonance region.

     Being a person raised in the city (Buffalo, NY) and living in some major conurbations, these desires to escape noise and shift this balance away from industrialism long ago attracted me to the entire arc of quiet music movements, Cage (we always have to say "what side of the Cage are you on" in this respect),  Javanese gamelan, raga, Japanese traditional, onkyo, reductionism, lower case, drone, sculpting with phonographies, R.Murray Schafer -- all of this had something to do with corrective sonic surgeries on some pulsating noisy advertisement over-load of urban, industrial extremism. But these surgeries seem to be largely cosmetic. It seems difficult to imagine reversing the mechanical noise levels linked to the market which binds production to the military industrial complex. The noise will only increase as time goes on even if we increase operations to reduce that increase since creating our "escapes" also generates more carbon imprints.

    Weaving and un-weaving. Or, as the poet Robert Duncan once wrote, in a brilliantly commemorated Freudian slip, "re-weaving and we-reaving".  What we cannot untangle or un-weave, we sometimes tear apart.

   Since most people do generally feel overloaded with all the data but the data suppliers keep multiplying and the consumer base keeps growing, What is going on?

  What's the psychological message of all the noise and over-production? And why do we need to escape it or change it? And how have we been able to do that? How have we tried to use our ability to make sounds counter-act the information overload of the processed world? Have our phonographies or music processes led us back into a more profound connection with the natural world just make more hash from hashtags?

    Perhaps we can thank our own organisms for the implicit, instinctive answer, an organic rebellion against overdosing the data transfers. At root, in the center of the brain, there is the pineal gland and it's cycles of neuro-transmitter chemical productions linked to circadian rhythms. Without drugs, eventually, you must sleep and find the music of your own internal organic life. What? Is there sun of sounds and we require a darkness of sounds, some zero resonance zone, where all sounds heard simultaneously peak in a blackout silence we call slumber?
       
     Perhaps the over-production is related to horor vacuii -- the spiritual void of the post-god-is-dead world -- a need to ensure that our net of presence-ing ourselves goes unbroken? I assume that the fears are very real and that the painfully slow dawning of the impact of climate change indicates that we feel we can artificially save ourselves, with technology and cultural representations, permitting the simulacral fantasy of control to reign supreme, as long as we are reflected in the eyes of our friends. While what we need to do -- the planet seems to be demonstrating -- is that we need actually to do less and to want less. Listening in this context need not reflect so much as absorb, or transmit internally whatever sense of belonging we might have. There seems to be a limit in the collapsing of the expansion of knowledge that brings us back into our own bodies.
 
    In these circumstances it seems that to make any great contribution in a certain sense one ought to refrain from making any contribution. It's a question of scale. Why make books, vinyl records, cds, when one can use the internet to share loss-less files? Nostalgia has a hold on people and ritual consumption seems bound with civilization and it's need to appear better than what it fears and seeks to define itself against:  savagery, nature, chaos, entropy. We listen to things which reinforce the ideology that once made us feel good. We binge-listen to old faves. This guitar kills fascists, so let's buy another one.

                                   

    Our sounds seem to be so entangled with our own ordering principles and mesh so thoroughly with the science of the natural world that I have wondered if we are at the origin of this process or that it's the opposite, that we follow unconscious orders blindly, that we forget we are half-artifice or some proportion of artifice mixed with the physical reactive universe. The artifices of the hiding agencies are often cultural. We need to untangle our perceptions. But each artifact of perception generates further physical facts. Like the cilia in the cochlea there is a tingling back and forth tuning which is built on a set of firing parameters, they regulate toward stability, calm, agreement. if they don't achieve that effect the stimulus circuit ping-pongs who knows for how long...
  
     It seems however, if some of you follow recent research into enzymes, neurology and quantum mechanics, this physical & active universe seems to sit on top of something that is static, or entropic or seemingly without any reactive tendencies at all, not even dead because it's maybe never been alive or a substrate with such extremely slow reactive tendencies, that it's appearance is inert and dark, unconscious. Another matter. Dark matter. Perhaps it draws everything by the 3rd law of thermodynamics down into it's own collapse into some absolute immeasurable inertia.

  Through a kind of inner body dynamic sound unravels pranic geometry, a tantric, which moves or life pulse and dna in both directions simultaneosly by the laws of gravitational dynamics and geometry of sound centers corresponding to outer circumstances dependent on these  ---  resonance is the tonal balance between inner and outer winds --

   In the Hindu tradition we find five types of prana, collectively known as the five vāyus ( vayus are "winds" -- and some of us who follow any Eastern disciplines recognize similarities to the energy paths through the body and that uniting it all with Western anatomical research we have already a kind of picture of the body and it's pranic, vayic or qi cycles. Perhaps now we who are doing this work in acoustic ecology are ready to bring the inner and the outer forms of listening into one endless spiral. The ear and it's structure can functions as a point if departure for this and I'll get to that in a moment  


Part 4    (I never had a chance to even imagine getting this far into the presentation...)


Our sounds are woven objectively within the order of the cosmos and that part which is called music is what falls within the realms of the categorization and ordering of our sounding relationships, the ones that makes sense. We create this order as shield against what we don't know. This tendency to shield against the unknown began to break down in the late 20th century. Music opened itself to wider influences, both culturally (world musics, new tone systems, timbres) and by re-considering the role of pure sound in the process, largely due to the ability to abstract sounds from environment offered by recording technologies, music expanded to also include the possibility of pure listening, and listening started to be, or to return to the old order of animistic listening, the primary organ of musical composition. Thusly, the ear was born again into refreshed circumstances. 


    This may seem obvious, but some parts of that cosmos are not communicable and even insensate and without possible purpose in any system of meaning known to any previous aesthetic paradigm. They are untuneable, uncontrollable, unpredictable. For this reason they remained frightening for most people. But this fear also started to breakdown when the incommunicable didn't respond and seemed to work on different terms. It was then we started to get another confirmation that listening or paying closer attention to everything was the only way to understand what was going on "out there" and that any sense of harmony with that was only perhaps to be gained by ceasing to try to control it. This is all reflected in the course of that famous century before the last one, since 12 tone theory and serialism began the integration process with the elemental and molecular cosmos and the aleatoric music of Xenakis started to influence younger people doing electronic and noise musics.

Xenakis is important as a step into the territory of where creative dynamics and probability patterns in physical dynamics weave with one another and brings some of my own weavings and unweavings to a new opening

 Mixing things up was suddenly a more efficient way for the human ordering system to evolve. That's perhaps why now in the 21st century people are thinking about how we and our passing gasses are forcing the rate of our climate changes and not really just a bit anymore. They can feel it happening. It's been happening in our music since serialism and free jazz and musique concrete. My feeling is that it's a good sign that somehow we can already feel this reaction finally. And perhaps listening to that is a legit preoccupation. But this is all based upon the relation between the wind, the storm, the chaos, being perceived as significant. And most every does the feel the wind has great significance. Once upon a time people even thought the wind was animate.


    Part 5


 In the writings of Boethius, the analyses of music is tripartite.  Music of the heavenly spheres, "loud and continuous, beyond human range" according to David Hendy anyway is said to be seen by Boethius is the heavenly bodies and in the elemental changes of the seasons -- so here we have the geological, global grounding. the music of the spheres is not the arcane mathematical issue of the pythagorean mentis

    but in fact something physical, celestial, mechanical but moving at such a speed that it seems silent.

instrumental music is of course is self-explanatory.

    But the "human music" within the human organism, the body itself, is something Boethius doesn't say much about except that one can feel it if one wants. Intra-corporal music is proprioceptive. But we have great traditions in the chakra theories of India and the QI flow systems of Chinese medicine, all of which suggest that is the human body is to be used as a model for music then both complexity and clarity must be resolved.

While Boethius, struggling with the classical world and trying to find resolution with new faith systems between the East and the West, he seems a bit deaf and insists we can't hear the higher vibrations of celestial music and he seems shy about the inner workings of the human organism. This is probably just the by-product of the rational mind obscuring things for political reasons. Anybody who listens can hear the workings of their own bodies. So what was going on with the haptic perceptual fields? Two things: the ideology of the unknowable workings of the mind of the Judaeo-Christian god closed the doors of that perception. And the beginning of the dark age of the human body began and everything associated with it became base and material, opposed to the soul itself. Our ideological disembodiment which seems know rather at it's last phase.

 But I'd still like to use this same three part division and jump to an analogy with the structure of the inner ear, the human ear anyway, where we have something similar: because the outside is always continuous, a kind of overwhelming racket -- while the tuning in and out of this is achieved by the instrument itself, the ear, which I would suggest, is the archetype for all instruments, and it's composed as most of you know by a  tympanum membrane which stimulates the malleus, incus. stapes -- but what some of you may know also but which is the trickier part is that the cilia which vibrate set the scale because they have a bit of separation among them. And, as I understand this, it's two-way street between the cochlear nerves and the vestibular which meet in this meshing of cilia and kind of maintain and ongoing neural debate which creates the sound or the sense of the sound. One set is sending the vibration into another set which vibrates in a feedback loop against what messages it's being sent -- this is what synapses do also, firing back and forth to create this gapped sensation of continuity --
within this inner ear zone is the -- tipping point between inner human music and outer "human music" which is a hermeneutic zone, one of interpretation and searching, comparing inner data stores, sending them to met the incoming perceptions, as if asking, are you what I think you are? in the case of a musician this relay system is what allows for the adjustment we call tuning... 

by the way, it's been suggested that tinnitus is the result of the a enzyme deficiency/imbalance causing a misfiring on the brain-side of this system, the result being that your brain sends a stimulus back to the ear but it gets kind of trapped there,  stimulates the apparatus without any incoming air pressure and causes you to feel a bit crazy... 

    Part 6

comments on so-called ambient music, the asemantic corridor back to listening to earth voices

     Ambient music as carrier signal for consciousness as in freeing the mind from semantic listening at one level and allowing heightened attention at others. It can perhaps be thought of as a transportation device to a higher silence. 
     Once listening is immersed in the ambient bandwidth, the body is freed from certain cares and woes, suspended in a bath, and consciousness can explore itself, the brain can sort itself out anew, provided one can resist falling asleep. I believe that we listen to this kind of music to gain elemental equilibrium, revert to circadian brain-balance, and one of reasons we also revel in the sounds of the oceans, seas, rivers, streams, cicadas, birds, frogs and any self-regulating physical system (even machines, automobiles, for some people) is because they mirror our own inner organisms' regulatory systems.
      Mainly we do it to slow down the pace, to escape the excitement that is related to danger, stress. Music has some traditions of working in either direction: as stimulant (250 bpm techno or The Ramones as coffee-kick) or the rational grooves of Vivaldi or Bacch to enter the stately or homeo- static realm of consciousness. But only in the last 50 years or so do we see the emergence of extremely slow, radically spacious and virtual silence. I'd like to offer a thesis that says this is more that just a battle of the styles in the history of generational aesthetics but that this kind of sound represents the recognition of our own humanity as being but a small part of an huge complex of phenomenon and that it allows us to listen to the winds of other beings. We had to pass through a period of asemantic orientation in order to return to the universe of meaningful sound with refreshed sensibilities and openness for dialogue and listening more carefully with less judgment and more attention to details. a path towards synaesthesia and a redefined sense of sentience, one in which even silence has flavor, odors, intonations, as Pascal Quignard puts it.

 Chaque livre est un morceau de silence etpourtant chaque livre a une intonationpropre.


     Every book is a scrap of silence and yet every book has its own intonation. Pascal Quignard

      Final Comment on Animism: well, it's my own belief that the world would be a better place if we though of it being one organism. I've run out time here to deal with anything other that to call for a new and perhaps technologically sensitive animism.

      When we mix an ambient system of tones with another environment we change the tonal temperature of our rooms, our spaces. in a sense we are doing this for our own comfort but also we massage/message the surrounding winds and create a new solution.

    "For how can it be that a celestial machine can move so quickly yet silently on its course? And although its sound does not reach our ears, which happens for many reasons, it is not possible however that such an extremely fast motion of such large bodies makes no sound, es-pecially because the paths of the stars are all joined in a way that nothing more perfect could be conceived. For some [travel] in a higher, and others in a lower orbit. Yet all turn with equal force in a way that through these dissimilar paths they form a rational order. With such a celestial model, no less rational order can be expected in music. . . . Yet all of this diversity generates a variety of seasons and of fruits, and thus creates the body of one entire year. But imagine if such variety of things disappeared from our thinking, everything would perish and lose, I might say, their consonance. And so it is that in loosening the low strings, we do not go so far that the sound disappears into nothingness; nor, on the other hand, do we place too much tension on the strings in the high range lest they break. Rather, everything is done that is appropriate and fitting. And similarly we see in music of the spheres nothing that is excessive and that goes beyond itself. ."  -- Boeithius

 Recent Works Concerning Acoustic Ecology, Field Recordings:

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/two-cities

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/romania-phonographies-2015-2016

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/bulgaria-sound-specific

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/resonance-regions-i-lake-rusa-ka

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/polish-soundscapes

 https://jeffgburekprojects.bandcamp.com/album/eirelans





 

Thursday, September 26, 2019

yes, but it gives me a headache: a rambling anectdotal, i.e. conversational-styled commentary on minimalism, julius eastman, class, activism and luigi nono


Luigi Nono, the painter. 1850 - 1918

      Minimalist music at first blush seems quite controversial and then over the years increasingly appears pleasing to the mainstream popular palate. Some will never like it for their individual, peculiar reasons but it no longer appears in any way threatening to the status quo. Liking it at first and then growing a bit tired of it, on the whole, seems to have been my own trajectory. Those first moments of luminous experience with Wim Mertens and Meredith Monk (records or cassettes) in my first real (lonely) apartment in San Francisco left me with the feeling of having gained access to a special world few understood and I rested for a while inside the belief that I had transcended, flown all previous social barriers, entered the classless haven of pure music. My little utopian apartment, three rooms on 14th street, between Guerrero and Valencia, going for 235 bucks a month, cold, in 1986, in an ex-hotel once owned by John Hammond: that would be where I discovered the avocado tree that would nourish me during hardest times and I'd listen to the cassette deck plugged into my guitar amplifier. The same apartment, exactly the same, where I will find myself in 2003, the place I would go to visit a friend recently re-located from Denver, a software designer named Biaggio Azzarelli, who made a killing by doing a Eno-esque start up sound for a program (now we call them apps) for one of the big companies. Biaggio was paying 1,600 for the same three rooms. I looked and saw the stump of the avocado tree three floors down through the grill of the fire escape. It was wonderful to encounter the new friend in my old place of residence and he was doing well indeed, his three rooms minimally adorned and clean as a whistle.  

     Most people know how quickly San Francisco changed after the dot com boom but my memory also stretches back to sitting at Cafe Trieste with the poets, the two Jacks not Keruoac, Jacks Hirschman and Micheline, probably in 1989, when I worked in North Beach, listening to them muse into grumbling how the town had gotten white-washed. What did I know? I walked around the corner stumbled into Bob Kaufman, eighty-sixed from every bar in the hood, shook hands, nodded, since he didn't speak much in those days. And Ferlinghetti was at the desk upstairs, just over there. It seemed like the greatest place on earth. Sun Ra at Mabuhay Gardens, saw him buying cookies for the Arkestra, greeted and spoke to him too. Little did any of us know what was to arrive with the bridge and tunnel crowds and the displacement of people from the old housing projects, some winding up rough out on the streets quite often. Minimalism has many faces and one of those faces belonged to the homeless Julius Eastman, although on the other side of the country -- but his minimalism left a very troubled stain on the white and white-washed world which surfaced many years after his demise in a recent scandal about the titles of his pieces, the ones which left the history of his people dangling uncomfortably by the roots. for example:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_QGQcKq1ik

     Memories of Julius Eastman at the moment linger in my mind(s) along with the fading strains of "nothing compares 2u" -- the restaurant line (in the song) especially stands out sorely. I don't like restaurants as a rule. Diners, delis and cafes, taquerias all more my speed. Asian food is different. I can suffer a bit the wait and the strange guilt I feel of being "served".  This is class-derived guilt, I suppose and I should be busing here for a few extra bucks myself. Learning to cook was a princely revolution, although it takes time from the working person's life to rustle up some vittles. But the days of uber eats will even likely surpass me in the bikes lanes of consumerism. 

     I started out with mentioning minimalist music for a reason. And that is because eventually, while listening to Julius Eastman's music last year it struck me that he alone perhaps among composers who might get installed into this genre retains within his music the tension of the class struggle and that the easy commercialization and growing popularity of all the others was precisely because this music in other hands could jettison association with social issues or address them with a smile somehow, since in the trance of repetition, bliss removes the suffering of hunger and social inequality. It is the fact that people can find the music pleasing, diverting that allows it to become popular, I guess. 

a short video about luigi nono

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkqxGEDqaRk

   the thought-long wound, the open wound 

       When listening to the music of Luigi Nono again a few days ago I realized that what was essential in his art is the tension created by the rending open of space, these abyssal spaces between us, between people of different classes, ethnicities, between art and life, between the human and the other creatures, between the human and the storm of the raw elements. One can actually hear in the orchestrations the voices of people straining to work together, divided, united by their common despair, their common hope, anger, frustration and longing for change. The music of Luigi Nono stands at that crossroads when composers and artists felt the need to bear witness (or withness)  to the people's struggles and made works that were classically speaking difficult. Not difficult for the sake of being difficult but in order function as an index of sorts, as a flashing sign of danger, a flare sent up in an emergency. Much of this sense of music as having social message nowadays is bound up with the testimonials of rap music, some new punk (about which I know zilch), and relies mainly on a clever use of words to create the tension of the message which is of course easy to digest with the funky beat going on and very little of this social advocacy depends of tension created in the instrumental aspect of the songs (Death Grips perhaps the exception). Music like Nono's still disturbs many, many people. The tension is related to the coming of storms and the fact of losing personal control, deprived of liberty and choice. It remains haunting and ominous. I am no longer certain when it occurred to me that most avant-garde music, even the most quiet, reductionist or the most jarringly microtonal had lost the need to relate it's tension to some sense of social advocacy but it did in fact happen somewhere along the line. Now all the music we hear is largely within the realm of entertainment and the sense of social advocacy has taken up residency by and large in the logos again and wanders in the forests of story-telling. Even if it's like me, talking to myself.      

  short film about composer Luigi Nono







 article in ARTnews about Julius Eastman's incendiary titles by composer Mary Jane Leach

http://www.artnews.com/2019/09/13/julius-eastman-incendiary-titles/?fbclid=IwAR2WnQU4puizH8BGN0iNrk9jBarqsESITlAbZbRyGKDmJ5K8qBW9UNI5CWk