Reading the Dragon

Over at artsjournal.com/gap, which is the blog of Molly Sheridan, a bunch of us are discussing the book The Invisible Dragon: Essays on Beauty by Dave Hickey (the recent “revised and expanded” edition). We’d previously discussed Lawrence Lessig‘s Remix: Making Art and Commerce Thrive in the Hybrid Economy. Though we’re reading in book-group mode, the blog-hosted discussion is open to the public, so do feel to drop by.

I obtained my copy of Invisible Dragon via inter-library loan. After reading it, I realized that the library it had come from was the University of Nevada Las Vegas, which is where Hickey is a professor in the English department.

Hickey’s book is focused on the visual arts, but it’s written largely through a literary-critical perspective, and one of the things we’re discussing is whether its thesis — roughly speaking, that “beauty” is not enough a subject of discussion in arts criticism — has a counterpart in music.

The conversation began on Monday, June 22, and concludes on Friday, June 26.

Holzkopf Covers Soft Cell, Breaks Sound Barrier (MP3s)

The group Soft Cell is best remembered for its languorous, metronomic pop, a precursor not only to minimal techno, but more broadly to the giddily presumptuous nonchalance that infuses much of the Internet’s amateur musicianship. There was always something in the musical rudimentaries of Soft Cell songs that suggested a flouting of traditional pop categories of quality — like, say, instrumental facility. Holzkopf opens its Credit Card Ache, a short album of hard noise, with a cover (MP3) of Soft Cell’s “Memorabilia.” The new rendition’s saw-tooth beats and static-heavy atmosphere bury the original’s lyrics — and so, even if you can’t quite make them out, someone presumably isn’t just singing, but also took to heart, its closing lines: “Go turn the beat around, got to hear percussion, turn it upside down.” Turning things upside down is Holzkopf’s modus operandi. Just check out “OK Times,” a broiling of beats if ever there were one (MP3); the song turns the beat around by showing, as did Alec Empire and so many other early chaos-friendly industrialists, that computerized rhythm and randomness aren’t incompatible — or, more to the point, that their seeming incompatibilities are the very source of the magic that occurs when they are combined.

[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/pan038/pan038-holzkopf-3-memorabilia.mp3|titles=”Memorabilia”|artists=Holzkopf (covering Soft Cell)] [audio:http://www.archive.org/download/pan038/pan038-holzkopf-4-ok_times.mp3|titles=”OK Times”|artists=Holzkopf]

Get the full set at notype.com.

Sonic Withdrawal by Shinobu Nemoto (MP3)

Some of the best remixes are incidental, accidental, chance. Think of the way a favorite song sounds on an unfamiliar stereo system. Or when a specific moment of a CD (an ever so brief segment) chooses to go, anarchically, into manic loop mode on a restaurant’s creaky stereo system. Or how inadequate radio reception can transform an innocuous pop hit into something clandestine. All of the seven pieces that comprise Bird Requiem, by Summons of Shining Ruins (aka Shinobu Nemoto), are heavily distorted melodies, heard through numerous filters and decaying techniques that render the original as some rough-hewn, world-weary document. Case in point the garbled, shaky thing that is “Utan” (MP3), which has the same sort of sense of sonic withdrawal that informed Gavin Bryars’s Jesus’s Blood, the half-conscious jitters of a soul going through rapid, unsolicited detox.

[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/rb060/06-SONG_6_-_UTAN.mp3|titles=”Utan”|artists=Summons of Shining Ruins]

Get the full set at netlabel restingbell.net, for which this is the 60th release.

The Aural Girlfriend Experience

There are few directors as attentive to scores as is Steven Sodebergh. He is one of the premiere under-scoring directors — that is to say, he is certainly the most prominent filmmaker to emphasize that holy-grail photo-realist juncture where the aural components of the silver screen (i.e., the live sound that accompanied what is seen, the foley sound added later, and the musical score layered though) combine into one. His two most frequent composers are the ambient figure Cliff Martinez (whose work on Soderbergh’s Solaris may be better loved than the director’s) and DJ David Holmes (whose retro, big-beat electronica has served Ocean’s Eleven and its sequels well). Martinez’s subtle compositions take on the texture of thought in Soderbergh’s more contemplative works, as early as the director’s first feature, sex, lies, and videotape, and Holmes’s clockwork funk suggests the musical equivalent to a heist blueprint. (Holmes is capable of Martinez’s caliber of quietude — check out the near-future drama Code 46.)

I just saw Soderbergh’s most recent feature, The Girlfriend Experience, about a Manhattan call girl, and it may have less music than any film he’s done previously. There’s an opening chord (likely played on guitar), which also closes the film. And otherwise, much of what is heard throughout could very well be the in-scene sound: music in a car, at a restaurant, in an apartment. But there is a credited score, and the credit goes to Morcheeba‘s Ross Godfrey, so perhaps all those anonymous cues are Godfrey’s.

And there is one particular instant, one well-timed moment, that cements the sound in Girlfriend Experience as no less conscious — no less considered, plotted, and executed — than that in any other Soderbergh film. If the initial score cue is that guitar chord, the second is a heavy drum solo, a hard-driving bit of acoustic funk. Like the guitar chord, it has nothing immediate to do with the onscreen images. (The heavy beat is reminiscent of Holmes’s work, one more reason Soderbergh fans might think it a proper cue.)

Only later do we realize that the drum solo is, in fact, a live recording of a street musician, when we see him plying his trade on a street corner (and yes, he’s banging away — this metaphor can be stretched quite a bit before it breaks). This re-use parallels the structure of Girlfriend Experience, which chops up the story into little chunks that are then parceled out in a manner that reveals additional meaning. The movie tells the story of a week in the life of a Manhattan escort named Chelsea (shown in the screen shot above), played by porn star Sasha Grey, and Soderbergh’s intent throughout is to use that real-life parallel to add frisson to the proceedings — a method that reinforces Chelsea’s practice, which is to fulfill the fantasy of her clients that she isn’t just a hooker, but their temporary (and, for regulars, even their on-again/off-again) girlfriend.

That drummer, by the way, is not Godfrey. It’s apparently a popular Manhattan street musician who goes by the name Shakerleg (shown in the screen shot below). More info at shakerleg.com.

Next up for Soderbergh is The Informant, which may prove to be the director’s first venture into over-scoring. It reportedly features an original soundtrack by 65-year-old composer Marvin Hamlisch (The Entertainer, The Spy Who Loved Me, Ordinary People). According at least to the details at imdb.com, it will be the first full-length, non-documentary Hamlisch has scored since he did Barbra Streisand‘s The Mirror Has Two Faces in 1996. The Informant is due out in October.

Remixed Electricwest MP3 by Celer

In our current moment of near-simultaneous real-time data, the Internet is a place where things are constantly remixing themselves, often before we have a chance to experience the “original,” which is, to be clear, more of then not itself based on pre-existing materials. The netlabel archaichorizon.com embraces this fact with its most recent release. It consists of two sets of tracks: 11 by Electricwest, with the collective title Moth3r, and then 11 remixes, a different artist having taken on each of the “original” cuts.

Many of the remixes simply extend the more surface pleasures of the originals, but there are notable exceptions. Take the opening track of Moth3r, “Goddess.” It’s a mix of raspy beat, mournful single-note melodic line, and all manner of little sonic filigrees, like frizting squeaks and momentary vocals (MP3). The accomplished remix, by Celer, is something else entirely — it sounds like the original heard toward the end of its death throes, the beat removed entirely; all that’s left is an eerie drone penumbra surrounding a fading throb (MP3).

[audio:http://www.archaichorizon.com/releases/ah033/music/01_Goddess.mp3|titles=”Goddess”|artists=Electricwest] [audio:http://www.archaichorizon.com/releases/ah033/music/01_Goddess_(celer_rmx).mp3|titles=”Goddess (Celer Rmx)”|artists=Electricwest (Celer Remix)]