Doze Green and David Ellis Exhibit at Fifty24 (San Francisco)

There’s a lot of street art in San Francisco, so much so that the art has long since filled the streets and, hungry for additional bare walls, begun to take over the city’s galleries.

Last month, driving by Fifty24 — that’s a modestly proportioned two-floor gallery in San Francisco’s Lower Haight area, a mecca neighborhood for gallerized and otherwise comodified street art — I saw a strange object just inside the gallery’s store-front window. Even from a distance, it was clear what it was: a sculpture modeled on Sutro Tower, affixed with disassembled speaker parts.

The exhibit, titled Rubicon Sun, was a collaboration between David Ellis and Doze Green. (It ran from December 13, 2007, through January 4, 2008. More info at fifty24sf.com.) Both are widely exhibited, and the Fifty24 show was the result of a residency in which they produced individual and collaborative works. The show coincided with the release of their new book, Shaft. Ellis works with paint, sound and installations, among other media and formats, and Green is primarily a painter and muralist whose work is deeply informed by graffiti and collage. (More info on Green at dozegreen.com. He was a member of the Rock Steady Crew of breakdancers and appeared in the 1983 film Wildstyle. At least one other artist who appeared in Wildstyle, Lee Quinones, is an exhibiting artist; I saw several Quinones pieces at PS1 in Queens early last year. More info on Ellis at freshwatercatfish.org; his work was part of an exhibit curated by Christian Marclay at the ICA in Philadelphia late last year.)

The main room at Fifty24 is a narrow, street-level gallery. At the center stood the speaker-tower. It was non-functional, in that the speakers emitted no sound, but by anyone who has lived in or spent time in San Francisco, those speakers might be read to represent the presence of Sutro Tower, which stands silently high above the city, like a totem in a Hayao Miyazaki film. I may be overstating its resemblance to Sutro Tower; the sculpture looks more like if Sutro Tower had been constructed from girders purloined from the Golden Gate Bridge. Below is a close-up of the Tower, and how it appeared from outside:

The Tower’s presence likewise permeated the gallery, as it appeared in several of the paintings — as did, in one collage work, a piece of the menu from Rosamunde Grill, an excellent sausage shop around the corner on Haight Street.

Fifty24 has a second exhibit space, located upstairs, and it included additional paintings and two particularly unusual works. There was in one corner a human-height owl built out of chicken wire, bottles, and other materials. A gallery employee explained that the bottles — which included tea, beer, wine, and water — were culled from what Ellis and Doze had drunk during their residency. The owl had speaker-cone parts for eyes, and when it was plugged into a nearby outlet it emitted a tribal jug-band music.

Pictured here are some of the internal parts that made the sound. There’s a paint can and a sauce pan in there:

Also upstairs, in a small dark room entered like a cave, was a mysterious, oblong, nearly car-size object that resembled a chunk of lava, or perhaps the Horta from Star Trek. Embedded in it, as shown here in this detail, was a rusty old speaker:

The exhibit served as a kind of homecoming for Doze Green. A two-story mural of his has, since mid-February 2007, ruled over the Lower Haight. It’s one block away from Fifty24, over on Steiner Street, just off Haight Street, on the outside of the Lower Hater Gallery (formerly Future Primitive). The alien backpacker, shown below, is the neighborhood’s spectral night watchman. This work replaced a previous mural in the same spot, also by Green. I believe Green collaborated on both pieces with different muralists, and that Ellis had worked on the earlier one.

Quote of the Week: Audio Infidelity

Not so much a defense of audiophiles, who pursue audio-fidelity at financial expense that many would consider excessive, but an interesting distinction:

Perhaps audiophilia and musicophilia are two different things that are sometimes, but not always, present in the same brain.

So there’s music and then there’s sound. A lot of people like both, but maybe some who like sound don’t much care for music…

That’s from a response by Matt Corwine (at lineout.thestranger.com) to an excoriation of audiophiles by Clive Thompson (at collisiondetection.net), who was himself responding to an article by Robert Levine (the pop music critic, not the classical music critic) about the “death” of high fidelity (at rollingstone.com).

The distinction between audiophilia and musicophilia isn’t as clear as Corwine’s post might suggest. For one thing, the jazz fusion, warhorse classical favorites, and overproduced classic rock often favored by audiophiles has plenty of fans with mid-fidelity iPods and low-fidelity AM radios.

Also, in our current moment of “field recordings as art” (and as raw material for art), many people are more than happy to listen carefully and casually to un-composed sound (bird calls, traffic, the wind), regardless of bit rates and speaker quality. Not all phonographers — that is, active producers of field-recordings — are audiophiles. And many phonographers would be comfortable using the term “music” to describe their found sounds.

Still, Corwine has posited an interesting hypothesis. The pursuit of sound as an end unto itself — and thus the idea that the optimal stereo system is less a machine intended to play music than it is a machine fine-tuned to replicate the real world — is certainly supported by the popularity in the past of records, such as those on the Command label, that served as sound-system tests. (The Command album pictured here was “arranged for dynamic stereo performances,” according to the cover blurb, and the op-art image below that blurb presents a stylish visualization of the stereo experience.)

Of course, audiophiles may be enthusiasts of neither sound nor music, however those two words are defined. Audiophiles may simply be fixated on technology.

Terry Riley Interview MP3 (1969)

To close the week out, a recently uploaded interview with softspoken minimalist composer Terry Riley, dating from 1969. The interview is by Charles Amirkhanian, founder of Other Minds, the catalog of which (at archive.org) houses the file. Also interviewed are Robert Ashley and William Maraldo, then co-directors of the Mills Center for Contemporary Music in Oakland, California. Riley talks about, among other things, the positive influence rock musicians might have on classical musicians (MP3).

Slo-mo Steam Whistle MP3

There are certain real-world references that often serve as descriptors when it comes to electronically mediated music. There’s the robotic cycling of the cicada, the semi-sentient hum of an aging refrigerator, the proto-minimal-techno rumble of the subway, the piercing cry of the tea kettle.

As the poster at santafesound.blogspot.com reminds us, those overly familiar sounds mask hidden and mysterious depth. He’s taken a recording of a tea kettle as it reaches the boiling point, for instance, and slowed it to one quarter its original speed. The result is an at times harrowing, and at times warm, series of noises and undulating drones, the complexity of which suggest that more than a single sound source is involved (MP3).

In fact, a car does reportedly pass by at one point, adding “a cool little something,” as the poster puts it. But the core of the 12-minute track is just water being brought to a boil. As a result of his little experiment in process-music, he’s made us slow down and smell the coffee — or, more to the point, he’s slowed down the tea kettle and made us listen.

This same website was the origin of the dying Buddha Machine of last December (disquiet.com).

Archival Gamer-Music MP3 EP

The great netlabel Monotonik (mono211.com) closed out 2007 not with another in its ongoing free new electronic releases — but with a tasty archival entry. Back in 2000, on his own Systorm Technologies label, Aaron Rutledge released an EP titled Musical Endeavor under the name Pliant. According to the recent Monotonik entry, the EP was intended to be the sound of a fictional video game, an intention supported by such track names as the vigorously bleepy “Title” (MP3), the sedately synthy “Options” (MP3), and the vaguely porn-score-ish “Boss” (MP3), not to mention “Credit” (MP3), which sounds like several arcade faves being played side by side. And those are just four of the nine tracks. What’s interesting, in retrospect, is that though Pliant’s tracks suggest video-game background scores, they aren’t stuck in the 8-bit mimicry or nostalgia that fuels so much of today’s retro-gamer music.

More info on the release at mono211.com. The old systorm.com URL now redirects to Rutledge’s own aaronrutledge.com.