Tuesday, 17 October 2017

Gary Numan's Savage - and a tale of music categorisation

Normally Gary Numan would need no introduction.

However, a recent clash between the rigid categories some operate with and the creativity that characterises the likes of Gary Numan perhaps warrants one - just to put in context a wider point to be made here...

It is a tale of how a label, which once described the most innovative and category-defying music, could be gradually so narrowed by some music industry machinery that it describes, at best, a single musical stereotype.

Normally we have had labels widen so much that they became all-inclusive. Thus they have lost all meaning due to the music industry's attempts of filling the new box with anything they could not fit into other rigid boxes.

Here, though, we have the remarkable opposite trend in its terminal stages.

As one of the most notable names in electronica, with a long list of names from Prince to Trent Reznor to Marilyn Manson quoting him as key influence, Gary Numan is to electronic music what Philip K. Dick is to the more philosophical section of science-fiction literature.

Although Numan is an artist who has had a key role in bringing electronic music into the mainstream pop culture, his dystopian visions, introspective lyrics coupled with his instantly recognisable sonic Universe elevated him way beyond electro-pop - ever since his Tubeway Army mega-hits up to his latest concept album.

Savage (Songs From A Broken World) is again a dystopian and mesmerisingly philosophical work, with musical elements that range from the familiar but characteristic Numan sonic palette to Middle-Eastern flavours.

A superb follow-up to Splinter, again with Ade Fenton in the producer's chair, we get thought-provoking meditations on our world and our existence, while the music takes us from electronic rock constructs to symphonic heights that linger in one's mind long after the record stopped playing.

However, being a distinctive voice nowadays can clash with the mechanical image certain music "specialists" have about the Universe.

Billboard, the well-known chart company, needs no introduction either.

Their definitions of album sales are nowadays desperate and gloriously inept attempts of moulding and bending eminently outdated music industry business models onto the new rapidly changing shapes of the digital world inhabited by its digital consumers.

As difficult as it may seem, Billboard recently managed to surpass themselves in their attempts to define this, to use a physics analogy, intricate quantum physics-governed world with rigid Newtonian models.

They have decided that Gary Numan's new album does not fit their dance/electronica category. As they expressed it, the album is basically "not electronic", instead it fits in the rock/alternative category.

The technical details happen to be such that around 95% of the album has been produced on and with electronic instruments, by one of the most recognisable electronic artists of the last four decades. As Gary Numan himself has rightly pointed out, it is the most electronic record since his album The Pleasure Principle (1979).

But the problem revealed by the Billboard absurdity is wider than any debate about one's list of one's studio gear.

The telling and worrying aspect is that key names in the music industry are grasping at labels that used to denote the most boundless, experimental or more mainstream, sonic world.

While they grasp at these labels, in an attempt to rigidly categorise the vastly varied palette used by electronic artists, they end up narrowing and narrowing the field of view.

Electronic, in their  rapidly shrinking understanding, basically can only mean dance - but even EDM, electronic dance music, is a ludicrously meaningless label nowadays as it has countless vastly different sub-genres and styles.

Unless an artist fits into this ultra-narrow box, even the likes of Billboard need to resort to a radical re-categorisation - Gary Numan and Depeche Mode are now "rock/alternative"... Listening to their recent two albums make this categorisation a superb absurd tragicomedy.

We have had categories like progressive rock widening, widening, until they lost all meaning as they just became a bucket for music industry luminaries to shove any out-of-the-box creation into.

The same happened to new age, starting out with a defined (albeit dubious) scope and intent, but ending up with artists like Tangerine Dream and Vangelis being categorised as such...

Remember alternative rock? The one where musicians ended up all looking and, rapidly, sounding the same and far from being alternative expressions of anything?

However, the recent Gary Numan episode is showing something very different.

Instead of desperately widening the meaning of a, hence increasingly rendered meaningless, category, they end up constricting a vast category to something that becomes an ultra-narrow one.

They can only fit inside it a tiny subset of just one stereotypical mainstream incarnation of what the musical genre really used to denote.

The wider and more imaginative that genre was once, the narrower its actual use as a label has become.

The darkest effect of this mental constriction, stemming from still not updated business models and patterns of thoughts that go with it, is that it started to feed back on itself.

The major names in the music industry, the likes of Billboard, have become eminently irrelevant in the greater scheme - but until their irrelevance is final, unfortunately they are still affecting musicians - and how they are judged by other elements of the rusting echo chambers that Billboard & Co operate in.

Artists producing imaginative electronica without dance loops and archetypal arrangements are placing themselves outside the one and only rigid, narrowed to a point of singularity, box tthat he mainstream music industry can think in.

One has to wonder what cataclysmic infliction changed the same music industry giants from celebrators and promoters of the most innovative and stylistically boundless music into dangerous automatons that can only imagine that music as something confined to their mental image of a dance floor...

Saturday, 7 October 2017

Carbon Based Lifeforms...far from Derelicts

After a prolonged break (with the exception of some notable remastered versions of earlier albums), the categorisation-defying Swedish duo Carbon Based Lifeforms is back in full force.

Indeed, with their discography rooted in the more "ambient" side of the electronic music spectrum, but nevertheless often offering eminently head-bobbing-inducing tracks, too, one could wonder what the announced album Derelicts would sound like.

Instead of a departure into some stereotypical electronica, Derelicts is a 12-track album of quite some integrity and instantly recognisable as a CBL creation.

While Accede opens the album with that characteristic sound and patient development of hypnotically repetitive textures and sequences, CBL fans will be glad to encounter later on quite a variety of moods and tones...

Parts of Clouds or Nattväsen have references to, and echoes of, sound worlds first heard on World of Sleepers and Twentythree.

Equilibrium has that slow and rather irresistibly hypnotising rhythm one may have heard on the album Hydroponic Gardens.

The title track is really a stand-out piece, CBL at their most majestic and flowing at the same time, with deceptively simple, but anthemic, melodic progression lifting the track after its ambiental beginnings.

For a more abstract and eminently ambient sonic trip, Path of Least Resistance is a keeper - with a vast sonic landscape that reminds one of VLA and Twentythree.

One does not stop being amazed by the sense of melancholy mixed with majestic electronic soundscapes that CBL can infuse tracks with: ~42° is a perfect example of how the by now characteristic sonic elements are blended seamlessly by the electronic duo.

The structure of the album is also quite noteworthy, the soaring, uplifting tracks frame very nicely the quieter ambient works, plotting quite well a sonic journey through different states.

For example, 780 Days returns to the energetic opening sections of the album and lifts us out of the reverie, but there are no harsh edges and no sudden transitions - everything, as any CBL fan would rightly expect, flows very nicely.

Similarly, Rayleigh Scatterers and Dodecahedron provide melodic laid-back repose between more introspective tracks.

The mastering job done on the album is of a quality one would expect, the thunderous bass and percussion in tracks like 780 Days sit very well with the subtle and very refined ambient sonic elements.

This makes the album feel quite dreamy and light in places, even when the actual electronic sound palette is darker and more ominous.

CBL have found a very rare and specific register, like an elusive and mythical register on a mighty organ: Derelicts is, again, an eminently electronic album where technology does not take over, but from shaping subtle quasi-transparent constructs to processing sounds of thundering echoes of vast spaces, technology serves the artistic intent.

The result is, once again, a sonic world with a very personal touch and without the faintest sign of wanting to get lost in any commercial trend of electronica, whichever has been raging out there, outside the CBL sonic Universe, during the years that passed since the Refuge soundtrack album.

As the duo have reported in the recent past, the album would have been shorter but in its last creative stages suddenly a new track was born that simply had to be included on what has become a 12-track album in the end.

Overall, zero shortage of imagination again, and while keeping eminently characteristic CBL sound going through the entire album, there are no direct self-references - hence Derelicts feels thoroughly fresh.

It is a huge relief, that with the so-called "revolutions" (i.e. regurgitations of decades-old electronic music genres and style) like synthwave and such, some names keep looking forward instead of backward - and look at technology as a tool for creating new sonic visions (as contradictory as the term may sound).

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

25 years of United World Underground

It is a rare occasion when one can celebrate, instead of fleeting flickers of indie music promotions amongst the dominant music industry-driven ubiquitous communications, a 25-year-long consistent history of a huge underground music project.

Music & Elsewhere,  the "label for bands who put their music before the money and their souls before the world", has reached a major landmark this year - and its 25th Anniversary Collection of the United World Underground is scheduled for mid-October as a special release.

The movement, with tireless efforts and meticulous curating work by Mick Magic, has been connecting musicians from a huge variety of musical worlds. It is no surprise that the special collection features music ranging from space rock to alternative to experimental to post-punk.

Featuring 33 hours of music, a 64-page PDF booklet, bonus materials including two books, it covers music from 30 countries - the detailed contents can be seen on the special release pages. The release weekend will also have numerous give-aways, including 50 albums (and counting).

From Germany to Thailand, from England to South Africa, the collection covers independent artists from five continents, spanning 25 years of musical output.

The past and present of the United World Underground movement and the Music & Elsewhere label can be followed on its chronological webpage.

With the countdown under way, free music tasters have been posted every day and collected also on the free music page.

The countdown and the release weekend with special giveaways can be followed via the main portal.

In an increasingly "playing it safe" ultra-manufactured music industry-driven global scene, the new and often, in a good sense, disruptive vehicles of the internet era have ensured an unprecedented surge in creative output that refuses to limit itself to rigid labels.

In this novel context, which has broken all the old models and modus operandi of what one knew as the "music industry", UWU and the Music & Elsewhere label remains an international presence...

Friday, 29 September 2017

After half-century of Tangerine Dreams

Tangerine Dream, depending on who one talks to, is one of the, or is the, most defining names in electronic music and in what has become known as the Berlin school of electronica.

Today, the 29th September, we can celebrate 50 years of their existence - even if, alas, the founder and superlative pioneer Edgar Froese is no longer among us.

Tangerine Dream's discography is simply huge - and so is their musical range.

Instead of being boxed into specific sub-genres of electronica, they have produced extremely varied output in terms of era-defining studio albums, soundtracks for some true cinematic landmarks (think of Friedkin's Sorcerer or Bigelow's Near Dark), and series of live albums that often featured entirely new material (e.g. the spellbinding double LP Poland or the much later Logos).

It has always been unfair in general, and certainly unfair specifically to Tangerine Dream, to expect, with ardent but nostalgic fervor, the artists to produce the same style of material that marked their creative peaks some decades ago.

Tangerine Dream, as many high-mileage pioneers, have changed directions many times, sometimes questionably, sometimes mesmerizingly... often radically... but it has been a phenomenal journey from early psychedelia to unparalleled use of sequencers and trailblazing new technology to space ambient to electronic rock to soaring cinematic soundscapes and soundtracks.

Their most recent album, Quantum Gate, is part of that continued journey- its release being timed exactly on the 50th anniversary of the band's existence.

The band, which proved that eminently high-tech instruments can be used to expand what human imagination can work with and materialize into soundscapes without technology having taken over, even in its most recent line-up continues successfully Edgar's legacy.

Edgar Froese's mind and soul is present in each of the tracks - and it is admittedly a refreshing and perhaps to some a quite well above expectations sensation that the new album is absolutely quintessential Tangerine Dream.

While it sounds like a spellbinding quantum physics-inspired musical journey of uttermost technological prowess, it is also vintage Tangerine Dream and it is eminently human instead of what many other practitioners of electronic music ended up producing...

If we feel nostalgic about the peerless fluidity and seamless mind-bending sequencing of Love on a Real Train, then Proton Bonfire on the new album will satisfy us...

If we would like to revisit the spiraling heights of Ricochet or Rubycon, then Roll the Seven Twice or Granular Blankets will equally satisfy us.

If we want some mellotron flashbacks of Phaedra or the high-octane electronic rock of Force Majeure or Pergamon Live, then we have Tear Down the Grey Skies.

The album is unmistakably and instantly recognizably Tangerine Dream, and despite the absence of its founder and central intellectual luminary, the music is a superb continuation of its long history.

Perhaps it makes some ardent fans jump or resort to long-distance spells :) when reading this, but... one of the most remarkable aspects of this album is that it sounds more quintessentially Tangerine Dream than some of the past albums when several of the key figures of the band's history were still in the band...

Even if one picks out this one quality alone, huge respect to Thorsten Quaeschning, Hoshiko Yamane and Ulrich Schnauss for continuing Edgar's creative thinking and producing something original, but at the same time characteristic of several decades of TD output.

Whether future artistic choices will take the new line-up into very different directions, or this characteristic sound continues, well, it is certain that we shall find out - as there seems to be no mellowing of creativity in the Tangerine Dream music laboratory.

Saturday, 5 August 2017

Schulze at 70

Klaus Schulze, one of the true godfathers of electronic music, has just turned seventy.

Anybody permanently affected, in the best possible sense, by his truly unique style of synth music output spanning fifty years, can only wish a very Happy Birthday to the  maestro and many more to come...

From the heroic early days of Tangerine Dream collaboration in the late '60s to the similarly heroic, and still landmark value, solo albums like Irrlicht and Cyborg, Klaus Schulze's musical journey has given us many changes in musical direction and style, many philosophical changes...

However, his style has remained instantly recognisable - and very few dared to maintain his courage of creating ever-evolving tracks that most often occupy the full length of the physical medium. Compositions of 70 minutes length are far from unusual in the world of Klaus Schulze...

Like with any artist of astonishingly long career, some philosophical changes in direction have been questionable. Some may recall how the "death" of analogue synths was announced in a resounding album title, then later to see a superb return to that technology... or how a certain period was marked by an abundance of samplers that, even in the artist's own admission, took him away from a truly personal voice.

Apart from such escapades, the relentless innovation and experimenting has been a hallmark of his vast discography. He started as drummer and perhaps, as in the case of the other sequencer wizard, Chris Franke of Tangerine Dream, helped him to have a quite different approach to sequencers...

His precise command of intricate, multi-layered, mind-bendingly ever-evolving sequences has led to what became one of the key ingredients of his compositions that made the latter stand out compared to the rather traditional and mechanical use of sequencers.

Even when blending into his music Eastern vocals, operatic voice, cello improvisations, or Lisa Gerrard's truly unparalleled vocal improvisations, there has always been one key feature of his music that even other heralded "ambient" or "space" music artists did not manage to achieve.

No matter how vast the soundscapes are in length and complexity, not only there is something always changing every few seconds, making it a truly mind-blowing experience on a closer listen, going behind the sometimes hypnotically repetitive passages... but... and it is a huge "but":  Klaus Schulze has established a type of electronic music that seems to happen on its own...

When listening to his varied output, one does not get the feeling that this is electronic music that is created and performed by someone, with the exception of his fiery Moog improvisations...

It is music that seems to emanate on its own, and fold and change every few seconds, without humans and instruments actively creating it. Think of the landmark that was Timewind... still as mind-blowing now as it was in 1975.

Not that this dehumanises his music - not at all, for that we need to look at the eminently different Kraftwerkian school where technology takes over and this in itself is central and intentional in its aesthetic.

Klaus Schulze's perhaps greatest achievement is that he created for half a century an eminently human, passionate, deep "space" music that makes us disconnect from the practicalities and thoughts related to the mechanics of how this music is created.

It just exists and evolves, taking us on vast journeys that any amateur, professional or long-time established star of "ambient", "space" etc. genre should still learn from - after many decades of listening to these genres, one can argue there really is no other person out there who comes close to creating the worlds that Klaus Schulze created and still creates.

Therefore... even more emphatically, many many happy birthdays Maestro!

Sunday, 14 May 2017

Musical visions and communist dictatorship

An interesting insight into the way in which "Western" music, and certain genres in particular, were censored, access controlled and ultimately accessed by fans in one of the most infamous communist totalitarian regimes, that of Ceausescu in Romania, occurs in Lehel Vandor's memoir entitled Ears (reproduced with permission):

"Chapter X: Soul

Despite all of the official attempts to restrict the importing of
contemporary Western pop & rock albums, we could get them from the so-called
copying studios. These would have been chronic insomnia-causing
horror visions for any copyright lawyer in the Western world. We used to
go to these studios-cum-shops with a few cassettes in our pockets, and
ordered from a huge catalogue of recordings; then, a few days later, we
walked away with 60 or 90 minutes of music copied onto those cassettes.

That is how we got our hands on pop and rock albums for our weekend
school bashes or house parties; but, more importantly, that is how many of
us got hold of entire catalogues of jazz, progressive rock and
electronic/space music.

The owner of the copying shop on the Kossuth street, located very
close to my home, was extremely passionate about his music; he had
immense amounts of LPs and reel-to-reel tapes. His wife used to sit at the
tiny counter of the tiny shop, and I could see bits of the larger recording
area behind her, with many blinking lights on the tape recorders.

I got hooked on “odd” music at an early age and I was a regular
customer at the copying shop. I was ordering a lot of electronic music and
progressive rock; the large, bearded shop owner was like a musical wizard
for me. After all, he could charm magnetic particles into a secret order, so
that they could bring to life glorious, and so hard to find, music in my room.

Usually, the process of discovering such music was tedious, but
extremely rewarding. I used to stay up late on Sunday evenings, so that I
could listen to Florian Pittis on the radio. He was one of the very few people
in the country who owned a huge collection of rock and jazz albums. I am
not sure, how he acquired it, how he managed to become the only person
who was allowed to have a radio show like that.

In his weekly hour-long program, he used to talk about some album,
and then played it in its entirety, ending the show just before midnight.
No wonder that many progressive rock and ambient music albums
were seriously augmented by one’s experience of hearing them on the radio,
in the dark, whilst one was floating right on the boundary between reality
and dreams... To this day, whenever I can, I listen to such records in the
dark – mostly due to those late Sunday evenings of musical wonder.

Whenever I heard something on the radio that I really liked, I used to
beg my parents for some pocket money. I used to put together enough to
buy a cassette and pay for the copying - then I ran to the bearded wizard
and his less magical-looking wife...

If I was lucky, he had the album in his catalogue. There were albums,
though that I only acquired many years later... Some were rare, so I had to
hunt for them via friends in other towns until I managed to obtain a thirdhand
cassette copy of the music, with not exactly awesome sound quality.

Quality did not matter so much after such a long quest… It was music that
used to hover above a gentle, wavy jungle of hissing and popping, the
results of vinyl-to-tape copying followed by many tape-to-tape copies...
Music - the breathing of statues”, as Rilke so wonderfully had put it.

Music – so mesmerising, that a kid could spend years trying to get his hands
on it. Years! An entire underground network of music fanatics existed back
then, and we used to help each other with tapes. The luckier ones possessed
LPs that had been produced in much more liberal communist countries like
Hungary and Yugoslavia.

One interesting side effect of all this was that we really only ever
acquired the music itself. In other words, we were often completely
disconnected from the visuals and the paraphernalia that used to accompany
the creators of, for example, progressive rock albums. While their
showmanship had risen to by now proverbial excesses, we only had their
music, without the hype and the decadent imagery. Therefore, I still firmly
believe that we had a unique chance to connect with the music, and not be
influenced by the persona or media image of a certain artist… This, in
today’s world, is inconceivable…

Another place of musical treasures was the so-called listening room of
the city library’s music archive. Latter contained tens of thousands of mostly
classical albums. As a magical coincidence, a bearded fan of electronic music
and progressive rock ran this department of the library.

I was about eleven years old when I discovered those dusty rooms,
which had a dozen or so desks; each desk was equipped with a turntable and
a pair of headphones. I used to spend hours and hours there, browsing
through the catalogue of small, alphabetically ordered cards, asking the staff
to bring the vinyl, and then giving it a spin. By the time I got to high school,
the bugs of electronic and prog-rock music had terminally infected me.

The opening of a listening room in an old building, which has been
hosting the huge library assembled by the late count Teleki, was pure joy for
us. On Sundays, the room was always empty in the morning; so, without
disturbing anyone, the administrator could play us one of his favourite tapes
or LPs on the huge speakers of the listening room. He used to enchant us,
musical pilgrims, with a sound quality that I could only dream about when I
listened to my portable cassette player.

Thus, many Sunday mornings became strange, but wonderful musical
journeys through space and time... Space, because the music always took me
to worlds, which I was inventing in my head as the sounds unfolded around
me. Time, because it was a wondrous transition from a walk through the old
corridors of the building, up on the loudly creaking wooden stairs, to the
futuristic electronic soundscapes that emanated from the speakers.

There, I had the opportunity to listen to some minor, but passionate
sonic experiments, too. The administrator took Jean-Michel Jarre’s
mesmerisingly fluid, otherworldly Oxygène LP, patched the turntable to four
bulky speakers via a quasi-quadraphonic setup. I could sit in the middle of
the room; he walked out, and left me there with sounds that turned my
mind and soul inside out in ways I could not imagine before. It was music
that sounded as if it had not been played by a person; instead, that music
was simply happening, it was floating in the air between the thick, old walls,
without human intervention, yet it was deeply human and vibrant.

That listening room was the space where I managed to travel to the
Himalayas, helped by Vangelis; to the thinking ocean on the planet Solaris,
helped by the Japanese magician of sounds, Isao Tomita… and to countless
hypnotic planetary landscapes, helped by Klaus Schulze and Jean-Michel

If I think back to the various “tribes” of kids in school and later high
school, to the groups of heavy metal, prog-rock, and electronic music fans,
it is clear to me now that we were not self-consciously choosing to consume
western pop tracks only as party music. I believe that it was something
subconscious: music that expressed something and works that had been
created based on elaborate concepts were vehicles that could take us away
from our often-nasty everyday reality.

We used to discuss without any inhibitions what we had been
imagining during our listening to such records. We used to get together, play
some record, turn off the lights and switch to some other reality - without
any chemical aids. Thus, without any snobbery, and via genuinely drug-free
escapism, by our late teens we built up a quite deep knowledge of rock, jazz,
classical music, and opera.

Nowadays, while I am clicking through some music mail order
website, I still cringe if I think back how I had spent many months,
sometimes even years, with the quest for some music that I had heard on

How could some sounds get one on the verge of a sweet obsession?
It is probably not an accident that we had chosen music, which was always
far removed from the world of everyday trivia. In my case, it was usually
space music or progressive rock, both highly addictive in their ability to
depict some fascinating and very different world.

I loved to be made to feel tiny by such music; however, that sense of
insignificance was not the nasty one, which the regime had wanted to create.
It was, well, some kind of cosmic insignificance, which made us, the
teenagers-turned-space-romantics, realise that none of the grand
propaganda speeches meant anything..."

Saturday, 1 April 2017

The passing of a visionary

Ikutaro Kakehashi has passed away at the age of 87.

One wonders what other opening sentences can be written... Yes, he was the founder of the absolute legend that is Roland Corporation, the inventor and maker of an astonishing number of instruments that not only shaped, but also created, entire musical genres. 

If one says TR-808 or TR-909, then one means the birth of hip-hop and Detroit techno. If one says Juno or JP-8000, well, not sure where to even begin to enumerate the impact of these keyboards. If one says Jupiter-8, then one is basically lost for words. 

But then... he was also one of the two godfathers of MIDI, the standard for the way in which musical instruments and computers can digitally talk to each other. 

So much quasi-sensationalist and utterly tendentious (plus ill-informed) press has asked the question: is MIDI out of date, is MIDI limited...

MIDI was and still is an absolutely breathtaking future-proofed invention of a standard interface that outlasted countless others, and it is still going strong.

There was the invention of sound recording, which we take for granted now without realizing what it meant to be able to take music from the performer into the homes and hands of countless people who maybe never ever had the chance to see or hear that performer....

Then there was the birth of MIDI... 

How many of us can truly realize nowadays what it meant to be able, for the first time, to record an improvisation - not in sounds, but in actual  musical score terms of what was played, and then be able to change and layer on top of it, building up vast arrangements? 

How many nowadays truly realize what MIDI allowed suddenly, in unprecedented ways, in terms of capturing the details of a performance and then giving the musician the ability to edit all the musical information it captured, all the keyboard and controller events during playing?

Also, in terms of an interface, it is the genius of future-proofing. Since the decades of its inception, and the decades since it was turned into practical reality by the likes of Ikutaro Kakehashi, MIDI has managed to allow vastly different instrument of vastly different core technology to talk to each other seamlessly. 

The evolution of electronic instruments, studio gear and music software has been mind-boggling since MIDI was born, and it still allows all these immensely different gadgets to talk to each other in a standardized way.

A technical Grammy award given to him and Dave Smith is just the tip of the iceberg of significance and recognition... 

Entire musical genres would not have been possible without Kakehashi-san and his immeasurable contribution to musical instruments. 

Active to his very last years,he never stopped thinking about music, musical instruments, and musicians... "I Believe in Music" one of his book titles says... very, very few people can say that apparent cliche to be actually true and not only an expression, but also a living proof of one's life's body of work...

Rest in peace, Kakehashi-san...