Set Juleus

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As mentioned in a previous post, I bought Native Instruments’ Maschine hardware/software combo. I’m having a blast. Although I think I’m trying to squeeze out of it different things than it’s primary directive, I do love every knob, dial and pad.

I was searching for some sound-wise, left-field add-ons to it (which there are a plethora), and I came across the company Sound DustI bought some wonderful samples from them, and struck up a conversation with a fella whom I presume is the owner and main workhorse behind the products. His name is Pendle Poucher and is a great music man himself. Check him out. Great chats ensued, and he asked if I would l beta-test one of his soon to be released virtual instruments. Of course!! I was thrilled.

I have, for a while (and I am not alone in this by any means) found a wonderful correlation in the perception and experience of pre-tonal era music, and that of psychedelic and ambient music. A little while ago I began trying to strip down the canons and complexities that can arise in some pre-tonal era vocal music. Not by any sophisticated means mind you, simply by way of augmentation of time, so that as notes would hold longer, the mechanisms of the talented Renaissance composers influencing me would become, less evident. Essentially, I wanted to write a meandering piece. To hell with narrative and purpose. How great it is to meander sometimes with no intent. I intended this to be for a collection of string instruments, but as the gracious offer from Sound Dust presented itself, I took on the task of using only this virtual instrument.

Set Juleus. And check out Sound Dust. The guy works super hard, has a great ear and taste, and produces super cool stuff. Go support!

Not for the ADD set, but maybe created by one.

the first and last

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I recently bought a swanky piece of new hardware, Maschine, made by the German company Native Instruments. It’s aimed at the beat-making demographic, that is to say hip-hop and electronic dance music and their derivatives. I found Hip-hop somewhere in the year of 1986, or 1987, who’s to say really. The thing was, I remember it being the first music that I could probably say I loved and knew about. I could talk about it with all the authority a grade 7 kid could muster, and it made me feel smart to say that  I knew who the big players were, that I could recite some obscure verse off an obscure track from an obscure artist. It made me feel special to go to the one record store in Vancouver that would carry, not just the explicit material, but also just albums with such limited release that somehow, with the store owner’s ear firmly level to the thumping ground, would advise me on what the hot new record to arrive was going to be. I’d buy it with out question and with a little help from Rap Pages magazine, I’d hit the source. The store was Odyssey Imports in Vancouver, long gone now, probably a sushi shop. I at least hope it’s a good sushi place and imports nasty dirty fish, and fat rice. As I grew as a musician/guitarist, I veered away from Rap, and searched, as a young one does, for the most obvious and easily digestible inspiration and influence. Guitar music took over. And so ended my passionate love affair with Hip-Hop. Not because I didn’t love her anymore, simply because there was someone more my style, someone who was doing what I was doing. It is a sad fact of life that complacency and “been there done that” can ruin a healthy relationship. We had a few flings that were always good and we could return to (see: Tribe Called Quest, The Roots, De La Soul)

Here I arrive again, buying a piece of musical hardware aimed at musicians in the camp that I left so long ago. I’m not looking to produce hip-hop, but something about the nature of this instrument, and the workflow, and the idea of making ‘beats’ even though I’m probably going to try and compose a Renaissance choral piece with it, evokes a sense of comfort and a return to a well-spring. As if, and I wonder, 20 something years later, have I been trying to play in jazz bands, experimental art rock, composing contemporary classical, all with a hidden voice of influence in my head? Stylistic variances in process, of course, occur throughout the infinite genres and sub genres of the musical art. So do similarities though. But I think it is safe to assume, and state, that a contemporary neo-classicist, influenced, and trying to write like Stravinsky, approaches the composition table from a different angle than an artist who looks towards Ice-T as an essential master of the genre. So this is what I find so interesting about this new piece of hardware, and my surprising enthusiasm, enjoyment and mothers milk relationship I feel to it; Have I, all this time, been unconsciously trying to write Hip-Hop in disguise?

The Mirror at Midnight

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There is a woman I admire greatly. Her name is Kaitlin. She is a poet, writer and runs an independent publishing company called Ajar press. Check it out.
She once gave me a book of her poems. Over a small retreat to visit my family in Canada, I wrote a little choral piece. The piece happens to be dedicated to another woman, Frances Mckenzie, who I also greatly admire and think is absolutely fabulous. A prolific artist who’s creations of twisting internal fantasy correlated to the words Kaitlin had written. Check her website here.

you can listen to a synthetic version, a la Ex Machina, and read along with the score if you wish.

the mirror at midnight – Full Score

Messiaen:Synesthesia:Kubrick

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The masterful composer Olivier Messiaen is widely known to have had synesthesia. For those unaware of this fascinating neurological phenomenon, it is a condition where an individual experiences sensory stimulation from a source other than the principle one being activated. As if the smell of an pineapple, as well as being sweet and tangy, also elicited the colour purple in the persons visual cortex.
Much has been written about Messiaen’s condition, and suffice to say, it was no flippant proclamation. While many of us, if not all of us, have emotional connections and responses to music, and in turn can lead to an approximate translation into another sense, weather tactile or colour. Messiaen’s condition was true in the most quantifiable of ways. Where as you or I may, may hear a solo guitar and voice funeral blues, and, obviously associate the colour blue, or possibly black to the music, or alternatively, a smoking hot Cuban band with blistering trumpets and sex rhythm evoking wine red, or maybe a scratchy contemporary violin figure makes us itch, to this end, we all experience some sort of syhesthesia. However, in the truest sense of the word, the individual in question can reproduce matching responses over time with more detail than the average person. It is very well documented that Messiaen could consistently reproduce not only colours, but minute gradations and shades, when hearing harmonies of highly complex nature. Different inversions, and transpositions with similar interval vectors would produce a slightly different shade, but yet remain in the same family.
Anyone who has studied the work of Messiaen, or even simply listened to him with a discerning ear, can clearly accept that his harmony was of a highly complex and individual style. The ability to identify colours, throughout all the possible extrapolations of musical material under his control, and his ability to remain consistent in his declarations, is marvellous and awe inspiring. It is worth noting that, as some have argued, that sound/colour synesthesia could be reduced to simply a matter of an individual possessing an extremely acute sense of perfect pitch, and then assigning a colour to the varying sonorities. This in itself is a marvel and a admirable talent, but one that is more akin to an acute and prodigious memory. In the case of Messiaen, I believe he contained the condition of synesthesia in its truest and most magical form.
His primary musical, and arguably philosophical, influence was Debussy, who, while not known to have synesthesia per se, was one of the first composers (along with other of the so-called impressionists) to compose music with the idea that harmony was stemming from a source of colouration as opposed to function. A rejection of the narrative oriented romanticism of the previous generation This idea, concept, procedure, would basically change the course of music. (Aside from contemporary Classical music, Jazz musicians would adopt this perspective, and it could be argued that a majority of Rock is all colouration as opposed to function.)

By definition, as a filmmaker, Stanley Kubrick, composed with colour. As this recent montage shows, his marvellous attention and awareness of the emotional, psychological, and most likely physiological effects of colour on the person, was of a masterful level and one that he treated with utmost importance.
Would it not be a wonderful exploration to investigate the scoring used by Kubrick, in scenes displaying a prominent focus of a certain colour? Or how about taking various chords from Messiaen’s palate (which he has labeled according to colour) and scoring some of the Kubrick scenes with the corresponding material? If only there was more time in a day, in a lifetime.

Or how about science does us all a favour and just figures a way to make them revenants, so they can come back and work together.

Thanks to Pierre Blaizeau for turning me on to this video.

The Revenant

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After watching ‘The Revenant’, here are my takeaways:

1. Excellent casting of First Nations talent. Very commendable.

2. Mesmerizing vistas, canyons and cliffs displaying the gorgeousness and power of Canada. My home country’s northern regions, shot in all natural light, standing in for, and representing, in a way, both the addictive, sinister and obsessive white whale that our hero chases, the chase itself, and paradoxically, the grand and beautiful sentiment of patriarchal love for a son.

3. Excellent score, original and selected, by Ryuchi Sakamoto and Alva Noto. (The duo who I was lucky enough to see perform a few years ago in a Barcelona amphitheatre)

4. The use of John Luther Adams’ epic ‘Become Ocean’, which in the discussed context, in the realm of musical semiotics presents a sublime example of what Philip Tagg (check out his book Musical meanings) refers to as a ccomposite anaphone (musical analogy). Comprising of both sonic, and kinetic versions of the anaphone, the use of ‘Become Ocean’ serves as a sonic signifier of both the water, wind, and other natural noises of the unforgiving wild Canadian rural, while at the same time, providing a kinetic signpost to the travels, movement and mental transit, over endless rolling hills and valleys, of the characters within the narrative.

5. The use of Olivier Messiaen’s not oft performed piece ‘Oraison’ (Fr. prayer), scored for 6 Ondes Martenots, (which was the precursor to his ethereal, and more widely known, ‘Louange a l’eternite de Jesus’), underscoring the lead character’s emergence from a horse. Given the significant religious influence present in Messiaen’s music, as well as the biblical connotations present in the title (‘the revenant’ is an archaic term to return from dead), as well as the afore-mentioned Melville similarities, there is much interest to be found in this scene. This particular moment in the film would have been monumentally different, if alternate (or none) underscoring was provided. Wonderfully calculated. And performed by an ensemble from Montreal! Yeah!

6. The totally non-diagetic use of running water to underscore many scenes. Tying edits together of different locations and viewpoint. It is so skillfully woven in, and applied, that it will surely go unnoticed to many viewers. When looked at as a whole, the use of ‘Become Ocean’ which Adams composed to provide a sonic analogy to the grand deep blue, and the use of an actual running hillside brook, as a musical tool, provides some stimulating insight into the desires, goals and objectives of the filmmakers. I will indeed call you Ishmael.
Marvellous.

Now go dream on this:

György Ligeti cello sonata for guitar

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I was introduced to Gyorgy Ligeti by my guitar/composition instructor Roddy Elias, sometime in the cold winter of 2000. I didn’t know what I was hearing, I didn’t know how to comprehend it, nor was I sure what it made me feel. But my respect and admiration for my teacher quietly reinforced the urge to continue through the dark fantasy forest of this brilliant music.
Here is, poetically, an arrangement for Ligeti’s Cello Sonata on classical guitar (Roddy Elias’ primary voice). All things cycle around again don’t they?

Absolutely brilliant.

Ogooué-Congo

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Music from the Pygmy peoples. Recorded in 1946. Perfect. Different textures, varying atmosphere, and oh those polyrhythms.
Check out the mesmerizing vocal performance by females on ‘chant magique avant la chasse a l’elephant’ (before the elephant hunt) and compare it to the equally fabulous all-male choir singing on ‘a retour de la chase’ (after the hunt)
I think, it very well could be that all the research material for my PhD resides in these recordings. I am on the search for techniques that western music ‘classical’ composers have assimilated from other cultures, or created themselves, to distort the listeners relationship to time, to create an hypnotic state, or in the service of sacred traditions, to influence a feeling of worship and submission to the higher power.

click below:
http://publicdomainreview.org

memory collision

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Of all the existential callisthenics we must perform during our tenure of being, remembering, and deciphering the past has always proven to be one of the more compelling, and captivating, for me. It is an exercise that can both, admittedly, infuriate and frustrate, but which ultimately provides the blessed oxygen for the fire with which I propel myself forward. Maybe fire is too extreme, maybe it is like the solar power that I harnesses for my green-machine.
When I remember, I like to remember how lucky I was to spend many years studying and living in Montreal in the early 2000s. During the passage through the identity searching maze of art/music school, and it’s aftermath, living in the music drenched snowed white out of warm Montreal, I met so many people, all those people, too many people! And that is how it is. Maybe I reflect on the past with considerable weight because I have planted myself physically, and mentally, in another land across the world. Maybe I am just a nostalgic sap who loves The Royal Tenenbaums and has read The Unbearable Lightness of Being at least three times. Maybe.
When your head is down, as in making-a-run-for-it, or boxing, who has an influence on you? Will you ever know? Who is important, is everyone important? When you immerse yourself in a world, that simultaneously is with, and without, boundaries, what is timeless and tangible? What is needed to be grabbed on to and tucked away in one’s heart for later recollection and remembrance? I moved to the French quarter of Canada in 1999 to explore what I sensed was a joyous musical avalanche about to happen (I was right), and attend Concordia university. Two of the first people I met in the September semester were Mathieu Charbonneau and Pietro Amato, I liked them alot. They spoke French, and Pietro could grow a beard before anyone knew what a beard was. We laughed alot, and they liked Radiohead and also played jazz (As common as that may seem now, that wasn’t the prevailing attitude in 1999). My first year, I remember with great warmth, playing in the mouldy basement practice rooms of the converted music department. It felt like university should. I knew that. This is what is was supposed to be. Making noise without taste or rules between plexiglass walls. Over the years, we went different ways, but the music community is intimate in Montreal, and I of course would see them from time to time. We shared the stage a few times for some shows. All those people. So many people. Others became superstars.
Around the same time, I had a guitar student, that I shared a brief, but sincere and genuine camaraderie with. She liked my teaching style, and I liked her student style. And she sang like a laser beam of purity. We learnt a couple of Dylan tunes, a major scale or two, and Hallelujah. When she would sing it, and she was just a kid of 13 or 14, I would know, I think, definitively, that this is one of those items to latch onto and take with you into the future. Why do certain abstract emotions appear to be important articles for stuffing into the luggage of time? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a semiotic explanation to follow for the proper packing of memory?

Today, as I performed my detrimental daily task of scouring the Facebook, I encountered a post from this ex-student, and during what I suspect is a cold winter evening in Montreal, she posted a video of Mathieu and Pietro’s band, The Luyas, and it came around and hit me like snowball. Those couple of items, that I tucked away, in my emotional handbag, had come to meet each other, without any of my interference. It is easy to submit, that, of course a 20-something woman is liking a popular band from her hometown, but that is too easy of a getaway plan. How we, or at least I, interpret memories, and their colliding nature with the present is like one of life’s sweet gifts of game. Chess without the mental humiliation.

What does this all mean? I don’t know. But it sure feels good to remember. So here’s to you Emily, Pietro and Mathieu. Thanks for super-colliding.

Kozo Kanatani plays John Cage

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There is so much that is perfect about this. One of my favourite piano pieces, composed by a Zen-studying composer who wrote the piece infused with a quite literal, and obvious influence stemming from East Asian music, played by a Japanese man, on an extremely unwieldy, Western instrument.

I used to practice this piece on piano, as I am not a piano player, and it isn’t difficult to get going on it, but its joys far surpassed the mere exercise of becoming technically more capable on a secondary instrument. The playing of this piece flows and twists and cycles, musical meditation at its finest.

If you are not familiar with the original piano piece, check it out, In a Landscape, by John Cage

© Alex Formosa