Making Space for Scott Walker's "Tilt"

I became interested in Scott Walker a few months ago after streaming the documentary “Scott Walker: 30 Century Man” on Netflix.   Scott Walker is a fascinating artist, and for those interested, this documentary will certainly pique your interest further.  To make a real long story short, Walker was a 60s teen idol who decided that fame was not really his bag of chips.  At the peak of his popularity, he retired from the public eye and became a bit of a hermit.  Since the late 70s, he has released a solo album once a decade, each one increasingly avant-garde.  You are probably already familiar with him, however, by way of The Walker Brothers, who were giving the Beatles a run for their money with this little ditty (which became virally popular again through the recent zombie miniseries “The Walking Dead”).

The orchestral palate and reverbed vocals of “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore” and many of the other Walker Brothers songs has a darkly stereotypical 60s studio ambience.  This acoustic background became the kernel for Walker’s unapologetic individualism and patient perfectionism, although it took significantly different forms in the following decades.

“Tilt” is his entry from the 90s, and, admittedly, it has been a particularly resistant listen, so much so that I was toying with the idea that I liked Scott Walker’s artistic ideology more than I liked his musical output.  As I stated previously, however, the majority of my listening takes place during solitary time in the car.  Driving is an activity that is pretty well-suited for listening, but the car is a flawed listening environment.  In many cases, the sound of surrounding traffic and the car itself can be tuned out as white noise, but recordings whose strongest attributes lie in subtle ambience and atmospherics are difficult to fully appreciate.  To be fair to "Tilt," I thought I should devote a small portion of my Spring Break listening to it in a more controlled and hi-fi (more signal than noise) acoustic environment.

Sitting down and listening to “Tilt” in my living room with libretto in hand was a much different experience.  Although superficially it seems a minimalistic and bare-bones affair, a close, focused listen is mesmerizing.  Throughout “Tilt,” industrialist clicks and tinkles combine with slow, ominously pulsating drums and bass that swirl in fractalized eddies of echoes within echoes, as if the entire album was recorded in an abandoned underground subway station.  In this setting, Walker juxtaposes impressionistic images with his lyrics, resulting in an unsettling soundscape that sometimes borders on the nightmarish.  This song was my favorite from the car, and it took on new dimensions in the relative silence of my house.

There were moments when I related to “Tilt” in unique, inexplicable ways during that listen, and I can’t deny a newfound respect for the album that I hope will carry over into future listening.  My personal favorite from “Tilt” is still the sublime “Farmer in the City,” but because of Walker’s reclusive nature, footage of him playing this song live seems pretty rare.  In fact, there is very little footage of him publicly performing his solo work at all.  I did, however, find this little gem of him performing the Buckleyesque “Rosary.”

“Tilt” is hard listening - I have had to work to hear it.  I think that it is Walker’s intention, however, to reward the listener who is willing to invest this sort of attention to his work.  To rise to this task, I had to break away my usual listening habits and create a space that allowed Walker’s mastery of recorded ambience to come through.  This changed my perspective in other ways, as well: after listening to “Tilt,” I got in the car to go to aikido class and the track “BTTLS” from Battles’ “B EP” came up on the player.  The soundscape on that track seemed oddly reminiscent of what “Tilt” is all about, and now I find myself wondering what else I am missing in the hum of traffic.

"Milliontown" and the Moog Keyboard

My wife and I rather randomly decided to take a trip to Inner Space Cavern in Georgetown this afternoon.  We joke that she has “carcolepsy,” meaning that she just can’t stay awake as a passenger in a moving car, which gives me the chance to get in some listening.  Yesterday, I planted “Milliontown” by Frost* in the player and if you are a fan of contemporary symphonic prog, it’s an energetic, melodic, and sometimes cacophonous example.  My recent interests drew my attention to keyboardist Jem Godfrey – here’s a quick low-fi snippit of him in action:

In addition to the Rick Wakeman-inspired lines like you see here, Godfrey also plays piano beautifully on “Milliontown.”  In my current listening, Mouse on the Keys is pushing the boundaries of piano on one end while my appreciation of Jean-Michel Jarre’s atmospherics has opened up on the other.  The piano affords a certain set of musical possibilities and limitations, as does the organ, the mellotron, and the moog synthesizer.  There are things that each of these instruments can do that the others cannot, which is why in the old days, the 70s prog-rock keyboard pioneers kept them stacked up in the corner of the stage.  Despite their shared “ebony and ivory” interface, each one is ultimately a unique instrument with a distinctive set of techniques.

The Moog synthesizer was particularly unique in this arsenal because its sound was entirely created by electric means.  When Bob Moog made the first synthesizers, they consisted of little more than dials and knobs – a sound/body interface that seemed to appeal more to engineers than musicians. He considered carefully the means by which players would interact with his instruments, and he eventually decided to use a piano keyboard.

This immediately boosted the popularity of the Moog synthesizer and added a whole new realm of musical potentials to the keyboardist.  However, when he attached that configuration of white and black keys to his instrument, he also attached hundreds of years of history and repertoire to the instrument.  The synthesizer became the domain of the keyboardist and the synthesist became primarily judged by their piano or organ technique.  Sometimes I wonder if the price that Moog paid for accessibility limited the synthesizer’s progress.  I don’t think that many technically proficient players were able to look at the Moog as its own instrument, but a couple did (although I really don't like Keith Emerson that much).

Now, of course, since any keyboard can make any sound, the stacks of instruments are less high, and it seems like “playing piano” has become more like a style of interacting with a keyboard than playing any particular instrument while synthesis has become a plug-in.  The distinctive instruments have collapsed into a single one that has all sounds ready-at-hand.  It seems that Godfrey, like the best prog-rock keyboardists, navigates this interface by sitting in the middle of the spectrum as a jack-of-all-trades - at least on "Milliontown."

Metric and the Three-Minute Pop Song

Despite all this recent tomfoolery with electronica and math rock, I do have a great love for power pop.  When it is done well, There is a craft to this genre that might be more difficult to navigate effectively than the twenty minute prog-rock opus. The roots of the three minute pop song reach back to vaudeville and wax cylinders, and because this history is so long, the standards for balancing the clever with the cliché in this genre are impossibly high.

Yet people will find a way.  I don’t want to turn this post into a “history of the pop song,” nor do I want to make it about Weezer.  I do, however, want to point out this great example of power pop efficiency.

I miss Matt Sharp (on bass and spaz).  Weezer would be a different band today if he would have stuck around.   But this isn’t about Weezer - maybe some other time.

This post is inspired by the Canadian-based band Metric.  I discovered them in the oddest way: in the 90s, I practiced aikido at UNT with Josh Winstead.  He played in a prog-pop-world-fusion group called 53 Large Men whose album “Period of Senselessness” is still a favorite.  As I doing a curious “where are they now” search, I found out that he was playing bass with Metric, and that apparently, they are doing pretty well, especially overseas.  I put “Fantasies” on the list and waited for the time when I needed to get out of an experimental music rut.  Like recently.

Since the beginning of this month, I’ve been spinning Metric’s “Fantasies” in the player, and I have experienced my usual resistance.  However, the song “Gimme Sympathy” immediately stood out.  It’s a great example of the three minute tune.  It’s super-singable, lyrically accessible, and overall well-constructed.  Although the “official video” is pretty clever, I was excited to find out that Metric is a pretty compelling live act.

That synth part that singer Emily Haynes is playing could easily have been set on sequence.  She’s not only playing the part, she’s also manipulating the synth’s settings manually as she goes.  Inspiring.

In its entirety, “Fantasies” has more musical hooks than a tackle box, and although it’s sometimes lyrically obtuse, there are many memorable lines on the album.  I do, however, think that In some cases, my initial resistance is justified due to the construction and arrangement of a few songs.  For example, I constantly find the various parts of this album opener floating around in my head (especially the “hard to be soft, tough to be tender” line).

“Help, I’m Alive” perfectly singable, has lyric twists aplenty, and has cool atmospheric hooks (nice synth-bass, Josh) snuggled up right alongside a strummy Who-esqe stadium rock bridge.  All of the parts are there, but the way that these parts are arranged sets me ill at ease. For example, I can appreciate wanting to emphasize the hook, but by the song’s end, I feel a little beaten down by the metaphoric hammer.  Repeating this line so often, especially twice in a row, seems to reduce its effectiveness.  Also, the aforementioned bridge comes in a perfect place (at 1:33), but it might have more impact if it were not repeated again later in the song.  As a listener, I feel pretty satisfied at the three minute mark (2:55 on this version).  Going back to the bridge feels a little redundant.

I am apprehensive about being critical.  I’m certainly not making any albums right now, so I can’t say that I can do any better.  I do find it interesting, however, that a well-established musical structure can provide such an effective venue for expression, and that deviating from it causes such weird and immediate reactions in my perception of the song.  

Math Rock pt. Three: Battles' 21st Century Virtuosity

Battles is somewhat of a “supergroup,” with its members coming from other well-established bands and backgrounds.  They showed up on my Amazon recommendations when I began to show interest in Don Caballero.  Although their 2004 releases EP B and C EP were both separately recommended, I didn’t really take an interest until I saw the official “Atlas” video in 2007.  At the time, this tune was everywhere (even as a background song in the PS3 game “Little Big Planet”) and judging by its DJ-ish sound, I assumed that Battles was primarily a studio project.

As I became more familiar with Battles, though, the math rock pedigree of the musicians opened up a different mode of technical and structural listening.  I realized that there if they were doing what I thought that they were doing, it would be even more impressive than if they had constructed their work in the studio

Well, they were doing what I thought they were doing.   Don't blink....
 

These guys are not only skilled musicians and brilliant conceptualists, but they also have a unique 21st century virtuosity that transcends and includes multi-instrumentalism.  The way that they use technology in a live setting makes it difficult to tell where their technique ends and the tech begins.  For example, Ian Williams is noticeably more proficient with his loops than he was on “American Don,” and he also expands those layers beyond just his guitar into keyboards and samples.  Williams is just one of the four musicians in Battles, and each one is similarly and uniquely virtuosic.  Listening within this framework, “Mirrored” shot up my personal charts, and was probably one of the top albums of 2008.

As an aside, I took an interest in the band exactly one week after they played down the street at Rubber Gloves in Denton.  Let's hear it for stubbornness one more time.... 

Last week, I finally ordered the “EP B/C EP” package, which combines the two EPs that were released before “Mirrored.”  Another fan once told me that they liked these releases better than “Mirrored” and while “EP B/C EP” is still simmering for me, I can certainly say that it does not disappoint in the least.  It has actually reinvigorated by interest in Battles.  There are fewer vocals and perhaps a bit more soundscaping, so it comes off a little more avant-garde than “Mirrored.”  It is, however, still precise and intense enough to satisfy my expectations.  There are lots of videos of them playing this material live, most of it in low-fidelity on phone cams.  

Now, this is the exciting part - it seems that “Gloss Drop,” Battles’ follow-up to “Mirrored,” is scheduled to be released this summer.  This is cause for joy, but there is a catch.  Lead singer/weird voice guy Tyondai Braxton left Battles to pursue his solo career (which looks really interesting – he’s on the list).  This is definitely an album I am looking forward to, but I will admit that I have a little apprehension over losing him.  We'll see....

Math Rock pt. Two: The Japanese Factor

In the 90s, the alternative became the mainstream, and I personally reacted by alternating between obscure power pop and Frank Zappa’s back catalog.  Thanks to an unhealthy obsession with Jellyfish, I was finally becoming acquainted with the Beatles, and Weezer was dragging me kicking and screaming into the nuances of the three minute pop song.  My interactions with Don Caballero during their 90s heyday will always be out of context and in retrospect, and so in all likelihood I just missed out. 

More current manifestations of the math rock aesthetic readily attract my attention, though.  If the style was a bit stagnant at its inception, it has evolved a sense of organization and cohesion that enhances its more emotive aspects.  Interestingly, there is a whole scene in Japan that gets into math rock’s more passionate side, and these groups are the ones that currently have my attention.

My interest in Japanese instrumental rock is not totally new.  I discovered Lite a couple of years ago, and their album “Filmlets” was a clear standout in my 2009 listening.  As I said in my Amazon review, Lite uses the distinctive guitar interplay that is characteristic of math rock, but they also have a concept of song form and melody that lends a compositional strength to their work.  This is a personal favorite:

In the process of working up this post, I was also pleased as punch to find out that Lite has a new EP out called “Illuminate,” and that they are coming to Austin this month.  I will be making every effort to attend, so perhaps you will hear more about them later.  I also stumbled across this song is from “Illuminate,” and its angular lines and erratic metric changes bring a smile to my face.

The band Toe have also popped up on my radar, and although I have not given them a focused listen yet, what I have heard of them I find really, really interesting.  I'm saving them for another day.  What is more interesting is that they have their own label with a stable of adventurous groups, one of which is Mouse on the Keys.  This trio really has my ear right now.  I would argue that, despite having no guitars, their complex piano interplay and disconcerting time changes are another manifestation of the math rock aesthetic.  Besides, what else are you going to call them – jazz fusion?

Well, maybe.  Let's not argue.  Too much, anyhow.

Anyway, their EP “Sezzions” is playful, dissonant, aggressive, and dark, and I think its the real deal.  The above-cited lead track “Saigo No Bansan” effortlessly travels through all of these extremes in a relatively short running span.  Although this track really has me in awe at the moment, I look forward to “Sezzions” in its entirety every time it comes round in the CD changer.  I am hoping that Mouse on the Keys' full-length release “An Anxious Object” is as consistent.  I leave you with a live performance of a couple of tracks from that one.  Again, give it a minute to ramp up.

Math Rock pt. One: Rumah Sakit and Don Caballero

I have been on a bit of an instrumental music jag recently, so for those of you who are fans of words, you will have to hang in there with me for just a little while longer.  I’m a over the electroncia for the time being, though.  I’ve been missing the sound of technique, of hands on instruments, and as a result I have been delving back into so-called “math rock.”

So….math rock?  What exactly is that all about?  Well, if you are down with complex instrumental music, funny time signatures, and a punkish attitude, there are definitely some bands out there doing things that will interest you.  The band that really turned me on to the genre was Rumah Sakit.  Their first self-titled album is quite possibly an all-time classic for me, but beyond the release dates of their two albums, there is very little info on them.  It is difficult to tell if they are even still active.  No live footage and no fan-made videos exist of these guys that I have found, but here’s a still-frame video of one of my favs.  Hold on tight.

Researching further, all paths marked “math rock” seemed to lead to Don Caballero.  I got “World Class Listening Problem” around the time it came out in 2006 and like Rumah Sakit, it exhibits a cerebral intensity that hits me in the gut.  This is the kind of thing I like to listen to when I work out, which probably says something in itself.

Here’s the deal, though - some of the band’s more devout fans argue whether this version of the band should have even been called Don Caballero.  The classic lineup was active between 1991 and 2000.  Drummer Don Che reformed the group in 2006 with an entirely different lineup.  As much as I am a fan of the recent iteration of Don Caballero, it seemed a no-brainer to pick up their more genre-defining albums from that earlier era, especially since guitarist Ian Williams, who would go on to play in the group Battles (a favorite band that you will hear about in the near future), was a consistent presence in the group.

I have a lot of respect of the musicianship involved in what Don Caballero was doing during this time, but I have struggled to find in their classic albums the same intensity that later versions of the band and the bands that they have influenced exhibit.  This week I have been listening to “American Don” from 2000, and I found a good live clip from this period.  Check out the use of looping:

“American Don” is technically amazing and it has its moments, but it sometimes feels like an experiment with no hypothesis. It’s clever, and smart, and impressive, but right now it also comes off as aloof and dispassionate by its end.  I don’t always get that from the bands the cite Don Caballero as an influence, and I am chomping at the bit to listen to some of that stuff in the coming weeks.   

A Special Pair: Minus the Bear and Tortoise

Recently, I have noticed that I generally don’t delve as deeply into the catalogs of artists as I used to.  I remember becoming rabidly obsessed with collecting all the albums by bands I was enthusiastic about, but I am a little more cautious about that these days.  When I really sink my teeth into an album and connect with it, I often stop there.

I have two albums that fall into this category that I am keen to recommend.  In both cases, I was pretty unfamiliar with the group, and got the album with little more than a recommendation myself.  I have been revisiting them this week, and they are proving themselves again to be recordings that really speak to me.  They are, however, the only albums I have from each artist’s respective catalog.

I got Tortoise’s “It’s All Around You” for at least four or five years ago, and every time I break it out, it’s a rewarding and sometimes emotional experience.  Like the bulk of Tortoise’s work, it’s all instrumental, so if you are a lyrics person, it might not be for you.  Regardless, it still has the capacity to emote.  It’s all very epic and grandiose, but at the same time it has a personal and intimate aspect, as if it captures the awe and diversity of nature itself (that's perhaps a little overwrought – sorry!).  My renewed interest in “It’s All Around You” came when I recently discovered this great live video of “The Lithium Shifts” (misspelled in the clip).  Give it a minute to rev up.  Again, having an idea of how they perform this song enriched the overall listening experience for me.

Tortoise has been around for awhile, and their entire catalog generally tends to get positive reviews, but I find myself apprehensive about getting another of their albums.  To me “It’s All Around You” seems like a really special recording, and I almost feel like that if there is another one as good as this one, it would somehow make it……less special?

My second recommendation is in a more accessible style.  Minus the Bear was recommended to me several years ago, although I just got “Omni” just last year from, of all places, a Target shelf.  Minus the Bear’s clever use of melody and overall musicianship immediately hooked me.  They are a band in the classic sense, in which each musician is eminently important to the overall sound of the group.  Their tunes are catchy and complex enough to be rewarding in the long term, as well.  Additionally, I am not so much a “lyrics guy.”  I don’t like it when lyrics are dumb, but I can get by when they don’t get in the way of the song.  Minus the Bear’s lyrics, however, take a very vivid storytelling approach that is both clever and evocative.  I never get tired of this one:

Like Tortoise, Minus the Bear gets high recommendations, but I am also apprehensive about getting deeper into their catalog.  In addition to being a pretty special album itself, “Omni” is also the latest entry in Minus the Bear’s catalog.  Going backwards through a catalog, especially when the introduction to a band is sooo great, is sometimes disappointing.

So basically, I'm just being stubborn.  Perhaps it is time to delve deeper into these bands.  If anyone has recommendations as to the “next step” for Tortoise or Minus the Bear, I'm all ears.  If you have not heard either of these bands and you dig either of these clips, though, I wholeheartedly suggest starting with “Its All Around You” and “Omni.”