The MIDI signal from the guitar is routed through a fiber optic cable to control the Tesla coils.

About ArcAttack:

Creators of the original Singing Tesla Coils, the crew of ArcAttack uses their high tech wizardry to generate a truly ‘electrifying’ performance. Two custom engineered hand built Tesla Coils throw out electrical arcs up to twelve feet long, each one acting as an instrument with a sound reminiscent of the early days of the synthesizer. A robotic drum set accompanies the spectacle, it’s high power LED’s flashing bright colors with the stroke of each mechanically actuated stick, while ArcAttack’s six members churn out rhythmic instrumental melodies. Live instruments meet drum loops and samples to produce rock, electronica and indie with a splash of punk and a dash of metal served with a side of pop. During the show, the MC engages both the crowd and the Tesla Coils by walking through ½ Million Volt sparks wearing the relatively thin layer of his chain mail Faraday suit.

YEARS from Bartholomäus Traubeck on Vimeo.

A tree’s year rings are analysed for their strength, thickness and rate of growth. This data serves as basis for a generative process that outputs piano music. It is mapped to a scale which is again defined by the overall appearance of the wood (ranging from dark to light and from strong texture to light texture). The foundation for the music is certainly found in the defined ruleset of programming and hardware setup, but the data acquired from every tree interprets this ruleset very differently.

A movie about Glennie’s life and music, Touch the Sound (2004), moved me profoundly. The film steps slowly, observing Glennie as she plays a lone snare in the middle of Grand Central Station, ticks out a percussion masterpiece on an ashtray, water glass and plate in a Fuji sushi bar, creates a symphony with junk found behind her family barn in Scotland, watches/listens to a Zen monk raking gravel. Between clips, Glennie is caught in contemplative moments, explaining her philosophy of sound and vibration, about how sound is so much more than hearing.

Footage of her collaboration with master guitarist Fred Frith at an abandoned sugar factory is woven through. In one segment, Glennie is on the ground floor on marimba, Frith on a catwalk 100 feet away, the two of them communicating delicately through the echoing space. By halfway through, the raw emotion of the piece is apparent in Glennie’s face; by the end, she’s in tears.

Her 2007 TED Talk, How to listen to music with your whole body: is powerful.

Take a quiet night, chillax, rent this movie, and re-think how you think about sound.

Instead of a standard review, decided to try and tell the story through Storify, capturing other people’s impressions and images (both from tonight’s performance and of Spalding in general) via social media, interwoven with some of my own commentary. Not sure this works – what do you think?

Growing up, Chaino’s face was always around, floating in and out of the amazing collection of LPs and reel-to-reel tapes my Dad had accumulated before marriage. Every now and then, we’d plop it on the turntable and groove to raw African beats, churned through a mesh of steel drums, slapping palms, shakers, bongos, and moaning voices (yes, moans!) Never stopped to think about which African country Chaino was from – “just Africa” was enough for us. The convincingly tribal LP cover sealed the deal – Chaino was real in our minds.

Chaino: Safari Jungle Maze

40 years later, while digitizing the LP collection, took time for the first time to, you know, actually read the liner notes:

“Chaino is the only survivor of a lost race of people from the wilds of the jungle in a remote part of central Africa where few white men have ever been… [he was discovered as a boy in] the remnants of what had been a native village. Surrounding hostile tribes had attacked the village and massacred its inhabitants. They found only a small boy near death starving amongst the ruins…”

Full liner notes here.

Add to that a closer study of the track titles (“Torture of the Mau-Mau?” Really?) and my B.S. detectors finally went off. Clearly the Chaino story was fiction, written for a white audience seeking exotic audio adventures on their home Hi-Fi sets. Vinyl and accompanying literature for the armchair traveler. But if the story and photography were all fabricated, then how to explain the music, which is pretty darned authentic sounding? A quick search turned the truth up to 11:

The self-styled “percussion genius of Africa,” exotica-era enigma Chaino was actually born Leon Johnson in Philadelphia in 1927; raised primarily in Chicago, the details of his early life are largely a mystery … following surgery to remove a brain tumor, he suffered a fatal heart attack on July 8, 1999.

Chaino was a brilliant drummer, but he was an American drummer riding the exotica wave of the 1950s and 60s (and who wouldn’t?). But leaving aside multilayered and complicated questions of identity, he was an awesome percussionist, and clearly knew his way around African rhythms. Unlike Martin Denny and a lot of the exotica scene, Chaino was not some white guy pretending to sound African – somewhere along the way, Chaino got real. But he still chose to present himself as a cultural fiction… as something not quite from Chicago.

Somewhere in my wild and somewhat random record-collecting teens, I happened on this LP by Özel Türkbas – How To Make Your Husband a Sultan. OK, truth out: I probably bought it for the cover. But through it, I discovered the wonders of actual Turkish belly dance music.

Özel Türkbas: Andalou Asia Minor:

The coolest thing about the record is that it comes with a little pamphlet (which I still have) demonstrating exactly how to make your husband a sultan, i.e. how to pretend to belly dance for your husband. The pretense that a suburban American housewife could convincingly learn an ancient art from an eight-page pamphlet is ridiculous of course; its real purpose was to provide an excuse to show off Türkbas’ mighty assets through the convincing guise of cultural education. I have a feeling the pamphlet was deployed more frequently for ogling than for training.

Where Chaino and Türkbas disconnect is that her record is the real deal – these are real Turkish musicians playing fantastic Turkish belly dancing music – the kind you’d be likely to hear in any authentic belly dancing nightshow or club in 1969. Turns out the book 1,000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die profiled it a while back:

Put this on, and the first image isn’t of some scantily dressed cosmopolitan housewife of the era sashaying around snapping finger cymbals. It’s more like a public celebration or a scene from a bustling dance hall, where the band is cranking out brisk, precise music that has everybody moving. Built around the wizardry of clarinetist Mustafa Kandıralı, this ensemble slithers and undulates, creating swirling waves of hypnotic rhythm. Several pieces leave room for improvised variations, and that’s where things heat up. Kandıralı and violinist Cevdet Çağla keep the dance rhythm going while unspooling extended technically demanding embellishments. Like the swing-era musicians who had more to offer than “In the Mood,” they manage to slip in subversive, jaw-dropping runs without shirking their main responsibility, accompanying dancers.

Here’s the difference: While Chaino was channeling pretty-much-believable African music through a fake African identity, Türkbas put together real Turkish belly dancing ensemble, but packaged it simplistically for an American audience eager to become a bit more cosmo by indulging in harmless middle eastern fantasy. “Oooh, so exotic!” Still, both are in a totally different category from Martin Denny and Arthur Lyman, who pretty much faked the whole thing along with the rest of the exotica movement*.

* Don’t mean to dish on Denny here – he’s a hero to me. More on him later.

Big chin wag to Hermenaut #15 – the legendary False Authenticity issue.

Whilst record cover sleeve art has always received plenty of attention (and rightly so) I believe that center labels have been somewhat neglected … To keep the focus solely on the artwork I have purposely not included any information on the music, artists or date of publication as most of that should be self explanatory from the images.

All three performances are worth listening to, but the big surprise was drummer Glenn Kotche of Wilco, removed from his usual habitat and throwing down something totally unexpected. Kotche plays a prepared drum kit laced up with rubber bands, screws and springs, tuned cowbells, and a fruit bowl, as well as a couple of traditional percussion instruments.

… percussionist Glenn Kotche of Wilco performs “Monkey Chant,” his retelling of the ancient Hindu epic the Ramayana–using different instruments in his drum kit to convey different characters. And after explaining how he once wrote a string quartet on the drums, he plays one more composition: “Projections of What Might.”

Kotche’s piece starts at 8’30″ in — or 12’00″ if you want to skip the introduction to his kit — so scrub past the Buke and Gass warm-up and dive in. It’s quite long, so leave this page up in the background and go about your business, or close your eyes and swim – it’s intense and wonderful. Kotche actually plays two pieces here, sandwiched by a brief conversation about how he orchestrates pieces for Kronos Quartet — on the drums. Apparently, a spiritual descendant of Harry Partch is behind the Dad Rock tradition.

More on Kotche at glennkotche.com

Digitizing LPs has almost nothing in common with ripping CDs. It’s a slow process, and a lot of work. But it can be incredibly rewarding, and going through the process puts you back in touch with music the way it used to be played (i.e. it’s a great nostalgia trip). Over at birdhouse.org, I’ve written up a guide which I hope will thorougly cover the process of prepping your gear, cleaning your records, and capturing as much of the essence of those old LPs as possible, so you can enjoy them in the context of your digital life.

Read: The Compleat Guide to Digitizing Your LP Collection

Critics and tastemakers have been talking about, reviewing, and exposing music to the masses for generations. With the advent of sophisticated algorithms, computer programs such as Pandora and Apple Genius are now suggesting new or unusual music for listeners.

Speakers included:

Tim Westergren, Founder, Pandora
Doug Brod, Editor-in-Chief, Spin
Joel Selvin, Senior Pop Music Critic, San Francisco Chronicle
Niema Jordan, Executive Editor, 38th Notes

The panelists debated “algorithms and blues,” wondering aloud whether technology has freed listeners from music journalists — or made them more valuable than ever. The discussion had a bit of trouble focusing on the topic at hand – many seemed more interested in the completely worn-out question of the impact of blogging on journalism. Fair enough – there are a hell of a lot of excellent music blogs out there, and there’s no question they soak up a lot of eyeballs/traffic that formerly went to Rolling Stone and Spin. But at the same time, very few of the music blogs have the expertise, or go into the depth that RS and Spin do. Still, it’s a pretty tired question by now.

The actual point of the panel – whether algorithms (recommendation services like Pandora) are having an effect on music journalism – was barely addressed head-on. Maybe that’s because it can’t be – where would you go to find hard numbers on whether people read less journalism because Ping or Pandora do a good job of suggesting new tracks?

My take is that the premise of the question is baloney. People read music journalism for a ton of reasons other than just finding recommendations. They read to try and grok the entire universe of music – to get the back-story, to trace influences, to absorb opinions, to color the landscape. Recommendations on what to buy, I expect, are pretty low on the list of reasons why people read about music.

In other words, music lovers love Pandora because it provides another avenue to discovery, not because it replaces the “role” of the music journalist.

Because the discussion wandered in so many directions, I won’t try and synthesize the rest. Here are loose notes and quotes from the speakers.

Joel Selvin was once the subject of a song by the Fried Abortions (a splinter group of the Angry Samoans) – raunchy, gritty, 1st-generation punk. Selvin proudly played the track… to show that the critic is down with his critics? Unclear, but it was funny.

Host Ben Manila: “When Ronald Reagan won re-election, I played The Ramone’s ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ 16 times in a row.”

“Critics are, by nature, criticizing something they can’t do themselves (make music).”

Music discovery: These days an artist either needs to be on Pandora or be on a TV commercial in order to “break through.” No one listens to music radio anymore.

Tim Westergren: These days we have more artists making a living, far fewer becoming rich and famous. The democratizing effect of today’s distribution is leveling the playing field.

Doug Brod: There are fewer people wanting to be rock stars these days. There’s a humility across the board. More who don’t want to be “personalities.” The “world” of music is broader now and involves TV and movies, pop culture in general – music isn’t a standalone thing anymore.

The DJ’s sycophantic nature: S/he very rarely says they don’t like the music they’re playing – DJs are almost never critics.

Joel Selvin: Part of the role of a critic is to let you know who’s bunk, who’s a charlatan. Algorithms don’t do that for you.

Joel Selvin on auto-tune: It would have ruined Rod Stewart, since his entire career was based on being a quarter tone flat.

Spin: We review dozens of albums per month. Why linger on the bad ones? Just let ‘em rot.

Niema Jordan of 38th Notes: We focus on Bay Area music – Pandora can’t do that.

How do young music journalists find jobs? Blogs have opened up a whole new talent pool. Spin finds a lot of talent on web sites.

Tim Westergren of Pandora: Don’t try to make a living from your music right away. It saps out the joy.

Mark Twain: Wagner’s music is really much better than it sounds.

Quality is rewarded: If you’re a talented writer or musician, someone’s going to notice you.

Music writing has gotten a lot more personal since blogging changed the criticism industry.

Old headline: “Harvard professor says jazz, silent films are art.”

Spin is branching out into the iPad world – launching an app next week. They want to enliven the experience of reading with stories curated by the edit staff, plus videos of featured artists. Trying to bridge the magazine and internet experiences.

Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.

Spin: Music blogs aren’t putting us out of business. We’re story tellers, while most blogging is off the top of the head.

I disagree: No reader has ever said to a magazine “I don’t need you anymore because Pandora recommends music now.” People read for a lot more than recommendations.

Writers at major pubs now wait for stuff to percolate up through blogs and social networks – they’re not the discoverers anymore.

Zappa: Most rock journalism is done by people who can’t write, interviewing people who cant talk, for people who can’t read.

Niema Jordan: People still want to get a record contract for some strange reason. Maybe they don’t understand their contracts?

Q: Technology is creating more quantity in music. The tools you use to sift through it all have an impact.

Pandora: The broadcast world can handle one stream at a time. The web blows that pipe open – to infinite streams.

Spin: We have a love/hate relationship with Pitchfork. Some writing is great, a lot of it is turgid. But we don’t “chase” Pitchfork – we have our own ears.

Q: Why doesn’t Pandora recommend opera or something great you don’t know? “By definition we suggest similar music – users would hate having stuff totally out of left field thrown at them..”

Pandora: Focus on what you do, focus on your craft. Enjoy yourself, and talent will be rewarded.