Deep Voices #72
Be there or be square
Deep Voices #72 on Spotify
Deep Voices #72 on Apple Music
Thanks for reading Deep Voices! A paid subscription to gets you access to two extensive playlists I use to build Deep Voices. To those who want to support my writing, I hope you’ll consider subscribing.
It was a pleasant surprise to win an award for music journalism at the German Reeperbahn festival for my essay The Sound of Grief. Though I frequently write about myself, I’ve always considered what I do music journalism, and I was happy to see that the essay was considered under that umbrella.
In slightly less serious references to my writing, I went to go see a talk by Shawn Reynaldo on occasion of the publication of his book of essays from his fantastic, thorough newsletter First Floor. Much of the conversation, moderated by Avalon Emerson, was about the problems within the business of electronic music, and how that affects its makers and listeners, something Shawn writes about regularly and fiercely. But they did briefly discuss journalism, tone, and objectivity.
Shawn used to work at XLR8R as an editor and he said they prided themselves on objectivity. Reading an old issue of the FADER, he said, everyone at the XLR8R office was apoplectic about a James Blake story where the author talked about Blake showing him his sweaters. Who cares about you!
The few people in the room who knew I had written that story turned around to look at me and laugh. Deservedly. But Shawn continued, saying that his own stance on writers appearing in their work had softened, and that he found himself occasionally showing up to address the reader directly. So I was both roasted and called ahead of my time. Feels like a middle ground I’m ok with.
Anyway, I went back and looked at the story and found there is only one reference to sweaters, when James Blake and I went to Liberty so he could get a haircut. He was checking out the cardigans. But if he had wanted to show me his sweaters, I would have looked. When I write about others, I feel like I am the ambassador, an emissary sent in place of the reader. You can listen to the music yourself, the same way I can. If I’m lucky enough to be there, I might as well tell you what I saw.
Some of my own very personal thoughts as well as some objective thoughts about the music on this week’s playlist is below:
Playlist notes:
One of the nicest, semi-secret sounds on Deep Voices this week is the breath of percussionist Karl Berger on the opening track, “Mountaineer” by his group Conjoint. The group is a five-piece, but “Mountaineer” is him alone, playing a pretty and sparse solo on vibes. I hadn’t noticed the sound of him breathing, or what appears to be rain on the window, until I listened with a nice pair of headphones in a quiet room, something I don’t do too often. It’s not necessary to hear these sounds in order to enjoy the song, but it helps make it a little bit more alive. I always like it when the seams are showing.
I was obsessed with Elliott Smith when I was in middle school and high school. His first few albums were super spare, and the whoosh of his hands up and down the neck of the guitar was a prominent part of many of his songs. When, in 1998, he released the studio album XO, with ambitions of Beatles-esque pop, I felt like he had betrayed the intimacy that made his music so special. Betrayed me, I guess, in other words. I got over it. I love XO. But my favorite record is still his self-titled one, whose recording makes it sounds like Smith is sitting across the table from you.
I don’t think I have it in me to write about John Cage’s 4′33″ and the idea of whatever the room offers being what you get. But silence is a pervasive argument for acute listening, for presence. If there was anything I was trying to do with James Blake and his sweaters, it was this. Be there.
Norwegian saxophonist Bendik Giske has collaborated with a number of different musicians over the course of his still young career (you all know how I feel about Buttechno), but his most dynamic work is this year’s self-titled solo album. As it begins, he plays a fluttering melody. It quickens, and his tone starts to break, like he’s trying to escape its hold. In addition to the sound screaing out of the instrument’s bell, you can also hear quite clearly the sound of his fingers hitting each note, the pads bouncing hypnotically (the album is produced by percussion wizard Beatrice Dillon and I am sure she had a hand in that). You can, of course, also hear his breath.
I included the album’s second track, “Not Yet,” on this week’s playlist. It’s a maze-like song, with Giske weaving his notes down a long path. For the most part, it’s harmonic, but at points his tone begins to break apart. For brief moments, it can sound like the saxophone is imitating a fire alarm. The dissonance doesn’t last for long stretches, but it does reappear regularly, almost like a little test of the listener’s resolve. Listening, it reminded me of Anthony Braxton’s solo saxophone album, For Alto. That album is decidedly more aggressive, with Braxton squealing across a double LP. It sounds like he is playing while falling down an endless staircase. But it does have tender moments, where Braxton seems to gather himself and push out a thoughtful melody. It’s almost like an inverse of Giske’s album and I wonder if he considered it while composing.
Shout out to my friend Daniel for turning me onto “Sunflower” by Nabihah Iqbal, definitely one of my favorite songs of the year. The album it’s taken from, Dreamer, moves between Iqbal’s raw house productions and her shoegaze songwriting. Some songs have more of one than the other; a song like “Sky River” is a high-BPM club-ready track. But “Sunflower” is a perfect blend of the two. I love the lyrics, too. “Meet me under the sunflower/Find me there in the golden hour/Meet me under the sunflower/Steal a kiss/Feel the power.” A lovely song from a lovely album.
I once wrote about an artist I loved as being “underrated” and they wrote me a note to say how hurtful that had been. I understand now how that phrase could be viewed as a sort of neg. What I perhaps could have said was that they were under covered, under listened to, undervalued. They needed more love and I was trying to give it to them. No one wants to be taken for granted, but I don’t think it was my fault for pointing out that they were.
So, Francesca Bono and Vittoria Burattini please take this with a grain of salt if you happen to be reading: your album is very underrated. On paper, Suono In Un Tempo Trasfigurato is a minimalist album, consisting of just a Juno 60, a drum kit, and voices. But the sound they create is immense, with repetition, chanting, and a lot of tom drum work. It’s a mystical record, brusque and exciting. It’s difficult to tell how much of the songs are improvised versus composed because while they do sound tight and linear, they have spontaneous energy, the type of pieces that come from mindmeld between musicians so intricately connected. I’m struggling to place a genre on the album. I guess in a way it’s rock music, something from the heavy end of dream pop. Maybe it’s a little prog, too, a little bit gothy. Whatever it is, it feels hugely fresh and alive. A unique duo whose album you should take the time to hear out. In my opinion.
It's nice to read these words about the album by Francesca Bono and Vittoria Burattini, which is also one of my albums of the year. If you haven't already listened to it, I also recommend the album "SPIRA" by Daniela Pes, also from Italy, truly beautiful and unique.