3:05 p.m. - 2005-09-25
read the last post first
Anyone reading my last post may have been left thinking, "Damn, G! Why you wanna be all harshing on Braxton and shit? It's not like your ass has put out a comparable body of work." This is very true and points to how my occasional show of pretend snottiness can easily be misinterpreted as real snottiness if I'm not careful. The truth is, Braxton is one of my heroes, as is Cecil Taylor. Even the Legions of the Wanting To Be Vandermark have my respect, if only because they're able to eke out musical lives in such a crowded pressure-cooker environment as Chicago. Far from putting down the musicians, I was lampooning the broad public perception of what they do. All of us at some point or other fall into the trap of easy categorization when confronted with something new, complex, bewildering or all three. It's very easy and should be avoided as strenuously as possible.
This was fresh in my mind yesterday when I went out to hear a band called Nom Tom. I didn't know anything about them or what to expect. There were three of them: a saxophone guy, a voice lady, and a two-snare-drums-with-one-sitting-on-a-little-amp- on-the-upturned-speaker man. None of them employed what would be considered standard techniques. The sax guy played with the bell pressed against his leg and often took off the mouthpiece. The singer did a lot of clicky sounds and barely audible murmerings, kind of like Meredith Monk. The snare drum guy mostly turned the volume knob on the amp. The overall dynamic was pretty soft, often nearly inaudible, and it was wall-to-wall timbral, with no apparent beginning or end. They all three sat in chairs and seemed very introverted. I hadn't heard a band like that in a while and tried to imagine what, if any, response they were going for. The experience was alternately engaging and irritating. Listening to the first set, it began to dawn on me that I was watching a performance but they weren't really performing.
This thought only fully formed during break when I was chatting with Laptop Greg and he asked What did I think of the show? I replied that it seemed less like performance music than installation music, something that adds a sonic environment to a space rather than something that's specifically designed to engage an audience for a length of time. Greg considered my response and posited that there should be something in between performance and installation, different categories for presenting and auditing music.
Having crystallized and briefly discussed this idea, I listened to the second set free of expectations, with fresh ears as it were. It was much more rewarding. And boring. But sometimes exciting. After a while I was ready to leave, but then the saxophone guy did a new thing he hadn't done all evening: he played two successive identifiable pitches, an ascending perfect fourth. Whoa! I said to myself. Better wait and see where he's going with THIS. Which I did, and I stayed until the end.
It was an interesting experience; I haven't had that strong a sense of music holding up a mirror to the listener in some time. I'm sure this is related to my last post somehow, but now I've totally forgotten why, oh yeah, it's the lesson of keep an open mind and avoid easy categories and you'll get more out of everything. And go hear Nom Tom next time you get the chance.
NEXT WEEK: GEOFF GOES TO MICHIGAN, COMES BACK FROM MICHIGAN, AND TALKS LOTS OF SHIT ABOUT MICHIGAN.
and finally, a long-awaited JOHN WATERS BOXED SET UPDATE: So it turns out Melissa has NEVER SEEN A JOHN WATERS MOVIE! OMG! She was over for rehearsal, and I sent her home with Polyester, which I consider the best entry-level John Waters movie. Tab Hunter. Stiv Bators. Shoe fetishing. A drive-in playing Margaret Dumas. What's not to like? Only time will tell if her good taste throws its arms up in disgust or if she gives in to the allure of exciting and glamourous Baltimorean trashiness. ONE OF US! ONE OF US!
