The Best American Poetry

Karlheinz Stockhausen [by Lewis Saul]

Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007) would not make many Top Ten Composers of All Time list -- but he makes mine!

I first encountered his music when I was 15 (1967), and I knew the tingling in my ears meant that I had found something special. My beloved late father -- who could sit and listen to Heifetz's recording of the Beethoven Violin Concerto on forever-repeat -- used to ask me why I considered this stuff music at all! Yet, he patiently listened, his body twitching when things got too weird, but I think he understood why I was so drawn to the awesome newness of these works.

I hardly expect to change too many minds -- most people yell "noise" at the first moment -- but I present you here 12 opportunities to sample a fraction of his work in chronological order on YouTube. Give it a chance. Open Thy Ears ...

1. Chöre für Doris (1950). A student work, Stockhausen sets three poems by Paul Verlaine, for a cappella chorus -- 1) Die Nachtigall (The Nightingale); 2. Armer junger Hirt (A Poor Young Shepherd); and 3. Agnus Dei. He is learning how to actualize serial (12-tone) principles, much like the early works of his fellow student, Pierre Boulez.
2. Kontra-Punkte (1952-53). For ten instruments, this performance by Ensemble Linea is excellent. As the title suggests, this composition is interested in a pointillistic approach to counterpoint. Each instrument plays a unique series of notes which combines with others to create an ethereal polyphony.
3. Zeitmasse (1955-56). For woodwind quintet, except he replaces the French Horn with an English Horn. Again, the title tells all. Here he is concerned with time -- foreshortened, quickened, and suspended in air molecules. The music is breathtaking and magical -- the five members of the London Sinfonietta play with extraordinary comprehension and passion.
4. Gruppen for three orchestras (1955-57). These French musicians perform! The work again uses a pointillistic approach to creating a whole. All three groups are completely synchronized, but in a live performance, the listener hears the voices coming from the different directions.
5. Gesang der Jüngling (1955-56). Here -- in one of Stockhausen's early attempts at combining a human musical instrument (in this case, a boy soprano) with electronic sounds -- he works with pitch resonance and electronically-produced phonemes. Stockhausen uses three types of electronic sound: 1) sine tones; 2) pulses/clicks; and 3) filtered white noise. The text is from the Book of Daniel.
6. Klavierstuck XI (1956). The great French pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard performs the 11th of Stockhausen's "piano pieces." Similar to Zyklus (below), the score consists of 19 fragments spread out over a single large page. The performer determines the sequence and finishes at a pre-determined point.
7. Zyklus (1959). For solo percussionist. Alexander Smith delivers a knock-out performance of a spiral score which the performer must cut-and-paste, choose a starting point, and create a "cycle" of every imaginable percussive sound to create a unified whole. Smith's videographer also did a magnificent job.
8. Carré for four orchestras and four choirs (1959-60). Like Gruppen, spatial distribution of sound is the main concern. Eight basic categories of sound form the foundation (type, attack, gestalt variation, density, register, duration, amplitude, and color) are all further subdivided into four more detailed groups.
9. Hymnen (1966-67). Here is Stockhausen's greatest masterpiece, imho. The piece uses both electronic and concrete (real sounds) and is divided into four "regions" which feature various national anthems: Region I uses The Internationale and La Marseillaise; Region II features the Deutschlandlied, a group of African anthems, the beginning of Russian anthem, and a fragment of the Nazi-era Horst-Wessel-Lied; Region III continues the Russian, the Star-Spangled Banner, and the Marcha Real; Region IV features the Swiss Psalm.
10. Stimmung (1968). For six singers who begin from a low B-Flat fundamental and in just intonation expand upwards through overtone singing. Stockhausen was inspired by his own meditation, creating vocal sounds that originate from different parts of the body -- nasal, for example. Incorporated into the structure are "magic words" -- gods and goddesses from many cultures; Aztec, aboriginal, ancient Greek, etc. This video streams a spectral analysis of the music from the Paul Hiller Theatre of Voices.
11. Mantra (1970). For two ring-modulated pianos, with woodblocks, antique cymbals and short-wave radio. As usual, the structure is well thought out and complex.
12. Licht (Die sieben Tage der Woche) (1977-2003) A cycle of seven operas -- one for each day of the week. Licht consists of 29 hours of music.

Hanukkah ca. 1960 [by Lewis Saul]

There I am stage right with older sister Wendy; and Lynn (z'l) and little bro, Alan.

It looks like I got some kind of game -- but it was Lynn who knew what I really wanted.

A Hanukkah or two after this pic, she got me the Nine Beethoven symphonies scores, which was the greatest present anyone's ever given me. By the time I was 11 or 12, I had committed most of the music to memory.

I look over my studio today, and there are scores everywhere! Thanks, Lynn for starting me on this fabulous eternal journey.

Dmitri Shostakovich: The Nose, Op. 15 (1927-28) [by Lewis Saul]

The Nose, Op. 15 (1927-28)
Royal Opera House
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House
Ingo Meszmacher, cond.
(2:13:27)

 

The 22-year-old wrote his first opera (although he began others, the only other satisfactorily complete one is Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk [see my post]) a mere decade after the Revolution.

Based on the short story of the same title by Nikolai Gogol (1809-1852), this short window of relative artistic freedom in the pre-Stalinist Soviet Union allowed Shostakovich to create such a satiric and grotesque parody of the bureaucracy.

The Gogol (read it here) begins:

"In a certain Russian ministerial department --

But it is perhaps better that I do not mention which department it was. There are in the whole of Russia no persons more sensitive than Government officials. Each of them believes if he is annoyed in any way, that the whole official class is insulted in his person."

 

Gerard McBurney:

"The Nose is one of the young Shostakovich's greatest masterpieces, an electrifying tour de force of vocal acrobatics, wild instrumental colours and theatrical absurdity, all shot through with a blistering mixture of laughter and rage ... the result, in Shostakovich's ruthlessly irreverent hands, is like an operatic version of Charlie Chaplin or Monty Python ... despite its magnificently absurd subject and virtuosic music, The Nose is a perfectly practical work and provides a hugely entertaining evening in the theatre."

 

Woody Allen borrowed the material for an even sillier take on the whole thing with Sleeper (1973).

This amazing production is in English, with subtitles.

The opera begins at 0:09:23:

 

The percussion Entr'acte as the people dance around the nose.

The Policemen's Dance (Galop)

Dance of the Noses (you'll not want to miss this one!)

 

Act III: Scene at the Police Station

Four Interesting Covers [by Lewis Saul]

A cover song is a new recording of a previously released song that someone else wrote.

So the first two examples don't really fit that definition -- they are more like transformations:

1. Miles Davis was 19-years-old when he took the bandstand with Charlie Parker and played this solo on the tune Now's the Time from 1945:
       Now let us travel forward to 1958 when Miles recorded Straight No Chaser. This is Red Garland, playing Miles's famous solo in block chords.
   
2. Let's listen to Bird playing a solo on Lady Be Good from 1946 ...
       And now listen to Eddie Jefferson putting words to the solo from the James Moody album Cookin' the Blues from 1961. [thanks to Jamie Katz for turning me on to this ...]
3. Whoosh, back to 1930! Duke Ellington's Rockin' in Rhythm.
       And now Weather Report's cover from the 1980 album Night Passage. Listen to how Zawinul & Co. transformed all those big-band sounds into an exciting modern sonic palette.
4. Ellington again -- this time from 1927! East St. Louis Toodle-Oo
       And in the sole track from Steely Dan's discography without lyrics, we get another amazing modern cover with guitars replacing saxes, from the album Pretzel Logic (1974) -- remaining amazingly faithful to the original.

William Makepeace Thackeray: Pendennis [by Lewis Saul]

Fifty years ago, your Editor, a few friends and I were drinking strong black coffee at a nice little café in the Montparnasse district of Paris. I was studying music composition and -- frankly -- had never read anything other than texts on music (with the exception of Theodore Dreiser, a high-school independent study project).

The conversation was filled with author names which were totally unfamiliar to me -- James Joyce, Henry Miller, and David insisted that I also read some good poetry, like Apollinaire and Mayakovsky (not to be confused with Nikolai, the composer).

Having never gone to college, this started me on my journey with literature. (Thank you, David!)

A few years later, Stanley Kubrick released his masterpiece, Barry Lyndon, based on the novel by somebody named William Makepeace Thackeray. The film had extensive narration, which sounded like it was lifted straight from the book.

Fast forward to this century, and I had seen the film Vanity Fair, written by the same dude with this weird name. I had to check it out. As is my wont, I decided to go for the guy's complete works. I found this slightly mildewy 1903 edition on Ebay:


I devoured Barry Lyndon and Vanity Fair and just yesterday completed Pendennis, written in 1849-50.

The book begins with Arthur Pendennis at 13, away from his country home at College (I guess that's what they called Junior High back then). He is an average student -- deficient in Greek -- and is plucked! (dismissed) ...

Ashamed and demoralized, he determines to set himself right. There is his saintly mother, Helen; his step-sister Laura, his severe uncle, The Major, retired on half-pay from service in India and a host of other characters who one gets to know intimately through the nearly 800 pages of this two-volume edition.

We are swept along with events in London and the countryside as Pen eventually reaches the age of 26. Thackery masterfully keeps things moving, ending chapters on a cliffhanger and abruptly changing scenes and characters.

The classism and misogyny are to be expected, I suppose. But even there, Thackeray has great fun with some minor characters of a lower (but only slightly) strata in "society."

A great read and a tremendous morality tale.

P.S. Myakovsky's A Cloud in Trousers is an awesome poem!

Guillermo del Toro: The Devil's Backbone (2001) [by Lewis Saul]

 

108 minutes
Color

5.1 Surround

in Spanish

1:85:1 aspect ratio

 

“What is a ghost?”

 

Answer: almost every character in this masterful film.

 

Del Toro plants a terrific red herring early on — which make repeated viewings so pleasurable and rewarding!

 

Set during the chaos of the Spanish Civil War, we observe the arrival a big 30’s car driving down a dusty road to an orphanage in the middle of nowhere, depositing a young boy, Carlos (Fernando Tielve), and his injured tutor. Casually, we also see Jacinto (an exceptional Eduardo Noriega) — an orphan who is now a grown man, acting as the caretaker, and his gigantic sidekick, The Pig (Paco Maestre).

 

The war is everywhere, but unlike Del Toro’s Spanish Civil War companion pic Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), we never see any actual fighting. We see a bomb drop from a plane — it lands unexploded in the orphanage’s courtyard, apparently subsequently defused.

 

We meet Dr. Casares (Federico Luppi) and Carmen (Marisa Paredes), the headmistress. We meet Conchita (Irene Visdeo), Jacinto’s lover and the boys, headed by a bully named Jaime (Íñígo Garcés) and the story takes off.

 

**

 

Del Toro is the kind of filmmaker who not only thinks through every single frame, but is such a polymath that he is able to draw on hundreds of varied sources to bring his material to life (see Commentary below). He was planning this screenplay even before he made his debut film, Cronos (1993) [starring Luppi] …

 

Produced by the Almodóvar brothers (Pedro and Agustin) and featuring an excellent subtle score by Javier Navarrete. Also incredible sound design by Salvador Mayolas.

 

Not a boring or inconsequential frame in 108 minutes.

 

A few influences which Del Toro mentions in his “rambling commentary":

• The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole
• Luis Buñuel
• Tom Thumb
• Thumbelina
• Hansel and Gretel
• Giovanni Battista Piranesi

 

• Carceri d’invencione (Imaginary Prisons)
• M.C. Escher
• Symbolist painters
  • Isle of the Dead
  • Death and the Grave Digger
• Arnold Böcklin
• Caspar David Friedrich
• Carlos Schwabe
• Odilon Redon
• Surrealist painters
• Salvador Dalí
• Giorgio de Chirico
• Lord Byron
• “If you cannot move them emotionally or intellectually anymore, just shove them.”
• Roger Corman
• William Castle
• The Monk by Matthew Gregory Lewis
• Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
• Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
• Charles Dickens
• M.R. James
• Arthur Machen
• The Willows by Algernon Blackwood
• Robert McKee [negative connotation]
• [in case you didn’t notice]: All the “good” characters’ names start with “C” (Carmen, Casares, Conchita, Carlos) and the “bad” ones with “J” (Jacinto, Jamie)
• The Sandman by E.T.A. Hoffman
• Mark Twain
• Beauty and the Beast by Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve
• Alfred Hitchcock
• Pedro Infante
• Deep Red by Dario Argento
• The Sixth Sense (M. Night Shyamalan)
• The Eye (Pang brothers)
• The Ring (Hideo Nakata)
• The Grudge (Takashi Shimizu)
• May (Lucky McKee)
• Blair Witch Project (Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez)
• The Searchers by John Ford
• Mario Bava
• Sergio Leone
• Honoré Fragonard
• Horseman of the Apocalypse
• 
• Alfred, Lord Tennyson
• In Memoriam A.H.H.
• Juana Inés de la Cruz
• The Wild Bunch by Sam Peckinpah
• Marquis de Sade
• Ann Radcliffe
• Goths
• Tango

Andrzej Wajda: Ashes and Diamonds (1958) [by Lewis Saul]

Creeping authoritarianism. Teetering democracy. Dangerous political leadership.

No, I'm not talking about the U.S. of A. but the centuries of sadness which is synonymous with the historically chopped-up country of POLAND.

Specifically, the 24-hour period (May 8-9, 1945) during which this film takes place and the year it was made -- 1958.

**

Josef Stalin's death in 1953 ushered in a period which is sometimes referred to as the "Stalinist thaw." The ground was still pretty frozen, but a few sprigs were sprouting up in both the Soviet Union and its satellites. Shostakovich enraged the dictator with his Ninth Symphony (1945) which -- instead of a paean to the glorious victory of The Patriotic War -- was a lighthearted, short jokey affair. He saved the good stuff for his Tenth (1953), which at the same time as dealing with the tragedy of the war, also included a biting satirical portrait of the madman.

The Polish October (1956) ushered in a period of astonishing artistic freedom for Polish artists -- a mere three years after the death of Josef Stalin -- we get the outrageously cutting-edge music of Penderecki and Lutoslawski, and a trilogy of war films from the young Andrzej Wajda. [The first two were A Generation (1955) and Kanal (1957), about the Warsaw resistance.]

**

Maciek (Zbigniew Cybulski) and Andrzej (Adam Pawlikowski) have made a big mistake. In one of the many striking scenes in this film (influenced by Citizen Kane), Andrzej is on the phone with his superior -- Major Florian (Ignacy Machowski). The mistake must be corrected, but not before Wajda shows us the three important characters in deep focus -- Andrzej in the foreground on the phone; Maciek desperately trying to get Andrzej's attention and the survivor of the mistake in the far background, Szczuka (Waclaw Zastrzezynski).


Maciek -- looking so cool in his sunglasses (a result of spending so much time in the Warsaw sewers, he casually informs us) -- is the central character. He represents the anti-Communist freedom fighter, but Communism and the Communists (along with the aristocracy) all saddle up to the bar together. [Wajda had the censors so confused that they passed the film (to much subsequent consternation) after a few rounds of vodka.]

Drewnowski (Bogumil Kobiela) -- the aide to the mayor, Swiecki (Aleksander Sewruk) -- seems to be swinging on the hinges of the door between the two sides. He had big prospects for advancement with the Communists, but blows it all by purposefully getting stinking drunk at the big banquet he was supposed to be organizing. His transformation of a fire extinguisher to a gun is one of the more hilarious moments in the film.

Last, but certainly not least, is the gorgeous Krystyna (Ewa Krzyzewska). She is all women, confounding the men's political work by intense, focused love. In the end, Maciek is obviously much more interested in her than any political theatre.

But alas ...

Cybulski

Caravan Palace [by Lewis Saul]

French swing -- or "Gypsy jazz" -- originated with a group called the Quintette du Hot Club de France, founded in 1934 by guitarist Django Reinhardt and violinist Stéphane Grappelli. Because Reinhardt was from a gypsy family, the term stuck.

Perhaps the most important aspect of this early American-influenced jazz, was la pompe -- the way Reinhardt strummed the guitar, giving the 2nd and 4th beats a strong feeling, regardless of tempo. The harmonic and melodic components of this music is further described in the above link ...

***

Fast forward to the 1970's.

Two & four have been hip for decades. In fact, one & three is downright corny.

But along came Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes with The Love I Lost in 1973. About thirty seconds into the tune, you can hear this, in the bass:

This became known as four-on-the-floor, and would usher in the (ugh) Disco Era.

Now, it wasn't Harold's fault or poor Donna Summer's, either (she actually had a fabulous voice) -- but for a decade we had to listen to this music that got boring real quick, because there was nothing interesting going on above that pernicious beat.

 

**

I'm not big on much of the music being produced these days, as my three 30-something daughters will readily attest. But my oldest, roaming around the many concert stages at Coachella a few years ago (I imagine Charles Ives on a bad acid trip), heard a snatch of music from a band called Caravan Palace. She thought I might enjoy them.

It began with three talented French musicians -- violinist Hugo Payen; guitarist Arnaud Vial and bassist Charles Delaporte -- making a soundtrack for a silent porn film. Recruiting additional musicians on Myspace (yes, remember that thing?), they discovered the charming and talented lead singer, Zoé Colotis (named after a butterfly) -- and they were soon a world-wide success.

The musical trick that make my ears tingle (your's might not, chacun à son, you know?) is the combination of that heavy four-on-the-floor (much more bone-shattering than poor old Harold) with an ultra-intelligent upper region, filled with cool licks played by conservatory-trained musicians and very hip lyrics.

Sample from Miracle:

Every day is a miracle
(Help one another)
Connect back with the people
(Give it to your lover)
And all the people you miss
(Let's go already)
(Act like a brother)
Don't think you're invisible

 

Their videos are also astonishing:

1. Miracle
2. Dramophone
3. Supersonics
4. Rock it for Me
5. Moonshine
6. Suzy
7. Jolie Coquine
8. Lone Digger

I dare you not to get up and dance.

Five Colorful Election Day haiku [by Lewis Saul]

the sick red tide bloom
spreads across the blighted land
like oozing cold pus

look! A sinister
black cloud enshrouds the desert
pink chollas shed tears

rippling sky blue creek
so happy so free so pure
why are you choking?

soft purple petal
quivering in the tempest
somehow surviving

hollow yellow men
on pedestals of mildew
stinking of falsehood

Film Review: TRUFFAUT, François: The Last Metro (1980) [by Lewis Saul]

Truffaut (1932-1984) had intended to make a sort of trilogy about the living arts; first about cinema (Day for Night [1973]); theatre (this film); and vaudeville, which he didn't live long enough to make. Fortunately, the first two films stand on their own quite nicely.

**

The title relates to the very real concern of getting out of the theatre or movie-house in time to catch the last metro. If you missed it and were caught on the streets after curfew, serious trouble might result.

**

In a long take, with no cuts, the camera tracks Bernard Granger (Gérard Depardieu) as he is trying to pick up the lovely Arlette (Andréa Ferréol). Bernard continually runs in front of her, refusing to take her hints to get lost. Each time, Truffaut frames them in a two-shot as they keep moving. Arlette -- tiring of his advances -- finally agrees to give him her phone number.

The cut finally comes as the camera frames Bernard's face, who slowly realizes she has given him the number where you call and ask for the time of day! He is crestfallen.

Of course, it eventually is revealed that they are both headed for the same destination -- the Théatre Montmartre -- putatively run by the implacable Marion Steiner (an award-winning performance by Catherine Deneuve). Everyone connected with the theatre believes that her Jewish husband, Lucas (Heinz Bennent) has fled Nazi-occupied France -- but he is actually living in the basement of the theatre, where Marion sneaks him food and conjugal visits.

The 10-year-old son of the concierge (Rose Thierry) is hopping along the sidewalk and is patted on his head by a German officer. His mother yanks him away and a few scenes later we see her furiously washing his hair. This actually happened to the to the 10-year-old Truffaut in 1942!

**

Bernard is at the theatre for an audition. As he waits, he observes Marion and the gay director -- Jean-Loup Cottins (Jean Poiret) discussing their reticence in hiring a Jewish actor. Cottins has to talk a disgusted Bernard from walking away, who ultimately signs the contract, stipulating that he has no Jewish blood.

Incidentally, Poiret is also known as the author of the play La Cage aux Folles.

**

The rest of the cast is stellar -- including a menacing Daxiat (Jean-Lous Richard) -- who is based on the Nazi puppet collaborator Alain Laubreaux -- and Nadine Marsac (Sabine Haudepin) who is so apathetic about the Occupation that she is close to being a collaborator herself.

Georges Delerue's score is spare and subtle, as it should be, and Nestor Almendros's cinematography conforms to the rust-brown colors which signify the period.

Only the happy ending rings false to this reviewer, as in reality, the Gestapo rarely searched a basement hiding a Jew without success.

It Was 50 Years Ago Today [by Lewis Saul]

And the Band didn't begin to play anything. Actually it was 51 years ago today, which adds an extra, unwanted beat to an overworked couplet ...

The Composer (me), The Poet, The Joker, and The Fencer were café-hopping on a beautiful autumn evening. The place was Paris, and there were great cafés on each corner of the intersection of the Boulevards Montparnasse and Raspail.

It might have been Le Rond Point, and the pinball machine (le flippeur) might have been Dipsy Doodle or Aces and Kings -- one of those Williams, Gottlieb, or Bally machines that were ubiquitous in every café in Paris.

The thing is, I spent way too much time trying to master that particular machine -- learning how to punch it on either side without tilting; persuading that little round silver ball to slither down the right tunnel (ding ding ding), or happily bounce off the bumpers until they all lit up and the dings sounded like the mighty bells of Notre Dame ... but most importantly, to avoid the catastrophic DRAIN, ending the play.

**

The four of us were taking turns, playing like maniacs in order to avoid having to slip another one-franc piece into the money-hungry coin slot. And we were doing well, watching the scoreboard flipping numerals like the hundredth-second place on a stopwatch.

Suddenly, the four of us became aware that we were being observed. Four Corsican toughs were speaking heavily-accented French, which we responded to with our medium-level fluency. We were being challenged!

**

A twenty-franc bill was slapped on the glass top and the details of the bet were agreed upon and we pooled together are resources and matched their wager. Forty francs! That was a lot of money for us scrappy students.

We would play two rounds of four turns -- each of the eight players getting two turns. The Corsicans went first. They were drunk as hell, but managed to rack up a big score. It was our turn. My friends decided to put me in the clean-up spot, so I waited -- sipping red wine while they each took their turn -- ooh, The Joker tilted -- bad news!

I'm up.

I pull back the lever and shoot the silver ball up into the top region. It slides through a high-value slot and moves downward, hitting the bumpers, triggering special targets, and then, after just 15 seconds of play ... I shudder in horror as the ball slips into the DRAIN lane. Turn over, very few points scored.

The forty francs -- two bills with portraits of old kings etched in the center -- were staring at me in shame. Crap, we're gonna lose this bet.

Round Two. The alcohol-drenched Corsicans are focused like Napoleon taking on a distant hill ... one guy drains, the other three rack up a ton of points.

Our turn. The Poet maneuvers the orb beautifully, using the flippers to hit the high-value targets, moving the ball back to the top -- scoring well. The Joker and The Fencer have decent turns, but when I step up to the machine for the final turn, the scoreboard shows that we're behind by ten thousand points.

I feel nauseous.

But as I pulled the lever, I felt that the geometric gods were guiding my flippers. A little tap on the left, avoiding a tilt. Hitting targets. Racking up points. Ding ding ding. My compatriots were yelling and screaming. The Super Bowl of Pinball.

When the ball finally drained, the scoreboard was in our favor. The Corsicans grumbled. We grabbed our forty francs and skipped down the Montparnasse sidewalks, singing a filthy Frank Zappa tune, and the town was ours!

Shostakovich Symphony #13 [by Lewis Saul]

 

 

 

Yevgeny Yevtushenko (b. 1933) was too young to have been stung by the murder hornet that was Josef Stalin.

Shostakovich, however, was envenomed by the murderous dictator over and over again, leaving a permanent welt on his soul, but the greatness of DS was his refusal to surrender to political forces; he continually composed music that would land him in trouble with the authorities.

The first time was in 1934-35, involving two massive works: The Fourth Symphony (see my post) and the opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk (post). The opera actually was a success with the public, but when Stalin attended the opera, and a rehearsal of the symphony (in both cases, perhaps offended by loud trombones), he ordered both works to be withdrawn. Neither would be heard again for nearly three decades. Shortly thereafter, a Party-approved article appeared in Pravda entitled "Muddle Instead of Music.

The Fifth Symphony (post) was subtitled "A Soviet Artist's Reply to Just Criticism." Whether or not Shostakovich was forced to use these words is still unknown today.

**

In the late 40's, DS was again "stung" by the Zhdanov Doctrine, condemning formalism in the arts. Banned works from this period include the Violin Concerto (post) and From Jewish Folk Poetry (1948 -- in defiance of his denunciation!).

**

Stalin's death on March 5, 1953 would have been a great day of celebration had not Sergei Prokofiev died on the exact same day.

As usual, Shostakovich had his say with notes. Stalin was infuriated with the Ninth Symphony (1945) (post), which -- rather than a glorification of the Soviet victory in the Great Patriotic War -- was a light-hearted affair of short duration. The Tenth (1953) (post), however (premiered after Stalin's death), was a mammoth work of unbridled proportions, and in the second movement, Shostakovich no longer felt the need to hide his vivid portrayal of the maniac. It is electrifying music.

For the Eleventh (1957) (post) and Twelfth (1961), Shostakovich reverted to Soviet programs (1905; 1917), but it is notable that the Eighth String Quartet (1960) is today considered a musical suicide note. DS was seriously considering ending his life.

Perhaps Yevtushenko's poetry inspired him to live. The Thirteenth Symphony (1962) is one of the best of the Fifteen -- written for bass soloist, male chorus and orchestra. Each movement's title is a name or word, rather than just a tempo indication:

• I.. Babi Yar. Shostakovich and Yevtushenko transform the 1941 massacre into a denunciation of antisemitism. The poem becomes the basis for a series of operatical episodes -- the Dreyfus affair, the Białystok pogrom, the Anne Frank story. Shostakovich may have thought he was done with censorship, but censorship was not done with him. The authorities refused to allow a performance until DS & YY revised the original verse:
• Original: I feel myself a Jew / Here I tread across old Egypt / Here I die, nailed to the cross / And even now I bear the scars of it / I become a gigantic, soundless scream / Above the thousands buried here/ I am every old man shot dead here / I am every child shot dead here.
• Censored: Here I stand at the fountainhead / That gives me faith in brotherhood / Here Russians lie, and Ukrainians / Together with Jews in the same ground / I think of Russia's heroic dead / In blocking the way to Fascism / To the smallest dew-drop, she is close to me / In her being and her fate.
• II. Humour. Coloring Yevtushenko's imagery with a spirit of mocking burlesque
• III. In the Store. About the hardship of Soviet women queueing in a shop.
• IV. Fears. An elaborate parody, the subject is suppression: Fears are dying-out in Russia.
• V. Career: The movement opens with a feeling of sunshine after a storm; it quickly becomes something else: an attack on bureaucrats, robotic unanimity, while also a tribute to genuine creativity.

The best performance on YouTube, led by the cancelled Valery Gergiev

(Poem in the credits)

Three Amateur Poems [by Lewis Saul, Rachel Saul and Jordan Schifino]

MEMO FROM THE BIG G

Dear Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot crowd:

Your tin-foil hats are melting
My glaciers
And dripping down your
Collective Consciousness
Raising hell with my hosts

You're mucking around in the mud
And I'm thinking about breaking my promise
To Noah
And bringing about a flood
A Hallelujah-type event that only

Four people will survive ...
Malala and Greta, for sure; I'm still trying to decide on

The other two

Sincerely,

God (malevolent)

-- by Lewis Saul

***

SYSTEMS
of
a
down

All about hierarchy
up down and all around

If we all just took a minute
or two
or sixty

to breathe

to get out of our heads and into our bodies

We would be healthier!

Pandemic free perhaps

Coincidence or puppetry

are as real as the

systems we made up

We need to break free
From the chains of duality

-- Rachel Saul (my daughter)

***

Scrollin'

Swipe 'n scroll
It used to be rock 'n roll
Scrolls of sacred text
Trolls of each sex
Silently doing their bidding
God forbid we show our face
This anonymous world
Ever connected
Severed from reality
The forces in life
Media and the like
Manipulating us for themselves
Man, what a world
A world against itself
A world lost in mindless scrolls
Empty scrolls
Empty yourself of emptiness
Be full of yourself
Be yourself
And Be
For you
And me

-- Jordan Schifino (my son-in-law)

György Ligeti (1923-2006)

How many of you listen to "modern music" (i.e. Boulez, Stockhausen, Cage, Kurtág, Xenakis, etc.) for sheer pleasure? I've been into this stuff since very early childhood so it's just as pleasurable for me to listen to a Mahler symphony as a Stockhausen opera.

But I completely understand the fact that our 21st century ears are still plugged into the 19th century ... our "pop" music is diatonic, the TV jingle is diatonic, the scores for Star Wars are definitely diatonic (or sometimes chromatic ... chromaticism can be used in both a diatonic and dodecaphonic context).

Most people react to non-diatonic music with a feeling of having listened to noise, incoherent musical sounds, or -- often -- just an annoying waste of time.

So I propose this experiment. Listen to all or some of the following four compositions by György Ligeti and observe your reactions:

1. Atmosphères (1961)
2. Requiem (Kyrie) (1963-65)
3. Lux Aeterna (1966)
4. Aventures (1962)

The first work is for orchestra; the other three all involve singers.

2001: A Space Odyssey
directed by Stanley Kubrick

Yes, I'm certain most of you recognized the above music as part of the score of this cinematic masterpiece from 1968. Were you able to enjoy the music on its own merits, or did you immediately begin to associate the sounds with images from the film?

It's not an academic question, because audio and visual cues comingle in our brains, and sometimes fuse together!

• Atmosphères plays over the first three minutes of the film, before the MGM logo even appears. You could say that the music "sets the mood," or in its urgency, is subtly telling the audience to quit jabbering and prepare for the experience. But if you soak up this non-visual prelude, you will find a gigantic pay-off later in the film.
• The next Ligeti we hear is when the apes meet the monolith -- the music is the Kyrie from the Requiem. This music will accompany every appearance of the monolith, except the final one. We see the syzygy as the music reaches a peak and Kubrick cuts it off abruptly. The camera looks out on the African plains and the Moonwatcher episode begins, culminating in the bone/satellite Also Sprach section.
• Lux Aeterna makes its first appearance when Floyd's shuttle is approaching the monolith site. The music takes a break while the crew has sandwiches and coffee, and then resumes until it turns back into the Kyrie -- the leitmotif of the monolith -- and is overwhelmed by the high-pitched shriek of the radio signal.
• If your home-video version leaves out the Intermission, you've missed Atmosphères again. Shorter than the opening cut, but still an important cue to what will come next.
• A supertitle: "Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite." Kyrie returns as we observe another syzygy -- this time from Jupiter. We hear almost the entire movement (Kyrie eleison = Lord, have mercy) -- nature's cosmic terror; mercy seems irrelevant!
• Now the payoff from having heard Atmosphères so often. As Bowman passes through the Star Gate, and we observe his face in a frozen scream, we hear ten minutes of music, accompanying one of the best-known scenes in cinematic history.
• In the alien apartment, we now hear Aventures for the first time. Strange vocal noises pierce what seems like silence.

The actual techniques Ligeti used to compose these works is fascinating, maybe a subject for a future post.

Oh yes -- Kubrick and all his lawyers somehow neglected to pay (or even correctly credit) Ligeti for his brilliant music. Ligeti sued; it was settled, and all must have been forgiven, for Christiane Kubrick accompanied Ligeti to the premiere of Eyes Wide Shut (1999), after Stanley's death.

John Cage (1912-1992) [by Lewis Saul]

In July 1973, I got a call from my high school alma mater -- The Interlochen Arts Academy -- inviting me to join other recent Composition Major graduates for a symposium with John Cage.

We were told to bring a tape of one of our compositions -- not too lengthy -- and a sleeping bag.

I arrived at Interlochen filled with deep emotions common to every alumni -- it is a magical place where I spent the best year of my life!

The next morning, I was pleased to see a few friendly faces from my senior year (1970), and others I didn't know. We met Mr. Cage in a large classroom and after the introductions, one by one, we threaded up the reel-to-reel, or cassette tapes in some cases (this is OLD tech, kids!) and played our music. Cage made short pithy comments after each tape. Mine -- a short improvisational work for electric clarinet and keyboards -- solicited a smile and the remark, "that is valuable social music."

Obviously pleased to be done with that business, he loaded us in a bus and we drove for a few hours until we reached the wild untouched world of the northern Michigan pine forest.

Cage had us form a large circle, and proceeded to give a serious lecture on morel mushrooms.

He taught us how to look for them on trees blighted with Dutch Elm Disease, and -- most importantly -- how to be certain we weren't picking any false morels, such as Gyromitra esculenta or Verpa bohemica -- both morel lookalikes which are poisonous!

For the rest of the day, we all went mushroom hunting, filling our little baskets with these weird-looking fungi, as Cage went around checking everyone's haul to make sure that they were all true morels.

Dusk. We made a large circle of rocks and built a campfire. Cage had checked all the morels, which now were placed in a large bucket. Out came sticks of butter and thinly-sliced garlic. JC carefully cut up the morels and put the mixture into a large pot which was then put on the fire.

In a few minutes, we were all feasting on buttery morels. They were delicious!

It got dark. We fed the fire. Some of my compadres started to ask Cage some questions, most of them ridiculous. Cage never gave a verbal answer, only staring back at the questioner, and smiling, devilishly ...

"Why did you write 4'33"?" [if you don't know what that is, click on the link. It is perhaps what John Cage is best well-known for in folks who haven't really bothered to investigate his oeuvre ...]
"What made you decide to invent the prepared piano?" [once again, a ridiculous question -- Cage was inspired by work of Henry Cowell, and simply expanded upon the idea, taking it into new territory ...]
"What do you think of Composer X?" [a question no composer should ever ask of another composer ...]
Still smiling, lips pursed, Cage -- in a very soft voice -- said, "would everyone please shut up?"

Stunned silence. But not complete silence. People were making little noises, shuffling around in their sleeping bags.

But after a few minutes, as Cage looked at each of us with those piercing eyes, a complete silence fell upon the group.

Cage was delighted. The silence was deafening. Suddenly -- far off in the distance -- the very faint sound of an airplane ...

"Now, that's music!" Cage smiled -- a real smile, his eyes wide and gleaming with complete joyous satisfaction.

Krzysztof Kiešlowski: Three Colors Trilogy

Krzysztof Kiešlowski was born in Warsaw, Poland on June 27, 1941. After two attempts and two rejections, he was finally admitted to the Łódź Film School on his third try. His first major success came in 1989, when he made the stunningly brilliant  Dekalog, a series of ten films made for Polish television – each film a cinematic comment on the Ten Commandments. 

The next year, he formed a partnership with the Romanian producer Marin Karmitz, with whom he made his last four magnificent films. 

The Double Life of Véronique (1990) was a success, and Kiešlowski immediately began planning his final three films -- the trilogy, Three Colors. All three films are scored by Zbigniew Preisner, but Kiešlowski used a different cinematographer for each film. 
 
It is important to watch these three films in the correct order (as in the French flag) -- otherwise one will miss important segues and sequences (and spoilers!) which will lessen the impact of these three films – perhaps the most brilliant trilogy of 20th-century filmmaking.

Blue (1993) 

The first shot in Blue is a rush of high-speed traffic, filmed from the bottom of a car, at wheel level. One immediately notices how the color blue is reflecting off every surface, and indeed the color will permeate the film, obsessively built into its fabric, as a matter of design. (On my Criterion Blog review, I detail all the spots throughout the film where blue is prominent.) 
 
We are in Paris. Juliette Binoche is Julie Vignon, her husband is Patrice de Courcy (Hugues Quester), a well-respected composer tasked with writing a grand cantata to celebrate the unification of Europe, aka the newly-founded European Union. 

Other important characters are Olivier (Benoit Régent), Sandrine (Florence Pernel), and Lucille – a prostitute – played by Charlotte Véry. 

The music composed by de Courcy (Preisner) is tonal, with a chorus singing the text of 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (“Love is patient”) in Greek. (Greek chorus?) Kiešlowski uses many close-ups of the actual manuscript paper, panning the written notes as the score plays. 

Look for an extreme-close-up (ECU) of a sugar cube turning brown as it’s dipped into some coffee! 

White (1994) 

A new cinematographer is on board to capture the frozen white tundra of post-Soviet Poland – Edward Klosinski -- in this anti-comedy or anti-love story ... 

A suitcase clunks along an airport conveyor belt, under the opening credits: Cut to Karol Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski)’s feet. He slows down and stops next to two pairs of feet. The camera pans up and we see his face, confused. He starts to walk again – the attentive viewer will notice that the other feet belong to a couple, kissing. We are still in Paris. 

We meet Karol’s French wife, Dominique (Julie Delpy), and later, when Karol is in the Metro playing an old Polish song on comb-and-paper, he meets a fellow Pole, Mikołaj (Janusz Gajos). 
 
The film then moves to Warsaw, as Karol finds himself in a bleak, desolate landscape – a garbage dump. His first words speak volumes: 

“Jesus, home at last” 

The filmmaker drags us along on a strange, but exciting adventure which can only end one way. He leaves the viewer hanging a bit, as it is necessary to see Red to find out how things ultimately resolve … 

Red (1994) 

A third cinematographer – Piotr Sobocinski … 

The opening scene completes Kiešlowski’s subterranean triplet (in Blue, under a car, in White, underground conveyor belt, and here, underground telephone lines). In a tour-de-force montage, the filmmaker takes us on a breathtaking voyage from telephone to telephone. (Pre-cell phone) … 

We are in Geneva now, and Irène Jacob is Valentine, a model. She accidentally hits a dog with her car, and tracks down the owner – a retired judge, Joseph Kern (a magnificent Jean-Louis Trintignant). 
 
Valentine: “Excuse me … the door was open. I’m sorry, I think I ran over your dog. Rita. A German Shepherd.
Judge Kern: [displaying little interest]: “It’s possible. She disappeared yesterday.” 
Valentine: “She’s in my car. Alive. I don’t know what to do.” [no response from the Judge] … “Would you like me to take her to a vet?” 
Judge [still displaying no interest]: “As you wish.” 
Valentine: “If I ran over your daughter, would you react the same way?” 
Judge [displaying no emotion]: “I don’t have a daughter, miss.” 

A deeply thought-out cinematic reverie on life, love, relationships, emotions, consequences, Kiešlowski pulls out all the stops, using his polished technique to film scenes taking place in physically distinct spaces by using crane shots, and thrilling pans and push-ins. The technique never shows, however, as the director always keeps the story – particularly the interior aspects of the characters’ lives and actions – at the forefront.

Berio's "Sinfonia" [by Lewis Saul]

One day during my short stint at Juilliard, the composer Milton Babbitt came as a guest lecturer in one of my composition classes.

Mr. Babbitt gave us a nice lecture on 20th century music and how serial music (12-tone) was here to stay and it shouldn't be "our" problem if people don't enjoy it or "understand" how to react to it...

I recall that my friends and I were horrified at such elitism. Although I had learned a great deal of serial technique my senior year in high school at IAA, my own inclination led me to reason that music should always sound interesting and should completely engage an audience. Certainly, we all toyed around with trying to write "interesting" 12-tone music.

And then one day ...

**

I heard this piece. Actually, Berio was one of my professors, but alas, I had only one session with him and he barely spoke three words to me (he was still working on the Fifth Movement, which not completed at the premiere). I was only at Juilliard for 14 days before I was nearly killed by a drunk driver . . .The piece with the just-completed Fifth Movement was premiered eight days before my accident.

If you have been reading my previous posts, you will recall that I had the honor of performing Mahler's Second Symphony at IAA. So naturally, this piece had an extra added meaning for me:

**

Allen B. Ruch has written such a wonderful description of this piece ~ I could not do better. I hope you will read it.

Because the oversized score is so huge, it will not fit nicely into my scanner, I can only provide the first page (above).

Take a look at what the Swingle Swingers are singing! Just varied vowel-sounds -- pppp -- which quickly morphs into a frenetic text by the French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss from Le cru et le cuit ("The Raw and the Cooked").

By the way, Berio (may he rest in peace) could be a real asshole:

"[Y]ou know that Berio used The Raw and the Cooked in his Sinfonia. A part of the text is recited, accompanied by the music. I admit that I did not grasp the reason for this choice. During an interview a musicologist asked me about it, and I answered that the book had just come out and the composer had probably used it because it was at hand. Now, a few months ago Berio, whom I don't know, sent me a very disgrunted letter. He had read the interview, several years after the fact, and assured me that the movement of this symphony offered the musical counterpart of the mythical transformation I was revealing. He included a book by a musicologist ... who had demonstrated the fact. I apologized for the misunderstanding, which was, I said, the result of my lack of musical training, but I'm still baffled." (Wikipedia article)

The Second Movement's text is simply a name, broken down into its tiniest components of vowel/consonant-sounds: MARTIN LUTHER KING. 

The Third Movement is perhaps the reason why this piece achieved such universal acclaim. Berio did something so unique and interesting that it would be impossible not to simply sit back and admire it:

He re-orchestrates the Third Movement of Mahler'a 2nd Symphony (the Resurrection) in his own style -- although it is clearly distinguishable amidst the sometimes cacophonous explosion of sound and fury which is layered in and around the Mahler quote.

In addition to the Mahler symphony, Berio has inserted "quotes" (reorchestrated and carefully and cleverly inserted into the flow). Here's the complete list:

• Schoenberg's Five Pieces for Orchestra, fourth movement (violent opening scale played by the brass)
• A brief quotation of Mahler's Symphony No. 4 (Mahler) just before.....
• Mahler's Resurrection Symphony, third movement (the only quotation that is ongoing)
• Ravel's Daphnis et Chloé, flute solo from the Pantomime
• Berlioz's idée fixe from the Symphonie Fantastique (played by the clarinets)
• Ravel's La Valse (orchestra plays octave motif with piccolo playing a chromatic scale)
• Stravinsky's Le Sacre du Printemps (the "Dance of the Earth" sequence at the end of the first tableux)
• Stravinsky's Agon (upper oboe part from the "Double pas de quatre")
• Richard Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier (one of the waltzes composed for the opera)
• a chorale by Johann Sebastian Bach
• Alban Berg's Wozzeck (the drowning scene late in the third act)
• Beethoven's Pastorale Symphony, second movement (melody stated with the clarinets)
• (Schoenberg segment quoted again)
• Debussy's La Mer, second movement "Jeux de vagues"
• Boulez's Pli Selon Pli, very first chord of the entire piece from the first movement ("Don")
• Karlheinz Stockhausen's Gruppen for three orchestras (during the introductions of the vocalists near the end)

***

The eight vocalists are not soloists! They are meant to be integrated into the mix as Berio says: "a vocal group among instrumental groups" (score).

The Fourth (and later Fifth) are meant to be sort of codas to the earlier movements. They quote previous material, including bits of the First Movement and the whole-tone feel of the Second Movement.

***###

I am completely baffled as to why there is not a CD of the premiere recording, with Berio conducting the NY Phil. It is still available on vinyl (used).

I own every CD available of this piece. None compare to Berio's premiere, which I consider to be a major artistic tragedy. These two are pretty good, although I am astonished that Boulez failed to follow Berio's instructions regarding microphones and mixing. Much of the textual (and occasionally musical) details are either buried deep in this mix, barely audible, or missing entirely.

I actually attended a performance by this orchestra with Boulez conducting in Paris in 1972. It suffered from the same type of problems.

Boulez/Swingle Singers/Orchestre National de France
Eötvös/Göteborgs Symphony

Eötvös, on the other hand, gives a unique interp which is unusually intimate. Quite different from the Berio, but much more thoughtful than the Boulez...

**

Thank you, David Lehman, for giving me the opportunity to share these musical passions of mine. I enjoyed sharing my ideas and I hope some of you enjoyed some part of it.

Thank you and I wish it would rain already.

Lewis Saul

Ed. note: from the archive; first posted on July 16, 2010, as the seventh in a series in honor of the seven orchestral pieces the author vows to love forever. 

The Complete Works of Frank Zappa -- an American composer (1940-1993) (Part 7) [by Lewis R. Saul]

RELEASES #81-94 (2007-2012) 

81. The Dub Room Special! (CD, Zappa Records ZR 20006, August 24, 2007)

This is the soundtrack for a television program FZ put together in 1974 called "A Token of His Extreme." This planned show was released on DVD for the first time only recently.

However, the basic television broadcast was actually one of the very first video projects released by FZ's home label, Honker Home Video, and was entitled "The Dub Room Special." It featured FZ in a video mixing room (wearing the bizarre "stereo" helmet seen on the cover!) and moving between clips of the '74 band at KCET and the '81 band (Palladium, NYC, Halloween '81).

As stated above (#20), comparing the "Inca Roads" here with what ended up on the album is both instructive and awesome...

82. Wazoo (2CD, Vaulternative VR 2007-2, October 31, 2007)

A special document of an underappreciated and very much under-represented-by-recordings era.

FZ introduces the band:

... [Well, here we are in Boston, ladies and gentlemen. Just to fill you in on some of the zaniness that took place earlier this] ... afternoon. In the process of examining the stage to make sure that it was fit for human consumption, these large objects over here on the side with the horns on top of 'em—you know those speakers there?—they fell over backwards and completely mangled Jay Migliori's woodwind instruments. So Mr. Migliori is at a certain disadvantage this evening. We just thought we'd let you know. Fortunately, Mr. Migliori was not sitting there when the cabinets went down, so that part's okay.

Well, now that we got that over with, I'd like to introduce the rest of the lads in the band—and the ladies in the band—to all of you here.

Let's start up in the top, with trumpet number one, Malcolm McNab. And the indispensible Salvator Marquez. And on pygmy trumpet and tuba, Tom Malone. And Bruce Fowler on trombone. And Glenn "hands up, face to the wall" Ferris on trombone. And Kenny "always jovial" Shroyer on trombone. And Ruth "also jovial" Underwood on marimba. That's a jovial little marimba. And Tom "with one smashed hand" Raney on congas.

And, over here in the wind section, you already know Jay. Play something, Jay. That one works. And Mike Altschul. Ray "The Phantom" Reed. Charles "up and down" Owens. Joann Caldwell McNab. Earle Dumler. Wait, wait. Try that one again. Can you hear him? That's a little bit better, yeah. Just a minute now. Jerry Kessler on cello. Ian Underwood on keyboards, et cetera. Jim Gordon on drums. Dave Parlato on bass. And Tony Duran on slide guitar.

The Complete Works of Frank Zappa -- an American composer (1940-1993) (Part 6) [by Lewis R. Saul]

RELEASES #68-81 (1998-2007) 

68. Mystery Disc (CD, Rykodisc RCD 10580, September 15, 1998)

All of this material was previously released on the two discs which accompanied the re-released materials on the first two Old Masters boxes (#43 and #46).

Like #64, this disc is filled with nostalgic gems from the early days.

Discs like these are certainly not for those new to Zappa.

But once you have (burp) digested much the material that forms the corpus of Frank's work ... you tend to start feeling hungry for these sort of bizarre nuggets. For example, "I Was a Teen-age Malt Shop" features FZ on piano.

The disc proceeds more or less chronologically. Several tracks from the Albert Hall show are here (#61). Things get zanier until coming to a tentative conclusion with "Harmonica Fun."

69. Everything Is Healing Nicely (CD, Barking Pumpkin UMRK 03, December 21, 1999)

Essentially a kind of documentary companion to The Yellow Shark (#62), this disc certainly contains no "Valdez" masterpiece or the like.

Instead, it is a collection of rehearsals, improvisations and bits that didn't make it onto Shark. Having stated that, this is actually a fine release with some, er, unusual works ("Master Ringo," "Wonderful Tattoo!") and pieces like "This is a Test," a short piece originally titled "Igor" which FZ had printed off the Synclavier and given to the EM as a sightreading test! Interesting that at times it sounds more like Milhaud than Stravinsky...

Using the same conducting technique he used to employ with the original Mothers (hand signals indicated predetermined musical phrases, motifs, or cells; or noises of all types, etc.), "Jolly Good Fellow" (4:34) sounds like a written-out composition. Ali Askin:

"... It looked as though Frank was playing the Ensemble like an instrument."

"Library Card" (7:42) -- the first track on this release:

Todd Yvega (Frank's Synclavier assistant):

" ... Frank assigned several musicians to improvise spoken interaction. The pianist, Hermann Kretzschmar, whipped out his library card to use as a text. The distinctive timbre of his voice, the German accent, and the humorous pace of his delivery obviously struck Frank as a vehicle to be developed and utilized."

Continuing with the same sort of idea, but this time reading from something a little heavier than his library card (the piercing magazine, PFIQ), Hermann has the EM (and FZ) in stitches with his readings in "Master Ringo" and "Wonderful Tattoo!" Warning: not for the faint of heart -- but it's also funny as hell!

"T'Mershi Duween" (2:30) is also found on #52 and #56 -- all three excellent renditions!

"Nap Time" (8:03) might just be that one unique track in the entire FZ catalog which defies description. It is unlike anything else in his catalog!

Michael Svoboda is on alphorn / Rumi Ogawa-Helferich is on slide whistle and vocals / Rainer Römer and Andreas Böttger, percussion. Translation from the barely perceptible Japanese is here.

"9/8 Objects" (3:06) was recorded in July '91, Frank's house, when the EM were visiting and L. Shankar happened to be about. Awesome music here.

"Naked City" (8:42). Yvega:

" ... The guitar motifs were written in advance as was the primary motif played by the orchestra. The rest, including improvisations, were directed and improvised under FZ's baton."

"Whitey (Prototype)" (1:12) is mainly interesting as a comparison with the final version on Shark.

"Amnerika Goes Home" (3:00) -- an astonishing take from one of the Yellow Shark performances. Compare this to the Synclavier version on #63 and all the little details the EM gets right.

"None of the Above (Revised & Previsited)" (8:38) is a much longer version than the one on Yellow Shark and uses additional EM players -- mainly percussion -- in several sections.

... everything is healing nicely ...

70. FZ:OZ (2CD, Vaulternative VR 2002-1, August 16, 2002)

Australia!

As Gail got the posthumous industry going into full gear, she and Joe Travers began raiding the Raiders-of-the-Lost-Ark type UMRK vault for nuggets of enjoyment -- and in this case came up with a very special live concert that even the hard-core "tape traders" were ecstatic to see released!

To begin with, this '76 band is poorly represented in the catalog in general -- here it is only five pieces -- but they are very tight. Roy Estrada is consistently good throughout, with the young new Bozzio keeping a constantly moving groove.

"Stink-Foot" (6:35) is a perfect example of what a shame it is to have so few recordings from this particular band. They support Zappa beautifully (particularly Bozzio) as he sculpts one of his more interesting solos here.

The Complete Works of Frank Zappa -- an American composer (1940-1993) (Part 5) [by Lewis R. Saul]

RELEASES #54-67 (1989-1997) 

54. You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore Vol. 3 (2CD, Rykodisc RCD 10085/86, November 13, 1989)

25 Tracks

Five previously unreleased tracks ("Ride My Face to Chicago," "Carol You Fool," "Chana in da Bushwop," "Hands with a Hammer," and "Nig Biz").

One dramatically different arrangement of previously released tracks: ("Bamboozled by Love").

Six years covered: '71, '73, '76, '81, '82, and '84.

55. The Best Band You Never Heard In Your Life (2CD, Barking Pumpkin D2 74233, April 16, 1991)

 Newer cover by Schenkel.

Twenty-eight tracks of '88 documentation.

Things really get going after an electrifying "Zomby Woof" segues into Ravel's "Bolero" (except on European CDs, due to copyright issues) ... and the band finishes off the first disc with some wonderful new versions of old favorites: "Zoot Allures," and "Mr. Green Genes" followed by a fantastic three-piece OSFA suite: "Florentine Pogen," "Andy," and "Inca Roads," and wrapped up with a beautiful version of "Sofa No. 1."

Disc Two is quite shifty -- Hendrix and Cream covers ("Purple Haze" and "Sunshine of Your Love") followed by an energetic "Let's Move to Cleveland," with most of the remainder of the disc being a Jimmy Swaggart suite, of sorts ... "Lonesome Cowboy Burt":

My name is Swaggart
I am an asshole ...

"Trouble Every Day," fresh and invigorating, as Zappa and Ike Willis seem to be improvising the lyrics:

Wednesday I watched Jimmy Swaggart 
Watched him weepin' all over the place 
An' I watched him weepin' an' weepin' an' weepin' 
And that shit rollin' down his face 
(Oh . . . I sinned!) 
An' then I watched him weep some more 
An' he kept on weepin' again 
(Oh, forgive me, Assembly O' God!) 
And they smacked him on his little hand 
And he went out makin' more money 
UH-OH!

and "Penguin in Bondage":

You know it must be a Penguin bound down
When you hear that terrible weepin' and there ain't no other
Evangelist around

all get special treatment in honor of the infamous televangelist's sexual escapades and subsequent teary apology.

Finishing with yet another cover, the band belts out the Zep tune, "Stairway to Heaven" with real zest and energy. 

56. Make A Jazz Noise Here (2CD, Barking Pumpkin D2 74234, June 4, 1991)

The title comes from an actual line Zappa says during "Big Swifty." As the head winds down in anticipation of the solos, Ike Willis makes an "ooowwww" type of noise -- FZ gets the audience to sing along -- and at the exact moment when the last note of the opening melody is being held, he says:

Make a jazz noise here ... 

This double-CD set -- the final document of the '88 band -- is an impressive release of mostly instrumental charts.

And the 12 musicians in this band make it seem like a walk in the park.

After a slinky guitar solo on "Stinkfoot," Zappa proceeds to politely embarrass Ed Mann.

"When Yuppies Go To Hell" (13:28) is a fascinating piece, stitched together from seven different performances. Before you know it, the sampled vocal "goin' to hell" is being repeated over and over, leading to a Walt Fowler trumpet solo in five which melts into a Synclavier/drum duet (Wackerman never sounded better). Bruce Fowler joins in, leading to another complete breakdown with bizarre synth noises ("make one here!") ... long improvised section with a few quasi-magical moments -- frankly, a few moments of excessive bullshit -- but those things happened, and Frank documented them -- with glee!