I must be the only person in the world who can’t stand Siamese Dream.
I picked up Gish on a whim, after seeing a 30-second interview of Smashing Pumpkins on MTV way back in 1991. It was a Sunday, and I was at my library circulation job. Freshman year of college.
I listened to the album every morning on my 45-minute bus commute to school. Jimmy Chamberlain’s drumming, the dual guitar attack of James Iha and Billy Corgan, the rumbling bass of D’Arcy — there was a chemistry on that magnetic strip, and it telegraphed through the earphones into my head. (This was back when a Walkman was a portable cassette player.)
And the songwriting was damn smart — decrescendos, texture changes, time signature changes, accelerandos. These techniques weren’t just thrown into a song just to show off (hello, Sting.) They were carefully planned, almost painstakingly composed.
The bass solo on “I Am One”, the quiet breaks on “Siva”, the meter shift on “Suffer”, the build up on “Window Pane” — it felt organic but deliberate.
Here was a debut album that seemed to portend great things for Smashing Pumpkins.
And great things did happen for the band. And Billy Corgan got full of himself.
For the band’s stature at the time — which was a blip compared to the early rumblings of Soundgarden and pre-Nevermind Nirvana — Gish was an incredibly accomplished album made on what was obviously a budget.
Corgan had to work his way to the opulence that could afford Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and Adore. But even on this most earliest of works, the band’s ambitions were brimming.
And I like it better than anything the Pumpkins did after. Those early constraints forced Corgan to keep the ambition in check and to focus on making the songs as strong as they could be without the expanse they couldn’t afford.
Then Smashing Pumpkins became the beacon of rock music for most of the ’90s, and Corgan could afford to think bigger than the last thing he produced. Bigger, though, isn’t necessarily smarter.
By the time Smashing Pumpkins came full circle with Machina/The machines of God — returning to the leaner writing of Gish — it was too late. Smashing Pumpkins’ music got crushed under the weight of its own overdubs.
Which is why Siamese Dream was a let-down for me after years of listening to Gish. It was bloated and sluggish, one mid-tempo song after another, lacking the drive or fire of its predecessor.
I have a mental list of artists who recorded terrific debuts, only to find success with subsequent, lesser albums. Sinéad O’Connor and Sarah McLachlan are on that list.
So too are Smashing Pumpkins, a band that set a high bar for itself at the outset, except no one was around to know it at the time.
When a recording of Gregorian chant by the Benedectine Monks of Santo Domingo went multi-platinum in the early ’90s, nobody could figure out what spurred the public to buy the disc in droves.
Press pundits wanted to pin the success of the monks on some sort of spirituality resurgence, although others mumbled something or other about the influence of Michael Cretu, who mixed Gregorian chant with hip-hop beats on his first album as Enigma.
It was the second most interesting classical music story of that era.
Although not given as much scrutiny, a Nonesuch recording of Henryk Gorecki’s Symphony No. 3 managed to peak at no. 6 on the UK charts in 1993.
Not only was it a classical recording — with no overtures for crossover gimmickry — it was a recording of a modern work. That’s like seeing the Sun City Girls lodged on the Hot 100 Singles Chart alongside Britney Spears.
But Gorecki’s Symphony No. 3 doesn’t sound like (what’s often perceived as) a 20th Century classical work. It’s tonal, not at all thorny and inscrutible like, say, Arnold Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire.
In fact, the framing canons which makes up most of the symphony’s 26-minute first movement is reminiscent of Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, a piece made famous in the film Platoon.
Then there’s soprano Dawn Upshaw, a singer whose strong, clear voice elevates just about everything it tackles. On this work, Upshaw’s performance telegraphs the work’s subtitle — “Symphony of Sorrowful Songs”.
The thick texture of the symphony, with its slow, pulsing rhythm, feels timeless. There’s a tonal root to the work but also a sense of dischord, as if Gorecki has reached into the distant past while keeping firmly planted in the present. Much like Arvo Part.
Scored only for strings, prepared piano and voice, Gorecki’s third symphony uses a minimal amount of material, but it’s not a minimalist work. Economic, yes, but minimalistic, no.
It’s that economy which gives the work such directness. Non-classical listeners would find the symphony easy to digest, but it’s by no means simplistic.
Gorecki has moved on stylistically since composing his third symphony in 1976. His more recent works incorporate more Polish folk references, juxtaposed with far more thornier textures.
But it’s this recording that put Gorecki, a late-comer to the field of composition, on the map, and it’s a work that deserves the success it earned.
Love Psychedelico will release a “concept best album” on Feb. 9, 2005. Following the theme consistent with the band’s three albums — “Love and Peace” — the duo hand-picked the track selection to include such songs as “Lady Madonna ~Yuutsu Naru Spider~”, “Your Song”, “Last Smile”, “Free World” and “Everybody needs somebody”. Love Psychedelico’s new single, “fantastic world”, will also be included among the album’s 15 tracks.
I’m not sure what spurred me to seek out Krzysztof Penderecki’s Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima one night during a shift at the record store where I work.
The only recording I owned of the piece was on a set of cassette tapes that accompanied one of my college textbooks, and they were long since lost. But I’ve always liked Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima, and for some reason, I had a jones to listen to it.
It’s an incredible work, if only for the simple fact that it transforms 52 stringed instruments to sound completely alien.
At first, Penderecki was about to title the piece 8’57”, in the same manner as John Cage’s 4’33”. But the emotional content of the work was too apparent to relegate to a series of digits, as the composer explained.
Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima employs a compositional technique called “sonorism”, where the timbre of an instrument determines the course of a work before all else.
With Threnody, Penderecki makes the string musicians play on parts of the instrument to create percussive effects, in essence turning the string orchestra into a percussion ensemble.
He also employs a mix of techniques to give the piece a sense of randomness without losing an overall sense of direction. There’s even an intricate canon midway through that feels a lot more orderly than it sounds.
It’s a thrilling piece, chaotic but structured, grotesque but beautiful.
The only recording of the Threnody available in the store that night was on a Naxos disc titled Orchestral Works, Vol. 1.
Penderecki’s Symphony No. 3, the opening work on the album, finds the composer embracing more traditional influences, although eschewing any post-Romantic leanings.
Emotionally charged, the Symphony No. 3 manages to retain the brash qualities of the Threnody with a more mature perspective on harmony and structure. It’s a more palettable style, but it’s not as stimulating as the sonorist works.
Orchestra Works, Vol. 1 is rounded out by Flourescences for orchestra and De natura sonoris II, pieces which find Penderecki expanding the sonic capabilities of the orchestra.
Flourescences for orchestra shows an obvious nod to Edgar Varese in its incorporation of a warning siren as an instrument. The clacking of a typewriter provides a percussive break at one point.
But the real centerpiece of the disc is the Threnody, a high-minded piece that turns out to pack an emotion punch. Strings have never sounded like that before.
Quruli’s year-end concert on Dec. 28 at Nakano Sampler has a special guest — Cocco. The concert, dubbed “Quruli, Umi e Kaeru”, finds singer-guitarist Kishida Shigeru and bassist Satoo Seiji joined by drummer Dai Taroo (FEED), guitarist Hirohisa Horie (Neil & Irizia) and Cocco performing under the name Singer Songer. Cocco’s collaboration with Kishida on a remake of her song “Sing a Song ~No Music, No Life” made way for the new band. Tickets for the concert go on sale Dec. 11.
I could start off with all the reasons I’ve come to prefer George Szell’s recordings of Ludwig Van Beethoven’s symphonies, but I’ll give the real reason instead.
They were cheap.
Back in my music student days, building a classical music library was essential, but it was an expensive endeavor on a student income.
Sony Classical, in an attempt to play on the same field as budget label Naxos, priced each disc in the Szell cycle of Beethoven symphonies for $7.99. I wasn’t picky enough to choose between an $8 Szell recording and, say, a $16 Leonard Bernstein recording.
At one point in my life, I actually owned two copies of Beethoven’s Fifth — the other with Lorin Maazel conducting the New York Philharmonic. I sold it when I needed some on-hand cash and stuck with Szell.
From most accounts, Szell was a bastard. He rode the Cleveland Orchestra hard, and if memories of my high school band teacher are any point of reference, that kind of dictatorial approach unites an ensemble to spite its leader.
What results is perhaps some of the most jacked up readings of Beethoven around.
The Fifth Symphony — with the four most recognizable notes in classical music (and perhaps the only four notes most people will have heard in their lifetime) — takes on a manic energy under the baton of Szell.
He and the Cleveland Orchestra pretty much barrel through that first movement with the urgency of people all ready to get into each other’s shit.
However much the first movement of the Fifth Symphony has seeped into the cultural subconscious, it’s the other three movements that are dear to me. (Maybe it’s because those first four notes are so instantly recognizable.)
Beethoven, breaking free of Franz Josef Haydn’s influence, opts for theme and variation instead of sonata or rondo form in the second movement. And the segue between the last two movements? Any number of superlatives can be substituted here.
But the way Beethoven returns to that rhythmic motif — short-short-short-long — in all the movements of the Fifth is what sells me on the piece. The first movement doesn’t exist in a vacuum — it provides material threading all 30 minutes of the work.
Sony Classical, of course, doesn’t let a buyer off so easily. Each of Beethoven’s “popular” symphonies — nos. 3, 5, 6, 7 — are paired with a work of less critical esteem.
On this recording, the Fifth is paired with Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2, a work still beholden to the influence of Haydn. Back when I was a student, I was thankful for this approach — I managed to get a complete cycle of Beethoven for a cheap price, and I can’t play favorites with any one disc.
I’d recommend getting Szell’s complete cycle, but if you have to start anywhere, start with the work that’s perhaps the most ubiquitous.
For the first three months of 2005, Remioromen has three new releases lined up. On Jan. 12, the band releases “Moratorium”, its first new single in 8 months. Another single, titled “Minamikaze”, follows at the beginning of February, and the band’s second album rounds out the trio of new material in March. In 2004, Remioromen embarked on a nationwide tour and performed at a number of music festivals, giving the band momentum to rush its new releases in early 2005.
Spitz releases its 11th album, titled Souvenir, on Jan. 12. The album will be the first collection of new material since Mikatzuki Rock, which came out more than two years ago. The band once again worked with producer Seiji Kameda, bassist for Shiina Ringo’s band Tokyo Jihen. In March 2004, Spitz released Iroirogoromi, a collection of previously released and rare material.
Rap-metal band RIZE ends a five-month hiatus with a performance on Dec. 9. Each member of the group wrote messages on the band’s web site regarding what they called a “time out”. RIZE performs at Shibuya O-West as part of the “Peace Vol. 3” showcase.
Hem fans faced a real conundrum when the group released its debut album Rabbit Songs in 2002.
The album’s gorgeously lush sound was so entrancing, it made a listener crave more. But Rabbit Songs was the only work available at the time, which meant a second album would be highly anticipated.
After an unproductive stint with Dreamworks in 2003, Hem is back with an independent label for its second album, Eveningland.
Ah, the second album, the dreaded sophomore slump.
It’s a matter of personal taste whether Hem falls into it with Eveningland, because on the surface, the band offers up the same lush sound it did on its debut.
No matter how full the string orchestra gets, Hem’s songs retain an intimate feel.
Sally Ellyson’s quiet delivery brings her a lot closer to Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Timmins in style, but Ellyson can emote when the music reaches a peak.
In fact, “Redwing” reaches a brisk tempo, making it Hem’s most extroverted song.
This time around, the band casts a wider net when exploring America’s folk music. “Strays” is a gospel hymn, complete with four-part harmony. The simple melody of “Hollow” feels like a timeless mountain lullaby, while “Lucky” and “An Easy One” are both country weepers.
Steven Curtis’ backing vocals offer a nice constrast to Ellyson and gives these songs an added push.
Dan Messé’s pulsing piano from Rabbit Songs (see “Half Acre”) is missing on Eveningland, which is something I wished to hear again.
The band also scaled back the arrangements a bit, putting the strings and woodwinds further in the background. They still weave in and out of the album’s songs, but it doesn’t seem as intertwined as the previous album.
The mastering of the album also seems a bit dull.
But those criticisms are incredibly nit-picky and in no way reflect on the quality of music Hem offers up this time around.
Eveningland is just as beautiful as Rabbit Songs, and it’s nice to indulge in Hem’s sound with a new set of songs.