Johnny Cash: Songwriter review -- a new release of a "lost" album

Best as I can figure the date, I saw Johnny Cash in 1978. Or was it 1976? I was 10, if I wasn't 8; my parents brought me along with them to see him at the Pacific Coliseum. It is possible that Charley Pride opened? (I saw Pride, too, around that time, but it might have been a separate show). I'm glad to have seen that one, too. I still have some fondness for "Is Anybody Goin' to San Antone," Pride's 1970 hit, which is derivative -- I think -- of "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," from 1969, in the time-honoured pop tradition of repeating the formula of last year's hits, but is still pretty great. 

There is not much I remember from back then; I was a little kid, and these are the first two concerts I went to (a school trip to a Rolf Harris show notwithstanding). I have no memories of Pride at all, other than maybe asking, "Daddy, why is a black man singing white people music?" (Did Pride crack his "permanent suntan" line? Maybe! I have a vague sense of a bit of stage patter addressing matters of race). Cash, as I recall, did a small-band set, then some sort of  "Carter-Family-related" set with gospel tunes led by June Carter, which annoyed my father (he just wanted Johnny and, as I recall, disapproved slightly of Cash's relationship with June Carter; I did not care either way, and recall that I thought it was neat that Cash was bringing his wife out to do some songs! Did all musicians do this?). Then Johnny re-joined June Carter onstage, and I believe returned to Johnny Cash tunes with the bigger band to close the night. I remember, as a 10 year old, appreciating "A Boy Named Sue," which I'd never heard before (like everything else in the set; we didn't have any Johnny Cash records or tapes around the house). That song was perfect for kids (and probably my first exposure to Shel Silverstein's songwriting, to boot). I vaguely remember "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" from the Carter set. Not much else, but it's cool to have been in the room, to know that I was first exposed to Johnny Cash by seeing him in concert. There is a photo from the 1978 show here (and a few similar photos from Bev from a 1985 show, here). 

I didn't spend much time with Johnny Cash after that, however. Wasn't big into him during my hardcore years, y'know? Though I had plenty of opportunity: if you buy records in thrift stores, you encounter a lot of his 1970s and 1980s material. Cash was a big enough star that things came out in fairly large runs, but being the sorts of things "the average consumer" consumed, they ended up donated in droves, later. They're not quite as common as, say, Rita Coolidge albums from the same time period (or, say, later Elvis ones), and maybe slightly more common than Kris Kristofferson ones -- when was the last time you saw Jesus Was a Capricorn when thrifting? -- but you can tell that thrifters are not falling all over themselves to scoop records from this period up. Which means - as with Kris - you can find some good ones on the cheap now and then. Of things I learned of by thrifting, I am particularly partial to the song "The Walls of a Prison," which I know as part of this Columbia compilation, repackaging songs from his previous few albums; the song seems to have originally appeared two years previously on From Sea to Shining Sea (from 1968), which I otherwise don't know (what is "The Whirl and the Suck?" Sounds like an oral sex technique, maybe to be paired with "The Dirty Ol' Egg Suckin' Dog").  

I digress. The point is, I have heard a few of Cash's albums between 1970 and 1994, when the first Rick Rubin recording came out. but I have not investigated every one. I am not even tempted by his "two star" Christmas record (from 1991), for instance, which was the release that immediately preceded the first Rubin and maybe a clear indication that his star was not high at that point. His previous album from 1990, The Mystery of Life, sounds okay, I guess -- "Beans for Breakfast" has a bit of the twang of his vintage style. And before that, Boom Chicka Boom gets a decent review. But I would be unsurprised to find florid instrumentation on any random buys from this period, or conventional, polished, commercial country music. Maybe I'm learning from scrolling through these that the Mercury material might be a bit truer to the original sound of Cash. But then there is also 1984's "The Chicken in Black," which does have his signature twang, but overall is still an embarrassment, Cash opting for self-parody when he apparently had run out of any other ideas. If you haven't seen that video... take a minute! 

I have neither the time or the inclination to amend my ways, here. Mostly I am quite happy to satisfy my Johnny Cash needs with the Rick Rubin albums. Rubin understood that the way to make Cash relevant was to sweep away 75% of the instrumentation, ixnay that mainstream country sound, and make Cash minimal and stark and straight-up, in a way not even the prison albums were. American Recordings is a truly great record, and I enjoy The Man Comes Around, A Hundred Highways, and Ain't No Grave, in particular, of his other "American" recordings. Along with his classic prison recordings, The Walls of a Prison, and some early hit compilations, the Rubins make for more than enough Johnny Cash for this semi-fan's collection.  

But hmm, what's this on the wall at Red Cat? Newly released recordings of Johnny Cash, showcasing songs he wrote on his own, and recorded as songwriting demos, in 1993, when Cash was between labels and had not begun working with Rick Rubin? Quick examination shows it features versions of "Drive On" and "Like a Soldier" -- both of which would re-appear on American Recordings, here and here --  but I'm less interested when I learn that this wasn't the original music recorded back in 1993. Apparently when these sessions were re-discovered it was decided to strip them down and record new backing tracks (saith Wiki). Why? I'd be very interested to hear what Cash's demos from 1993 for these two songs in particular sounded like, pre-Rubin; the appeal is the "before and after" aspect, the historical value. Hearing them re-packaged now with new musicians gives me pause, since it seems to prioritize "selling a new Johnny Cash record" over any archival considerations (maybe I've been spending too much time with Mr. Archive himself, Neil Young, who is carrying the archival torch almost as far as the Zappa Family Trust).  

Must note that I'm grateful to Ford Pier, for letting me know what to expect here, saving me from a blind buy; I investigated the songs on Youtube before committing, and recommend you do the same, because even if you love the Rick Rubin years... this is not what that is, black-and-white cover pic be damned.

That's not to say there isn't interesting material. Prior to investigating this album, I didn't know this Johnny Cash original, and the album's first single, "Well Alright," about connecting with a woman at a laundromat. Actually, it reminds me weirdly of Ford Pier's "Great Western," about a bingo hall romance, though I also cannot but think of Peter Fonda on acid in The Trip, stumbling into a laundromat and interacting with  a woman there about the bizarre technology he has discovered. 

So that's fun. "Well Alright" and "Soldier Boy" are the kind of songs I might enjoy on a thrift-store album, if I chanced upon it, and with the alternate, pre-Rubin songs, might render the album a keeper. But this is a brand new $30 record, not a random thrift store item, and there are other songs that are less exciting to me: "Spotlight," for example, seems like a lesser song that, by way of compensating for its deficiencies, has been overly-coated in strings, an organ, some sorta bongos, and other instruments, which speaks a bit of desperation. To be slightly unkind, this song reminds me of those mediocre curries that result when you realize something is not working, but keep adding spices, trying to arrive at a good taste, but never getting closer than "good enough," whereupon you shrug and eat it, because you've invested far too much time in it already... I've made plenty of those, and eaten plenty of'em, too, and occasionally even serve them to others, but it doesn't mean it's something I want to be known for. The main point of curiosity, given how over-spiced the music is, is, "What did the original 1993 demo version sound like?" I doubt it could have been worse. 

Or, like, "I Love You Tonite"... do I need this album?  

Final verdict/ short answer: No. The stuff that would later become Rick Rubin material is fun to hear in a different realization, and makes me appreciate even more how smart Rubin was in his interventions, and a couple of the tracks are amusing in their own right; Cash was a fine songwriter, but is so well-known as a cover artist that this aspect of his talent gets a bit under-represented. It's definitely a fine idea to put out an album focusing on Cash as a writer, andf it were in the dollar bin at a hospice thrift store, I might buy this album and enjoy it, but... without the original archival music, and just a bit too much shlock slathered on top of some of these songs (not all of which are to the same level), I don't think I'm going to invest on this one. If the slightly overcooked, syrupy music were FROM 1993, were actually recorded at the time...

...actually, I still wouldn't be very excited, I don't think, but I'd be more inclined than I am. Seems a bit of a wasted opportunity, sadly. But make your own call. It's cool that these sessions have been found and released. I'm sure there are bigger Johnny Cash fans out there who will love them. I am happy for them! 

(Thanks also to Mark Prindle for pointing out on FB that this was not the original music -- I'd missed that detail in an early draft of this!). 

Brown Rice twice: Don Cherry's 1975 masterpiece reissued with original Moki Cherry art!

Turns out I'm about to report something that is old news -- a reissue of an album I only just found out about. This is going to be one of those posts where I just meander on about buying a record, note. It's a real good record, though. And what a cover! 

Two years ago, a French label put out a limited edition reissue of Don Cherry's 1975 album Brown Rice with the original gatefold quilt-art cover by Cherry's partner Moki. As I say, it's a marvelous album -- a kind of maximum fusion of Cherry's interests in jazz, improvisation, world music, funk, and pop; I think it's probably his single greatest musical accomplishment.  I'd had this version, with the cover art immediately below, twice before as an import from Italy:

Maybe it also first came out in France or Germany or Sweden that way, I'm not sure, but one thing I know: it didn't come out that way in North America. For some stupid reason, the American edition has this rather boring cover, where I always wonder if the somewhat sour look on Cherry's face is because he is vexed that they aren't using Moki's art:

Having discovered the Italian import, I could never make sense of the choice to distribute it any other way. Even if Moki -- whose work with Don and elsewise is made subject of this lovely book, Blank Forms 06: Organic Music Societies -- were not Cherry's partner and long-time collaborator, there is no wisdom in substituting such a fabulous cover (with a gatefold and much more to see) with such a prosaic one. Maybe it was just a money issue? Maybe the photographer was cheaper than Moki? The answer may be out there somewhere, but I do not know it. 

Weirdly, it's not a unique issue, when it comes to the Don Cherry catalogue. Cherry's somewhat more "neoprimitivist" 1974 LP, The Eternal Now, also had art by Moki when it first came out. It's one of those albums that has elements of Tibetan chant in it, no longer an integral element to Cherry's music by the time of Brown Rice. Starting in the late 50's, he had helped Ornette tear apart everything "western" in jazz, at the forefront of free jazz, and by this point was rebuilding with a (likely?) psychedelically-enhanced interest in other traditions, exploring and experimenting with folk forms, sacred expression, etc. He was leading a suitably bohemian/ free life, too, one gathers. It's terrific stuff, but hasn't quite arrived at its maximum expression, where he harnesses all the influences he's exploring and makes something completely new out of them. 

...anyhow, that was reissued briefly with this dull/ inappropriate cover. There were periods in his career when Cherry dressed onstage like you see below but 1974 was not one of them. The above cover is MUCH more revealing of what the album sounds like; in fact, the Tibet cover is easily the worst album cover associated with Cherry, and I'd feel seriously baited-and-switched if I bought it expecting music in the same vein as you see here (it looks like he's playing Miles-Davis-like cool jazz or something!).

...all of this being why my friend Dan Kibke, the only person I have met who loves the work of Cherry as much as/ more than I do, texted at me quizzically -- the 21st century version of "glanced at me quizzically" -- when I told him earlier today of my Brown Rice upgrade. He is not there yet, he explained, is not bothering with upgrading his non-Moki covers with Moki covers even as they get reissued in their original form. There was more than a hint of questioning why I would bother doing this with Brown Rice, since he knows that I presently do already have the US reissue with the boring cover. I mean, he's okay on having The Eternal Now as Tibet, and he knows that I too am okay having The Eternal Now as Tibet since, actually, he gave me my copy of that (we've passed some Cherry stuff back and forth over the years; he also has my previous European Brown Rice, more on which later). We've both had the chance to buy it in the Moki version of The Eternal Now several times and have not. So why upgrade the one and not the other?

It's a fair question, but on reflection, I realize I have a few answers to offer. The first is that Brown Rice has my second-favourite Moki Cherry cover of all time after Mu part one. Some of her covers I don't really resonate with (The Eternal Now, Organic Music Society, Relativity Suite, Where is Brooklyn? -- she did several!) but Brown Rice and Mu part one are just delightful. Hell, these are among my favourite ALBUM covers of all time, nevermind just favourite Don Cherry album covers. And it doesn't hurt that I've watched my wife make a quilt for our nephew, or that I have some interest in quilting as an unsung art form, something regarded with great respect as a "craft" but not treated, probably because of it being a largely feminine hobby (with functional ends in mind, to boot) as fine art, for the most part (Moki being an obvious exception). 

Also, I have a more interesting history with the Italian version of Brown Rice than I do with most albums out there. I remember where I first found it, at Black Swan in Kits, maybe circa 1996 or so; it's one of the only albums I got from Black Swan -- a store I liked, shopped at often, and still miss -- that I have kept around in some format or other all these years. I knew the music, at that point, but not that Italian cover, and was stunned by how lovely it was. I continued to own that version even after I decided to sell off almost all of my other records when I moved to Japan, in 1999 (I just didn't want to pay to store them, and didn't want having stuff stored here to slow me down if I decided to stay overseas). It was waiting for me when I got back, in 2002... and even when I sold off the remaining fifty or so records I had stashed with my parents, I could not part with my Brown Rice.

....Except that's around when I screwed up at a used book and record store I was working at, sadly. Some predatory shmuck passed a phony $100 in exchange for some crime paperbacks and real bills (as change; that was what he really wanted, the four good twenties he got back on the deal). His bill didn't entirely look right, in fact -- it was one of those "I shoulda known" situations -- but I had no real experience with funny money and didn't want to risk offending a customer, y'know?  Fool me once. Anyhow, I felt enough of a dupe about it that I wanted to eat the loss. Since I couldn't afford to just give the bookstore owner $100, I gave him my copy of Brown Rice, by way of an apology, and he flipped it (as was the plan) for $75 easy dollars, which made all parties feel better: I didn't feel so guilty, he wasn't out so much money, and the guy who got it for $75 obviously knew it was a rare and special thing, even at that price. I'd only paid about $30 for it at Black Swan, which made it hurt a bit less, too, spending (essentially) $30 to cover a $100 fuckup. (It's since sold for as much as $250 CAD, note, so even $75, back when, wasn't THAT a bad price). 

This does not end my history with Brown Rice, however (or $75 records). I was shopping at Zulu Records, a few years later, after I had decided (thanks in so small part to chats with Mats Gustafsson, actually) to re-build my record collection, and had asked one of the employees (the Josh who was not Magneticring Josh) if he could dig up a copy of the Subhumans No Wishes, No Prayers. He did, but (I felt at the time) he screwed me a bit on the price, insisting that he wanted $75 for it. Now, this was about 2007, you understand, around the time the Subhumans were just starting to become active again, so interest in them was high, but you could buy most brand new records for $12.99 or something, not like today. To ask $75 for a used record -- it had better be a real sought-after rarity. In fact,  I had lost an auction on eBay for the same album, a couple of weeks prior, with the final cost being around $35 bucks (US). By comparison, even with exchange and shipping, $75 CAD seemed a lot. 

I mean, that was then. Now it's gotten even worse; I think the last copy I saw of the Subs album, a few months ago on the wall at Red Cat, was $150, or was it $250, either of which probably seemed like a good deal to whoever got it...

...anyhow, I did buy that Subhumans record, but was butthurt about the price; I did consider telling Josh to stuff it, in fact, except, flipping through the used records at Zulu that day, I saw, yes, the Italian Brown Rice, again, FOR A MERE $20. And so the re-acquisition of that softened the blow, which I remarked upon in a ha-ha way to Josh at the till: "Okay, you're overcharging me for THIS record, but this OTHER record, you've priced too low, so I guess it balances out."

PROBLEM: that (Italian) Brown Rice had a couple skips on it! The cover was great, but it was nowhere as listenable as my previous copy. It was still probably worth more than $20... but in that kinda shape, it wasn't exactly a steal. And it's not the sort of album you can tolerate skips in! SO WHO IS THE JOKE ON NOW, Al? 

Hence my giving that copy to Dan: because much as I love that cover, there was just no point keeping a record you weren't going to enjoy PLAYING. Let Dan own the nice cover, as a thank you for this-or-that. I'll settle for the American cover and pristine grooves: fuckit.

Which I did, about two weeks ago, buying it at a record store new, figuring that I would never see the European version again. Which remained my thought until this afternoon, when I discovered it had been reissued in a limited run of 500 copies and was there at Beat Street along with a bunch of Cherry albums I don't plan to replace. 

So now I have Brown Rice twice -- an album I have had twice previously on vinyl. Let my having bought it four times teach me just to keep it this time 'round, okay? And I'm not even going to spin this new version, you know? I'm just going to spin the US version; that can be my play copy. I might still take the shrink off so the album doesn't warp, but I won't set a needle in its (brown vinyl!) groove. 

Snap it up if you see it in a store, eh? Only 500 were made, and it seems like it's already out of print; if you like creative music... it doesn't get much more enjoyable than this...

Neil Young cancels

 Oh noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Fake Jazz Throwbacks, Mathy Madness, and Noisy Metal: Weekend Gigs at the Jazz Festival and more

There are a few things habitues of the Fake Jazz scene in Vancouver might want to check out this weekend, but this is by no means an exhaustive list. Haven't done a jazz festival gig in a long time, and there are a couple of those that sound promising... though there is also some metal with a connection to the vintage Vancouver Fake Jazz scene happening... Seems like a good weekend to like adventurous music!

To start, while it is not by any means Fake Jazz, people who enjoyed my Anju Singh interview a couple posts back might be interested to get a sense of her diverse interests by catching the death metal band Ceremonial Bloodbath, for whom she drums, opening for Danish metal band Phrenelith at the Cobalt; while people more interested in Anju's avant-garde side might prefer seeing The Nausea and V. Vecker at the Lido on Sunday, opening for Quebec artists This Quiet Army. That sounds like a very compelling show, for people who want some intense listening, but I am more likely to be catching insanely dense math rock band Horse Lords (who sound on first blush like a cranked up Don Caballero) at the jazz festival Revue Stage at 1601 Johnston, if tickets are available, followed by a free late night gig at the same space, Earth Ball, featuring a couple known figures around town... 

Though of course Wayne Horvitz's Electric Circus are also playing, with a host of local improvisers and jazzsters, albeit more of a 1067 vintage than a Fake Jazz one. Seems like that's Horvitz in conductor mode!  The program promises "far-reaching improvisations that use motifs from classic recordings by James Brown, Willie Dixon, Captain Beefheart, Miles Davis, The Dead, The Pointer Sisters, Sun Ra, The Clash, and Parliament Funkadelic as jumping-off points towards thrilling new sonic possibilities." Uh, so that starts at 7:30 on Granville Island... Horse Lords are at 9:30... where the hell is Johnston Street? (Am I seeing correctly that this is ON GRANVILLE ISLAND? Yay!).

And wait a sec, there's a PWYC gig that afternoon, at the same Revue Stage, involving Jesse Zubot... one could start there on Sunday, then do Horvitz, then do Horse Lords, then do Earth Ball... is that accurate? Can I see all that music in ONE DAY?

Oh also, some of the players in that orchestra have their own free late-night gig on the Saturday, so maybe if I've had enough of Phrenelith, I will duck across town to see Sakina Abdou, Shazad Ismaily, and Dan Gaucher, also at the 1601 Johnston stage, starting at 11:30 (actually, that's bloody unlikely, because if it's really on Granville Island, getting back will be a pain). 

Not quite sure what I'm going to do, exactly, but there is no shortage of intriguing options...!

Rickshaw Anniversary Nights One and Four: Bison, Rong, Pet Blessings, Night Court, Pointed Sticks, Rich Hope... and more

Note the Pointed Sticks tag! All photos for this here thang are by Allan MacInnis and are not to be reused by anyone ever unless they ask nicely and I say yes. Unless you're in the photo, I guess, because some of my Emilor photos are already being used on Facebook (by Emilor). Which is fair.  

Okay, so: I already wrote most of what I had to write in the Straight article, apparently the number one thing on their website as I write this (yay!). First thing I've done for them in about a year. There's a complex backstory that I won't bother with here, but it's fun to have a well-received piece there; I miss doing stuff for the Straight! 

Love that War Baby/ Warner Brothers shirt, James! 

...speaking of which, it was mildly funny that, in the lineup to enter the Rickshaw, some guy in a Night Court Nervous Birds shirt basically quoted my own article back to me, about Night Court's unfortunate recent history with the Rickshaw, repeating the story about the last two times Night Court tried to play the Rickshaw. I said something like, "Yeah, I know," wondering if I'd got that fact right (and if he was correctly quoting me). But I said no more. 

It was strangely, if covertly, gratifying. You will understand, I don't get a lot of feedback from music fans about things I've written, because with the odd exception, I don't go around introducing myself as "the guy who wrote the article" or such. People I know (or the odd editor) say nice things but I'm basically just an unknown when I'm in the audience. So having someone quote back something I've written to me kinda counts as feedback. Occasionally I do then opt for the "yeah, I know, I wrote the thing you read that in," which, actually, happened with Bruce Stayloose (pictured below with me, earlier tonight) on the bus back from a Bison gig at the Astoria a few years ago. We were already chatting, recognizing each other as fellow Bison enthusiasts, and got to talking about where Matt had gotten to, when Bruce quoted James in a Straight thing I'd done, saying how Matt was on a "personal journey," and I kinda grinned. That time I outed myself, and I'm glad I did. I see Bruce now and then at shows, have swapped a bit of media with him, am Facebook friends with him, etc. I believe we once even met at a Skytrain wearing the same Bison shirt; it seemed a good sign.

Anyhoo, I didn't out myself to the guy in the Night Court shirt tonight, for some reason, but I was still amused. I mean, it IS a fun Straight story. I do like that people are reading it. Got some nice feedback on Facebook, too. Pity it didn't help with attendance! 

Johnny in the John: RIP Johnny Woggles

Some high points and a-sequential observations from last weekend and this one: 

1. Rong were great last time I saw them, of course, but I've grown to like them even more for having gotten to know their album and having seen Kristy-Lee with Dead Bob. Shot vid of "Same Team," last week, including a small bit of Kristy's playful introduction to guest bassist Emilor. I don't think this got linked in the Straight piece. I've heard Mark Bignell spin "Same Team," at LanaLou's, trivially, and felt happy for it; it kicks off their album Wurst, which people should go out and buy. 

2. Pet Blessings, who preceded Rong last weekend, are still all about Emilor's personality and exuberance, for me. I haven't been able to do justice to their songs. There are no recordings. I can't make out the lyrics. Homework is not an option. But I still have fun watching them (and find it interesting that I can hear sonic similarities in what they do with Night Court, which you wouldn't necessarily expect, despite the shared member; sometimes a drummer can actually be a really important ingredient in a band -- as anyone who has heard Mo Tucker's solo output might already realize). Even though I don't really have a sense of a single song, I loved Pet Blessings last week, because Emilor is so entertaining as a frontperson; she can't really bring the full force of her personality out when she's behind the drum kit but there's no holding her back when she's the lead vocalist.

3. I have already said all I have to say about Black Wizard in the Straight piece, and have no good photos, but I approve of any and all Blue Oyster Cult t-shirts, especially if they reference one of the first three albums, so I will share this one! 

4. Night Court tonight were fun, and I heard no trace of Emilor's injury in her playing. I ended up having to clear the video I shot, when I realized my storage was running out, but the best part of the set started with me standing up front in my NO FUN bat shirt, wondering if they would do "What Is It Like to Be a Bat, Man?" They did a bunch of tunes I know and like, including "Bela Lugosi's Not Dead," "Bride of Frankenstein," and "Not a Unicorn," among others, and I was entirely prepared for them not to play the bat tune, despite me being right there in the front row, wearing THIS SHIRT (referencing this song, which has lyrics by me)... I mean, they did play it for me, by request, at the Red Gate show in May, and I hadn't re-requested it last night. But I was also thinking that I would be kinda touched if they capped off the night with that song. 

So imagine my delight that they did just that. (Thanks, gang!). I danced, and  mouthed the lyrics, and was happy. High point of the two shows I caught, in terms of personal meaningfulness...

4. ... tho' dancin' to "Golden Clouds," the Flamin' Groovies/ Roy Loney cover, as realized joyously by Rich Hope, was pretty goddamn high up there, too. Note that that is the official video, not a live clip -- though coincidentally it includes some live footage shot by me at a past Rickshaw show, when Mack was still the drummer -- he just spliced it in. I am glad that, as with the bat song in the Night Court set, I put down my phone and DANCED for that song, y'know? It was too great an opportunity to waste -- though I did film the first two songs in Hope's set, if it's footage you crave. 

And speaking of Rich Hope, is it just me, or has he reached a next-level level? The last few times I've caught him -- at last year's Folk Fest, at Keithmas, and tonight -- I've been blown away in a way I just wasn't at any of the previous dozen shows I saw him play (where I enjoyed him, but not near as much as these last few).  Maybe he's the same Rich Hope he ever was, and it's just that *I* have been changed by something? COVID kinda made me realize that it's damned important to have FUN at shows, y'know, and Rich is pretty FUN... 

Anyhow, I didn't get many good pics of Rich tonight but gawdamn, I enjoyed his set -- especially him doing things like throwing a verse of "Radar Love" into a song. No one else in Vancouver could or would do that, I don't think. It is necessary that someone be able to. If you  haven't seen Rich lately, you should make a point of amending that! 

5. Like I say, some of you will realize that I am out of sequence, here -- and have been from the start, since Rong was the second-billed band after Pet Blessings last week; but I also enjoyed the Pointed Sticks a ton, tonight -- even "I'm On Fire." I still kinda have an un-processable, un-surmountable, YOU CANNOT GET AWAY WITH THAT-type objection to anyone other than Jim Morrison rhyming "fire" and "higher," if you see what I mean, but every time I see them do that song live, it grows on me a little more, until I realized, peeking at their setlist tonight, and seeing it ahead of us in the evening, that I was *looking forward to it* (egads!)... though the high points tonight for me were "There's the Door," "You're Not the One," and a cover of Polly's "Put a Little English On It." Even though my NO FUN shirt is from the period after Paul Leahy's tenure in NO FUN -- indeed, after his far-too-early-departure from this bardo -- it seemed a doubly appropriate shirt to be wearing when they did that song. A few people commented on it, through the night, in fact (hi, Dale), and it even got seen by Nick, who pointed to me as he was singing the word "fun" in one song. Sadly, my phone ran out of storage and stopped recording midway just before the Polly cover ended, so I don't have all of Bill Hemy's solo, but methinks they do a fine version of this tune. (Hear the Polly original here). 

Oh, and I talked to Tony Bardach about his solo album a bit. There are developments! I do not know if it is timely to break them here, but people who like Tony should pay attention over the next few weeks; wheels are in motion! Fans will be very, very pleased.  

6. But this brings us very close to the end of this blogpiece (it's past my bedtime). I have nothing to say about Dead Soft, really. They do a totally enjoyable 90s-flavour alt rock, and deserved more attention than they got in that Straight piece (I apologized to the main dude at the merch table for not even mentioning them: mea culpa!). They reminded me a bit of Carsick Cars, in fact (a Beijing band I am glad to have seen live once, who do a kind of jangle-pop-meets-Sonic-Youth thing). But I have NO MORE ROOM in my brain, record collection, or writing FOR ANOTHER LOCAL BAND THAT I MUST PAY ATTENTION TO. One must draw arbitrary boundaries sometimes out of sheer self-protection; sorry, Dead Soft! Your set was just fine, just fine. I have nothing else to say about it!

...tho' it was interesting to chat with the guy (the Dead Soft guy: I don't even have room for his name!) about how they ended up with an album cover that riffs on one of the British paperback editions of Robert Silverberg's Dying Inside. Turns out they were not aware of the book, just contracted a collage artist whose work they liked to make the cover, and he came up with something very close to the Silverbob book, which they learned about only after the record was out! Which must have been slightly startling.  The original cover of the paperback is by an artist named Tim White; incidentally, it is a terrific, character-driven SF novel about a psychic having to come to terms with the gradual loss of his powers as he ages. It contains the first description of an LSD trip I ever encountered, when I read it as a teenager. It's a fascinating read. 

...but of course, Dead Soft are not the only band to play the Rickshaw 15th anniversary shows that I have written nothing about! I am particularly sad to have missed Beau Wheeler's set on Friday, but there's only so much show-going I can do. Tonight was, for me, even more enjoyable than last week, so it sucks that tonight was so poorly attended. On the plus side, I'm sure glad that Straight piece made it into the world and is doing so well, because otherwise -- if that article had not gotten published, or merely got stuck here on my backwater blog -- I would probably be blaming myself for how few people were in the room! 

So attendance kind of sucked tonight, but I absolve myself of this! I did my bit! (There must have been some other big gig around town).  

Anyhow: Happy anniversary, Rickshaw! (And nice chatting with you, Mo; Thanks for putting together these terrific bills). Looking forward to seeing Gustaf open for DEHD at the Rickshaw in November (their second time there, after touring through with Yard Act, awhile back. It ain't on the posters yet, but it will be). Will also be on hand to see Art Bergmann next month, and already have an angle on an article, though it's slightly indirect. 

More to come! Happy Rickshawversary. 

PS: The Bison hot sauce is fucking awesome. 

Show Me Where It Hurts: Rickshaw Fifteenth Anniversary vs. Emilor Jayne's pinky!

Emilor's busted digit threatened to derail her appearances with THREE BANDS at the Rickshaw 15th anniversary celebrations, but she's soldiering ahead and will play there with Night Court tomorrow! See here for more (thanks, Mike!).

Anju Singh interview: Turning A Page of Madness (and Touring Japan with The Nausea's Requiem): LIVE SCORE TONIGHT at the VIFF Centre

EDIT: This will be in two parts: a BEFORE and an AFTER, reflecting a correction and a couple of observations about this evening's screening:

1. BEFORE

Disclaimer: as of writing this, I have not seen A Page of Madness, the silent Japanese film being live-scored by (local avant-gardist and metal musician) Anju Singh tonight at the VIFF Centre. I looked at a few minutes of it, went "Holy hell, what IS this?" -- because it is a film I had not heard about prior to the announcement of this screening, and because it is as remarkable and formally ambitious, perhaps even more so, than much better known (and much more frequently live-scored) silent films, such as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (which has bonkers set design but a fairly conventional narrative exposition, which does not seem to be the case for A Page of Madness, which fractures standard cinematic logic to convey mental illness). I decided that a) I needed to see it; that b) I wanted to see it theatrically, with Anju scoring it; and that c) the film would be best appreciated if I knew as little of it as possible. Besides, I don't have to give spoiler alerts for a film I have not seen! 

The good news is: I know Anju (not well) and have seen her perform in a few different contexts, from all-female avant garde improvisation with the Her Jazz Noise Collective and other projects to drumming with the metal band AHNA. I first met Anju -- 20 years ago, in the storied Fake Jazz Wednesdays scene, where she was a co-organizer and frequent performer. There is a very, very interesting article to be written about Anju Singh, I think, doing a deep dive into her background. This is not that article -- it is focused almost entirely on the live score tonight and Anju's recent Japanese tour with her project The Nausea. Who Singh is aside from all that -- perhaps come to the VIFF Centre tonight with the old Christian maxim in mind that we can know a tree by its fruits? 

Anju promotional image for The Nausea, 

photography is Dani Osborne, collage is by Anju Singh

HOWEVER, given that I know the film -- based on a treatment written by Yasunari Kawabata, I gather -- even-less-well than I know Anju, I wanted to give some options to readers, before reading the interview below, or for further reference later: there is an interesting feature article which can be found here, giving some history and speaking with an expert in Japanese cinema about the film, the filmmaker, and its original context of reception. The whole film, with what I presume is its 1971 score -- added when the film, long thought lost, was re-discovered in the filmmaker's garden shed -- can be seen here. And Anju's website and musical history can be found here. (The website of Harlow Macfarlane, who contributes to tonight's project and who is discussed below as well, can be found here). 

Oh, and Anju assures me, "Yes there will be merch." (Please sign and save me an LP!)

End introduction; let's get to it.

Allan: How did you hear of this very odd film? Where did the idea of scoring it come from? How did you connect with the VIFF...?

Anju: I came across the film a couple years ago when I was researching specifically experimental, silent films so that I could practice scoring to film without worrying about copyright issues in case I came up with something I really liked and wanted to release it. I love experimental film and so coming across this was exciting. While I didn’t finish a score for this film when I came across it at first, I did end up using sections of the film, specifically the abstract parts, for my video art work, which I was also developing at the time.

The reason I was interested in scoring a film in the first place was that every time I played a set with The Nausea live, people would approach me and say “hey, you should compose for film!” and I suppose one day I was like, 'Ya maybe I should! So I started teaching myself by practicing scoring to films I found on Archive.org that were before 1925 or whatever the copyright cut off was at the time. Since then, I’ve been doing composing mentorships with experienced film composers so my skills have grown a lot.

Allan: Does your doing this score or your interest in this film connect to The Nausea's April tour of Japan? I know almost nothing of Japanese silent cinema -- is it something you've explored much of?

Anju: It is actually totally just coincidence that these things aligned but as you know, the Japanese noise and experimental music scene is vibrant and I knew a little bit about Japanese experimental film, but most recently I discovered 1970s experimental Japanese theatre through another project. I just love experimental art and really admire the risks that artists who work in these genres take, so I was really excited all around. But I love experimental art from all over the world, Korea has so much cool video art, and I’m learning about India’s underground extreme metal scene, and the experimental electronic music I’ve been checking out from Mexico is amazing too. Basically, I’m interested in what people are doing in other places because in niche genres like noise or experimental art, you have a limited audience or community in one place. Globally, it’s a huge movement.

Allan: Have you collaborated with Harlow before? (Do you have a favourite recording or project of his? Mine is Funerary's Call's Nightside Emanations). His musical instruments make him a perfect fit, but I don't know what you may have done together...? What precisely are his contributions (they're recorded, and you're improvising around them, or...?). (Did you see any of his past silent film score stuff? I caught his Haxan live score...).

Anju: I have never collaborated with Harlow but we have performed on the same bills for many years, well over a decade! I like all of his projects. I am using his pre-recorded sounds and composing around them, and then I also have some pre-recorded sounds too. Sadly, he works in film and had to work so can’t do this live, but I’m just really happy we got to collaborate because I respect him artistically very much.

Allan: I know (though I have made too much of this in a past feature) that Harlow has an interest in the occult, which connects with his ideas about where music comes from (I am possibly oversimplifying). Is that a topic you've talked about? Do you have an interest in the occult/ spiritualism/ etc?

Anju: I don’t know if I’m a spiritual person, and I often feel like something is wrong with me because I’m not, haha. I mean maybe I’m spiritual? I have no idea. I’m definitely obsessive and go deep into my art forms. I suppose my spirituality is making art and music from a place deep within that is honest and real for me and in defiance of what I’m told is the norm. I read about spirituality, religion, the occult, and mythology a lot and I actually write my own mythologies for my art through lyrics or in screenplays, but I don’t follow something specific. I think I’m far too skeptical and wary of things to follow something closely. You should have heard me in temple when they tried to tell me who god was as a kid! I follow my inner intuition most of all. Oh and maybe if anything, I fall into existentialist camps because I’m constantly agonizing about existence and meaning...

Allan: I sort of lost touch with your music around AHNA. Bring me up to date? What bands have you been in since then? Did you ever tour Japan with any of them?

Anju: I plays drums in a death metal band called GRAVE INFESTATION touring Japan in November, I also drum for CEREMONIAL BLOODBATH and TEMPLE OF ABANDONMENT, I play guitar in ENCOFFINATE and bass in DEATHWINDS, and I do synth and vocals in DARK RECOLLECTION, a synth/dark wave project. And then I have an active personal art practice which is a bunch of things under my name ANJU SINGH. 

Anju Singh by Chelsea Mandziuk

Allan: Who/ what is The Nausea, exactly? That's you on violin? Tell me about Requiem?

Anju: I’m not going to limit myself to instrumentation or members, but to date; it’s me doing experimental violin, doom, and harsh noise on violin. Requiem is my first LP and it has been in the works for like 10 years and I am so glad it’s out because I’m ready to move on to the next phase of material, which may or may not include violin.

I don’t know why I am so drawn to violin, I’ve been playing forever but it’s not even my strongest instrument, though sometimes to experiment openly and freely you need less rigid structures around you.

I’m happy with Requiem and actually listened to it twice today after not listening to it for a bit after submitting the masters for vinyl pressing. I think it’s solid. I am excited to do the next stuff. I am feeling more confident in performing with an emphasis on my love of harsh noise, extreme volumes, and challenging sound environments. The next material will push ahead in that direction. But at the same time, I’m also naturally a person who likes some things to be musical sometimes so that will always show up. 

Allan: What I saw of A Page of Madness -- I only looked at the first few minutes, because I'm saving myself for your score -- it seemed to have a unique, idiosyncratic film language -- there was a lot of looking. Is is particularly difficult to follow the story? How much preparation do you recommend? I worry I may be distracted from your score by just trying to figure out what's going on! Any preparatory notes are welcome -- what is the film about, to you?

Interesting questions.. but I do think the filmmakers intended to allow us to feel and experience the film rather than try to control how it is represented or how the storyline shows up. There is a very clear storyline that I can follow, but on first watch, it was the expression of the inner mind and emotions that I found most intriguing. I’d say don’t prepare just watch it, but also there no title cards the way that most silent films have so maybe we do need context. I’m not sure, I’m going to ask people before the screening if they want me to tell them a synopsis or not. I can see both sides.

To me, the film is actually about the shared experiences of mental illness and mental health struggles. While we put some people into cells in institutions, everyone struggles with mental health battles probably at some point in their lives. I mean I could be wrong, but I’d like to meet someone who is in perfect mental health “shape” all the time. I think the film for me describes shared experiences and empathy with those in the asylum. I feel it’s showing how similar, not different we are. I also think the film is about the weight of guilt and responsibility when you’ve made “a mistake”. Guilt and shame are both very interesting concepts to me because they seem so unproductive yet are so valued.

Allan: I gather the director of A Page of Madness was a non-female kabuki actor -- the VIFF guide describes him as a "female impersonator." but again, in terms of things I don't know much about, Gender and Japanese Kabuki is way up there. The Japanese term is apparently onnagata. Are Japanese concepts of gender of interest or relevant here?

Anju: I don’t have much to say about this because I honestly don’t know, sorry! I think asking an expert is better.

Allan: Anything else people should know about upcoming performances, music, the film, etc?

Anju: I will be sharing a composition I wrote for a video at CINEWORKS on August 19th. [This involves cut-up scenes from a popular science fiction series, the name of which is omitted for purposes of avoiding copyright hassles!]

Allan: Anything to report about the April tour of Japan? Did you visit any particular temples? Take in a public bath? See Keiji Haino in his native setting? Are there any must-dos on the itinerary for the upcoming tour?

Anju: We went to a lot of temples, saw some of the best noise in my life, and really enjoyed the train system. I just want to most of all soak in the culture so we didn’t stay in touristy areas and that was perfect, even if we couldn’t read any menus and I often was confused about what I ordered.

2. AFTER: 

I have corrected a misunderstanding in the above: Anju's tour of Japan was in April -- it is not forthcoming. Oops. I presume no one in Japan has been led on by this (my reach does not extend so far). When you write in a rush, you make mistakes. 

Anyhoo: Anju's score was remarkable, as was the film, but I had some difficulty following the various passages in and out of reality offered by the film, and was relieved to bond in that difficulty with programmer Tom Charity, who was on hand to conduct the Q&A. Anju was charmingly unpretentious, funny, and direct -- which can be rare qualities at relatively highbrow arts events, which (I felt) the very-decent-sized audience truly appreciated. But it's not an easy film to make sense of the first time through: for instance, there is a scene where the protagonist murders a doctor, which, we gather, was a fantasy, but the film deliberately makes the line between fantasy and reality quite thin, to impart the experience of mental illness, so you can't be blamed if you find yourself confused when said doctor re-appears. There are scenes, especially early on, where it is easier to follow the shifts between reality and delusion, but as the delusions accumulate, I think it would take someone far more perceptive than I am to keep track of it all. Even Anju -- forthright and funny -- copped to still being puzzled by a few things in the film.  

Anyhow, it's not an easy movie to fully take in... especially if, aided by a somewhat trance-inducing score and exhausted by the effort of concentration, you fall asleep a couple of times.  

Sorry, folks. Rest assured that I only snored twice, and they were small snorts, which woke me up (Shaun of the Cinematheque was sitting immediately behind me and reassured me when I asked afterwards that he could not tell where the snort -- he only heard one of them -- came from: "That was you!").

But even though I struggled to stay awake and make sense of the narrative, I very much enjoyed the evening, as did the audience (and I did buy a copy of The Nausea's Requiem, which I am looking forward to spinning). It's nice to have such a successful event before the break in VIFF programming: for those who do not know, the VIFF Centre will be closing for awhile for renovations, including improved projection and sound. The seats are being re-upholstered, as well; there is one you can sit on in the lobby if you want to test them out -- but do not worry, the seats are not being replaced, as I initially said; they simply have a different kind of seat in the lobby, for upholstery-testing purposes, which will NOT be used to replace the seats in the theatre (because that's not going to confuse anyone!). If you want to try the new upholstery out, I would hurry, there aren't many shows left before they close for renovations. More about the refurbishments here. 

Meantime, I think that Anju's next performances will probably have a few slightly out-of-place onlookers as a result of her smashing success tonight; that will be interesting to see. There was a very civilized Japanese woman whom I helped with the reading of some black metal fonts. Ceremonial Bloodbath will apparently be playing the Cobalt on June 29th (this is not entirely online yet that I can see, but Anju had handbills). Following that, The Nausea will be playing a metal show at Green Auto, which doesn't entirely make sense -- The Nausea is NOT a metal project, and Green Auto is a bit of an odd space for them, methinks (The Nausea would better fit a room with seats, where you can close your eyes and lose yourself in the music). But I think I might check that out, too...

I would tell you what the other bands on the bill are, but fucked if I can read'em. (Actually I gather the top-billed band at the Cobalt show is Phrenelith, from Copenhagen, Bandcamp here, and the other band is Noroth, also called Norothovcascadia; I am not even going to try with the Green Auto gig.  

There were other people who one usually does not see at metal and noise events checking out Anju's merch, which seemed to sell quite well. A European woman was asking at the table about the merch before the movie, if the bandname was a reference to Sartre's La Nausee (Anju confirmed later that it was). But the prize for interesting customers goes to these two, whom you might recognize: 

That's Joyce and Jacqueline Robbins, who by way of introducing themselves will let you know that they act presently in A Series of Unfortunate Events, on Netflix -- the Lemony Snicket adaptations. I wonder if this is because they figure that people these days are most likely to know of them through a current popular series, or if it is because they have learned from experience that if they tell film geeks that they worked with Robert Altman in the 1970s, they'll be deluged with questions?

I suspect the former; these were two very chatty, articulate, intimidatingly intelligent twins, who took turns finishing each other's sentences, even: certainly the most intense twins I've been around (the Soskas have nothing on them). So I doubt they'd be shy talking about Altman or anything else in their filmography. Maybe they'll make it out to a Ceremonial Bloodbath show, too?

You could ask them about Altman. (They have their own Wikipedia page, which probably doesn't cover half of what they've done -- they recounted some of their career as we milled about by the merch table -- but I cannot do it justice.)

Oh, and they're also in The Reflecting Skin. I guess I have to watch that again, because I don't remember them in it at all! From 1990:

...so all told, that was a pretty interesting night at the movies! 

See you at Ceremonial Bloodbath, maybe? 

Hmm.