Pamela Z CCAM 11/1/24

 Pamela Z is a woman of color, by that, I mean many colors.  An experimental musician, she uses voice and electronics as her color palette to compose elaborately layered washes of sound. The CCAM (Center for Collaborative Arts and Media at Yale) nerds have done it again. CCAMandant in chief RossWightman scours the outer reaches of the music art nexus for fascinating speakers and performers. PZ looks to be 60ish with oversized pink rimmed glasses, black gauzy attire, a rapunzelesque tangle of braids. Her boots look like they were fashioned on Argus 4, in the Shamwow galaxy. Wightman started with some questions. We learn that Z watered the seeds of avant garde while working at a college radio station in Boulder. Moving to the west coast and starting as a singer songwriter, she quickly realized that what was on her turntable was not what she was performing in clubs. A couple of analog delay pedals, and she was off to the races. Since the late 80s, PZ has circled the globe occupying countless residencies and performing live. Look on Spotify and there is little audioprint for this artist, that is due to the nature of her work best experienced live or as an installation. She took the stage armed with a laptop and two effects “boxes”. The smaller one emitted percussive sounds while the larger one spewed tones and word fragments. She used her hands to wave at these boxes to thereminic effect. The first piece had Z looping herself counting in different languages, stretched and magnified, and funneled through the top tier CCAM soundsystem, it felt like a hundred Zs counting in sensurround. The next piece had her typing a letter to her pen pal, with the percussion box acting as a Smith Corona complete with the carriage return ding. Next up she struck some tuning forks and smushed some bubble wrap into the looper. When replayed upon itself ad infinitum, the sound was deafening as if we were sitting inside a crackling fire. She then pulled out a keyboard that made bird calls with different keys. She mimicked these calls with her voice and phased them backward with the canned sounds. The timing came into phase then moved back toward cacawphony. The final piece sounded like a conversation with a boyfriend, she looped her voice and his voice into submission. His cadence became a bass loop and she layered herself on top. At this point, I notice she has small boxes on each wrist that interact with the stationary boxes as she gestures that manifest in sound. Fascinating artist and fascinating show.

Josh Ritter 10/18/24 District Music Hall

 Cheerful, slightly autistic Idahoan Ritter is a singer songwriter’s singer songwriter. Rolled into a renovated DMH for a Friday night. Refinished interior with removable seats, the Hall is morphing into a go-to midsize venue with good acoustics and sight lines. I’ve seen Ritter several times, at SCSU with Jamie Cullum, at some church in Westport with his female companion of the moment, on a double bill with The Low Anthem at Toads, his hyper-bubbliness was historically off-putting for me. On this evening, I was able to get a fuller picture as to the nature of his internal ecstasy IV. Autistic has entered my observations, his speech gets ahead of himself, his effusive praise for his band mates ( that “put up” with his style) is not off-putting, but endearing when viewed in this light. Makes sense when you read that Ritter gave up neuroscience in favor of music. For twenty years he has made solid recordings packed with thoughtful lyrics and deft song craft. On this evening he is joined by piano/accordionist and lead guitar/pedal steel. Ritter stayed with acoustic guitar, his wide-eyed intersong banter further supported my “on the spectrum” claim. The set pulled from all aspects of his career including a recent Jason Isbell produced slab recorded in New Orleans. Ritter wore a pink floral suit that looked like it was fashioned from upholstery ripped from a south Florida loveseat. Josh told a story about his Idaho homestead which he purchased because it had a lo-fi subterranean writing room. The near capacity crowd was rapt and constant touring has snowballed a decent fan base. Closed with his signature hit “Kathleen” that had most audience members belting out the anthemic lyrics.

Gong 10/14/24 Spaceland

 Flying teapots, Electric Camembert, Pothead Pixies! What is this, some kind of French LSD cult? Well kind of. Welcome to another edition of progtastic fall of 2024. In 1967, Australian singer Daevid Allen was a member of the British psychedelic rock band Soft Machine and was denied re- entry to the UK after his visa expired. ( see September’s post on the current lineup of the Softs) Setting up camp in Paris, Allen and his partner Gilli Smyth established the first incarnation of the troupe that would become Gong. Allen’s wacky drug addled take on the band offered a whimsical fairy-induced output of “space-rock”. They accumulated personnel who signed on to the vision of Allen. Like Sun Ra’s Arkestra or George Clinton’s P Funk Allstars, Gong were an interplanetary happening that were theatrical as well as musical. Allen passed in 2015, but the notion of Gong endures. The current lineup boasts guitarist Fabio Golfetti, bassist Dave Sturt, sax/ clarinet player Ian East, drummer Cheb Nettles, and frontman singer guitarist Kavus Torabi. The crew touched down in Hamden for a lively set. My Guitar is a Spaceship, Kapital, All Clocks Reset, Rejoice! Tiny Galaxies, My Sawtooth Wake, Through Restless Seas I Come, Lunar Invocation, Master Builder, Choose Your Goddess, Insert Your Own Prophecy ( complete with taped Allen words from beyond the grave), and closed with You Can’t Kill Me. The band was tight, something that Allen probably eschewed in favor of mystical ethos. Gong did morph toward prog technical wizardry employing such axe-wielders as Steve Hillage and Allan Holdsworth. All musicians were talented and steered the spaceship. Torabi in particular was a sight, with his androgynous attire and poodle rocker hair, he looked like a lost member of The Romantics, the one that went behind the bowling alley and ran into 20 hits of blotter and never came back. I am amazed these bands are carrying the torch and happy they include the New Haven market as a tour stop.

Carl Stone 9/28/24 Wesleyan

 Philip Glass? Yes. Brian Eno? Sure. Carl Stone? Well, no. That is unfortunate because of his place in the history of sampling and computer music. Stone studied under Morton Subotnick at CalArts in the 70s and started sampling and computer collaging music at roughly the same time as Grandmaster Flash.  Instead of turntables and scratching, Stone used an exacto knife and tape splicing to sample music and field recordings for his product. The storied California new music scene is the birthplace of the cream of avant garde composers, Terry Riley, Fred Frith, Pauline Oliveiros just to name a few. Stone collaborated and rubbed elbows with many of these music philosophers. His body of work has been under the radar until recent illumination by the great Unseen Worlds record label. Compilations of his decades of work starting with “explorations on the Macintosh” sounds comically outdated today. His recent anagrammatic release, Stolen Car has been embraced by hipster culture. Happy then for a rare concert viewing, as Carl spends most of his time in Japan. The show was supposed to happen at Wesleyan’s Crowell Hall, but was moved to the gamelan garage known as the World Music Hall. The uncomfortable subterranean cement igloo WMH was better suited for the slim crowd, but not for my 60 year old tailbone. The music is challenging and the introduction stated that the pieces were new. In concert, there is not much to view. A 70ish white guy dressed in black armed with a computer, an iPad and a card table does not portend for a stunning visual. The songs were compact with the samples difficult to discern. Metallic whooshes, sped up and slowed down splicing were present in each “song”. One tune sounded like a cement mixer full of teletubbies, another had a chopped and screwed Strangers in the Night. I was anxious to hear Stone talk about the evolution of technology on his craft, I mean can’t he just ask AI to spit out what a cement mixer of teletubbies would sound like? Like many polymaths, talking was not in the cards. The audience was left to imagine the source and process of this sound. While I didn’t hear “Paul is Dead”, I was able to be affected by these strange sounds. If Carl was Stoned, and spending his formative years within waft distance from Humboldt county it was likely, his next record could be Coastal Nerd, anagrammatically speaking.

Steve Gunn w/ Geologist 9/26/24 Spaceland

 Glad to have caught a bit from opener Geologist. He is the beatmeister for the freak jam outfit Animal Collective. Legend has it the name came from a misrepresentation of his college major or possibly the headlamp he uses while trying to navigate his console on a darkened stage. This show was held in the intimate front room, so personal lighting was not an issue. Geologist had a table with effects and sequencers and a hurdy gurdy. The hurdy gurdy is an unusual instrument for the beats scene. A crank, some strings, some keys, dampening mechanisms and a boat shaped hollow body that he had strapped to his waist. He looked like a cotton candy seller at the ballpark. The sound leaned middle eastern, with the addition of a backbeat made for a trancey exotic set. After the show, I chatted with Geologist wondering if the instrument was homemade, a soap-box-derby-hurdy-gurdy if you will. He said that some guy in France was responsible.

Steve Gunn is one of the best musicians you’ve never heard of. A guitarist from Philly now based in Brooklyn, Steve has been making varied and excellent music for years. Originally drone and instrumental, he has recently strayed into singer songwriter territory. 2019’s The Unseen In Between is a great starting place for the uninitiated. He hit the stage armed with a couple of acoustics, some effects pedals, and a small fender amp. A compact setup that makes travel and stage management easy, there was no lack of sound coming from the stage. Steve had one effect pedal that could only be described as a Day In The Life box that sounded like an 80 piece orchestra tripping upstairs when pressed. The songs and lyrics seem simple but reveal complexity when viewed live. Steve seems to be on the spectrum, and I mean that in the most complimentary way, he seemed to autistically waltz while playing, bending toward the fender to stretch and enhance notes. The setlist had some gems, Way Out Weather from the 2014 release and some cuts from the recent Other You. He played one unreleased number about a chance meeting with a musician friend on the early morning streets of Auckland. Fantastic cover of the Velvets I’ll Be Your Mirror. While Steve might not have much in common with Nico, the original vocalist, his fractured croon has similar qualities to the original. While I’m happy to go on having Steve be my quasi-personal troubadour, it would make sense for y’all to get your head out of the sand and support him when he comes your way. Better yet, keep your head in the sand, find Steve on your YouTube channel and prepare to be mesmerized by this truly original musician.

Weird of Mouth 9/20/24 Firehouse 12

 Was able make it to the fall inaugural voyage of the Firehouse 12 series. This group was a trio with Craig Taborn on piano, Ches Smith on drums, and Mette Rasmussen on alto sax. The room was well attended (although this free jazz blowout had some neophytes slinking toward the exit). Taborn is a frequent flyer at F-12 and I think he enjoys sitting down in front of the monstrous Cadillac Steinway that offers such a great sound. The chameleonic Smith has been lauded here many times. Last years Haitian group, supporting guitarists Will Bernard or Mary Halvorson, Ches square pegs himself into many a round hole. His lanky drumming style allows him to effortlessly play complex runs. Piano and drums were necessary foils to the alto force Rasmussen. Danish born, but now based in Trondheim Norway, Mette is certainly a young lioness. She has played with a wide variety of jazz luminaries and does time in the legendary Fire! Orchestra. She squeaked and squawked like Peter Brotzmann and then played lyrical passages like Sonny Rollins. Not sure where  the Weird of mouth moniker came from, certainly Smiths facial expressions were unusual, but the weird mouth goes to Rasmussen. She coaxed many sounds, screeching staccatos and repetitive blasts gave this challenging music a trance-like quality.

Soft Machine 9/20/24 Small Batch Cellars, North Haven

 Progtastic fall is here and what better way to start than an “early bird special” held in a winery garage on a dead end street in North Haven. The promoter’s website listed doors at 5, show at 6 which seems like a blue hair time slot for this pillar of prog-Jazz. It’s been 50 years since the primordial ooze of the Canterbury scene birthed Soft Machine. If John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers was the teething ground of British blues rock and rollers, Soft Machine served the same purpose for the British prog-jazz movement. Started by Daevid Allen, Mike Ratledge, Robert Wyatt, Kevin Ayers, and Larry Nowlin, all luminaries of the form, SM pioneered psych-prog jazz like no other. Members over the years include Allan Holdsworth, Jack Bruce, Hugh Hopper, Elton Dean, even Andy Summers was a member for a spell. The music comes with extended song forms, instrumental jams with periods of jazz improv dipped in psychedelia. Robert Wyatt famously quipped that the Softs extended song structure is a deliberate attempt to reduce the audience’s ability to boo. The current lineup consists of long time member John Etheridge on guitar, Theo Travis on soprano, alto saxes, and flute, Fred Thelonious Baker on bass, and Asaf Sirkus on drums. The setlist is kind of irrelevant since there are virtually no hits from this band but some tunes from the Etheridge era (late 70s to the present) were performed: Burden of Proof, TheTale of the Taliesin, Tarabos, The Visitor at the Window, Kings and Queens.  They did a great version of the Kevin Ayer’s tune Joy of a Toy, which Etheridge stated was written in the unlikely prog chord of D major. The band was limber with each member taking extended solos. Etheridge, the elder statesman, was equally comfortable playing mind numbing leads or lyrical passages. Travis could jive and wail or switch to flute. Some tunes with flute had a 60s soundtrack feel. Sirkus plays in other bands and his muscular style powered the proceedings. Baker’s bass throb moved toward krautrock. I heard Mahavishnu, Red era King Crimson, even some Pink Floyd touches. The influence of this band cannot be understated, they opened for Hendrix on multiple tours, they played backup on Syd Barrett’s solo work, and have been a revolving door for creative musicians. I enjoyed this early bird special, may I recommend the patty-face-melt with a side of noodles.