Pauline Oliveros 1932-2016

With respect to my own musical background, and so with regard for my own influences, Pauline Oliveros stood with Thelonious Monk as the second-to-none inspirations for my music. Although it is crucial to fold in the handful of other critical influences, the odd couple of Monk and Oliveros key the two driving principles, Oliveros’s deep listening, and, Monk’s absolute improv.

The first Deep listening Band record changed my musical life.


About Pauline Oliveros | NYT Obituary

Deep listening Institute

Deep Listening Institute (DLI) promotes the music and Deep Listening practice of pioneer composer Pauline Oliveros, providing a unique approach to music, literature, art, meditation, technology and healing. DLI fosters creative innovation across boundaries and across abilities, among artists and audience, musicians and non-musicians, healers and the physically or cognitively challenged, and children of all ages. This ever-growing community of musicians, artists, scientists and certified Deep Listening practitioners strives for a heightened consciousness of the world of sound and the sound of the world.

Tom Service’s Guide to the Music of Pauline Oliveros (2012) Guardian UK

Kamelmauz – Requiem No. 1b

Silver Palace Queue #1 (work-in-progress)

Silver Palace Queue #1
(work-in-progress)

Surprising myself, I fired up some synthesizers, designed a sequence, and let ‘er fly. My purpose was to track a musical sketch as the background for a short video showing me working on photographing still lifes in the backyard studio. What I came up with was terrible, in the (so-called) ‘last analysis.’ Yet, while producing, I spotted a folder with some tracks set down in 2015.

I relistened to the older tracks and stitched together this demo, and uploaded it to the Kamelmauz endless album.

ambient orchestral drone, sequenced and improvised on an iPad, tracked into Logic.

F*ck Yeah

The Guardian’s coverage of Dylan’s winning the Nobel Prize for Literature seemed spot on.
The Groom’s Still Waiting At The Altar
BOB DYLAN
Prayed in the ghetto with my face in the cement,
Heard the last moan of a boxer, seen the massacre of the innocent
Felt around for the light switch, became nauseated.
She was walking down the hallway while the walls deteriorated.

East of the Jordan, hard as the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the page, Curtain risin’ on a new age,
See the groom still waitin’ at the altar.

Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,
Mistake your shyness for aloofness, your silence for snobbery,
Got the message this morning, the one that was sent to me
About the madness of becomin’ what one was never meant to be.

West of the Jordan, east of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin’ on a new age,
See the groom still waitin’ at the altar.

Don’t know what I can say about Claudette that wouldn’t come back to haunt me,
Finally had to give her up ’bout the time she began to want me.
But I know God has mercy on them who are slandered and humiliated.
I’d a-done anything for that woman if she didn’t make me feel so obligated.

West of the Jordan, west of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the cage,
Curtain risin’ on a new stage,
See the groom still waitin’ at the altar.

Put your hand on my head, baby, do I have a temperature?
I see people who are supposed to know better standin’ around like furniture.
There’s a wall between you and what you want and you got to leap it,
Tonight you got the power to take it, tomorrow you won’t have the power to
keep it.

West of the Jordan, east of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage, Curtain risin’ on a new age,
See the groom still waitin’ at the altar.

Cities on fire, phones out of order,
They’re killing nuns and soldiers, there’s fighting on the border.
What can I say about Claudette?
Ain’t seen her since January,
She could be respectably married or running a whorehouse in Buenos Aires.

West of the Jordan, west of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin’ on a new age,
See the groom still waitin’ at the altar.
Copyright © 1981 Special Rider Music

Slidestars 1

GloriGetOfftheGuitar

  • Ry Cooder – Cherry Ball Blues

  • Derek Trucks Band – Crow Jane (ad at beginning)

  • Ry Cooder & David Lindley – Mercury Blues (live)

  • Sonny Landreth – Broken Hearted Road

This post ressurects a Grooveshark embed from eight years ago. The set of slide guitar mastery reminds me that, although I still might casually sit down and noodle on one of my pedal steels, I have, actually, forged a chilly relationship with the herd of steel guitars. The testament to this is that I have not kept them all in tune all at once since early 2015.

Urban Wood

Harvesting Guitars from the Bones of New York City from Great Big Story on Vimeo.

I was registering voters and heard a sad story. A street busker told me somebody broke into his apartment and ripped him off of everything, including his main acoustic guitar. I had already noticed he was strumming the worst looking acoustic guitar I had ever gazed upon. It had five strings because one of the pegs was mixing, the bridge was floating in the worst way, and the nut was a notched piece of scrap. It sounded horrible too.

I decided I would go home and fetch my Yamaha acoustic and give it to him. I did so. He was blown away at this gift from, I’d like to think, the baby boomer generation.

Old School

The Shelters‘s Rebel Heart jangles at its beginning, but its Byrdsian overtones give way to straight Stonesian grease.

Liar is almost the same song without the jangle!

Everybody sings, guitarists Chase Simpson and Josh Jove front the band and drummer Sebastian Harris and bassist Jacob Pillot give it a chooglin’ bottom.

The Shelters strike me as in the league of Wussy, similar to Blues and Lasers, and, the band reminds me of the sorely missed, defunct The Quarter After.

Somewhere it is always 1967.

Slow Joshua Tree desert funk. Love the Fender Jaguar!

So, I Met This Guy. . .

Above are roots. . .recovering today the crucial elements of wash and noise.

Friday I was trying to see a piece of art at an opening here in Cleveland, and, I really mean trying to see it, thus trying to look into and through and around and right at map and territory.

A young man walked up to me and asked me what I thought, or something like that, and I was hesitant, asked if he was (perhaps,) the artist, and, I thought he told me he was not the artist. He wondered if speaking in response to the artist’s question might mean I would give the artist something less than my ‘unfettered viewpoint.”

At the time I didn’t get into the answer. It starts with me stating, “I like to know when the artist is asking, versus anybody else.” As an artist, in the engagement with the viewer, I’d like to work my way to the unfettered response, and work all the way to the deeply intentional response. So, as a viewer I prefer to proceed in the same manner.

As it turned out, throughout are conversation, I didn’t catch on to the fact that this gentlemen was the artist! Nevertheless, when I happened to mention that I too was an artist, and that my art was more influenced by music than it was by art, he affirmed this was true for him too!

But I remained unable in the real time of our all too brief, yet compelling conversation, to connect up two simple dots.

Coda.

The next day I wound my way from his musical name, Machine Listener, to his artist’s web site. Matthew Gallagher

After going through some of his audio opus–it was the background in my studio yesterday, and, then reading an interview and reading what he has to say, I could only end up for the first time in over two years wondering about musical collaboration. I’m thirty-five years older, yet the overlap in interests and concerns is apparently a very deep pool.

Matthew’s Soundcloud is full of sharp experiments. This track stood out.