Colin Stetson - Fear of the Unknown and the Blazing Sun
Listening to Colin’s latest album “New History Warfare: Volume 2 - Judges” today I was struck that the man coupled with a suitable creative mind could create the most interesting acoustic (i.e. not programmed) dance music. That thought is only borne out here by his clear ability to use his sax to create a solid rhythm and mesmerising melodic riff. Over it, Laurie Anderson speaks about empathy and otherworldly things, and Shara Worden’s normally soaring voice is no less engaging at it intones its way through the latter half of the track, Stetson’s rhythm clacking and limping like faulty clockwork. Why can’t I stop listening to this?
Laurie Anderson - The Beginning Of Memory
The penultimate track on the album, this the story she used to open one of her performances. It’s also one of the pieces I recalled from its initial presentation seeing her in 2008. It’s a simple story, but it’s a story that highlights just a little…I actually typed several different endings to that sentence. None of them felt right. I highly encourage you to listen to this track, which is less than three minutes so won’t take up a lot of your time, and see for yourself what it might highlight specifically for you. Suffice to say that it makes me feel a little like how I feel when I read books about the creation of the universe and what may or may not have existed before the Big Bang.
Musically, it’s a bassline and drum beat with some vocalisations from some throat singers. The way it swirls does well to match the imagery of birds flying, and flying constantly, unable to land, unable to remember.
Laurie Anderson - Homeland
I’m not going to give too much commentary here. I feel that my reaction to a lot of Laurie’s work is a very personal reaction that is very difficult to put into words for a review like this.
I saw her perform this work in London in 2008, and sections of it emerged throughout her ‘Transitory Life’ and ‘Songs From Delusion’ which she performed in Sydney earlier this year. I’m glad I had the “live” experiences before the album arrived. I was surprised at how much of it remained familiar from her London performance.
It’s not an immediately accessible album. Some pieces, things like “Only An Expert” and “Another Day In America”, are familiar in a sense - the execution is familiar, and the content current whilst also harking back to her very early works. A large segment of it, while I feel that I understand what she’s talking about, is clearly a very personal reaction. It’s quite affecting to listen to sometimes, particularly tracks like “Falling” and “Thinking Of You”. The latter track contains the beautifully devastating “I was thinking of you / and I was thinking of you / and I was thinking of you / and then / I wasn’t thinking of you any more”.
Honestly, because of the familiar but obtuse and occasionally veiled nature of most of the album, I think everyone’s reaction is going to be incredibly different. I think that’s how it should be for more records, even more traditional pop albums. Even the more literal works, because they’re dealing with a specific view of the world, coloured by personal experience and politics, are open to interpretation, and a shifting one at that. I have no doubt that when I come to listen to this album in five years time it will tell me a very different story to the one it told across 2010.
Laurie Anderson - The Beginning Of Memory
I want to give commentary on this beautiful, haunting story, but I feel it would be the musical version of spoilers.
Lou Reed - Vanishing Act (Live at Vivid Festival)
I need to disclaim something first - a lot of my love for this I have no doubt comes from being there. Lou was sitting at the far left of the stage. Laurie was standing at the far right. The guy from Doveman was on the piano, which Lou was sitting in front of. There would have been at least 10 metres between Lou and Laurie.
This was one of those few moments you get at a live show where the whole room - the whole Opera House Concert Hall - was just in the same moment. As Laurie, delicately at first, began to play the violin, you could feel something begin, and then build until the end where it verges on cacophony, albeit a beautiful one. About halfway through I realised this wasn’t Lou singing just accompanied by Laurie. This was a duet.
You could feel the connection between the two across the stage. It was almost physically palpable, and hugely emotional, to see the two perform together, having just curated the entire festival, to have the whole week of varied, exciting shows completely overarched by this performance and a clear expression of whatever relationship they have together.
It feels weird to say this out loud, but it wasn’t one of those performative moments that was unique or rare regardless of quality, as seems to be so lauded in the live music world. It was one of those live music moments that it felt an absolute privilege to be a part of, because it was so real, the internal made external and spreading out across everything, successfully filling the whole room.
I’d take another five minutes of that alone over any amount of technical performance bravado or charismatic stage swagger.
How nice it is to disappear.
Float into a mist.
With a young lady on your arm.
Looking for a kiss.
Looking for a kiss.
