Suit & Tie Guy - live at the Peoria Riverfront Museum

Club sounds, conversations; could be real, could be recorded. Hard to say, actually. Music almost in the background, but as the bass drones start to take over my attention the club seems to fade away and we slowly take off, almost as if it’s the soundtrack to an otherwise silent airship journey. Not sure what I was expecting, perhaps bleeps and bloops, sequencers run amok. Hadn’t expected this slow rise above the landscape though.

Even the simple single-note lines seem to be full of texture. Thick with reverb, moving in, out, around us, pulling us onward. For some reason I expected robots, what I got was deep humanity. And then those organ tones come in, hypnotic in their warbling timbre and surprising just on the fact of their existence. And hey, perhaps some percussive bleeps and bloops along with the organ. Finally! Everything here is synthetic, but also wholly organic. Slow, gracious, calm, beauteous. Robots with human hands, human hands wrangling robots. Pure single held note. Then, surprisingly modulated, beyond expectation. Then key change sneaking up on us, and we’re into Part 2.

The beat takes over, feels like it’s speeding up, although that might only be because our head’s now nodding along to the rhythm. Vaguely plinky-plunky Japanese somehow, but now a different organ grounds us. Not church style, not jazz style, but there almost as pure texture. Incredibly refreshing because you’re just so jazzed it’s not synth strings the way it always is. (Note to self: Organ!) It’s hypnotizing, in its peacefulness, still propelled by that great beat. Keep having to remind myself it’s live, and the further in I get the more I wish I’d been there. 

And of course, just as you’re comfortable, key change. Baseline has me hooked. Head again bopping along. Changes coming fast and furious, yet somehow slowly and calmly at the same time. It’s evolution, somehow musically expressed. Wait a second, when did those drums come in? All of a sudden they’re there, except it happened somehow slowly, over time. Yeah, I’m hooked. Dagnabbit, major change happened again! But this time it’s that I only just noticed the drums have disappeared. 

And then the thickest of thin buzzy textures take us into Part 3, where we find ourselves in the land of slow and peaceful texture. Eyes closed, soaking it in, knowing we’ll get there, to some other place, almost without noticing the change.

Yup, just as I predicted. Somehow, indeed unnoticed, we’re in the middle of treated pianos, and it somehow wasn’t even a surprise now that we’re here.

Yes, now Part 4. Distinctly different from Part 3, but a transition so smooth you might not have noticed. That quiet stick tip tattoo finding its mates, over time becoming another propulsive rhythm, moving us along. And yet we’re still also deep in the slow reverb, now joined by staccato synth lines, echoed clean, forming a backbone for yet another kind of utterly organic organ, filling the space with still more texture. The rhythm is infectious, it’s got me going. Just right. Drums, sequencers, reverb, echo, organ. It’s all there.

I started listening and writing in daylight, now it’s full dark, the only light coming from my screen as I type. But if I close my eyes I can see the lights flow by on the sequencer, see the (synthetic) Leslie spinning, see all the heads bobbing along with mine. Man, if only I’d known. Would’ve been great to see this done live instead of just listening in headphones in iTunes. 

And even as we slowly go from joyful head bopping into full on creep-out chaos right there at the end I just had to almost laugh along with it all. Fantastic. Was sorry it was over, but also relieved I could finally let go of the breath I’d been holding the whole time. Hadn’t even noticed I’d been on the edge of my seat, was completely immersed.

Suit & Tie Guy - live at the Peoria Riverfront Museum

Album cover photograph by Caleb Condit

Morton Subotnick live at the Issue Project Room

I didn’t quite know what to expect as I made my way to Brooklyn to see Morton Subotnick play live. When I got there, sitting outside the room before they let us in, you could hear all sorts of bleeps and bloops coming through the closed door. Piles of synthesizers? The legendary Buchla? No way to tell from my side of the door. When we were let in, though, there was a small table with a Mac laptop and a Korg nanoKONTROL on it and not much else. Not what I expected, but then again since I didn’t know what to expect it seemed to fit.

The space was very interesting. PA speakers in four corners, seats in the center. It was small, too, maybe 50 seats if even that many. Hanging from the ceiling were 15 speaker pods, which I think had a separate computer controlling the sound going to them. We were surrounded.

Subotnick was introduced, and then still standing started to explain what he was going to play, what his near-term plans were, and several incredibly funny stories of things that happened in his career. He was very personable and very friendly, seemed quite at ease. My favorite quote, from when he was describing the record company exchanging his four-track reel-to-reel for a new, modern eight track version: “If heaven is anything like an eight-track tape recorder it’s a pretty good place.”

Then he sat down to play.

I don’t know. I was maybe expecting cacophony, maybe expecting “difficult” music. What I got was simply amazing. He started slowly, triggering sounds and bits of music, going back and forth between the nanoKONTROL and the Mac’s keyboard. He spent quite some time putting together complex rhythms and melodies, slowly building up steam, taking us along with him. It was fascinating, but more importantly it was good music. I guess I was expecting synthesized weirdness, but what he gave us was instead masterly. It was almost like an explosion of sound in reverse. It was the musical equivalent of an explosion on video played backwards. At first, all the parts are scattered and random, but over time they start to accelerate towards each other and then faster and faster they all coalesce into a recognizable whole. It was exhilarating, completely unexpected, amazing. And that was only his first piece, a bit of Silver Apples of the Moon.

His second piece was similar, but very different. He explained how he had Don Buchla build him an early envelope follower (if not the very first one). Subotnick would then sing into it, storing his voice on tape to use later to modify sounds from the Buchla. The second piece used this technique, and parts of it sounded eerily like heavenly choirs singing square waves. He also used the vocal-formed envelopes to start some long, evolving rhythmic patterns and the joint was rocking. He even took his hands off the keyboards a few times, sat back and raised his eyebrows when the rhythms turned into something interesting. Then he’d smile and reach for a knob on the nano and completely mangle it into something just as amazing but totally new, almost looking like an evil professor with a gleam in his eye as he did it. When the piece was done he got a tremendous ovation, and then it was over. It was fabulous.

It was bug music, it was slamming rhythms, it was synthesizers being thrown around among the 19 speakers above the audience. It was ethereal beauty, it was entertainment, it was mesmerizing. I saw in places where Tangerine Dream came from, where Robert Rich came from, and even where Moldover came from. And if they had been there at the end of the show, they would have eagerly joined in with the standing ovation.

Live vs. Mostly Live

I’ve thought a lot about this issue over the years, and during the past few days on the SynthSights mailing list there’s been a discussion on live music being performed on laptops (and note that this post is a slightly longer and mildly improved version of a post I put up there a day or so ago).

I’ve seen a few live shows where I wasn’t exactly sure how much of it was actually being performed live. The most disappointing one was Tangerine Dream. My heros. It was still a great show, but one would expect that when Edgar Froese comes out from behind the keyboards to play guitar there would be a noticeable change in the music behind him. I realize it’s only three guys, or nowadays several people, but it seemed more like they were tending the music rather than playing the music. I suppose I’d prefer six people playing rather then three people and a tape. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy their shows, but there’s always something about it that makes me wonder.

Another example is Peter Gabriel. His shows are amazing, and I’m a huge fan. The early “solo” shows were just great shows, almost as if he were finally getting to do things the way he wanted them done. Larry Fast playing keyboards didn’t hurt either since for me seeing Synergy live was a total bonus (and note that he did a solo show, presumably with much computer help, at NearFest X back in June). The more recent shows, however, sometimes make me question what I’m hearing. There are a lot people with him and there’s a lot going on, but fairly often I find that my ears perk up and I’m unable to figure out who, if anyone, is playing something. Gabriel has some large screened device on his keyboard table, which actually I’m now wondering what it is, so it’s a bit up in the air as to how much of the show is not actually being performed live. In some ways I feel a little cheated when I see him. The music is so good, but there’s always that little voice in the back of my head questioning the veracity of what I’m hearing.

Then there’s Todd Rundgren. He’s done all sorts of shows, some with bands that had three keyboard players so he could do it all live, and some solo shows where he would introduce his Roland sequencer as his bandmate. Totally up front, you always know what was live and what wasn’t. However, there have been times (such as when I saw him live last week) when there was a small bit of the show which was a slightly awkward bit of pre-recording. Last week there was a moment in the middle of a song where they had a short sequencer break that intro’d a different section of the song. You couldn’t leave it out, but you also couldn’t really play it live. Me, I would have preferred it if they had brought in one extra piece of equipment rather than having it be something done offstage. Even if it were done offstage, at least trigger it with a keypress onstage. That’s what MIDI is for, after all. It was pretty amusing to see them all mill about for a moment during that momentary break before they started to play again. This isn’t a critique at all, it was just a little surprising to see them all stop playing for a moment.

The other extreme is something like Jordan Rudess at Moogfest a year or so ago. An amazing performance, but it was just a bit distracting to hear an entire prog band blazing away but to only have one guy up on stage. Also at Moogfest, although at an earlier edition, was Thomas Dolby. Very entertaining and a good show, but it was obviously one guy with his computer. In fact, he was having a bit of trouble with the software. That wasn’t a bad thing, though, as he’s such a good performer and kept up his chatting with the audience throughout. The problem with both of those performances, though, is that they were accompanying their CDs or their computers. For me, seeing these two great performers just sort of “playing along” to their music was just the tiniest bit of a letdown.

And then there’s Robert Rich, also. I’ve only seem him live once (so far). It was a really good show in a really good venue with a really good MOTM modular behind him. I had a bunch of his records, but I was wondering how he’d do them by himself in a live situation. Well, it took him two laptops but he pulled it off. A substantial portion of the show had him playing “effected” guitar or PVC flutes whilst being accompanied by his own music. However, I believe he was using Ableton Live, which allowed him to mix and vary things as the mood struck. It was a bit more interesting than a simple recording with him playing along. Was it fully live? No, not really, but it was interesting and entertaining. I appreciated that while the show contained pre-recorded music it was also under the control of the performer rather than simply being a “tape recorder” playback.

I want to make it clear, though, that I am in no way trying to slam any of these artists. In fact, I'm a huge fan of most of them and the rest I “only” like a lot. We’re talking about fully live vs. partially live here, not whether the music is good or bad.

Anyway, this is starting get way too long. My vote: I prefer live. I’d rather bring in a couple of extra people to help me out if I have something I can’t fully play on my own in a live situation. I’d also rather start a sequence with my own two audience-visible hands on a hardware device than to click a mouse. Same music, different perception.