Manafonistas

„Jamie XX’s „In Colour“ is also about the pleasure of being alone, enveloped in bass, in a sea of many; of refracting what can often be a superficial experience – London clubbing – into something more existential, more nuanced, more unified.“ (Kitty Empire) 

„Kitty, I like the way you say it, yep.. I was impressed by  both XX-albums that seeem much darker than this new one.  There were some 20-somethings who had something to tell me, a guy from an older generation. But it’s never the question of age. Moments do exist…all the time. Now I think I will try this trip to „good old“ English dance-floors. We knew from the start that neon lights would someday turn nostalgic. But i’m not in the mood for sepia-tinged memories. I like being enveloped in bass, in a sea of many, all alone. What do you think, Andre?“  (Dave Simpson)

„Oh, nothing at the moment. Sorry, I only listened with one ear. Very unprofessional, sorry, and now on air, live, embarassing. But I got your point, and thanks for your invitation. I loved the second album of The XX even more, „Coexist“. The male, the female voice, low key, no drama, but tension throughout. The bass in the background, cool abstractions from the British dance culture. Guy Sigsworth is a huge follower of every new idea there. Bass ideas. Bass desires. The intertwining of electronica and voices. He is surely keen on this music. I still have to listen to this solo album of Jamie. I wanted yesterday, but then I stumbled on a very enigmatic album.

„Tell us.“

„The Magical World of the Strands“. Nothing new. Something quite old. From the early 90’s. Listened to it  on miserable sounding Youtube, but it didn’t matter. Never heared it before. Stunning. Awesome. Fabulous. Something Ray Davies would love. I still have no words for it. Embarassing again, in a radio show. So sorry, don’t know nothing about this Michael Head guy.“ (Andre Barton)

„Well, Andre, it may be nice, sometimes to make discoveries that might have been favourite albums in your youth, right.“

„Yes. i just turned 20 when it was released,  I think. Roundabout. I’m bad in mathematics. But I think that was the time. I often  listened to The Damned and The Butthole Surfers. Creepy stuff, you know. But this record, „The Magical World of the Strands“ would have hit me like rock bottom. Its weird tenderness would have knocked me out immediately. Would be good stuff  for my parents in the first place. Ha. You know, they smoked their ganja, while George Harrison was flooding the room with his Indian sounds.“

„Yep, Andre, we will give it a listen in one of our next shows. Kitty, can we return now to your album of the week. „In Colours“.

„Like to. The  entire album feels a little like wandering around a rave, different sounds coming in and out of focus in the corridors, toilet queue chitchat forming part of the soundscape. The end of Seesaw, and that’s the one I want to play now, hopefully to a masmerized audience, is another Madley Croft track in which love goes up and down, finds some anonymous raver at a loss for words. “I just….” he splutters. “The world just…” he stammers. You know how he feels.“

„A bit like Andre tonight…“ (Laughter in the studio Rega EMS  of BBC 7)

Solche Ausreisser von Hirnfick und Blödsinn auf Stammtischniveau hat der Philosoph Friedrich Nietzsche zuhauf rausgelassen. Dabei war Frauenverachtendes, Verklemmtes, Reaktionäres, Grössenwahnsinniges, Faschistoides. Natürlich war er auch ein Sprachmagier mit einem profunden Wissen und grossen Momenten, ihm fehlte allerdings ein guter Lektor, der neben den genialen Passagen nicht so viel zum Himmel schreienden Quatsch zugelassen hätte. Als Jugendbuchautor war er in meinen Teenagerjahren (neben Jules Verne und Enid Blyton) sehr beliebt, wir berauschten uns gerne an seiner grossen Fresse und seinen trunkenen Bildern. Wir waren ja auch alle ein bisschen doof, daran änderten auch die ersten Charlie Parker-Platten nichts. Neben Schopenhauers Klassiker war Nietzsche ein echter Hit, gut auch beim Kiffen, wenn im Hintergrund Cat Stevens oder das zweite Album von Black Sabbath lief. Aber wenn man sich die Kante gab mit ein paar Bier, kam man ganz alleine auf schön besoffene Gedanken. Ich habe, wenn ich heute an meine „philosophischen Teeniejahre“ denke, ein paar ganz andere Bücher in Erinnerung: Ludwig Marcuses Philosophie des Unglücks und Ernst Blochs Vorlesungen zur Philosophie der Renaissance. Alles Sekundärliteratur. Aber so gut. Ich habe später ja auch ein bisschen Germanistik und Philosophie studiert, und dabei unglaublich eingebildete Hirnis erlebt. Ohne die gesammelten Marx- und Engels-Werke ging gar nichts. Die MG in Würzburg, die „Marxistische Gruppe“ (MG), war die widerlichste Splittergruppe der Linken. Die machten im Hörsaal die besten Professoren platt. Gerne auch bei uns Psychologiestudenten. Eine von den Frauen hielt mir dann mal einen Vortrag über die Befreiung des Proletariats und Nietzsches Übermensch. Das war der grösste Unsinn, den ich je gehört habe. Die glaubte das wirklich, und ich fragte mich, warum ich damals am liebsten Frauen vögeln wollte, die das Gegenteil von Seelenverwandten waren. Wie diese scharfe, bescheuerte MG-Tante. Brainwashed lady from the outskirts of Wurzburg. Good sex, deep sleep. Oh, sad-eyed ladies from the Highlands, rescue me! Das Rätsel habe ich dann bald gelöst. Immerhin. Dabei hat mir Nietzsche gewiss nicht geholfen. Hier noch einer für den Stammtisch: „Alles am Weibe ist ein Rätsel, und alles am Weibe hat eine Lösung: Sie heißt Schwangerschaft.“ Gottogott. Ach ja, der ist ja tot.

The Book Of The Manafonistas won’t be written. At least, I won’t play the game. The reason is simple. We couldn’t restore Ian’s texts (more than 125) in their glorious entirety. Only some of them resurfaced from the days of old (fucking 3!). When he put them, temporarily, into the basket, he didn’t want to vaporize, but to free them. Give them a secret place to hide and sleep for possible futures (I assume). Now they extinguished themselves, simply dissolved into the blue nowhere. If no Mana or „fan“ or reader has collected them, a part of unreconstructible magic is gone. The book would have been bilingual, with a bit of Dutch wrapped around it. And I know that 80 till 90 percent of his postings would have made it. I already planned the book, the way of mixing, cutting it all up in slices. Though he may not have seen it that way: Ian is fucking genius, and since I have now my Borussia Dortmund sabbatical (anyone who mentions Borussia Dortmund in my presence, will see me now turn into Steve Martin-mode from „Dead Men don’t wear plaid“, when Stevie hears the word „cleaning woman“), I had a detailed plan for our „scenius work“. In July and August I would have worked through all the texts of Ian and myself, just giving them a new order, and separate the okay texts from those with extra class, then (same procedure) through all the texts of the others who of course would have been asked beforehand, haha. And if they agreed, we would have needed about 25 new texts by the rest of the wild bunch, for reasons of balance. Thus another yes would be required. So, gosh, enough good chances to fail. Everybody would have reworked his or her own contributions before the final cut – of course (thereby doing the post-production). I’m sure there would have been a quite clever way of reassembling the texts, working with Dream-Logic-fuelled chapters (titles) – it all would have been done with recurring phrases, sentences, quotes – undermining linear texts & simple time lines. The fucking angels in the details. The book would have been a great genre-mix of fiction, thought, sex and crime, transcendental nonsense, fucking great music, time travels and travel stories. Jukeboxes and autobiographical snippets included. Let’s call it a day. We’re still here, that’s the good news. 300 dollars (this is serious) for that reader outside the inner circle who copied them all! ALL, not just 75 or so. One lady or gentleman from the inner circle would get the forthcoming edition of THE MAGICAL WORLD OF THE STRANDS, our reissue of August 2015. And ten free copies of the book in spring 2017. Won’t happen. „Nothing in my life is numbered / In my life nothing is planned / You might think you see purpose / When what you’re seeing is a fool / A thin line like from a spider / Upon which I dance / Nothing in these days is constant / Come home to chance“ (The Go-Betweens & me). 

Hans Rollmann is a writer and editor based in Eastern Canada. He’s a columnist, writer and opinions editor with the online news magazine TheIndependent.ca as well as editor of Landwash, a journal of literary and creative arts published out of Newfoundland and Labrador. His work has appeared in a range of other publications both print and online, from Briarpatch Magazine to Feral Feminisms. He loves Good food, philosophy, and Eno’s solo works. In addition to a background in radio-broadcasting, union organizing and archaeology, he’s currently completing a PhD in Gender, Feminist & Women’s Studies in Toronto. He has written the fine essay about the philosophy book of this month. When he wouldn’t be so extremely busy, he would write for us, I’m sure. In a „book of the manafonistas“ (how realistic that ever might be), he would be a special guest, along with Karl Hyde, Brian Eno, Robert Wyatt, Jan Bang, David Torn and Steve Tibbetts. So, Hans, don’t think twice! :)

 

 
 
 
And a new episode in my KARAVANSERAI series: strings again, spring strings this time! Michael Galasso, Niels Økland, Kim Kashkashian, Karin Nakagawa, Sinikka Langeland. Not more, not more, it’s so rich!
 
 
KARAVANSERAI radio ON DEMAND
 
 
KARAVANSERAI: Spring Strings PLAYLIST
 
Michael Galasso – High Lines. ECM
1 Caravanserai Day
2 Never More
 
Nils Økland – Kjølvatn. ECM
3 Start
4 Undergrunn
5 Drev
6 Kjølvatn
7 Fivreld
8 Blå Harding
9 Amstel
 
Kim Kashkashian – Neharot. ECM New Series
10 Tagh for the Funeral of the Lord
11 Oros
 
Anders Jormin/Lena Willemark/Karin Nakagawa – Tree Of Light. ECM
12 Hirajoshi
 
Sinikka Langeland – The half-finished heaven. ECM
13 The blue tit’s spring song
 
Michael Galasso – High Lines. ECM
14 High Lines
15 Caravanserai Night
 
 
©FoBo_HenningBolte
 

It was a longer journey but finally we managed that Levon Eskenian’s Gurdjieff Folk Instrument Ensemble will arrive at the HOLLAND FESTIVAL in Amsterdam.
 
 
Next Sunday, june 7, the ensemble will play two concerts with music of Gurdjieff and also Soghomon Soghomonian in Amsterdam. Part of the afternoon concert is a recital by pianist Lusine Grigoryan She will play pieces by Komitas she recently recorded in Lugano for ECM.
 
 
There are two PREVIEW radio programs on CONCERTZENDER. Both can be listened ON DEMAND by just two clicks. You’ll find a playlist under the RADIO ON DEMAND link:
 
program GURDJIEFF
 
program KOMITAS
 
The Gurdjieff pieces in the radio program will slowly shift from piano and cello versions to the reconstructed folk (instrument’s) version. The Komitas program presents renditions by various musicians including great Armenian composer Tigran Mansurian. Komitas was a great composer deserving more attention.
 
 
Only text, no picture here … and wonderful music … if you want!

Title: I’ve Seen Everything
 
Artist: The Trash Can Sinatras
 
Release date: Sometime last century. The 1990s, maybe. Who cares?
 
Recording details: Produced by Ray Shulman, recorded at Shabby Road Studios, Kilmarnock, Scotland
 
Genre: seriously, fuck knows.
 
Tell for why this is a classic: there is no canon. Otherwise it wouldn’t lose things like this. A collection of songs that might make your heart explode. Vivid lyrics, good tunes.
 
Standout tracks: Hayfever, Orange Fell, I’m Immortal, Send For Henny, I’ve Seen Everything, Earlies.
 
Sample lyric 1: all our plans were made on streets the winter paved, as streetlamp lucozade orange fell – I love this lyric. It’s like a moment out of James Joyce’s Dubliners. Non UK readers may appreciate a little background here. Lucozade is a fizzy drink, and it has an orange colour. Not opaque Fanta orange colour, more like translucent rust. The drink was originally sold at your local Apotheke and marketed to people convalescing from illness. A UK streetlamp does indeed look like luminous Lucozade. So you get this sad, reflective, post- love affair song, with the streetlamp kind of radiating this comforting energy. The wording ‚orange fell‘ has two meanings – the first is literal – the orange light fell on the snowy Scottish winter street. The second is a reference to Isaac Newton’s (probably apocryphal) epiphany when an apple fell on his head and he invented gravity. (I say ‚invented‘ but it may already have been there, dragging stuff down.) By switching it to orange rather than apple, and having photons ‚fall‘, the lyric opens up questions about how the physicality of the universe and the unity of the universe are stretched and reshaped when the psyche is affected by ‚falls‘ in or out of love.
 
Sample lyric 2: come into my house, throw open the windows wide, then back to your house to do likewise Another cracking line. It’s about breathing, the etymology of the inspiration, and also defences.
 
Sample lyric 3: three feet of snow fell on the Walnut Road, two feet trudged. Round the corner came the sound of bad dreams. The flame is old, the Thames is cold I have no idea what this song is about. It appears to tell the story of two friends in their early 20s moving to London to work in the early 1980s. They work ‚earlies‘ (i.e. from around 4am until noon) which suggests they have crap jobs. There’s a reference to terrorism – did one of them die? You’re left to guess.
 
Anything else? I saw the band play live around the time this was released. The Velvet Underground (THE VELVET UNDERGROUND, BABY!) were playing at a venue that same night, about two streets away. The Trash Cans‘ singer walked on stage and his first words were something along the lines of „commiserations, everyone – I guess you couldn’t get Velvet Underground tickets and came to see us instead“. Not me, I was there for these songs. I wasn’t disappointed either.