Charlamagne Palestine at The Brick Annex

Body/Head at Zebulon

I’ve seen a couple avant-garde musical acts in the past couple days that, while sonically couldn’t be more different, seemed keyed in to the same door of utilizing sound to connect to something greater in the universe. Charlamagne Palestine used intense repetition and tonal improvisation on the piano while Body/Head was a nonstop barrage of distorted guitar with various effects layering a collage of pummeling sound.

The similarities between the two acts was striking, however. They both used long-form, anti-format performances to keep the music in the moment. Seeing your regular band at a show becomes predictable if you’re familiar with their songs—you know what parts are coming up, and they might have a slight variation, but for the most part, you’re getting a louder version of an album cut. These works were very much like, This is how the room feels right now, and there’s something inherently special about that.

It seemed very telling that the two were also helmed by musicians in their 70s. Charlamagne couldn’t even remember the year he was born when giving a brief introduction to his work. Kim Gordon is 73, although you wouldn’t know it from the noise she makes (as well as how generally youthful she appeared on stage). They are both obvious masters of their craft and respective instruments and, while giving into the moment, always seemed to have almost complete control over what was happening with the sound in the room.

Being able to walk that kind of tightrope in the arts is the type of great mastery we can all only aspire to. It’s also why, when AI executives claim making music is not enjoyable or some other bullshit, they obviously have no clue what they are talking about. These sounds were extensions of the human experience, reaching beyond what our physical bodies can feel and sense, into a place that requires a guide to go. That’s what great art is, and what the best technology will never be able to replicate.

Morton Feldman Rothko Chapel program

I was lucky enough to attend the sold-out performance of Rothko Chapel (among a few other, shorter works) that the Monday Evening Concert series put on tonight in honor of what would have been Morton Feldman’s 100th birthday (at least, earlier this year). It’s the second show celebrating Feldman I saw this week—last Friday, Oracle Egg had BlackBox Ensemble perform a similar event with different works.

Now, full disclosure, I knew nothing of Feldman before these concerts. While I listen to plenty of avant-garde music, it’s often in the shape of post-rock-adjacent bands or weird things I see at sparsely-attended local shows where someone has an array of objects they turn into something between a harmony and an unstructured wall of noise. The sort of high-brow, famous and studied crowd isn’t something I’m really familiar with.

That’s why I was particularly fond of hearing this performance tonight. I had no clue what to expect—it was honestly my love of Rothko more than anything that made me buy a ticket to begin with. But I left completely stirred by the music.

Performance set-up at Oracle Egg

This is the wonderful thing about experiencing art in general—there’s no telling how seeing Rothko Chapel will affect me or the work I make down the line, but it undoubtedly will, somehow, even if I am not fully aware of it. It feels almost stupid to write out—how taking in something creative can provoke inspiration—but we live in really stupid times when people are actively working against the idea that art made by humans has a place or purpose in life.

Beyond my ongoing laments about AI, though, seeing this made me both glad to be in Los Angeles but saddened by how capitalism all but ruins these types of performances for so many people by not allowing an avenue for them to be experienced at all. A ‘market’-based economy will always be cruel to the arts because it’s generally unpredictable what, if anything, will even break even with a financial investment (much less be any kind of success). Major cities generally have enough demand for a variety of cultural options that many forms of art can cultivate audiences; mid-sized cities are lucky to have one independent theater and a liberal arts college that offers annual concert series. Rural areas are basically fucked beyond anything that doesn’t play in a national, corporate movie theater chain.

Experiencing art helps develop abstract thought. When ten people see the same movie, even one that might be ‘philosophical’ in nature, they are all presented with the same basic concept in their heads because the plot of the film poses questions it seeks to answer. Perhaps it’ll make the people think about variations of that question, but all ten people will have fairly concentrated thought processes. Taking in an experimental concert, or looking at abstract paintings, makes the ten people come up with their own questions before trying to reach a conclusion. The experience itself provokes so much more than what entertainment provides for—it has the potential to spur on more conversations, develop greater ideas, and make people more open in general.

As ideas are being chiseled away at and culture that doesn’t embrace corporatism is stifled, it feels like we’re all losing out. Violence seems inevitable at this point, and I can’t help but think that’s partially due to the fact so much of what we see and hear and experience on screens of any sort keeps pointing in that direction. We all end up thinking in similar patterns of decay because that’s all we’re shown in the dominant forms of media. It’s all just so sad, and I guess the music was bringing all that up tonight.

Why I don’t use Ticketmaster

I saw that tickets to the Chelsea Wolfe show at the Orpheum next month were pretty reasonably priced at $35, so I went to pick up a couple and was shocked—though, I guess I shouldn’t have been—to see a service charge per ticket at sixty-two percent of the face value. For what? To send me an e-mail? To make me download the shitty app on the day of the show so they can scan a QR code?

Given that the LiveNation executives brag about ‘robbing people blind,’ I guess stuff like this should come as no surprise. Still, it remains absolutely infuriating. I don’t think these companies should just be broken up—I think the executives should all be thrown in prison for years (and that, honestly, would be a kindness).

Cord organization (Before)

Cord organization (After)

Completed board

It’s taken me seven years or so to build out this pedal board (although I’ve had a few of these for close to 15) but this week I finally did all the dirty work of organizing, cabling, connecting wires, and zip-tying them all together to finish the first upgrade I’ve made in a couple years. It took two days to figure out what order to put the pedals in and four hours of dealing with wires to finish it all.

The motivation is behind my recent decision to scrap a record and start something fresh due to a screening of King Lear. Ironically I’m starting that project out with mostly piano, bass, and string work but I’m eager to see where this takes me.

After a rather brutal August into September heat wave, Los Angeles is finally settling into normal weather for this time of year. I look at my portable AC with hesitation—I feel like putting it away for the winter is tempting fate that we’ll get hit with another week of 90 degree lunacy. The beach is only 10 miles away but it takes 45 minutes to get there. Sometimes living in this city just feels absurd.

One of the difficulties with sobriety is that addicts are obsessive and tend to replace their habit with another, arguably less destructive, one. For me it’s been TV and movies. I feel less bad about the latter, but watching too much television feels gross. I know how bad it is for the mind, I’ve read enough media theory. It’s a problem that I’m trying to use music and reading to beat, but I consider it just as bad as drinking.

So here’s a list of stuff I’ve been listening to on a lazy Saturday afternoon:

Wilshire Kingsley

Those Who Walk Away, Afterlife Requiem
Kind of drone, kind of melodic; this is one you just kind of get lost in. I’ll put it on while working and parts will just come out and grab my attention out of nowhere.

Songs: Ohia, The Lioness
Totally slept on this for years, even though I love Didn’t it Rain. Just sad songs and beautiful guitar work from the late, great Jason Molina.

Gillian Welch, Time (The Revelator)
Possibly the best singer-songwriter album of the 21st century. Though it was written about Napster, “Everything is Free” is more meaningful than ever. Not a second of this is less than perfect.

Tim Hecker, Dropped Pianos
Different than most of Hecker’s more intense and varied work, this is short and sweet piano and organ music that keeps a pretty morose but enchanting experience.

The National, Rome (Full Concert)
This is half-full of songs I really didn’t like on their Frankenstein album that are completely different when played live. I just wish they’d played “Slow Show.”

Charli XCX, Wuthering Heights
I kind of disdain Charli’s cultural presence in general, but it’s hard to deny this record is just banger after banger. Just a monster of a pop album that will probably be my favorite of the year.

Radwan Ghazi Moumneh & Frédéric D. Oberland, Eternal Life No End
Excellent worldly music from this Middle Eastern duo that fuses a lot of traditional sounds from that part of the world with driving, electronic-inspired percussion.

Jason Isbell, Foxes In The Snow
I have been kind of mixed on his work since Southeastern, but this acoustic album about a breakup and falling in love with someone new is full of what it means to endure the extremes in relationships.