POPULAR MUSIC- GLOBALISM

In this article when referring to many forms of popular music, what is meant to be implied is the music of the masses, the music of the crowd, the music of and for the people, in terms of what happens in everyday life around them, what goes on, and what they want to hear as a collective. It is not to be confused with the 'traditional' style of once popular folk music that we attribute to the culture of the landscapes of the world, and the indigenous peoples that inhabit them.

In the society we have inhabited since the beginning of the 1900's, and what is sure to continue for a prolonged, yet non-determinable period that is presently still spinning it's wheel, music as an outlet for entertainment and the arts has always left its mark on time periods and the people who lived through them, and whatever context it had, what it meant in the time it was composed and performed by it's authors, has a boundless influence that cannot be denied from historical perspective, whether in the mind of the analyst it serves as something that has worthy value, stood the test of time, or whether it remains just a simple fragment that was superficial, but nevertheless functioned as an important atom in the structural surroundings of the society that was inhabited by living people within that phase.

Amidst the tide of extensive globalisation, all of the geographical areas effected by the outcomes of colonial expansionism and the values of the Enlightenment have become more compact, tightened and dense. The distribution of population radically has began to tend towards the metropolis and the city, whilst the surrounding cultures that originally defined the character and artistic will of the lands, have become assimilated into a non-balanced collective, tending ever further towards materialist perspectives as the voice of finance makes itself clearer.

One of the most established organs of a cultural defination, that being music, has also changed amidst these circumstances. With all forms of integration and demographic change that have occured as a result of said happenings, the aural narratives that were the product of worldwide and historical cultures, have changed in a direction that is parellel to the rapid advancement of technology and urbanization. Often it is here that the terminology of what 'folk' music is can be misleading, whether it be the throat singing of shamanic rite, a hymn to dead ancestors or a verse of honor to old deities, as alternately, if we apply this terminology to the values embraced by many at this given era, that term could easily enough be considered tantamount to pleasing large collectives.

To epochs or micro-cycles that have little or no appreciation for the significance of ancient forms and modes that defined traditional musical styles, there is only appreciation for the events within those densities that will only act as but a brief statement to be chained within time's ongoing span. In a landscape where collectively it's inhabitants are for the most part devoid of an exaltation for their past, and in turn think only of the present moment yet care little for the future, the songs and music that define the ongoing age are crystallised as being legacies of sub-cultures that either fail to define or fully realise themselves.

Apart from a catalogue mass that serves only to please ears, shake bodies and define ignoble customs, there are forms and variants that have and do otherwise offer glimmers of transcendance, idealism and artistry, whilst fundamentally they are overlooked and ignored by a common majority whom more often than not never pursue what is beyond their own comfort.

In regard to the latter statement, it is indeed to an extent a matter of personal interpretation by those who dig and fathom for inner substance, rather than it be a God-given law of what is and what is not, though in most cases in dissent from the simple, purely rhytmic modes of modern popular music, or otherwise using manipulation of it's formulas so that an artistic outcome is the fruit of labour, rather than the base satisfaction of composer or listener.

WORKPLACE-FUNCTION-SUPERFICIALITY.

In the majority of fields in which most people are now employed today, very few of them offer its worker, or its employees a sense of actual acheivement, nor give the sense that higher goals have been attained, with the only exception being the material rewards (money) that come as a result of filling a place of office. Of course what is done with such reward, how it is distributed and spent, and whether it is put to beneficial or wasteful use, is entirely down to the individual who earns it.

Before I enter greater detail on this, some decent examples of the environments this entails would include call centres, factories, and in general the product cycle, concerning the distribution and sale of consumer goods.

As is the case with expansive workforces that are more often than not coupled with superficial 'target-driven' environments, we see an immediate flaw, in that by attaining numerical goals as a means to satisfy companies demand of income, the actual skill, intellect and drive of each employee is relegated to mere written statistics. In essence, there is no regard for the individual merits of those with the best potentials, and otherwise a boost of ego is often given toward those whose 'lack' of worldly abilities, and a general mindset devoid of external discovery (living for the weekend, 'money to burn') leave them safe to dwell within the confines of the functional limits of their job. Especially when we take into consideration the field of consumer sales, in which the lust of revenue for its own sake is dressed up with a caring, ultra-sympathetic attitude that is nothing more than a sly ploy to seduce potential customers into purchasing a product.

When such an atmosphere permeates nearly every corner of the modern urban workforce, the original purpose of working as a means to live is negated through the narrow confines of mental and physical activity the surroundings place on individual employees. The fact that the hours of work (this can also be applied to nearly every scale of modern work, with the exception of self-employment) are rigid and merely confined to their numerical limits (shifts) is also a detriment towards the individual capabilities of a workman, and has no relation in respect to the tasks and errands that each of them must perform, regardless of how, when and with what efficiency they are performed by each person. In other words, said institutions are anti-meritocratic, and for the obvious purpose of expanding the economic income for what would be best aptly branded as the 'power elite', quantity triumphs over quantity.

The modern approach, or the modern ethic towards how work is performed appears to be valued only in a purely mechanical context, and that with little beyond the physical function of the chore, little else besides that is valued appropriately, and without too deep an analogy, it is obvious as to why many often describe this medium as 'de-humanizing'.

The democracy of modern economics has left open a gateway for endless competition between buisnesses and companies, that is so great in it's expanse that no room is left for the well being of those people who serve them, nor is there a sense of appreciation for a genuine quality in the produce that is outputted. In other words, it is as if all organisms are but cogs in a transparent wheel, where buisness knows nothing more than gaining in materials for the pure sake of avoiding it's inevitable decline and overthrow. What will become in succession to this remains to be questioned, though so long as the most vulgar elements of human desire keeps making itself clear, there is always a barrier that keeps a more organic and natural replacement from making it's occurence.

Delorentos gig at Clonmel, 4th July 2009.

After being unsure of what to do for the evening, myself and a friend were invited to South Tipperary to come and watch Dublin act Delorentos play a gig in a hotel in the centre of Clonmel.

Needing a brief change of scenery from Kilkenny, and having being purchased a ticket a couple of hours in advance, we thought 'why not?' and headed down.

The set consisted of around an hours worth of material, and was played with energy and proficiency. The venue was aorund half-full, and many young women were there to admire as they wooed them with music that would easily fall into the 'post-punk revival' ilk that has been popularized by acts such as Franz Ferdinand and The Killers. Like said bands, their music fails to reveal any hidden depths that good music evokes, nor does it exhibit any nuances of innovation or uniqueness that their musical forefathers had at their disposal. Their songs capture hearts and minds, move feet and clap hands without difficulty, though go no further and deny any greater picture or scope, in spite of how catchy the verses and choruses are, or regardless of the very positive atmosphere that was brought about by the band's presence. To sum up things more briefly and how history as an eternal concept might view this event, the music played came across as little more than a bodily function, and the sentiments of the songs served to be nothing but a statement of the present time in which they happened to be in whilst they played.

The songs consisted of lively, danceable rhythms that evoked traces of acts such as Gang Of Four and The Pop Group, with a musical backdrop of jangly guitars that evoke the early records of Wire, yet harmonize and play differing melodies in a way reminiscent of peer bands such as Editors and Bloc Party, though with much less emphasis on atmospherics. Compositions were very standardized, with little enthusiasm to take song structure (not a criticism, though without a doubt the band's intention) beyond the modern pop tradition of verse-chorus, for the most part killing off any momentum or linear continuity that makes good art worth it's salt. To make good art is probably not the intention of these young men either, though it is quite clear that history will just put these days in its vault when the night I refer to is all but a distant memory.

Being something of a realist I do also recognize that all human analysis is 'man-made' and is indeed formed by individual opinion, I am not writing this review as if should serve as some form of eternal law, though I do think it serves to glimpse a moment in time that falls into line within my rather Spenglerian modes of thought.

Still, a great night was had, with plenty of drunken merriness, stupid dance moves and an amusing incident with a shopping trolley in the early hours of the morning:)

A brief yet otherwise wonderful foray into the realm of cinema by the artistic and cultural virtuoso that was Yukio Mishima, 'Yukoku' is a short manifestation of the philosophy of Yukio Mishima, which deals heavily with patriotic and militaristic themes, and works in adherence to his belief in the notion that in the warrior tradition of the Nipponese, death by ritual suicide was a heavenly act.

Yukoku is rather a quick watch, not even being longer than half an hour in length. If one has already read any of his books, one will easily establish that the exact same ideal manifests itself on screen as it does in his written work. Some of the set pieces, some of the fierce eroticism and bloodshed that is this film's centrepiece, give us a great insight in the psyche, and the potential narcissism of Mishima, with his obsession for consummate poise and physical perfection made very clear in the film. The militaristic theme of death before dishonor also evokes the main theme of 'Runaway Horses', which is the second installment of his 'Sea Of Fertility' series.

The film consists of five parts, which chronicle in written dialogue the participation of a lieutenant in a military coup, and his decision to commit seppuku, along with his wife, who joins him in doing so. Prior to this, the centrepiece of the film is a lengthy sexual scene between Takeyama (played by Mishima) and his wife (played by Yoshiko Tsuruoka), and exploits quite poignantly the transcendental functions of sexual foreplay in the interval between love and death.

This is followed by the seppuku of Mishima's character, which is a painful and slow rite of disembowlment, once again is attempt by Mishima to both exalt and sensualise death before dishonor. Mishima always appeared to hold positive inclinations about death, and it seems wished for such a portrayal to deem ritual death as a means of smiling in the face of such an entity in its midst, and accepting rebirth beyond the physical limitations of dying.

The film is overlaid by a dramatic, and rather romantic musical score, that is rather similar to that of a vintage Hollywood romance, full of crescendos that lessen, and then rise again as if in some form of emotive suspense. On assumptive grounds, one would imagine that such a western-styled element would not be cohesive with a film whose ideological content and technique is contrasted against it. Mishima suceeds in this choice, balancing this with some lengthy camera shots and as stated earlier, an excellent use of aesthetics and non-dialogue posture.

Yukoku is a good film. It marries all of the themes that are dominant in the mind and writings of Yukio Mishima, and he suceeds in bringing them onto the camera with an honor and dignity that one probably wouldnt witness in Western cinema. It is worthy piece of work to a list of great works and acheivements by a true artistic savant.

I Shalt Become- Wanderings

This album is quite an obscure gem, and has only just seen a re-release by Moribund Records. Although there are flaws to this record which the reviewer only percieves as minor, one should not let this get in the way of the artistic validity of this music.
'Wanderings' was released originally in 1996 by one-man act I Shalt Become, and musically is indebted mainly to the arpeggio lead riff structures of Burzum and the loose musical execution portrayed in such albums like 'Thousand Swords' by Graveland, and 'Thy Dying Light' by fellow countrymen Judas Iscariot.
The guitars sound quite blurry and chaotic, having the kind of noise and timbre one might associate with the 'Decrepitude' tracks from Burzum's 'Filosofem', and as mentioned in the previous paragraph, are defined by arpeggio based riffs that are melancholic and were seemingly intended to be keyed in minor. Interesting also is the addition on some songs of a second guitar which plays harmonic variations on the standard melody, as shown on songs such as 'Fragments', 'Winter Lights' and 'Thorns'. This technique can be seen first put into practice by Burzum, on the song 'Det Som En Gang Var', and S.Holliman, the sole author of I Shalt Become's music, seems to incorparate this technique as a permanent formula, giving the recorded product more atmospheric depth, hence also outweighing the 'lack' of musical ability and virtuosity towards which many outsiders to the Black Metal genre are so often scornful. This technique, in the opinion of the reviewer, can also be seen in the works of Xasthur, Levaithan, Sombre Chemin, late-era Krieg, and Drudkh.
Drums are programmed in a minimal fashion, and sometimes sound out of time, though this assists the loose guitar playing quite well, making everything sound more honest and earthy, never at any any time compromising the artistry.
Vocals are somewhat akin to those of Attila Csihar of Mayhem and Tormentor, with the somewhat more in the background, with more emphasis on reverb and less throat dynamics than that of said vocalist. On occasion the vocals are half sung, not too unlike Krieg's 'The Black House' which was released many years after this album.
The lyrical themes are that of loss, sorrow and decay, and a have a nostalgic approach to these themes, rather than the sometimes annoying, selfish, life-denying tendencies espoused by many of the 'black metal elitists', examplified best by bands such as Shining, who are at heart fatalists.
In a brief summary, this is an excellent and original record which deserves the attention of contemplative listeners, and a template for the 'depressive' Black Metal best examplified by Xasthur, Leviathan, Weakling, and downbeat, chaotic acts such as Sombre Chemin and Veil, though there are many other bands whose sound and vision can also trace it's origins to this record.

Worshipping Krautrock.

I have for some time now since the beginning of my twenties been a fond listener of the seminal German 'krautrock' act Can, during the period that the Nipponese street busker/free-form vocalist/Jehovah's Witness/lunatic Damo Suzuki was the mouthpiece of the band, from the end of the sixties until 1973. In addition to this was the duo NEU!, whose composition themes revolved around a droning minimalism and 4/4 'motorik' drums, often free of chord and technique changes in the guitar and bass playing.

Prior to that I have always been into the neo-romantic synthpop of Kraftwerk since my early teens, and having known of a wider German 'scene' that existed then, that acted almost as an early form of post-rock (especially in a structural sense) and the 'music that Brian Eno ripped off', I have after some time, though not regretting any delays, finally come round to giving the music of many of the subgenres more prominent acts a listen.

So of recent Amon Duul II, Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh and Faust have been getting quite a lot of rotation on the speakers, and we may soon see some reviews written on these pages in honour of their works.

CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST- A Review

This is by no means the easiest of films to watch. It has numerous flaws and executions within the film that would provoke one to make immediate criticism, for example the sub-par, almost at times robotic acting and unimaginative script, and what could indeed be labelled a lack of cohesion (could this be due to editing and censoring, I am not sure?), Cannibal Holocaust never ceases to shock and provoke, as well as provoke immediate questions of 'who are the real savages?' and how people in general might want to generally assess their modern, non-organic way of living.

For those unaware, the film centres around an anthropologist who is searching the wherabouts of a film crew, lost and presumed dead after having gone on a expedition discovering primitivist tribal cultures, and the alleged cannibalism associated with it. Upon retrieving a camcorder containing reels of film that entail the ill-fated decline and fall of the expidition, the anthropologist then returns to the United States, to show the footage to the executives of a major television station. As each reel is played off, we see the young crew begin their journey as arrogant, gung-ho, civilised and white skinned carefree adventurers, with little or no respect for a habitat that is not, and will never be their own. As the film footage progresses, we see the crew make contact with the native tribespeople, imposing their presence on them in a harsh manner, commiting beatings, tortures, arson and rape, whilst filming their deeds, which they attempt to justify on the grounds they are more civilised than they. As the title of the film partially implies, the predators surely but quickly become prey, each of them killed barbarically and ritualistically. In between the pausing of the reels, the executives of the television network are convinced that the celluloid they witness would indeed make for good viewing ratings, to the anthropologist's objection that such a thing is exploitive and in bad taste.

The film is at times unsettling, and we see many obvious critiques of how life, substance and nature are valued by the modern 'civilised' human being. One easily gets the impression at times that the intrusion of camera, gun and machete wielding Westerners into isolated, indigenous land is a metaphorical allusion to the ills of colonialism. The film also questions the bloodthirsty sales appetite we see in the modern media, 'blood equals ratings', which is too often seen when a mainstream newspaper is more than happy enough to make their own material gains from anothers tragedy.

As I have illustrated in the opening paragraph, this film is badly executed in certain avenues, and when viewed it is easy to realise this. The real-life killings of animals are stomach-churning, and will alienate many. The depictions of sacrifice, abortion, rape, castration, mutilation and torture are profoundly realistic and shocking, they give a raw attribute to the film that very little in the cinematic world will ever match.

The most redeeming features of the film are the soundtrack by Riz Ortolani, which utilises rather dated synthesisers alongside a string orchestra, often interspersed with music that sounds not too dissimilar to Italian religous music, with arpeggiated acoustic guitars playing upbeat balladry that adds a brilliantly sarcastic touch to an otherwise grim and unrelenting series of violent acts.

The usage of hand-held camera is very effective. As opposed to films where every scene is portrayed from a multi-angle perceptive, we see absolute realism for the most part, and is done in a non-perfective, improvised fashion that otherwise contributes heavily to making the film for the most part, very convincing.

Cannibal Holocaust is flawed, yes. But it is a triumph of the cold, efficient will. Unlike the humoured (but still excellent) Dawn Of The Dead, Cannibal Holocaust is the work of the cynical sociopath, and seems to metaphorically imply that when one reaches or exceeds a certain threshold of excess, be it due to ignorance, lust, greed, self-indulgence etc, there is not even the vaguest chance of redemption. In a sense, the message of this film is an all-out war against the modern way, and the belief that furthering it to those who are otherwise unwilling to accept it is nothing short of a disastrous consequence. The film also suceeds in that it doesnt moralise about the issues it raises, and also leaves the film open to many possible interpretations.

Overlooked by critics for its very bad acting, reviled by the politically correct, adored by much of the exploitation crowd, here is a film which holds truths and meanings beyond a framework that would isolate and sicken many.