Ask someone to name their favorite composer and I’d guess that those who don’t give you that baffled “what’s-a-composer” look will inevitably mention someone both long-dead and from another country.
Part exorcist, part Pentecostal channeler, part Antonin Artaud, part Tibetan monk chanting “om” sound-processed to glass-shattering decibels, the regal, Goth-like Galás in Imitation of Life is the incarnation of the mythological Lilith, the she-demon as singing shaman.
It’s a long, strange trip.
The impact of being an artist under the influence of Japan.
Sometimes I wonder if I only in order to have a reason to beget that awesome title I just came up with.
It seems that lectures, interviews, and talk radio fulfill many of the same nodes in me that recorded music does, at least in a passive-listening context.
I’m always trying to subject myself to music that I think I won’t like or re-subject myself to music that I haven’t liked upon a previously.
Also possibly the all-American granddaddy of slam poetry and jazz vocalese, and a co-inventor (and practitioner) of Schoenbergian sprechstimme.
About this time each year, I develop colony envy, that affliction which affects only pianists, instrumentalists and singers who are too noisy for the calm reflection allowed primarily to composers, poets, visual artists, playwrights, authors, film makers, and other quietly creative types, at various artist colonies around the world.
Can you take it?