Iain Cameron's Diary
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2004-06-30 - 9:07 a.m.
I have started remixing Magic in the new version of Cubase – hard work. The version it started in was so simple – and that software/hardware platform still talks politely to the box too.
It was on odd seeing the video hearing both the original release version (when we have been listening to the new release) and my late 90s arrangement which I haven’t thought about for a while. It uses inter alia the Duosonic which I haven’t been playing lately – I think coupling with Pandora. It already has a period distance.
Manic in Munich was written for Ghosts by Cathy’s dad, Paul. Gavin thinks its OK I think – it’s a specific 70’s Gothic episode of dissolution - echoes of the Sex War etc. The Munich Mannequins was written about ten or so years earlier and near the opening says:
Where the yew trees blow like hydras,
The tree of life and the tree of life
Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose.
The blood flood is the flood of love,
The absolute sacrifice.
It means: no more idols but me,
Me and you.
Then it goes to Munich. There is something on My Sweetheart the Drunk that reminds me of that last “me and you”. The poem ends:
Glittering and digesting
Voicelessness. The snow has no voice.
There is a network here and earlier in the day, driving down to Gfd I was well obsessed with “walk the dog and light the light” on which Luna Rose starts with a request to “lighten up/like summer and ices/and stars above./this month will soon be gone/these blues linger on.”
Then there s a bit about a joke and “Baby don’t look at me like Freud/this could create a void/and get you thrown out.” Followed by the confession “These blue are serious/I feel delirious”. I had heard that line as “These pills are serious” which works pretty well.
Like Pink Moon, Luna Rose opens with a descending musical figure and similarly within what appears relatively slight apparatus at first glance covers a great deal of ground. In Pink Moon there seems to be a gap between the authorial voice and the rest of the world – in Luna Rose there is merely a risk of this – the creation of the void – which a Freudian perspective throws up.
In Mannequin we see purposelessness here and now in cyclicity. A cyclicity almost puts the voice in the void – or maybe not – “me and you” – maybe there is some saving dyad relation but how this is not explained. Certainly the mannequins themselves do not appear to be an advert for mutuality and there is a very threatening black telephone like the black shoes which others clean so that they shine – aspiring to glitter.
Perhaps the voice in Pink Moon is totally Freudian and has, through its vision, created the void – which threatens to descend on the rest. The 90s workplace might be such a territory where emotion and identity are all negotiated in exchange for social goods – trinkets of dubious utility to use Smith’s phrase from the Theory of Moral Sentiments. Glittering trinkets.
Laura Nyro holds back from the void of disembodied diagnosis – “walk the dog and light the light” is about as embodied as it gets or aspires so.
What is life
Did you read about it in a magazine
Never give you what you need
Is there hope
For a mother and an elf on speed?
Read about is in a magazine
Then why are we
Crying by a washing machine?
Lets run away child and follow a dream.
The writer of Mannequins has a couple of weeks left (nowhere to run?) and the other two a number of years you can count on the fingers of one hand. Mannequins-girl is well pissed off with kindness as the alternative or saving grace. After her vision she writes:
The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking the bright pieces
Of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower-nibblers, the ones
Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable –
The humpback in her small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
The next poem gives Dame Kindness the kicking she deserves – offering yet more icecreams to rhyme with washine-machine.
One could say that these writers – with their state of the art early warning systems – had detected that mutuality was about to be overtaken by corporate utility. Meanwhile – or a couple of years earlier – in Manhattan, LmY played a jape which rolls on. Is this the really funny joke? Some discussion:
“Any performances of works by LaMonte Young MUST be authorized and supervised (with monetary recompense) by the composer - I sought once several years ago to attempt a free public performance in a gallery space of 'Composition 1960 #7' and was strictly prohibited from doing so...
Are you absolutely sure…
“authorized and supervised (with monetary recompense)”
It’s like the rule book has been ripped up into millions of pieces and then rewritten and then ripped up again all by the same person!
This is amusing, no?...
You can take this kind of thing as seriously as you want…
It would be tempting to regard the preposterous copyright claim, the
composer ostensibly taking credit (henceforth, if not retroactively!)
for an everyday aspect of musicians' lives, as an intentional joke on
authorial hubris; I feel that the essential target, though, was the
concept of composition itself, and that the underlying attitude was a
suspicion of the distinctions forced upon us between art and life.
and as I wrote back then… I say again
There is a serious side to this that does have something to do with the on-going dispute. If some of Young's copyright claims are ridiculous, who decides? Certainly not you or me. If Young will block my wish to record and perform his works then he does not find the copyright claim ridiculous either… I don’t believe he does consider the copyright on his works a joke… nor should he, they’re his creations … or should we think about the deeper aspect of his work now. That they have no beginning nor end. And, then, that he obviously composed his Dream Chords before he came to exist??
I’m still enjoying it but I’m still stuck on what I think is a very serious and unclarified point.”
I think this is both light and funny – – remember in the knowledge economy IPR doesn’t talk it swears.