Eclectopia Blog

This is how to do it. And then some.

When you do an interview, you never know how it's going to turn out. I could use the metaphor of a dance, but riding a wild horse is more apt.

Earlier this month I had the opportunity to interview British composer-author-musician, Andrew Keeling. Keeling has written three books on one of my favorite subjects- King Crimson. The interview was wonderful as Keeling is as enthusiastic as he is knowledgeable. I didn't have to do any heavy pulling, as I sometimes feel I have to do to get genuine answers to my questions. Keeling's thoughts flowed as if he was reading an insightful dissertation about all matters Crim.

What are you planning then? A King Crimson special covering their entire output. I take on easy projects, yes?

We went through all 13 studio albums and I had him select his favorite cuts or just to talk about the album as a whole. It is very comprehensive. I am excited by this upcoming special on King Crimson.

 I'll keep you posted!

"I've always wanted to do a collection of my acoustic numbers with the London Philharmonic as you know." ~ David St. Hubbins (Spinal Tap)

The above quote is from the cult classic mockumentary Spinal Tap- a virtual handbook on what NOT to do if you are an aspiring rock star or a well-established icon. In short, with some exceptions (The Moody Blues, The Beatles, Frank Zappa), rock music does an epic fail when it tries to crossover into symphonic music.

 The result can be a dilution of both styles or unintended hilarity. Heaven forbid the last one because that's a sure credibility write-off.

Both Sting and Peter Gabriel have released albums with an orchestral "reworking" of their classic material. What is the result?

I must say that both men are in fine voice for men in their 60's. In fact, it's hard to tell the difference between now and say two decades ago. That fact alone is astonishing when you consider that more likely than not, rock voices tend to age rather harshly.

Of the two, Gabriel is far more experimental than Sting. Gabriel's dictum was clear: no guitar, bass or drums. Sting decided to keep a rhythm section and therein lies a big difference.

Sting's approach to  Symphonicities is playing it safe, but this is not to say that this album is bad, or out of place within his catalog, nor is it a stylistic mash-up.

The Police rocker "Next to You" is the opening number and somehow it rocks. Not only that, but the strings provide a rhythmic propulsion that gives a slight twist to this punk influenced number.

Other numbers like "Burn For You," "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic," and "Englishman in New York" all work really well, but the real surprising gem of this collection is "Roxanne." Who could have possible imagined that this once screechy, tango flavored hit could be a romantic (Yes, I wrote that.) bossa nova?

 (Sidebar: According to Andy Summers, Sting originally wrote it as a bossa nova while staying in his sitting room.) Take away the rock drive and the melody soars and Sting nails it. It's a keeper.

With the exception of "Roxanne," we are not given new interpretations of the songs which I think is the only real fault of the album. The songs tend to the feeling of having a less rock edge with some lovely orchestral bits tacked onto them.

Plus, where are all those glorious songs from Ten Summoner's Tales that are begging for an orchestral reworking? In short, more could have been done, but Sting's been soft for many years now.

Peter Gabriel's Scratch My Back was the lead-up to this new album, New Blood. The former being an album of covers and the results were less than what I expected from such a creative mind such as Gabriel's. I have always felt that Gabriel's instincts were golden, but in recent years, I have had a loss of faith in the quality of his music. Scratch My Back suffered from an over-the-top sensitivity in the interpretation of the songs, so my hopes were muted for the new album.

I am pleased to say that most of the songs on this album work for me. "San Jacinto" sounds like it was always meant to be done with an orchestra and Gabriel sounds terrific, belting out the passion and never overdoing the quieter vocal parts.

"Red Rain," "Mercy Street," and "Downside Up," all work very well. "Downside" has one serious issue with form (returning to my earlier comment regarding Gabriel's instincts): the piece ends abruptly with just Gabriel and piano, cutting short the chorus. I was dumbfounded the first time I heard this and thought my CD player had skipped.

Clunkers include "Intruder" where some "Tapish" moments occur and "Darkness" which neither has the intended menace nor coherence.

One problem plaguing this project is the blending of the background vocalists, daughter Melanie Gabriel and Ane Brun. Their voices simply have no compatability. Individually, I prefer Melanie's sweetness to Brun's mousy warble. And don't ask about Brun's performance on "Don't Give Up" because I have no answer for it. PG, where are you?

Ironically, the one piece that Gabriel didn't want to include is the joyful FM staple "Solsbury Hill." Whereas the 80's megahit "In Your Eyes" benefits not at all from the New Blood orchestra, "Solsbury" is a knockout and Gabriel sounds perfect.

Here's my summary, oh music lovers: Unless you are a dedicated fan of Sting and Gabriel, I would suggest taking the cherry picking route of downloading your favs from these albums via MP3.

I love to take an early evening walk (and jog when the spirit moves me) and the music that accompanies me greatly influences not only my gait, but how I view things around me. I chose Robert Fripp and Brian Eno's 1973 sessions for the BBC which is a live version of the album No Pussyfooting. I downloaded the music from DGM. 

 Last evening, I learned two things. First, a great deal of people were concerned with yardwork (something I avoid) and more specifically, the gathering of their leaves. This seasonal act of futility was being practiced on just about every block I walked down. People were armed with all sorts of powerful looking leaf blowers and they looked about as happy as I was when I used to do it. The contrast between what I was hearing and what I was seeing was at times so extreme that I found myself quite amused, but that's another story for another blog.

The second thing I learned is that, despite Fripp and Eno being an extremely strange and contradictory choice for exercise music, their work is as powerful to me today as when I first heard it nearly 40 years ago. The basic premise of these sessions were simple: both Fripp and Eno would create loops, on guitar and synthesizer respectively, and then Fripp would solo, providing a "melody" or a lyrical narrative amidst the dense electronic textures.

 The Heavenly Music Corporation began in the usual Frippertronic fashion of layered tones of electric guitar outlining what seems to be an ordinary minor mode, but then the mood (and modes) begins to darken and the atmosphere is foreboding. The live version is much shorter and not nearly as psychotic a listening experience as the album version.

  Swastika Girls is a perfect vehicle for everything that I love about Fripp's electric guitar solos: long, sustained serpentine lines which seem to musically contradict themselves or at least fall well outside of the realm of expectation and the feeling that the man seems to be pouring out his very soul. As a friend of mine might say, "He's wailing on that guitar." Indeed he is.

This is not, gentle readers, for those whose musical tastes are conservative.

And maybe not for those who believe that gathering leaves in a pile assures that they will remain so.

"Nobody dreams of being addicted."

My former colleague forwarded me an email about would I be interested in a new memoir by ex-Guns N' Roses bassist, Duff McKagan. I remember her slyly smiling as if to say, "What will you do with this one, Mr. Lange?"

To be honest, I didn't know either. GN'R weren't exactly my cup of tea back in the day, but on a lark, I sent an email to the publicist saying 'yes' to what I considered was a chance to read what might be a Spinal Tap-ish vanity publication by some empty-headed rocker. Besides, it was free.

Boy, was I wrong.

There is nothing vain or self-congratulatory about this compelling tale of a relentless ambition to first break into the Seattle punk scene and then to form Guns N' Roses, whose meteoric rise came with a heavy personal cost to McKagan.

Note: this cautionary tale pulls no punches and is not for younger readers.

Buy me at Amazon.