We've got a lot of books in our nightstand queue, but its only on closer examination we realized that there's some sort of motif afoot: A Power Stronger Than Itself: The AACM and American Experimental Music; The San Francisco Tape Music Center: 1960s Counterculture and the Avant-Garde; The Source: The Untold Story of Father Yod, Ya Ho Wa 13, and The Source Family. And it's not even the keyword "1960s" but the idea of musical and social collectives centered around experimental music -- call them "tribes" if you will.
I actually have an indirect personal connection to the San Francisco Tape Music Center. My lovely betrothed was a film student at the University of Milwaukee in the late 80s/early 90s and was in a class taught by avant-garde filmmaker Robert Nelson, who was one of the SFTMC's collaborators. My dear actually appeared in one of Nelson's class project films, and it was quite an odd experience for her to attend the Nelson retrospective at the American Cinematheque last year and not only see her younger self onscreen but actually be recognized by Mr. Nelson himself, now in his 70s and a virtual hermit living in the the woods of Northern Cali. One of the films screened turned out to be my favorite: "Oh! Dem Watermelons," a trippy screwball meditation on race relations in America that Nelson collaborated with fellow SFTMC freek Steve Reich. I was pleasantly surprised by Nelson's approach: when I heard "1960s experimental filmmaker" I immediately assumed "angry, confrontational, even a bit crude" (like Putney Swope shot on 16mm); but Nelson's films reminded me of the whimsical satire of Richard Lester (especially "The Running, Jumping and Standing Still Film"); ditto for Reich's hypnotic, hilarious score featuring around 200 variations of the word "Watermelons" sung by what sounded like a drunken men's glee club. When we got to talk to the gracious Mr. Nelson over a few beers at Micelli's, he revealed the only music he enjoys listening to are Miles, Monk, Trane and Buhaina. Ahhhhhh...
The Father Yod collective (OK, it was a cult -- albeit a peaceful and contributive one) poses another interesting realization: even tribes we define as "cults" produce their own indigenous and organically conceived music, and much of it is quite fascinating. On the less sunny end of the spectrum there was the "Irreverend" Jim Jones' People's Temple, who produced original works that borrowed from black gospel and early 70s R&B, reflective of the church's open-door policy of racial inclusion (a good portion of Jones' congregation were African-American), and also a sinister and tragic window into how Jones used inspirational music as just another device to entice and control. Then there were the infamous "Desert Recordings" of the Manson Family (once available on CD from True Classical/Transparency) and the music of failed rock star Manson himself, which start off like folk ditties but end up betraying (surprise!) an earth-shattering rage and a flirtation with annihilation. Then there were the folk songs of "acid fascist" cult leader folkie Mel Lyman, who like Jim Jones encouraged sadomasochism in his followers and whose music sounded like Woody Guthrie writing a mash note to Adolf Hitler. His guitar should have had a sign on it: "This Machine CREATES Fascists."
If you think this line of reasoning is nuts, just remember the robe-clad "cult rock" of the decidely nondenominational Polyphonic Spree. Whatever one may think about religion or religious indoctrination, whenever people sing to their God -- whether it be the Melanesian choirs featured in the film The Thin Red Line or the vocal chorales of Southern Shape-Note singing as featured in Cold Mountain -- it is always awe-inspiring.
[Damage Assessment from yesterday's 5.8 earthquake: I have no idea, as I am in New Mexico. I hope the fish are OK, though...]
