Steve Reich - Music For Eighteen Musicians

You may have an idea in your head of what minimalist music is like. I had one, too. My friend and I would joke about 4′33″ and although we treated it as something of a joke, comparing stories of different performances, it would be nice to say we understood what the whole thing was about. We didn't. We assumed it was a musical joke, and it was only later that I realised that there was a purpose behind the composition, and while it may not have [harmony], [melody] or [rhythm], there was intent to produce meaning, and such intent alone is sufficient to produce a work of art, as long as you're in on the joke.

I'm drifting... let's get back to the popular perception of minimalism with Philip Glass. He's not unknown, and most mentions of Glass focus generally on the repetitive quality of his more-repetitive works. South Park featured a spookily-accurate rendition of Philip Glass at one point, making fun of Einstein On The Beach, with dense arpeggios and the sustained, pumping chords that Glass often uses. It was a pleasure, many years ago, to meet someone who was familiar with Philip Glass. 'Oh, yeah,' he said casually. 'We'd get stoned and each do a different bit. One of us would do the 'biddly-biddly' up and down parts, someone else would do the 'pah pah pah-pah-pah' bits and the other person would recite important sounding snippets over the top.' I wished to take part, in my heart of hearts, and not just for the chance to try some drugs...

I'm listening to Steve Reich as we speak, having reached his music through a tortuous series of steps involving Sufjan Stevens. A colleague was torturing some children with excessively repetitive background music as they read quietly, and my ears pricked up. 'What is it?' I asked, and the reply 'Sue Fjarn-Stephens' did nothing to illuminate me as to this new, obviously Finnish composer. A little research later, and several hundred previews of various songs on iTunes, and it turned out I didn't really like Sufjan Stevens at all; I'd just hit on the one song that was really evocative of Steve Reich and that was the true holy grail. I continued to seek...

Music For 18 Musicians is what I discovered. Repetitive beyond words, but endlessly changing. Organic, rhythmic and reminiscent of Musica Poetica by Carl Orff. Hints of Glass, and hints of Orff combine into something wonderful. Pianos phase, and metallophones chime, and human voices repeatedly vocalise.

Music For Eighteen Musicians was composed by Steve Reich between 1974 and 1976. It's as old as me. It's based around a cycle of eleven chords, and it's beautiful.

Black Cherry

Having spent considerable time and effort carving a niche for themselves as creators of soothing, chilled melodies - in fact, having become best known for the track Lovely Head, snapped up by British mobile phone companies for a range of adverts - Black Cherry, the second album by Mute-signed band Goldfrapp came as a bit of a surprise.

From the first, grinding electronic note of Crystalline Green, it was clear that Black Cherry was very, very different to Felt Mountain, something hinted at by Goldfrapp's occasional foray into gritty electronica during their live shows. Disco-dirty versions of Olivia Newton-John's Physical and Baccara's Yes Sir, I Can Boogie - stripped down and instilled with a bizarre, new charm - hinted at Goldfrapp's descent into Dot Allison style territory, a new, synthetic sound that would continue with the third album, Supernature.

Other tracks on the album played with the electronic theme. Train was a perfect tribute to glam rock, but eschewed guitars in favour of rumbling sawtooth synths and a pumping, twisted bass-line. A calmer period followed, in which the title track Black Cherry brought back memories of Felt Mountain's calmer, more ambient feel. The only other track, incidentally, to do this, is Hairy Trees.

And if Train and Crystalline Green weren't enough to convince you of how serious Goldfrapp were about this new direction, then the tracks Twist, Strict Machine and Slippage were bound to cement the idea in your mind. Twist, in particular, was as dirty as Nine Inch Nails' Closer but without the obscenity: a track the tabloids would undoubtedly describe as raunchy - a plain and simple ode to the pleasures of oral sex.

Black Cherry was released by Mute Records on the 28th April, 2003. Wonderful electric...

Scanners

10 Seconds: The Pain Begins. 15 Seconds: You Can't Breathe. 20 Seconds: You Explode.

Scanners is one of David Cronenberg's best known films, notorious in particular for the exploding head sequence. The film, released in 1981 (and also briefly known as Telepathy 2000) continues Cronenberg's obsessive theme of organic, visceral horror based on the contents of our own bodies: Rabid dealt with a deadly virus caused by experimental skin-grafts; Shivers focused on the psychotic erotomania caused by new organ replacement technology; eXistenZ and Videodrome with the way we perceive reality. Scanners focuses directly on the power of the mind, caused by an experimental drug.

Plot Summary: (Includes spoilers)
Forty years ago, experimental drug trials produced 237 babies with telepathic powers. Known as scanners, the head of the laboratory Biocarbon Amalgamate - Darryl Revok - has taken it upon himself to create a scanner underground movement which will, in the tradition of all good underground movements, take over the world.

The active manifestation of these telepathic powers, which are portrayed as a curse rather than a blessing of any kind, is in the form of intense pain, often accompanied by nosebleeds, shaking and bleeding. Scanners can, however, extract necessary information or exert a controlling influence over others. Scanners can also combine their powers, or even use their powers to hack into computers. Given time, the scanning procedure can kill, or even start fires. Revok's plan is simple: conform to the scanners' new world order, or die. Being in charge of a laboratory, Revok's plan rapidly becomes obvious - the tranquiliser drug ephemerol is to once again be administered to pregnant women, producing a new army of scanners.

Opposition to this scheme comes from scanner-specialist Paul Ruth, played by Patrick McGoohan, who selects Cameron Vale (played by Stephen Lack) to lead a resistance movement against the scheme. Providing Vale with drugs to control the chaos in his head, Ruth sends Vale out to oppose Revok, leading to the eventual destruction of the entire scanner underground.

An Opinion:
Incorporating classic Cronenberg activity: buckets of blood, bulging veins, glowing eyes and an early-synth soundtrack that, quite frankly, grates, the film is nevertheless highly-regarded and well worth seeking out, particularly if you plan on seeing the much-rumoured remake, apparently soon to enter production, though last heard of in 2004. The acting quality of Stephen Lack must be commented on: either Lack had decided that the drugged-up, tortured character he played should come across as wooden, unrealistic and uninspired, or his acting is really that bad. You decide.

As Cronenberg films go, the concept for Scanners fits in perfectly with the classic Cronenberg vision, as the darker side of biology once more provides fertile ground for gory and disturbing exposition. The million dollar question, however, has to be asked: Is the film any good?

The answer is, as usual a matter for personal taste. If you like Cronenberg's films, it's great. It's dated, yes, and the soundtrack verges on unbearable noise, but it's classic Cronenberg and while not up to the shocking heights of Videodrome or the slick action of eXistenZ, it's great stuff. Conversely, if you hate gore, can't abide the idea of psychic powers and found similar films to be unbearably tedious, avoid this at all costs. If you're not sure, then I humbly suggest it's worth a try; you really don't want to be one of the few people in the world who don't know about the infamous exploding head scene...

On a related note, it may be wise to avoid the sequels Scanners II: The New Order and Scanners III: The Takeover, which take Cronenberg's characters and, as so often happens, remove much of the artistic or entertaining merit from them. Of the two, The New Order is the closest to Cronenberg's vision, though it alters the plot significantly and does nothing to enhance the original concept.