Another fine example of economy of means applied to a wealth of ideas, "Small industry" pairs Joel Stern's electronic and concrete sources with Matt Davis' unconventional trumpet approach. Like currents flowing through extra-thin wires, frequencies and feedback mix with "real" sounds in a chain of reactions forwarding an almost scary purity. Interferent pitches project their graphics on the surrounding walls, bouncing back to my ears with enhanced resolution and understated mutability. Stern and Davis, fine sound chisellers that they are, observe with due detachment, knowing for sure their methodic cellular solution will fuse everything in a boiling blur. In this clever-minded meeting, bombast is certainly not necessary. Massimo Ricci, Touching Extremes

Kogar je pot že zanesla na katerega od festivalov improvizirane glasbe – v širšem pomenu besede “improvizacija” – se je verjetno ob spremljanju elektroakustikov vprašal: “Kako naj sploh vem, od kod prihaja kateri zvok, kdo je njegov povzrocitelj, cemu naj prisluhnem?” Ali: “Kakšna je vzrocna povezava med fizicno prisotnostjo cloveka za racunalnikom in zvokom, ki ga ta proizvaja? V cem se pravzaprav spremljanje živega dogodka razlikuje od poslušanja posnetka?” Ko tako vpraševanje povzroci nelagodje ali napetost, je to kvecjemu zacetek ozavešcanja lastnih slušnih razvad. Dober nastop bi zmedeno uho lahko prepoznalo v lastni negotovosti in pricakovanju vseh malih zvocnih dogodkov, ki jih verjetno s prav nic manjšo negotovostjo in budnostjo v živo odkrivajo glasbeniki improvizatorji. Pri elektronskih zvocnih dogodkih nazadnje ne gre racunati na tisto fizicnost, ki glasbilo prilepi na telesno podobo njegovega upravljalca – ta operira kot zvocni posrednik ali vmesnik, ki je hkrati tudi zvocni vir. Zato dejstvo, da imamo opraviti z improvizacijo na zvocnem posnetku, ne pomeni nujno manka v poslušalski izkušnji.

Small Industry je posnetek srecanja, ki sta ga imela Joel Stern in Matt Davis pred dobrim letom v Londonu. Ob tem plošcku je smiselno pripomniti še to, da je otvoril delovanje trenutno edine založbe, zagledane v tovrstno glasbo pri nas – L'innomable, ki že nadaljuje z izdajanjem nizkonakladnih plošc in s soorganizacijo zvocnih dogodkov. Joel Stern prihaja iz Avstralije, v zadnjih letih pa ustvarja v Londonu, kjer je že snemal z razlicnimi tamkajšnjimi, recimo temu v mikrozvocnost in neidiomatsko improvizacijo usmerjenimi glasbeniki. Tako je tudi s tem posnetkom z Davisom.
V nasprotju z npr. Franciscom Lopezom in drugimi, ki dandanes predvsem nadaljujejo misli Pierra Schaeferja ter kasneje Johna Cagea: zvok se tudi s snemalno in drugo sodobno elektronsko tehnologijo odlepi od fizicnega vira in preoblikuje v novo zvocno konkretnost – vrsta improvizatorjev, delujocih v Londonu, te ideje uporablja v “real time” oblikovanju zvoka. To je slišno tudi na posnetku, kamor so med kasnejšim editiranjem našli pot tudi nekateri zvoki iz okolice, ki jih niso povzrocili glasbeniki, a jih demokraticna in anarhisticna ideja takega pocetja vsekakor prenese in dopušca. Joel poleg elektronskih zvokov in racunalniškega feedbacka dela predvsem z manipulacijo razlicnih, od vsepovsod nabranih zvocnih posnetkov – tako imenovanih “field recordings” ter “konkretnih zvokov”. Matt Davis igra trobento, a neklasicno, z elektronskimi pripomocki pozornost usmerja predvsem v zvocne drobce in šume, ki ob pihanju v cev instrumenta nikoli ne ustvarijo dejanskega tona. Rezultat je tako dobre pol ure dolg kos, ki ob vstopih in izstopih posameznih zvokov, srecevanjih in dopušcanjih tišine ter nenadejanih okoliških “motenj” nikoli ne izbruhne, nikoli ne sprosti napetosti, kakor je pac zaželeno v dialogu glasbenikov. Mestoma res deluje kot dialog, torej daljše izmenjavanje ob raztegnjenih zvokih, ki onemogocajo popolno tišino in proti koncu ustvarijo nekakšen prostorski obcutek. Obenem pa že omenjena usmerjenost k vsakemu pripravnemu delcu sestavljenih zvokov – ukradenih tudi iz vsakdanjega življenja – najbrž preprecuje, da bi se v celoti prepustila šumu ali dronu ter posnela “noise” plošco. SIG Aleš Rojc, Muska, št. 7-8/04 www.gms-drustvo.si/

''About midway through thinking over this piece, I realized that what I wanted most of all from myself under the circumstances -- receiving a review copy of this disc only days before I had to leave for St. Louis on a business trip in late April; multiple other deadlines for other publications assuming a higher priority throughout the early summer; the arrival of the new crop of Erstwhile releases; my inability to track down my copy of the June 2003 Wire (see below)... What I wanted most of all was to locate within myself some reserve of invention that would equip me with what I needed to write 2, or maybe 3, different reviews of this disc, "published" serially here at Bagatellen. (formerly, bagatellen) over the course of the summer, each review a graceful step in the evolution of the same linguistic material and opinions, not a series of drafts, a progression of refinements, a series of finished works, each a newly revamped model of a product line "classic" (think of the Ford Mustang, or even the humble Mr. Coffee). In one review, I would have told you that I disliked small industry, in the next review I would have been helpless but to reveal, underneath my sarcasm and pseudo-anarchic "give the people what they want" attitude that I was beginning to acclimate myself to the recording, and in the final installment, I was to have risen to head-clearing objectivity and been able to share with you substantial and positive opinions about not only the release in particular but also and its fit within "eai" literature in general. Clunky right angles and dragging metallic exoskeletons were to be supplanted by space-age polymers molded into the curves and humps of "European styling" -- a phrase that works just as well in describing the quite distinct shells of moussed coiffure and Whirlpool washing machines. These redesigns are all intended, in part, to give your senses less to linger over. Your
eye is invited to glide from sleekness to sleekness, and you are not to notice that key features of what you have grown accustomed to using / enjoying may have been renamed but not enhanced exactly. Moreover, those features may have been removed entirely -- dropped or "no longer supported", the standard language in the skewed universe of information technology, I believe -- entirely in order to make allow for the implementation of new functionality. Often the designer's pet, the utility of such devices may appear questionable to the lay-person, but this is a misapprehension, as these appendages exist primarily to prove to you that, well, something of the sort can be done, even if not well, after all. Wait until next year. "Proof of concept" has to be one of the most hilarious instances of double-speak that human beings
have ever devised. Each review, then, as a "re-introduction", a new launch, a campaign. Bright with distortion.

But it was not to be. What's to blame? Silly question when we're talking about a systemic failure, eh? A slight downturn -- can you see the arrow head bending double like a wilting tulip? -- in my fortunes. Some investments that went bad. Some fees that went unpaid. Walk-outs and other work stoppages. A breach of the corporate HQ's firewall. Having to fend off investigators and auditors. Several executive retreats; if I never see another assessment test that discusses my personality in terms of colors, conflict resolution skills, or creativity / technical expertise pie chart wedges, I'll die a happy man. Inflation. Recession. Changes to the Fair Labor Standards act. Loss of a key contract to a competitor. A disastrous overseas advertising campaign; we failed to assess issues of cultural sensitivity before settling on a slogan. Embargoes levied on those regions that export all the rare substances (virtue is not one of them) necessary to the complex manufacturing process by which record reviews are made. All I have left, then, are project plans, a few prototypes in which some individual parts do move but do not move productively, briefings for the share-holders -- pep talk kind of stuff -- earnings projections, and mocked-up advertising slogans that have gone as flat as warm Coca-Cola (Marca Registrada).

What I can do, though, is open my briefcase to you and let pour over the office salvage overflowing from its many pockets, folding files, and tabbed sub-dividers. Its no archive, I warn you, transition being the first thing that collapses under stress. Any cobbling together is going to have be done on your own time and your own dime, on your own terms, using your own facilities. (Of course, some of the material here has already been reconstituted several times over. This
very paragraph is made from 100% recycled content / 50% post-consumer syntax.) Maybe you can glean a lesson from all this dog-eared and red-inked evidence. I truly hope you can turn a profit out of these mad emendations. It's funny. Had you asked me about the status of my entrepreneurial scheme only a month ago, I would have lied or browbeaten you. I worked with one arm pressing my laptop screen as far down as it could go while still not preventing me from typing, even if blindly. I saw evidence of espionage everywhere, and all eyes were prying. I was sure references to rival
reviews of small industry had been placed strategically all around my physical as well as virtual presence by underground marketers, that competitors were trying to trick me into "cat out of the bag" if not "spilled milk" despair, and thus into the premature revelation of my intentions. But now I know how absurd this paranoia was. There's no market for this content at all. Anywhere. Only the specific accounts relating to my failure possess any net worth, and you can bet your... you can rest assured that I'm hoarding that failure until I'm faced with the choice of liquidation or death.'' ...(continues in pdf files)

pdf files (large file)

Joe Milazzo, Bagatellen