365 Ways With Words

Piano

I wait. I sit waiting, without sharp attitude, without a piece. Hours become days, become weeks. I wait.

Here he comes – but I don't like his accent. And he doesn't bring the right tools – has to go home again. Returns an hour later with some flat fingered vamping, and then it's all fourths and fifths, up and down, down and up, his hands all over me. For hours!

It's all over, thank Mozart, and he's off with money in his pocket. I must confess, I do enjoy a good stretch, when I'm a bit flat. Treat me right and I sing – any language, any tune, anything at all, and all night long if necessary. But not vibrato. I don't do vibrato. It isn't seemly.

So, now it's just you and me, unless you want to invite someone for a threesome. You can even play with me and watch someone else take centre stage. I've heard of some that like to have it done to them with an audience!

But you've got to treat me right. Lay one finger on me and the neighbours will hear all about it. Put the boot in aaaand iiiit aaaall gettts draaawn ooout (and can get messy).

So, after all that, I wait. I sit without sharp attitude, without a piece. I wait.

Richard D. James

For those of you that don't know, Richard D James is Aphex Twin. Or: Blue Calx, Bradley Strider, Brian Tregaskin, Caustic Window, The Dice Man, GAK, Karen Tregaskin, Me, PBoD, Polygon Window, Power-Pill, Q-Chastic, Smojphace, Soit-P.P., The Tuss, A-F-X Twin, A.F.X., A. Twin, Apex Twin, The Aphex Twin and Aphex Twins.

The reason for so many aliases derives from a quirk of the electronic music culture within which he operates; so many artists in the genre capitalise on name rather than talent, music released using these self-selected monikers therefore owes little or nothing to past glories. He may be one of a kind, but his music is fresh each time. His approach has always been unique, a distinctive sound that is hard to define, although many have tried. Here's a good example in the excellent Christ Cunningham video used as an installation at the 49th International Exhibition of Art at the 2001 Venice Biennal:

Although born in Ireland, and has lived in London since 1991, Richard D. James grew up in Cornwall. Indeed, some of his tracks are given Cornish names, such as Jynweythek which apparently means music machine and hy a Scullyas lyf a dhagrow means she spilled my pint. Clearly not to everyone's taste, the music of Aphex Twin falls into three main categories (a foolhardy activity in itself); ambient, acid techno and jungle/drum/drill & bass. Along with conventional electronic keyboards, instrumentation and samples, his tracks feature wonky pianos, recorded voices and human sounds, ambient noise and anything else that has taken his fancy. The result is eclectic, sometimes beautiful, frequently stimulating, often brutal and occasionally disturbing – some tracks are almost unlistenable.

  

Not every track on an Aphex Twin album is challenging, some of the more ambient tracks are veritable ear-soothers, such as On. An artist is quick to change, from acceptable and approachable forms to absolute disturbances of the peace that wreck any semblance of normality. Aphex Twin does this through experimentation and by daring to change the perceptions of the listener. It's not about mere liking music, but about the challenges of structure and the dynamics of assembly. It is said his work is suffused with synaesthesetic ambiance, which must be difficult considering some of the more alarming and aggressive examples.  Some album tracks are without names, e.g. on Melodies from Mars, Analogue Bubblebath 5 and Selected Ambient Works Volume II, the last album of which has a colour-coded pie chart that corresponds with a selection of pictures as descriptors of the track names.  Some tracks, such as Come to Daddy, have achieved wider commercial appeal despite often having a somewhat disconcerting, if not terrifying, associated images (and videos, like this one – again by Chris Cunningham):

  

A fastidious producer, he chose to start Rephlex Records in order to have stricter control over entire process of recording, mixing and pressing. His artwork is often found on covers (other releases having no cover or visual cues) and his disturbing, cloned face appears in many videos. Some tracks are even secretly embedded with his mysterious stenogram, spectogram or SSTV images. 

Ventolin is a perhaps one of the more difficult tracks, its constant high-pitched noise being associated with the tinnitus side-effects of using that particular asthmatic inhaler:

 

This post is nothing more than a brief exposition of Richard D. James; to bring to the fore some of his work. Having just gone through the catalogue of CDs, downloads, official and unofficial releases that make up the works of Aphex Twin, what has become apparent is the man's extraordinary skill in music production (not that I needed much convincing over the past 20+ years) wherein his appetite for novelty and diligence in paying attention to matters of aural perception have come to the fore. Over the years his landscape of sounds, rhythm and audible structures have become part of my own inner soundtrack – and it looks like it's here to stay.

Sublime Haydn

 

The heart beats consistently, but will skip a beat when beauty is beheld.

Picture St Wenceslas cathedral, splendid in neo-gothic finery: all blue ceilings and stars, painted flowers adorning the walls. Upon the ebony-esque dark pews and hastily assembled folding chairs crowding the central aisle sat the coated audience recently hobbled in from the cold. Facing them are orchestra and choir, black tailed, black jacketed, black polyester topped, their focus upon the imminent creation of the Creation. And staring down upon all assembled is John Sarkander, the piercing gaze from his emotionless, unmoving brown skull  – tortured saint, local boy and golden reliquary inhabitant.

And then the music begins; Haydn's masterpiece, the culmination of fluid thought, of majestically crafted themes within dynamic forms. With The Creation he fully demonstrated his capacity to form in the mind a painted landscape to convey vigorous ideas, but in so doing moved the heart and appealed to the spirit.

The first promising outing in the local Autumn Festival of Sacred Music, the cathedral's echoing shell generously allowed each note of each phrase sufficient reverb to blend and combine. The Czech Philharmonic Choir, South Bohemian Philharmonia under direction of Hungarian István Dénes and accomplished soloists soprano Michaela Šrůmová, tenor Jaroslav Březina and ponytailed Slovakian bass Martin Gurbal melded into the firey sword of Haydn's deft handywork (see Youtube above – very similar, although our performance was arguably better and the libretto was German). For the incidental solo in the last movement the alto crept up on the soloists like she'd missed the bus and the conductor played the recitatives on what looked like a bontempi organ.

It was after hearing some of Handel's works performed forcefully with massed ranks of musicians and choristers that Haydn decided to bring The Creation into being. After two year's gestation, it immediately revealed itself to be an extraordinary piece of music, of the sort that demonstrates what great heights man is capable of attaining. In response to rapturous applause the ageing Haydn with characteristic modesty pointed upwards – "Not from me—everything comes from up there!" In response to our performance, a 10-minute standing ovation, the only reaction possible (without the usual whooping and hollaring that is all-pervasive elsewhere) and a dumbfounded homage not only to performers but also to the composer.