David Daniell - Sem (c) 2002 Antiopic
Artist....: David Daniell
Album.....: Sem
Type......: Album
Source....: CDDA
Tracks....: 02
Genre.....: Avantgarde
Label.....: Antiopic
Catalogue#: AN002
Encoder...: LAME 3.97
Quality...: VBR kbps / 44.1KHz / Joint-Stereo
URL.......: http://www.discogs.com/David-Daniell-Sem/release/102389
Tracklist:
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01 Dixon Lake Road, July 31, 1999, 545am 17:48
02 Highway 371, Forty Miles South Of Farmington, January 19, 199 22:05
Total:42,6 MB / 39:53 min
Release Notes:
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For better or worse, we here at Stylus, in all of our autocratic
consumer-crit greed, are slaves to timeliness. A record over six months
old is often discarded, deemed too old for publication, a relic in the
internet age. That's why each week at Stylus, one writer takes a look
at an album with the benefit of time. Whether it has been unjustly
ignored, unfairly lauded, or misunderstood in some fundamental way, we
aim with On Second Thought to provide a fresh look at albums that need
it.
Notorious French composer/conductor Pierre Boulez, before composing Pli
selon pli, pulled one of MallarmeÆs poetry volumes off of the shelf,
tore out the pages, and reassembled the text by choosing from the pages
he found useful. Boulez later explained that the poemsÆ structurural
attributesùmeter, order, and sonorityùwere translated into musical
terms according to advanced serial principles. This exercise allowed
BoulezÆs finished work to share aleatoric, and determined functions
simultaneously. Despite BoulezÆ fixed choice in regard to compositional
matter, the performer was ultimately allowed to interpret how the
ôstuffö was to soundùnotesÆ duration, pitch, etc. Electronic musicians,
David Daniell included, engage in a similar practice; they are
instantly afforded the right to nudge sound into the non-linear, the
indeterminate. Perhaps this is an easier enterprise when one works
outside of the word: Without prose, the protagonist need not be
present; without an unreceptive readerÆs eyes, setting isnÆt
subjective; the novelÆs nominative is as inessential as describing the
basic qualities, attributes and substance of nothing. Yet, when sound
is used in order to symbolize, to stand-for, to proffer token of that
which is taken in by the senses, itÆs nearly always second-rateùa
snapshot of something already experienced is never even on the heels of
its phenomenal equivalent; the remembrance of things past is just that,
and memories become unglued over time, confused in details, fading
eventually like newsprint.
While there are quite a few outlets for music that goes against the
grain in such a confrontational fashion, there are relatively few that
release difficult music of consistent quality. Of course, making
ôinstrumentalö music is one thing; making music that eschews all
notions of palpable structure, with instrumentation that is impossibly
indeterminate is entirely another. Brooklyn based label Antiopic, which
continues to churn out remarkable work, has provided some staunch
competition for the windy cityÆs haute musics hawker, Table of the
Elements. Daniell and label co-founder James Elliott (AKA Ateleia) have
released an absurd quality of sound in a relatively short time-span,
and with bona fide jaw-droppers like Dion WorkmanÆs Ching, and the
aforementioned AteleiaÆs Swimming Against the Moments Antiopic proves
that electronic music doesnÆt have to be stamped ôMegoö to illicit
reaction.
Funny enough, reaction is mostly reticent when it comes to music like
Ching, Swimming Against the Moments, and Sem. These recordings arenÆt
physical enough to appeal to a listener on a visceral level, and their
displaced sonics are often times so foreign that engaging the sounds
intellectually is even a tough roe to hoe. When reception is relegated
to the margins, itÆs wise to plumb the depths for purpose. Yet,
DaniellÆs Sem is fundamentally silent in its intent: Its two tracks,
ôDixon lake road, july 31, 1999, 5:45 amö and ôhighway 371, forty miles
south of farmington, january 19, 1998, 2:25 pm,ö while immediately
positing place, do so in enigmatic fashion. Do these sounds seek to
stand in for the musicianÆs experience? Are these Ivesian paeans to the
pastoral? Or are these titles merely technical notes that migrated from
laboratory scratch pad to product liners: Two fragments perhaps [coyly]
conveying place and time?
ThereÆs a Dixon Lake Road and a Farmington and a Highway 371, just as
thereÆs a Tl÷n and an Uqbar, and Orbis Tertius. Rifle through Rand
McNally; ogle an atlas; rev up the Internet search engines, it matters
little. If there ever was an incorrect way to receive information about
art, this is it: ôMusicö like this is wholly unknowable through
ordinary avenues; like a koan, its purpose is electricalùto shock the
mind out of the hazy paradigms of the average everyday, where thinking
is constructed no differently than a Big Macùwith sloppy indifference
and standards that slip with the Convential Wisdom like sand into the
seas.
My Bloody Valentine founder Kevin Shields opened the box, unfolded the
game board, and pointed to Start when he spoke with Arthur magazine.
ôWhen you hear something, and you donÆt know where itÆs beginning or
ending, suddenly your imagination is fifty percent of what is
happening.ö ShieldÆs point is salient. WeÆve all had our hands held and
walked through music as infants in a carriage. Watching movies,
soundtrackers tell us when the action is enacted; slashers are
surrounded in stringy staccato stabs; sex is sheathed in syrupy sonics.
The mind holds on to these connections. When one sees Alex & his fellow
Droogs committing bits of the ôultra violenceö in A Clockwork Orange
the soundtrack isnÆt sinister; itÆs SinginÆ in the Rain. The disconnect
is decidedly delicious: our ears hear ôhappyö while our eyes see
ôhorror.ö Doo-be-doo, Doo-be-doo. Doo-be-doo-be-doo-be-doo.
If one has no experience of ôFarmington,ö ôHighway 371,ö or ôDixon Lake
Road,ö what to do? When the ears are blinded by the bristly
shapelessness of sound, what is being communicated? Is Sem even trying
to connect? Or is it talking to itselfùan electronic dog barking until
its throat is seized in soreness?
If only one could subscribe to AristotleÆs na∩ve functionalism: De
Anima describes the eyes as wax tabletùseeing isnÆt only believing;
itÆs becoming that which is brought before it. The cornea culls
characteristics until they coalesce into mirror image. And while this
notion of knowing is as dusty as the daguerreotype, its process is
useful. DainellÆs Sem isnÆt something that can be used as background
music. Paying bills or preparing dinner to these sounds is like trying
to turn horseshit into hors dÆoevures. To the unsympathetic ear, Sem
may sound like so much shortwave static. Yet, SemÆs sounds are the
stuff of the workweek, the morning routine, and the roundtrip commute.
Droning is the mini-fridge in the workplace. Gauzy crackles and pops
realize themselves in the a.m. ear clean, when a Q-tip invades the
auditory canal. Perhaps itÆs the decontextualization of these sounds
that leads to perplex? Whatever the case, DaniellÆs first foray into
the electronic welt is a compellingly excellent one, made more
significant in considering his primary equipment as guitar. One can
only hope that a follow-up is either in the works, or even in the
planning stages.