harold budd

Harold Budd is a Californian pianist who creates some of the most gorgeous music ever made.

He began composing in the 1960s, working on decidedly avant-garde music, but by the end of that decade his work had become ever more minimal and he was experimenting with drones. After his lengthy gong solo piece "Lirio", Budd felt that he'd painted himself into a corner and decided to retire from composition (he memorably described this as "I'd minimalised myself out of a career").

Taking up teaching Budd rediscovered his love of lyrical piano music. By 1972 he'd begun a cycle of works under the title "The Pavilion Of Dreams". Parts of this were based on resolutely old fashioned madrigals, as far from contemporary avant-garde music as could be imagined. Delighted by the innate prettiness of his new work Budd was content to move further in that direction, embracing the beauty of the music above all else. It somehow seems entirely fitting that the "Madrigals Of The Rose Angel", full of angelic female voices, harps and gentle percussion, received their debut performance in a church.  

By 1976 he'd stepped down from teaching and was recording his new compositions for Brian Eno's newly formed Obscure Records. Released in early 1978 The Pavilion Of Dreams contains four lengthy tracks, two new linked songs, the aforementioned Madrigals, a meditation for piano and (very quiet) chorus entitled "Juno" and perhaps the most impressive track in Budd's whole career, "Bismillahi 'Rrahman 'Rrahim". This is a calming, gorgeous and surprisingly emotional collaboration with jazz saxophonist Marion Brown, whose muted sax is backed by gentle vibes and distant piano flourishes. The 18 minute piece is probably the most relaxing piece of music I've ever heard. It is transfixingly beautiful and I could, quite genuinely, listen to this piece all day long.  

However, it was the more straightforwardly piano based "Juno" that really pointed the way forward. Budd's next albums were fully fledged collaborations as Budd's sparse but deeply atmospheric piano style was embellished by Brian Eno's equally sparse and atmospheric electronic backings. The Plateaux Of Mirror conjures up empty roads, wide open fields, frosty landscapes sparkling in the winter sun. Even without the stunningly evocative titles ("Wind In Lonely Fences", "Among Fields Of Crystal" etc) the music shivers in the snow and shimmers in the moonlight.

Mirror was followed by The Pearl which further refined the techniques used to create an even more delicate selection of music; at times the listener can scarcely breathe for fear of disturbing the ice covered spider webs of sound.

By the mid 1980's Budd was incorporating the fuller electronic textures of synths into his work. Occasionally this threatened to overbalance the always delicate piano work. Lovely though 1988's The White Arcades is, it's also perhaps too far from Budd's real strength of beauty through simplicity and thus the listener loses sight of Budd behind the layers of electronics.

1991's By The Dawn's Early Light found Budd collaborating with Bill Nelson who introduced subtle guitar textures. One of Budd's most overtly melancholy albums, many of the songs also feature a mournful violin, something which Budd had begun to develop on 1986's Lovely Thunder though with mixed results. Here however, the stark vistas of the Old West are conjured up as Budd draws on his childhood memories of the Mojave Desert. He would return to desert landscapes time and again in his work, and would physically move back to the edge of the Mojave during the 1990s. At the same time his love of old beat poetry found a home in a number of evocative poems recited by Budd in that dry old voice of his. They fit perfectly with the music on Early Light. A few years later and his collaboration with XTC's Andy Partridge was something of a continuation of this approach with another successful mix of minimalist guitar textures, piano and poetry.

Many of his subsequent records have been in conjunction with other artists. John Foxx played the Brian Eno role of electronics wizard on three stunning albums beginning with 2003's Translucence. Guitarist Clive Wright has recorded a series of gorgeous albums with Budd in recent years. And Robin Guthrie, the guitarist and sonic sculptor from Cocteau Twins has joined forces with Budd on a number of projects. Budd had first met Guthrie back in 1987 when they recorded The Moon And The Melodies with the rest of Cocteau Twins, but the recent work has included film soundtracks and a number of devastatingly lovely records including the linked pair from 2007 Before The Day Breaks and After The Night Falls.

Meanwhile Budd still finds time to release entirely solo records. The Room from 2000 created an album from a series of thematically linked variations of an old track from The White Arcades. 1996's Luxa successfully mixes electronics with acoustic piano to create Budd's most successful and accessible album in some years. Dripping with invention and appealingly upbeat melodies this was in many critics' top ten of the year. On a more sparse note, in 2003 Daniel Lanois surreptitiously set the tapes rolling without Budd realising as he improvised at the piano in his living room. The result was the delightful La Bella Vista - simple melodies, unencumbered by any production techniques, this was pure Harold Budd.  

A similarly improvised work was 2007's Perhaps, released only as a download via David Sylvian's Samhadi Sound label. The link with Sylvian had been made a couple of years before with the 2004 release of Avalon Sutra. This record, which mixed beautifully understated strings and woodwinds with some of Budd's most romantically lyrical piano work in years, was billed as Budd's last ever recording. When asked why, Budd simply replied that he felt he'd done enough and was quite happy to disappear back to the desert. There was a lull for perhaps a year, but since 2005 more than a dozen albums have been issued bearing his name. Far from disappearing into retirement, Harold Budd seems much busier than ever before.

He later relected on his spectacular failure to retire - "It was a time in my life when things weren't just falling together for me... I was sincere about it but if I had been more conscious of my real feelings I would've seen that it was a preposterous thing to do. I was living alone in the desert and had been for too long, really, and it's probably a version of self-pity, I'm sorry to say, to have publicly said something like that. But there it is, I said it, turns out I wasn't telling the truth - I didn't know it at the time."

Now in his mid 70's Harold Budd is still issuing an astonishing three or four records each year, and he shows no sign of stopping. His latest solo album In The Mist combines some of his sparsest piano work yet with some beautiful vignettes arranged for a string ensemble. In creating a totality of mood the silences between the tracks are as important as the music. Indeed at times the music seems to exist only at the very limits of human hearing. It's another record that has me holding my breath as I don't want even the slightest extraneous sound to disturb the fragility of the playing. 

There's a certain quality present in all of Budd's work - that of delicate beauty, infused with just a tinge of sadness. It makes you think of deserts, fields, long dusty roads, the Wild West, vast empty plains and solitary figures. His music conjures up feelings of things just remembered - people, events and especially places that exist on the edge of your memory. Memories that are dormant most of the time but are awakened, just a little, by Budd's evocative piano playing. No-one else plays like him, no-one else creates quite this sort of music.

I added up all the tracks on my iPod and I was a little surprised to discover that I have 24 hours worth of Budd's music. A whole day. I do occasionally wonder if I really need another Harold Budd album. After all doesn't one gentle piano abstraction sound much like another? Well, yes, sometimes they do. But when music is this lovely, and the outside world is in such a state, it seems churlish to turn down the opportunity of allowing a little more beauty and light and hope into your life. If only more people listened to Harold Budd's music, for even a few minutes, let alone a whole day, then the world might be a considerably calmer and happier place. 

black

iPod shuffling can come up with all sorts of almost forgotten songs. Today I heard "Ravel In The Rain" from the first album by Black.

Black was a vehicle for singer / songwriter Colin Vearncombe who possesses a fabulous voice. At times he sounds like 60s Scott Walker, especially on the louder numbers, at others he's more like Paul Buchanan from The Blue Nile in that he effortlessly conveys emotion and passion in his occasionally tremulous voice. It really is a superb instrument.

Most people only remember "Wonderful Life", which although a fine song has probably become a bit of a millstone for him (although I'm sure the royalties are welcome). Sadly, many of the songs on his first two albums - Wonderful Life (1987), and Comedy (1988) are seriously hampered by some terribly cheap production. Although history hasn't been kind to 1980s production techniques I can remember thinking at the time that these albums contained some very cool songs buried under the tinny drum machines and horridly trebly and shrill keyboards. Comedy must have had a slightly bigger budget as a real drummer was employed, but most of these songs could have done with a real string section instead of a cheap keyboard version, and many could have been improved if a small jazz band had been pressed into service. I can't help thinking that the sort of sound achieved by Mark Ronson on the Amy Winehouse albums would have been ideal here, but no - it's weedy digital keyboards pretending to be a full band instead.

So it's to the songs' real credit that that they sound so good in spite of the truly terrible production. And frequently it's the most understated songs which really shine - "Ravel In The Rain" has a lovely loping piano, a jazzy rimshot drum sound and a delightfully sad melody. But, easily the best, is "The Sweetest Smile" with it's wonderfully self pitying lyrics - "so I sit on the floor / with my head in my hands". This track isn't overdone and conjures up smoky late night bars full of sad and lonely people who've all been unlucky in love. The gentle backing vocals and the soft shuffling rhythm are perfect, but the icing on the cake is yet another bit of proof to my theory that almost any sad song can be improved enormously with the addition of an oboe or soprano sax. Here the mournful sax recalls the best of Andy Mackay's quality contributions to many Roxy Music songs and it transforms "The Sweetest Smile" into one of the best songs of the 1980s.

I lost touch with Vearncombe after Comedy, but I've heard that he's still going strong and continues to create excellent music. Might have to check it out...

zombie birdhouse - iggy pop

By early 1982 Iggy Pop’s commercial stock had sunk so low that he was without a record deal. His last album Party had been another smash flop despite the record label investing heavily in a last ditch attempt to sweeten Iggy’s sound. Unsurprisingly, grafting a chirpy horn section onto Iggy’s low-life tales of groupies and drugs failed miserably and Arista promptly dropped him. As his recent record sales were poor at best, touring had been his only viable source of regular income. But with no record company to bankroll gigs, Iggy’s funds dried up very quickly. By 1982 he had assumed responsibility for his eleven-year-old son Eric who was dividing his time between Iggy’s small apartment in an Italian area of Manhattan and a relatively expensive private school.

In the spring of 1982 Iggy knuckled down to writing a bunch of new songs with his guitarist Rob Duprey. Most of the tunes came from Duprey’s left-field homemade experiments. These instrumental fragments would be twisted and poked and prodded into something approaching a song for Iggy to finish. Iggy wanted the new music to show him in the best possible light and later commented, ‘I felt that, particularly on my last two albums, I was losing the articulation of what I wanted to be saying.’ With sparse backing tracks many of these songs would stand or fall on their lyrics and top line melodies. Fortunately these were some of the strongest Iggy had written in years.

In late 1981 Blondie’s Chris Stein had set up Animal Records to release low-key albums by underground New York artists. As soon as the company was formed Clem Burke (Blondie’s drummer, but touring with Iggy at the time) suggested signing Iggy. When Iggy was dropped by Arista Stein jumped in, telling Iggy, ‘I’d like to record you. It’s a rumour now anyway, we might as well go ahead.’ Keen to record Duprey’s quirky songs, but desperate to avoid the major label hassles he’d had with Arista, Iggy was delighted to sign with Animal for a one-off album deal. The recording process became a family affair in order to keep the costs low – Stein played occasional bass and produced the album, Clem Burke played drums and Rob Duprey is credited with ‘all else.’ From the two weeks of sessions in June 1982 at Blank Tapes studio in New York, to the final production of the record, the costs were kept to a very reasonable $30,000.

Iggy’s old girlfriend, photographer Esther Friedmann, took the cover photo, showing Iggy seated at a café table with a Coke and a 7-Up, during a holiday in Hawaii. Iggy spent a fraught few weeks there during the summer of 1982 ostensibly completing work on his collection of reminiscences (though he seemed to become accidentally involved with voodoo curses and other bizzare happenings too). Over the previous year Iggy had intermittently got together with journalist Anne Wehrer as she taped his autobiographical recollections. Often hysterically funny, and full of absurd road stories, the finished book, I Need More, was published by Karz-Cohl shortly after the release of Zombie Birdhouse in September 1982. It was a smart bit of marketing synchronicity as the book and the album complemented and promoted each other. With its wealth of pictures, an introduction by Andy Warhol, song lyrics and previously unpublished poems, I Need More was much more than just a book of stories about the ‘Stooges and other guys.’ Strangely, Iggy has all but disowned the book in recent years, blaming alcohol for some of the wilder accounts. If you can find the original with all the pictures, then do so, as the more recent reprinting by Henry Rollins’ 2.13.61 Publications sadly omits the photos.

“Run Like A Villain” opens the record with a barrage of growling guitars, a lopsided semi tribal beat and some of Iggy’s most committed singing. Chris Stein’s production captures Iggy’s vocals up close - every nuance of his delivery is clear and precise. But pushing the vocals so far to the forefront occasionally reveals Iggy’s limitations as a singer.

“The Villagers” features Iggy at the edge of his usual register and sometimes beyond, hitting some slightly cracked notes at times. The solidly pounding rhythm of the song is superb however.

Conversely “Angry Hills” finds Iggy’s opening line winding it’s way from an almost subterranean depth to the top end of his register, in one breath. This impressive trick is repeated a couple of times. Oddly, the melody is partly stolen from the hymn “Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”

Although the sleeve of Zombie Birdhouse announces, ‘There are no synthesizers on this record,’ an ominously dragging electronic drone introduces “Life Of Work” and proceeds to waver uncertainly throughout the song, as the lyrics are sung/chanted. It’s an impressive piece of writing, commenting obliquely on the daily grind – an unusual subject for someone who’s barely done a regular days work in his life.

On first hearing “The Ballad Of Cookie McBride” is a cheerful and goofy piece, with its twisted tale of a trapper complete with twangy guitar. Yet the somewhat disturbing lyrics talk of how the trapper is headed for an ‘unmarked grave’ and later still a ‘rain filled grave’ - images which are starkly at odds with the upbeat and faintly daft music.

Short and sweet, deftly sung and gently performed, “Ordinary Bummer” ends side one. Of course, as it’s Iggy, the girl of his affections swears like a sailor, but that, he claims, was when he knew he had to love her…

Side two kicks off with squealing keyboards, some frantically sharp drumming and a manic Iggy whining ‘It’s nervy, that's what it is…’ Sounding like Talking Heads on speed “Eat Or Be Eaten” is one of the catchiest tracks on Zombie Birdhouse, and once heard, the ants in your pants rhythm lodges itself firmly in your brain. There are further references to tribes and hunters, giving the album an air of uniformity.

Set to a pounding riff, which genuinely does conjure up images of big machinery, “Bulldozer” finds Iggy seemingly making the lyrics up as he goes along. The opening cry of ‘Bulldozer’ is fabulous – a massive roar from within that is, unbelievably, topped by an even longer and more absurdly drawn out ‘Bullllldozzzeerrrrr’ toward the end. It’s performed with far more passion than the stupid lyrics really demand, but it all adds to the absurdist feel. There’s even a bit in the middle where Iggy breaks off to giggle infectiously at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Platonic” by contrast is very understated, with some surprisingly tender lyrics – ‘but then I turn around and she’s very delicate’ - matched by shimmering synthetic strings and assured guitar from Duprey. Iggy’s singing is a revelation – a commandingly deep croon, tender and passionate.

“The Horse Song” is characterised by Rob Duprey’s constantly neighing guitar as Iggy is left tongue-tied and embarrassed, staring at his shoes - as a study of nervousness it is exemplary. The verses buzz with multitracked guitars over Clem Burke’s delightful clip-clop drumming. It also contains the album’s most revealing line as, with a burst of passion, Iggy declares - ‘I think you noticed, that I don’t wanna be the bad guy anymore.’

The album concludes with two of the oddest tracks ever recorded by Iggy Pop. First up is “Watching The News”, a truly bizarre, improvised piece of paranoid nonsense. Over a backing of sound effects, random dialogue and chattering percussion Iggy spits out an off key monologue, climaxing with a weird line about the President pushing all the buttons ‘in a giggling fit.’

“Street Crazies” is based around a loose African influenced rhythm as Iggy aligns himself once again with those who’ve been pushed out of society. It’s a gruff chant, underpinned by bongos and whistling, whining keyboards as other instruments fade up and down, seemingly at random. Somehow it hangs together.

Added to nearly all the CD issues of Zombie Birdhouse is “Pain And Suffering” from the 1983 Canadian animated film Rock and Rule. Directed by Clive Smith, this bizarre film tells the story of Angel, a member of a punk band from an apocalyptic future and features a stellar soundtrack from Iggy, Debbie Harry, Lou Reed, Cheap Trick and perhaps surprisingly, disco legends Earth Wind And Fire. Iggy narrates much of the song as a hugely echoed monster, before singing the title in his exaggerated bulldozer voice. It makes for a slightly unsatisfying postscript to the album.

Although the years of hard drugs were behind him Iggy was still using coke and drinking heavily. As a result he had real problems sleeping and his general health was suffering. Nevertheless he embarked on a lengthy tour, which was seen as something of a last chance for Iggy. The 1983 leg was dubbed “The Breaking Point” as Iggy seriously began to wonder if he’d make it through another year.

The tour band consisted of old hands Rob Duprey (guitar / keyboards) and Mike Page (bass), joined by yet another ex-Blondie member, guitarist Frank Infante, plus drummer Larry Mysliewicz. Iggy was determined to push Zombie Birdhouse as best he could with the result that on many nights every song from the album would be performed – even the loopy “Watching The News.” After travelling all over the States between October and December, the tour jumped the Atlantic to play Paris and London. On 17th December Iggy made a memorable appearance on a new TV music show called The Tube performing a fiery “Run Like A Villain” and “Eat Or Be Eaten” plus a superbly sleazy “Sixteen.”

Touring continued into 1983 with further US dates, Iggy’s first concerts in Japan and concluded with a jaunt through Australia in July. Then, for the first time in years Iggy took some time off. David Bowie had recently released his massive hit album Let’s Dance, which contained a cover of a song that he’d co-written with Iggy in 1976. Also issued as a single the success of Bowie’s version of “China Girl” brought in enough income for Iggy to retire for nearly three years. He was able to pay off his debts, buy an apartment, successfully detox, and even get married. Iggy re-emerged with the Bowie produced Blah-Blah-Blah in 1986 and nothing from the Zombie Birdhouse period was ever performed again.

When Zombie Birdhouse was issued in September 1982, it was pretty much ignored by reviewers and record buyers alike. The album seemed baffling - trappers and bulldozers and street crazies were not popular song topics in 1982. However those who persevered found that Zombie Birdhouse contained not only some of Iggy’s most imaginative songs in ages, but also some of his most impassioned and impressive singing.

Nearly thirty years on Zombie Birdhouse stands alone amongst Iggy’s many albums. It is an album that required time to get used to, and has stood the test of time remarkably well, primarily by being so resolutely out of step, commercially and artistically, with anything else that 1982 had to offer. Intriguingly Zombie Birdhouse also has no obvious antecedents or descendents in Iggy’s canon which gives it a charm and fascination all of it’s own. The deal with Animal records was for a one-off album, and that’s exactly what we got.

a random start to the new year

Put my iPod onto Shuffle and today this is what you get -

"The Cutter" – a cracking Echo and the Bunnymen classic to get things started. So much energy and youthful arrogance. What a song!

"Fighter Pilot" – not such a cracking John Cale track, from his 1981 album Honi Soit. Lots of incongruous female backing vocals and a rock band that doesn’t seem suited to Cale’s paranoid ramblings about the military. Really not one of JC’s finest moments.

"Remote Viewing" – the final track on Tangerine Dream’s Exit, and very good it is too. The opening, flute-y synth is very like the excellent music that Paddy Kingsland did for The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and a number of Doctor Who’s in 1981 and 1982. Then it turns into a more familiar gently rhythmic Tang piece. Good stuff.

"Deform To Form A Star" – from Steven Wilson’s monumental Grace For Drowning. It’s mellotrons ahoy on this truly beautiful ballad, the kind that Wilson does so very well. One of my favourite tracks of last year.

"Alice In Blunderland" – a great title for this Captain Beefheart instrumental from the 1972 album Clear Spot. Unusually it’s a quite a straightforward tune, and it allows the guitarist play a pretty straightforward solo too. Perhaps this is why I really like this one…

"Loaded" – arguably Primal Scream’s finest moment, though listening to it today I was surprised at how slow it is. I remembered it being more overtly ‘dancey’ but it’s terribly laid back - slightly disappointing to be honest.

Yay!!! It’s only "Fish Heads" by Barnes And Barnes!!!! What can I say? They don’t play baseball, you know? If you've never heard "Fish Heads" then you need to - right now!

"Public Image" – by, guess who..? John Lydon at his sneery best over nasty scratchy guitars and a stomping beat. Brilliant.

Then it was the theme from the original sixties series of Star Trek. I’ve got a weird selection of stuff on this here pod…

"I’m In Love With A German Filmstar" by the Passions. One hit wonders... but what a hit. The video was all arc lamps and cameras and European glamour which perfectly matched the New Romantic synthy pretentious nonsense sung by an ice queen vocalist wrapped in a fur coat wearing uber bright lipstick. How much more 1981 can you get!!

 

"Manifesto" – one of the truly great but almost always overlooked Roxy Music songs. That long and slightly dissonant intro is fabulous, all swirly and mysterious, then Ferry steps up with his declamatory vocal. There's no other song like it.

"In This World" – one of Charley’s recent songs and a darned fine one it is too. A strange see-sawing guitar riff, which to my ears sounds slightly Crimson, gives way to a very strong verse and an even better chorus. It's tough when you’re nearly 13 – sample lyric ‘you don’t understand me, I’m the only one who does…’ It’s almost absurdly catchy too, and I’ve been humming this for weeks as it’s really stuck inside my brain now, and today’s burst will just reinforce that even more. I love it!

Anything after that would be a disappointment though Jona Lewie’s "You’ll Always Find Me In The Kitchen At Parties" did it’s best. Lugubrious is the best word for this song.

"Baal’s Hymn" is no-one’s favourite Bowie song, but it has much to recommend. The vocals are brilliant for a start, sung in a leery, boozy voice, midway between Bowie’s best mockney and his commanding "Wild Is The Wind" style croon. Recorded at Hansa in late 1981 (the last time DB worked there) with Tony Visconti at the controls (the last time DB and TV worked together until 1999) it’s deliberately old fashioned to fit with the 1920s setting of Brecht’s play. Bowie was excellent in this BBCtv production, but for some reason it’s never been repeated, nor is it available on DVD.

"Sister Midnight" – Blondie recorded live in 1979 with guest guitarist Robert Fripp. Interesting, but not altogether successful cover. Fripp doesn’t really join in, instead he simply plays his own thing which only occasionally corresponds with the tune. Most of what he plays seems to be the majestic rising lines from his own "Sailor’s Tale" while Blondie don’t appear to have rehearsed "Sister Midnight" terribly well. Debbie Harry is unsure of most of the words and the band seems rather unsure of how to stop the piece. You probably had to be there.

"The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea" – one the stand out tracks from Brendan Perry’s 2010 album Ark. The whole album is excellent, but this one is superb. It throbs and pulses and the percussion effects drift from side to side. BP is on fine form vocally.

"The Midwife’s Dilemma" from Jan Bang’s excellent And Poppies From Kandahar. This is an album that has really grown on me. I liked it initially, but didn’t return to it for a while, but when I did I really loved it. Great moods and atmospheres.

And finally – "Panic" – perhaps The Smiths finest two and a bit minutes – the wonderfully acerbic chorus of ‘hang the DJ, hang the DJ’ always used to make me laugh as we danced to this at University discos, all arms outstretched and shirts unbuttoned like Morrissey... We generally avoided the gladioli stuffed in the back pocket of our jeans however… I was never a huge Smiths fan but this is such a wonderful song (along with the pretty much unbeatable "Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now").

Another day and the shuffling iPod would play something entirely different. We'll see...