Metal
Machine Music (In Four Movements) California
E.A.R. Unit/Sonic Boom at
REDCAT April 20
Lou
Reed's Metal Machine Music
is often blamed for spawning the ear-throttling genre collectively known as
noise. While musique concrète, city traffic and various 20th-century
avant-garde composers were ReedÕs
inspirations as well, his 64-minute monsterpiece was largely improvised,
and the fact that anyone Ñ in this case, CalArts professor of Composition
and Experimental Sound Ulrich Krieger (with help from Luca Venitucci) Ñ
would take the time to transcribe it into sheet music is both baffling and
historic.
In
the program, Krieger stated that ÒMetal Machine Music is a missing link between contemporary
classic music and advanced rock,Ó and, hearing an even number of rock and
orchestral elements in it, he figured out how to transpose Reed's
reel-to-reels and detuned guitars to the instruments of his own outfit,
Sonic Boom, as well as those of the California E.A.R. Unit, an orchestral repertory
ensemble which has been in residence at REDCAT since 2004.
Sans
conductor, and with the music written in time notation, the musicians' eyes
darted frantically to a digital timer (a method first employed by John Cage
in the '60s). MMM came
across as far more musical than it does on disc; the transcription was
madly inventive. Never had a trumpet player broken such a sweat onstage,
nor had a tuba packed such a Mac truck wallop. Distinct bits stood out
among the wash, which sounded like the inside of a barb-wired sea shell.
Stringed instruments were amplified with pickups and microphones, and the
rapidity of movement shredded bows. One viola player was so convulsive it
looked as though she was going to fall out of her chair. Styrofoam was
mic'd; velvet stretched like a trampoline and assaulted with lengths of
heavy chain served as percussion. The effect Ñ what an amplified pile of
writhing nightcrawlers on amphetamines might sound like Ñ was bliss or
torment, depending on the lobes, an unholy din, an avant-horror movie
score, hairraising in that maniac-around-the-bend kind of way. And like the
music in Hell's dentist's office, it was uncomfortably soothing.
The
performance reminded one of Gunther von HagensÕ ÒBodyworksÓ
exhibits, wherein human corpses were preserved and sliced paper-thin, so
that viewers could observe in detail the delicate inner workings of the
human body. It was refreshing to eyeball the mechanics of a composition
such as MMM. Although
something more people would prefer to chime in about at an art opening than
actually attend, experiencing MMM live was cathartic. The sonic residue, however, led me to
toddle home, the racket having eaten through my earplugs, and pull out the
collected works of the Turtles.