Fire on Fire released their first EP on Michael Gira’s Young Gods Records a few months back. The group is packed with Portland, Maine folk fixtures, notably Big Blood’s Colleen Kinsella and Caleb Mulkerin, amidst a serving of fellow Cerberus Shoal alumni like Chriss Sutherland (who released a stunning solo release of his own with Digitalis around the same time).
Daily Archive for July 24th, 2008
In a continuation of the good news emerging for Radiophonic Workshop enthusiasts, the BBC reports the existence of 267 previously unreleased Derbyshire tapes uncovered shortly after the composer’s 2001 death. Delia Derbyshire, early electronic/tape music pioneer, is the most celebrated of the BBC’s Radiophonic Workshop composers, largely responsible for the iconic “Ron Grainer” Dr. Who theme. Earlier Derbyshire work has been reissued on a variety of Radiophonic compilations, with a recent reissue of her KPM LP, Electrosonic, in 2006.
Lost tapes of the Dr Who composer By Nigel Wrench (BBC)
Now David Butler, of Manchester University’s School of Arts, Histories and Cultures has revealed for the first time the existence of 267 tapes found in Ms Derbyshire’s attic when she died in 2001.
They were, until last March, in the safekeeping of Mark Ayres, archivist for the Radiophonic Workshop - and have lain unheard for more than 30 years.
Most unexpected of all, however, is a piece of music that sounds like a contemporary dance track which was recorded, it is believed, in the late sixties. — Lost tapes of the Dr Who composer By Nigel Wrench (BBC)
Most surprising, as the BBC article notes, was the discovery of an experimental “dance” track, prefaced by Delia with the bashful quote referenced above. Radiophonic composers are known for being innovators, decades ahead of their time, but the Delia’s experimental dance tape sounds almost like a fully realized Warp recording, only composed while electronic was music still in its infancy.
Mr. Wrench’s article unfortunately doesn’t explain why these tapes were languishing so long with Mark Ayres — Radiophonic archivist — before they were eventually passed along for restoration to the University of Manchester and David Butler. Despite widespread coverage in major news outlets, Create Digital Music commenters have voiced a great deal of skepticism regarding the authenticity of the new tapes.
According to the BBC story, they haven’t been “found”; they were presumably retrieved from her attic as her affairs were put in order, back in 2001, and left with Mark Ayres (the official Radiophonic Workshop archivist, who is presumably above suspicion) until last March. What’s unclear from the story is where they’ve been between then and now, although the implication is that they’ve been with David Butler - presumably also above suspicion. — gwenhwyfaet
Another commenter calling himself David — presumably the same David now restoring the lost Derbyshire tapes at the University of Manchester’s School of Arts, Histories and Cultures – generously fills the gaps left by the BBC’s brief initial report with details-a-plenty, even linking to a lengthier article and presentation from the University’s Centre for Screen Studies.
We were stunned when we heard the rhythm track that you’ve all heard on the BBC site - I’m still knocked out by it! The track in question is from a 10.5″ reel that runs for just over 15 minutes - the only identification on the reel is a label that says ‘NOAH’s dance - basic rh.”
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Captain Howdy is right again to point out that this track sounds so different to Delia’s known output or that of her contemporaries at the time - but it’s also worth remembering that - not least following their collaboration as Unit Delta Plus - she did have access to Zinovieff’s fledgling synthesizer the VCS3 and other electronic textures - and much of what we know of her output is limited to a relatively small body of work - but she was active in all kinds of contexts throughout the 1960s and there are several pieces in the archive that expand our understanding of what is characteristically ‘Delian’. — David
David’s explanation, posted yesterday, is worth reading it full. I look forward to hearing the story in more detail, and eventually hearing the restored tapes in their entirety.
Some critics and historians have stated that Skip James’ sound emerged from a “Bentonia school” of blues performers noted for falsetto vocal delivery, elaborate finger picking on the guitar, and dark lyrical thematics, creating what David Evans described as “…some of the eeriest, loneliest, and deepest blues sounds ever recorded” (13). James’ musical development was indeed influenced by the presence of blues artists in and around his hometown, and the styles of other Bentonia musicians, notably Jack Owens, are quite similar to that of James in terms of vocal delivery and instrumental technique. However, the idea of region as a overriding force in the creation of blues musical styles, while doubtlessly accountable for certain instrumental and musical consistencies within individual areas of the country, can nonetheless be at least partially discounted by the reality of the early twentieth-century bluesman’s lifestyle. As Stephen Calt describes him, the bluesman of the period was often only a semi-professional performer, playing for a few extra dollars (or sometimes just a hot meal) at juke joints and plantation parties after long days as a sharecropper, timber cutter, or levee worker. Steady jobs were scarce in the South at this time, and men were often forced to travel to wherever work was available, their music accompanying them on their journeys. Therefore, even an isolated “plantation town” like Bentonia was sometimes host to performers from all across the South, and this mobility allowed different blues styles to travel to and influence musicians throughout the region (14). This puts the idea of a wholly unique “Bentonia sound” within the domain of reasonable doubt, and thus the “Bentonian” elements within the music of Owens and others from the region can be regarded not as the manifestation of a regional stylistic phenomenon, but as a conscious emulation of the music of Skip James, which is the only music from the “Bentonia tradition” that has truly endured and which was itself influenced both by the work of migratory musicians like Henry Stuckey and Rich Griffin, and by the influential recordings of performers like Leroy Carr (James himself recorded a memorable version of Carr’s “How Long Blues”). It was James’ unique utilization of the stylistic properties of blues music, rather than the influences of a particular regional style, which gave his work its unparalleled formal distinction, and which made it unmistakably his own. — Can’t Find No Heaven: The Mysteries Of Skip James by Matt R. Lohr
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