Homage to kindness: On the passing of David Darling

 

David Darling (3 Mar 1941 - 8 Jan 2021)

Borrowing the title of one of his very recent albums, one attempts to convey on this blog, too the sad news of David Darling's passing. 

The Grammy Award-winning artist, who was fondly called "the maverick cellist", has passed away on 8 January. 

His albums transcended any and all rigid classification boundaries between genres and styles - and his collaborations with other illustrious musicians are simply too numerous to even enumerate here. 

From cello performances to composing, from highly praised and unconventional teaching methods to sublime musical collaborations, David Darling has extensively proven that boundaries are artificial.

He easily moved from collaborations with illustrious jazz musicians like Ralph Towner and Terje Rypdal on the legendary ECM label to spiritual and philosophical works like The Tao Of Cello, from film soundtracks for trailblazing directors like Jean-Luc Godard and Wim Wenders to world music projects like Mudanin Kata (The Way Home).

His solo albums and collaborations are all the products of a kind and reflective soul - it simply was a perfect meeting between his personality and the phenomenally expressive capabilities of the cello. 

He was heavily involved in music projects for children, with wide recognition from music educators and related organisations, too. 

Instead of referring to and being confined by myriad artificial considerations on instrumental arrangements, genres, styles, and technology vs. traditional recording, David Darling has consistently embraced everything from the most ancient traditions to the newest technological achievements. 

His music was released on labels like the legendary Hearts Of Space, as he imagined and conveyed sound worlds with instrumentations that ranged from some of the most ancient ethnic instruments to contemporary electronics.

Rest in peace... and amongst celestial harmonies that only he could hear and channel to us in his music. 

Nocturne - the contemplative new album by Vangelis

After the Rosetta album that took us into outer space, and returned to a uniquely epic and passionate version of space rock we last heard some decades ago on a Vangelis album, the new studio album Nocturne is eminently intimate and terrestrial. It contains 17 tracks, with the majority being new compositions.

The record company's initial information about the upcoming release may have wished to entice certain segments of the public, as Nocturne was everywhere stated to be a "solo piano album". As it became increasingly clear that it wasn't, various outlets have backpedalled on this...

Some sites to this day obstinately misinform with statements like "for the first time Vangelis plays a grand piano on this record", which is complete and factual nonsense, full stop.

Based on the first single to see the light of day, namely the track entitled Nocturnal Promenade, it became obvious that one will be treated to piano (and sometimes piano-like) sounds pushed through copious amounts of reverb, and synthesizers, too would make an appearance.

However, to put to a side rather surprising cases of misinformation, the music on the album is bound to polarise and divide audiences - as even the early comments on e.g. Youtube have shown.

One of the major problems arises if one sees this album with nostalgia-tinted optics, or one does not treat it separately from all other Vangelis albums.

Why? Well, as it could be perfectly expected from the (overstated as it was) initial information, this was not to be an album of groundbreaking technical or musical wizardry. We have not had that for many years. Nor was it to be a dramatic and vastly orchestrated production, like some landmark albums from Vangelis's discography (note how some compared it to Rosetta and even El Greco...).

Also, Vangelis has made us quite used to changes in direction and large variations in genre and style from one album to another. As some have stated, this album feels extremely commercial, as if he had become what he criticised the most: a brand.

Well, another way to look at this is that Nocturne is actually true to a Vangelis ethos: he releases whatever he wishes, and without riding some fashion trend. We can recall how Oceanic or Portraits were received, and how much vitriol they gathered in reactions from some sections of the public.

It is interesting to hear, though, how the apparent weakness of some tracks is their key strength. One may find that Promenade has no concrete structure nor melodic direction, it is a quiet improvisation with little melodic motifs connected with musical wanderings. If one thinks of musically conveying an aimless and relaxed promenade, well, this improvised-sounding piece does exactly that... hence it is quite suggestive.

Calm renditions of  tracks like the main theme from Chariots of Fire are the re-interpretations of a composer several decades after the original. It is striking that the relationship between the new and original version is quite similar to the one between the late and the original versions of e.g.  Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now. The late versions, in both cases, are completely lifted out of their original context, are more intimate and highly personal.

The reworked version of To The Unknown Man, too is achingly beautiful and intimate in its stripped-down arrangement. Once again, comparisons with the original are, by definition, rather pointless.

Something that does not work terribly well on piano is Love Theme from Blade Runner - the long, sustained, and repeated notes of the original's melodic theme, now re-arranged to sparse piano notes suspended in the air (and occasionally connected up with little arpeggios) are having a hard time to keep that seamless flow and emotion that was present in the original. Re-arranging wind instrument-based pieces with long held notes to a piano or plucked instruments-based version, too present this classic problem - and this track is no exception.

New tracks like Moonlight Reflection are characteristic Vangelis: minimalist tiny motifs built from quick ascending/descending notes are instantly catchy and playful. The melody of Through The Night Mist puts the listener in a melancholic, but not dark or sad, mood - think of the piano-centric tracks on Mythodea or El Greco (the studio album, not the soundtrack of same title).

Early Years has innocence, longing, contemplation, simple beauty. Intermezzo stands apart in its arrangement, it is indeed a track that serves as a separator of sorts between the first and second parts of the album. Longing has again a remarkably simple and delicate rendition.

Unfulfilled Desire has perhaps the most chromatic adventures and passages of genuine harmonic tension that fit nicely with the title, quite unlike the other tracks' very comfortable sound. The closing track, Pour Melia, has a splendid arrangement with a superb purity, innocence and a gentle fairy tale-like feel, something to go to sleep with at a fragile young age.

From a technical viewpoint, there was considerable debate about what sounds from what period of synth making we hear on the album. The dissonance with Vangelis's own, and remarkably consistent, ethos is again notable. Maybe we should remind ourselves and appreciate what Vangelis has been saying throughout his entire career, and separate misleading marketing from that: he never cared, nor cares, about what makes the sound...

As he put it countless times, the source of the sounds he chooses to use does not matter, but due to various features and possibilities of electronic instruments, he "happens" to use predominantly the latter...

Nocturne is, and will be, more enjoyable if we keep in mind not just what it is meant to be as an album, but also its creator's nowadays unusually consistent artistic credo... It is an album without sharp edges, dramatic contrasts, surprising turns and twists - and despite its length, it seems to stay self-consistent.

Does it reflect an "old-fashioned" credo of human being composing, improvising and playing the music with as little as possible automation or computer technology? Thankfully, for a personal and instantly recognisable touch, yes, it is unashamedly "old-fashioned". Again, it is true to Vangelis's long-held convictions on the relationship between the musician and technology, and also to his principles on what role technology plays in the creative process.

Ultimately, it is a personal contemplation rendered with trimmed-down, sometimes entirely sparse arrangements - therefore, after all this non-exhaustive review blurb, one can state the obvious: due to its intent and nature, it really, really will be a matter of taste and "old-fashioned" musical (not synth musical) sensitivity whether this is a loved or disliked point in Vangelis's considerable discography...

What we are supposed to sound like....

The discourse on music's eminently different two roles, one functional, the other well above and beyond functional, dates back millennia.

The Harmonic Scale, Franchino Gaffurio, 1480 

Even when musical scales were defined and explained in ancient times with presumed, or sometimes vaguely empirical, ratios between orbits of celestial objects, music had at the same time a recognised functional role of entertainment, and a spiritual role with even cosmic connections...

Fast forward to contemporary electronic music... and we have something that, perhaps more than any other musical genre in history, abounds with cosmic references. Even vast sub-genres like space ambient or fusions like space rock are making direct references to that outer realm, which is immediately giving such music a higher purpose.

Apart from such philosophical and historic aspects, the democratisation of music making has been an unprecedented phenomenon in our history.

One is not thinking of the availability of an improvised woodwind instrument and the tunes that any shepherd could produce at any time during our many past millennia. Making music at this level and having a few mates around to perhaps listen to it was a possibility for anyone with any background in any historic era.

Trident Studios in the '70s

However, the democratisation of cutting-edge and professional music production has been brought along by affordable electronic instruments and studio equipment. Only very few decades ago a musician had to command a very respectable budget in order to produce something that could stand up in the market of mainstream or more elitist genres. The process of getting the end product onto that market has also changed radically in recent years, but this is an entirely different topic.

Apart from the technological and financial aspects, the actual process of music making has shifted toward a state of affairs that vastly stimulates both inspiration and the creation of well-polished end products - even eminently improvised ones. The end products no longer require in-depth knowledge of music theory, many rhythmic and harmonic aspects are taken care of, in real time, by the algorithms at work in the gizmos or computer apps populating the home studio.

But let's firmly and rapidly side-step any polemic on how technology helps talent-less people create music. This is a topic that, with all its fundamental factual, conceptual and historical errors, keeps turning up like rheumatic pain. It is similar to what happened to the replacement of dark rooms with digital dark rooms, similar arguments were and are endlessly made about how it brings the death of artistic photography. It did not.

AKAI MPC-X

What technology does immensely help with nowadays is the compositional process itself. Hugely sophisticated, whilst affordable, gadgets can radically change the creative workflow. Again, as the old saying goes, anybody can do it nowadays. Well, again, let's side-step this for a moment.

One of the more abstract effects of this technology (from superb MPCs to Ableton Push to full-blown music workstations with KARMA algorithmic composition) is the shift in our perception of how what music created in such ways should be like.

When Billboard magazine, of quite some pedigree, managed to judge Gary Numan's latest album as "not electronic enough", it unwillingly created a case study in this perceptual shift. Billboard fundamentally misjudged the concept album despite its content, because the stereotype of what electronic music should sound like has been drastically shifted - and encompasses only a few very specific sub-genres.

Ade Fenton & Gary Numan

Numan's album was around 95% created and finalised with electronic instruments, according to both the artist and the producer, Ade Fenton. It certainly sounded eminently electronic, superbly futuristic, and as it happens, loaded with actual meaning and messages.

However, it only sounded eminently electronic to those who did not drastically limit the scope and extent of electronic music to typical results created with drum and sample loops, something that aforementioned creative tools excel in.

Electronic music, from its early days and years of imaginative demolishing of all boundaries, has ironically become a semantic tag for just a few very narrow genres and sub-genres.

If one looks at what is included in the category of electronic music, then it becomes clear that in our perception this music has largely lost its non-functional roles.

Dance music, and all its sub-genres, is making us... well, dance and have a good time. Even the not so mainstream, but abundant, ambient and chillout electronica is here to helps us relax, well, chill out...

When talking to creators of mainstream electronica, it is also becoming obvious how even the concept of composing with a primary intent, hence setting an objective in terms of what the music expresses or describes, is becoming an alien one or something never heard of. In best case, it is seen as "old-fashioned".

Whilst both technology and its users are creating, among the inevitable ocean of mediocrities, gems of mainstream electronica, we really are increasingly pushing traditional composition and traditional musical values into, at best, marginalised and quite niche sub-genres.

Vangelis in his former London studio

Traditional composition here is not meant along the lines of doodling with a piano and taking out pencil and paper with staves. It is meant as approaching the task of creating a piece of music with actual intent, even when merely improvising on our gadgets... and keeping focus on what the music is meant to express.

This, though, requires command of music theory, and examples of supreme masters with no such formal knowledge are rare - let's just say, there are not many Vangelis-like phenomena in electronic music...

Just saying this makes one sound hopelessly elitist, because the ways in which we can create electronic music nowadays has distorted our entire vision on what the creative process is, and what it is supposed to come up with. Electronic music that is released on, heaven forbid, concept albums, is deemed old-fashioned. Undoubtedly, the excesses of progressive rock have made the term "concept album" an almost pejorative one in the eyes and ears of many punk and post-punk generations of music creators and consumers.

It is ironic though, that in the most limitless genre, huge proportion of electronic music is created nowadays with merely its functional role in mind. This pretty much drives our definitions and expectations of what electronica "must" be.

Some niche sub-genres are either unbearably academic (continuing the eminently experimental traditions), or labelled with the by now pejorative-sounding new age term. Latter has anyway become a bucket not just for pretentious and often ludicrous "spiritual" electronica, but also for just about any music that happens to be a fusion of orchestral, ethnic, traditional and electronic. In the same way that progressive rock has eventually become a bucket for everything that didn't fit into rigid rock sub-genres, new age has become the same for electronic music.

Nils Frahm

The perversity of our shifted preconceptions and perceptions of what electronic music is supposed to sound like are made even more evident when the unparalleled pioneers or novel acts of far-out electronic music are pigeonholed into the new age genre.

Tangerine Dream ending up in that category? Really? Harold Budd, Kitaro and even Vangelis? Olafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm? It is simply tragicomic.

However, like the unstoppable and quite uncoordinated  changes of ever-changing human languages, this movement shows the shifts and currents at work. It is absolutely commendable that our drum boxes and sequencers allow anybody to lay down musical ideas at any moment, in a vein that the great composers of yesteryear would have given an arm and a leg for.

Improvisations are no longer lost forever, and can be the origins of major and complex works. Technology really is here to help, as long as the human maintains creative control.

It just remains painfully ironic how the vast new abilities and powers of this astounding and still new musical Universe are achieving the opposite effect: instead of increasingly leveraging the possibilities created by the unprecedented technology behind this music, we are increasingly limited in our rapidly narrowing perceptions of what this truly limitless sonic Universe "should" sound like. And latter is confined to the functional role of music, despite its new abilities to take us beyond the party moods, ambiental wanderings and relaxation attempts.

One has to wonder what the early pioneers would think, if they could witness what this phenomenal new genre of music has become in our aesthetic definitions and expectations.

Gary Numan's Savage - and a tale of music categorisation

Normally Gary Numan would need no introduction.

However, a recent clash between the rigid categories some operate with and the creativity that characterises the likes of Gary Numan perhaps warrants one - just to put in context a wider point to be made here...

It is a tale of how a label, which once described the most innovative and category-defying music, could be gradually so narrowed by some music industry machinery that it describes, at best, a single musical stereotype.

Normally we have had labels widen so much that they became all-inclusive. Thus they have lost all meaning due to the music industry's attempts of filling the new box with anything they could not fit into other rigid boxes.

Here, though, we have the remarkable opposite trend in its terminal stages.

As one of the most notable names in electronica, with a long list of names from Prince to Trent Reznor to Marilyn Manson quoting him as key influence, Gary Numan is to electronic music what Philip K. Dick is to the more philosophical section of science-fiction literature.

Although Numan is an artist who has had a key role in bringing electronic music into the mainstream pop culture, his dystopian visions, introspective lyrics coupled with his instantly recognisable sonic Universe elevated him way beyond electro-pop - ever since his Tubeway Army mega-hits up to his latest concept album.

Savage (Songs From A Broken World) is again a dystopian and mesmerisingly philosophical work, with musical elements that range from the familiar but characteristic Numan sonic palette to Middle-Eastern flavours.

A superb follow-up to Splinter, again with Ade Fenton in the producer's chair, we get thought-provoking meditations on our world and our existence, while the music takes us from electronic rock constructs to symphonic heights that linger in one's mind long after the record stopped playing.

However, being a distinctive voice nowadays can clash with the mechanical image certain music "specialists" have about the Universe.

Billboard, the well-known chart company, needs no introduction either.

Their definitions of album sales are nowadays desperate and gloriously inept attempts of moulding and bending eminently outdated music industry business models onto the new rapidly changing shapes of the digital world inhabited by its digital consumers.

As difficult as it may seem, Billboard recently managed to surpass themselves in their attempts to define this, to use a physics analogy, intricate quantum physics-governed world with rigid Newtonian models.

They have decided that Gary Numan's new album does not fit their dance/electronica category. As they expressed it, the album is basically "not electronic", instead it fits in the rock/alternative category.

The technical details happen to be such that around 95% of the album has been produced on and with electronic instruments, by one of the most recognisable electronic artists of the last four decades. As Gary Numan himself has rightly pointed out, it is the most electronic record since his album The Pleasure Principle (1979).

But the problem revealed by the Billboard absurdity is wider than any debate about one's list of one's studio gear.

The telling and worrying aspect is that key names in the music industry are grasping at labels that used to denote the most boundless, experimental or more mainstream, sonic world.

While they grasp at these labels, in an attempt to rigidly categorise the vastly varied palette used by electronic artists, they end up narrowing and narrowing the field of view.

Electronic, in their  rapidly shrinking understanding, basically can only mean dance - but even EDM, electronic dance music, is a ludicrously meaningless label nowadays as it has countless vastly different sub-genres and styles.

Unless an artist fits into this ultra-narrow box, even the likes of Billboard need to resort to a radical re-categorisation - Gary Numan and Depeche Mode are now "rock/alternative"... Listening to their recent two albums make this categorisation a superb absurd tragicomedy.

We have had categories like progressive rock widening, widening, until they lost all meaning as they just became a bucket for music industry luminaries to shove any out-of-the-box creation into.

The same happened to new age, starting out with a defined (albeit dubious) scope and intent, but ending up with artists like Tangerine Dream and Vangelis being categorised as such...

Remember alternative rock? The one where musicians ended up all looking and, rapidly, sounding the same and far from being alternative expressions of anything?

However, the recent Gary Numan episode is showing something very different.

Instead of desperately widening the meaning of a, hence increasingly rendered meaningless, category, they end up constricting a vast category to something that becomes an ultra-narrow one.

They can only fit inside it a tiny subset of just one stereotypical mainstream incarnation of what the musical genre really used to denote.

The wider and more imaginative that genre was once, the narrower its actual use as a label has become.

The darkest effect of this mental constriction, stemming from still not updated business models and patterns of thoughts that go with it, is that it started to feed back on itself.

The major names in the music industry, the likes of Billboard, have become eminently irrelevant in the greater scheme - but until their irrelevance is final, unfortunately they are still affecting musicians - and how they are judged by other elements of the rusting echo chambers that Billboard & Co operate in.

Artists producing imaginative electronica without dance loops and archetypal arrangements are placing themselves outside the one and only rigid, narrowed to a point of singularity, box tthat he mainstream music industry can think in.

One has to wonder what cataclysmic infliction changed the same music industry giants from celebrators and promoters of the most innovative and stylistically boundless music into dangerous automatons that can only imagine that music as something confined to their mental image of a dance floor...

After half-century of Tangerine Dreams

Tangerine Dream, depending on who one talks to, is one of the, or is the, most defining names in electronic music and in what has become known as the Berlin school of electronica.

Today, the 29th September, we can celebrate 50 years of their existence - even if, alas, the founder and superlative pioneer Edgar Froese is no longer among us.

Tangerine Dream's discography is simply huge - and so is their musical range.

Instead of being boxed into specific sub-genres of electronica, they have produced extremely varied output in terms of era-defining studio albums, soundtracks for some true cinematic landmarks (think of Friedkin's Sorcerer or Bigelow's Near Dark), and series of live albums that often featured entirely new material (e.g. the spellbinding double LP Poland or the much later Logos).

It has always been unfair in general, and certainly unfair specifically to Tangerine Dream, to expect, with ardent but nostalgic fervor, the artists to produce the same style of material that marked their creative peaks some decades ago.

Tangerine Dream, as many high-mileage pioneers, have changed directions many times, sometimes questionably, sometimes mesmerizingly... often radically... but it has been a phenomenal journey from early psychedelia to unparalleled use of sequencers and trailblazing new technology to space ambient to electronic rock to soaring cinematic soundscapes and soundtracks.

Their most recent album, Quantum Gate, is part of that continued journey- its release being timed exactly on the 50th anniversary of the band's existence.

The band, which proved that eminently high-tech instruments can be used to expand what human imagination can work with and materialize into soundscapes without technology having taken over, even in its most recent line-up continues successfully Edgar's legacy.

Edgar Froese's mind and soul is present in each of the tracks - and it is admittedly a refreshing and perhaps to some a quite well above expectations sensation that the new album is absolutely quintessential Tangerine Dream.

While it sounds like a spellbinding quantum physics-inspired musical journey of uttermost technological prowess, it is also vintage Tangerine Dream and it is eminently human instead of what many other practitioners of electronic music ended up producing...

If we feel nostalgic about the peerless fluidity and seamless mind-bending sequencing of Love on a Real Train, then Proton Bonfire on the new album will satisfy us...

If we would like to revisit the spiraling heights of Ricochet or Rubycon, then Roll the Seven Twice or Granular Blankets will equally satisfy us.

If we want some mellotron flashbacks of Phaedra or the high-octane electronic rock of Force Majeure or Pergamon Live, then we have Tear Down the Grey Skies.

The album is unmistakably and instantly recognizably Tangerine Dream, and despite the absence of its founder and central intellectual luminary, the music is a superb continuation of its long history.

Perhaps it makes some ardent fans jump or resort to long-distance spells :) when reading this, but... one of the most remarkable aspects of this album is that it sounds more quintessentially Tangerine Dream than some of the past albums when several of the key figures of the band's history were still in the band...

Even if one picks out this one quality alone, huge respect to Thorsten Quaeschning, Hoshiko Yamane and Ulrich Schnauss for continuing Edgar's creative thinking and producing something original, but at the same time characteristic of several decades of TD output.

Whether future artistic choices will take the new line-up into very different directions, or this characteristic sound continues, well, it is certain that we shall find out - as there seems to be no mellowing of creativity in the Tangerine Dream music laboratory.