When Context Enhances, Not Distracts

originally published March 7, 2007

When you listen to SMiLE , does the image of Paul McCartney chewing a stalk of celery while Brian Wilson gropes around his sandbox for his ever-evaporating marbles improve the listening experience? Does Joni Mitchell's "Free Man in Paris" take on a newfound layer of aloof spite when you discover it was written about David Geffen? Maybe it's easier to understand how Freddie Mercury's megalomania took the form of "Bohemian Rhapsody" when you imagine him composing it at a Plexiglas piano that happened to double as a station for doing rails of coke. That's context doing that trick, and isn't that neat? Whether through myth or fact, the stories and settings of the artists while immersed in their art helps the listener to relate to the music through acts that seemingly aren't directly related to the music at all. It's the things you don't hear on the record that shaped it anyway: when it came out, where the band was practicing, who they were trying to impress. It can by turns elucidate or ruin a listening experience.

In years past, limited technology (and, duh, a probable vast disinterest) allowed fringe musicians to escape context; for example, reclusive outsider Jandek has released plenty of stoic hobo blues while remaining willfully obscure. (It may be argued that the cult surrounding his mystery has created a context unto itself, but that's for WIRE magazine to contemplate, not me.) But now, with widespread information coming from all media at an impossibly frenetic rate, it's possible for artists to foist upon their audience as much context as they would like to sift through. Pattern is Movement and Matmos take full advantage of this over-blogged, hyper-saturated world we live in and reap substantial creative dividends.

Pattern is Movement is a marginally well-known indie-rock trio from Philadelphia whose members in 2005 reached a troubling point in their careers: While wanting to commit their time exclusively to their idiosyncratic, charming, cyclically mathy art rock, their sophomore effort Stowaway had been released to only a modest reaction. It didn't receive bad reviews - it simply didn't garner much press, period. Luckily, Pattern is Movement had an ace in the hole with producer Scott Solter. A veteran of analog recording work with artists no less credible than the Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice, Solter has an apparent predilection towards the destructive: his tape-based remix process includes the physical mangling of the original reels of music as well as his own "booby-trapped" equipment.

The result is a stark, ambient backdrop that lulls one into a sense of balance between the sublime and distinct uneasiness. The result, Canonic: Scott Solter Plays Pattern is Movement is an impressive remix record that begged the question from most listeners: that's great, but what the hell did the original sound like? And so, Stowaway was granted a new life, which it, too, deserves: Pattern is Movement's hyper-repetitious math-pop songs burst with a lush melodic sensibility held aloft by singer-bassist Andrew Thiboldeaux's context-free lyrical snippets. Phrases such as "Get your hand off my knee!" and "Can I buy this back here?" are as independent and stark as any of the other strange bits of rhythmic detritus flitting around the mix. And so the remix provides an inverse opportunity to reconsider the original design.

The two San Franciscan guys in Matmos take their contextual journey in such a vastly "meta" direction that it borders on the absurd: after establishing their credibility as hand-picked sound engineers for Björk, the duo of M.C. Schmidt and Drew Daniel can attack their brand of eclectic, knowing electronic music with equal amounts intellectual chin-stroking and goofy, near-gimmicky soundfuckery confidently. Known for their sampling of found sound and unlikely sonic sources, Matmos' latest, The Rose Has Teeth in the Mouth of the Beast, is near-overwhelming in its conceptual baggage: the 10 tracks found on this recording are essentially aural biographies of influential queer thinkers, writers and artists.

So, for example: punk icon Darby Crash of L.A.'s proto-hardcore band the Germs is eulogized with a severely glitchy noise collage consisting mostly of the sounds of Daniel receiving a "Germs burn." This obscure brand of body modification is a cigarette burn to the left wrist that may only be inflicted by a member of The Germs. Don Bolles, the band's drummer, was tracked down and, being, as Daniel puts it, "a gentleman," was happy to oblige Matmos with their sound source. The sound of searing flesh and Daniel's gasp is by turns symbolic of the visceral qualities of the song's namesake and transfers the subject matter into something startlingly personal for the creator.

Historical figures both well-known and well-regarded (William S. Burroughs, Patricia Highsmith) as well as the unsavory and unsung (would-be Warhol assassin Valerie Solanas, pornographer Boyd McDonald) are given equally specific and bizarre tributes on The Rose Has Teeth in the Mouth of the Beast . Mystery writer Highsmith is granted "Snails and Lasers for Patricia Highsmith," a slow-moving piece of dark detective pulp that wouldn't be out of place in any film noir. The album has an overall dark motif, partly due to the fact that almost all of those paid tribute to on The Rose met an untimely demise; how this correlates to their sexual identity (sometimes public, sometimes not) was not lost on Matmos.

The whole thing amounts to tangible, literal biographical instrumentals - a practical application of musique concrète . And, yes, Björk shows up for, like, five seconds. If you want to know the (somewhat repellent) background behind Highsmith's snail jazz, among others, Matmos happily provide a brief explanation (with suggested reading material!) for each track at www.brainwashed.com/matmos/discog/ole677.html.

It's easy to read all of this and turn away bummed: the big deal is what exactly? A listener could always take a brief listen, dismiss the extra material involved and forget about the whole thing - the whole thing reeks of prog-rock-like self-indulgence, it could be argued. But you could also lean towards the idea of supporting these extratextual experiments as novel ideas taken to ambitious extremes; good ideas followed through on instead of left to flounder on the cutting-room floor.

All of these projects succeed not only because of the overarching artistic reach, but by virtue of the fact that these are all stellar releases. The members of Matmos invite their audience to study up on the people they've found to be unfairly marginalized by history, and it ends up as more than a hare-brained scheme to big-up their influences. It's a fine album of strange, fun laptop jams. And the Pattern is Movement guys' choice to deconstruct their songs in such an abstract, physically analog manner allowed them to spin one excellent album into two. They've gotten more mileage out of their music with just a little bit of added effort you could at least afford yourself the opportunity to do the same. A little reading never hurt anyone.

Jeff Tobias

Liner Notes is Flagpole 's music opinion column. Interested in contributing? Contact music editor Chris Hassiotis with ideas at music@flagpole.com.