First Day of Winter

Jörg Mager Ensemble:
Ultima, 18. okt. 1996, Rockefeller, Oslo [.zip]

In Norway, 14 October was traditionally seen as the first day of winter. To mark the occasion, here's an unreleased, but truly transcendent live record by one of Norway's foremost composers—a man seemingly steeped in winter, by the sounds of these monumental, monochromatic and meditative orchestral pieces.

You may curse it in a couple of months, but winter has its own beauty.

Rare or Unreleased 51: Helge «Deathprod» Sten

Helge Sten: The Comfort of Objects [.zip]

Toilet Guppies has made it a point of order to make available to the obscure Norwegian noise loving internet masses—all four of them—any and every out-of-print rarity ever committed to a recording device by producer Helge Sten, a/k/a ambient noise composer Deathprod. (Except recordings never printed in the first place.) Not that there are many; there's the majestic live percussion piece «Komet» and one spoken word collab with American expat poet Matt Burt.

And now «Microwave 1-5», five short pieces of ambient noise made, according to the liner notes, «using the same source material» as two additional tracks by John Hegre and four by relentless noise pioneer Lasse Marhaug (all on the CD, but not included here), both of Jazzkammer fame. What that source material was isn't mentioned.

Whatever the original sounds mangled far beyond recognition, you could do worse on a foetal Sunday than listen to these snippets of typically meditative (but never New Age-y) Deathprod. atmospherics. Curl yourself up, bub. You don't stand a chance.

Norwegian Winter/Scandinavian Minimalism

-8°C and occasionally snowy, 'tis the season of frozen monochromatics! Say goodbye to the colours of the rainbow, say hello to white snow and black night, the tidy distinction between the two non-colour colours increasingly blurred until the snow is a polluted grey melting on top of everything beneath those grey skies, which are neither day nor quite night. Need a pick-me-up?

Crystallised [.zip]

The download above is pure winter music. It's got the industrial atmospherics of a city, yet sounds more like the cosmic hum heard only in an arctic landscape, between winds. The static made by molecular clouds of atoms, the waves inside a stone, a snow crystal or anything else you might care to think of. There aren't any familiar-sounding instruments or other recognisable sounds that otherwise give rise to associations or prejudices, limiting your experience. This is audio as meditation, without mantras, words, melodies, rhythms, patterns or other emotional cues reducing the complex into just one perspective, feeling, thought, memory or hope. This music is a sliding scale free of absolutes, which is what makes it not only difficult but wrong to try and describe it. But if you're skeptical of the old Scandinavian Minimalism, so often neat, sterile and functional, this is minimalism as mysticism, rather than design. If less is more, then the least is the most.

These recordings are by a Norwegian artist whose specialty is sound—an audio savant with an ear that seems to be able to capture what escapes ours entirely. (The record company that releases his music refuses to make its catalogue available in mp3 format, due to the inferiority in sound.) He started out as a minimalist noise/ambient solo artist, but is now almost exclusively a producer who no longer records or performs his own solo material. He once said in an interview that the pride of Norwegian New Age jazz, the internationally acclaimed Jan Garbarek, should be shot for what he's done to Norwegian folk music. (I don't recall him elaborating, but I'm sure Garbarek playing Norwegian folk schematics in the insipid tone of the soprano saxophone and dipping it liberally in synthesizers, taking any grittily sincere significance it may have had and reducing it to housewife demographic «spirituality», would do it.) Now he's making a similar kind of atmospheric jazz himself, as member of an acclaimed improv outfit. He has also worked with Garbarek's artistic kissing cousin, Nils Petter Molvær, who does exactly what Garbarek does, only with a trumpet, condemning the soul of Norwegian music to easy listening for urban dwellers with a nostalgia for nature.

This compilation, however, focuses on our noise artist's solo music, which doesn't err on any side of such bland existentialism. You can buy all of his albums in one box set now (even the ones initially limited to editions of 500 copies), as well as a dreamy remix project CD, all of which come very highly recommended. You can't find better music from Scandinavia (or finer ambient noise from anywhere).

This compilation collects none of those readily available recordings, only the non-album tracks that you can't find in one place or release, and which are more likely to disappear in the respective obscurities of its special interest compilation albums, remix projects, EPs and singles. Most of these tracks tend towards the subtle, insular fuzziness of the artist's later recordings, rather than the more grandiose noise of his early stuff or the experimental instrumentation of his mid-period pieces. Much of it may not be his best material (although some of it comes close), but it's the sound of winter. They're saying this year's going to be a cold one.

So curl up in a ball to conserve your warmth and let your mind drift off to the sound of inside…

Rare or Unreleased 40: Origami Arktika

When the below-zero temperature gets the mucous production going, but freezes the snot before it's had time to run out the nostrils, you know it's time for some arctic sounds…

Origami Arktika: The Symbasic Structure for the Concrete Challenge 3logy pt. 0—Sondring [.zip]

1. Inertia
2. The Division of Hemispheres
3. The Dancing of Shapes
4. The Splitting of Atoms
5. The Birth of the Flame
6. Flux Quanta

In most countries, conservative tradition and the establishment conspire to preach and impose strict rules of conduct on the population at large, resulting in a society where rules are generally accepted, but with quite a bit of commonsense flexibility and a healthy dose of hypocrisy (which is only reasonable). Certain cultures, however, don't take too kindly to bending, let alone breaking, rules. And by «certain cultures,» I mean Norway.

Toilet Guppies hasn't been everywhere in the world, and by no means possesses expertise on the matter, but this country is still the only one we've experienced where rules, written as well as unwritten, are completely internalised. There's no opposition, no rebellion. In so totally accepting the mores and not acting against the surface ethics taught by the State/Church, you could perhaps say that at least Norwegians aren't hypocritical. But do you really prefer mindless servility?

When this almost bureaucratic conformism is combined with the new (oil) money that has spoilt at least two generations rotten—in creating a bubble of historical and geopolitical unreality for an entire population now exempt from the basic realities of the rest of the world (poverty, war, ethnic conflict, class struggle, religious division, pollution)—no wonder you end up with a spiritually bankrupt culture. From literature to design, music to cinema, everything is gentrified and sterile. Nothing can grow in any meaningful sense of the word in such an environment. Welcome to utopia: No one has anything to say.

Thankfully, there are exceptions. Kjell Askildsen in literature, Christopher Nielsen in comics, Kristopher Schau in performance art, Pål Sletaune in cinema, Turbonegro in rock'n'roll, Gunnar Hall Jensen in narcissism. This might seem like a long list of names, but keep in mind it's exhaustive.

Well, almost. Add one: Origami Republika. This international zenarchist noise art co-operative, stretching underground from Argentina in the West to Japan in the East, has as its epicentre and point of origin Norway. And within its ranks you'll find the only true remnant of soul in Norwegian music, like the output of Helge Sten, Tore H. Bøe and Lasse Marhaug. Minimalism is the weapon of choice for Norwegian art («Scandinavian design», etc.), but only within the make-believe, anarcho-dada republic of Origami is minimalism a justified choice, rather than merely a tactic not to risk offering too much, lest you reveal the lack of anything substantial, interesting or important to convey.

Alas, lost at sea among the pride and joys of the Norwegian establishment/population (in Norway, there is no such distinction anyway)—the much more lucrative productions of elevator electro background muzak (Erlend Øye, Röyksopp), New Age easy listening World jazz (Jan Garbarek, Nils Petter Molvær) and Spinal Tap-by-way-of-black metal (Satyricon, Dimmu Borgir)—a lot of Origami Republika's output has been drowned out by the mediocrity, either long since or slowly going out of print. Their contributions remain practically unrecognised in Norway (and elsewhere).

One such ignored item is the album above, Sondring («(act of) distinguishing»). Made by Republika faction Origami Arktika back in 1996, when it consisted only of founding members Tore H. Bøe and Benny Braaten (a.k.a. Origami Galaktika)—none of whom are in Arktika any longer—Sondring is listed as «part 0» in «The Symbasic Structure for the Concrete Challenge 3logy». I have a copy of part 3—the Origami Arktika/Deathprod. collaborative effort, Lat att grinda («close the gate»)—but suspect there are only two installments in this «trilogy»—one of which, then, is part 0. Oh, those artist types!

Although both Bøe and Braaten are noise pioneers, Sondring isn't particularly representative of that genre. Bøe's background as a drummer comes more to the fore, combined with Braaten's hypnotic ambient sounds. The result is what the soundtrack to Apocalypse Now! might have sounded like if set on the North Pole. It's one of the less subversive Origami releases, the avant-garde element consisting mainly in the stubborn minimalism of the vaguely tribal (Sami?) music. But it's a very nice slice of organic, minimalist ambience coming from otherwise quite abrasive maximalists. Enjoy.

Rare or Unreleased 36: Kapotte Zondag

Origami Replika vs. Kapotte Muziek vs. Origami Replika: «812» [mp3]

Sunday, and the best chill-out ambient music that noise artists like Origami Replika (Tore H. Bøe and Lasse Marhaug line-up) remixing Kapotte Muziek's remix of Origami Replika can produce…

Rare or Unreleased 28: Helge Sten

Deathprod.: «Komet» (live) [mp3]

In 1998 (possibly '97), an acquaintance slipped me a tape of Deathprod. opening for Motorpsycho at Oslo venue Rockefeller, as recorded by the NRK (the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation) and aired during their radio show Roxrevyen. Apparently, my acquaintance had recorded the broadcast on DAT, before transferring it to good old microcassette for me. I copied this onto minidisc, which was later transferred onto the computer.

Believe me, I've tried to obtain a higher quality recording of this performance, both through the NRK directly and through my acquaintance (who has since forgotten all about the piece, and about ever hearing it, let alone taping it and giving it to me). Unfortunately, this piece of Deathprod.'s remains unreleased to this day, and no other recorded version of «Komet» is currently in circulation. Perversely, as the state-owned, non-profit, TV licence-sponsored NRK owns the rights to the actual recording, it has proved too expensive for the artist himself to buy the licence to have it released. And so the recording rots in the archives somewhere, where even the self-appointed caretakers of Norwegian cultural heritage over at the Kafkaesque NRK can't seem to find it—this rare pearl among the mediocre excrement shat out of the pampered botty of Norwegian culture virtually non-existent, and no good to anyone.

So this deteriorated version of the recording will have to do. This (to my knowledge) one-off performance of «Komet» came after Deathprod. a.k.a. Helge Sten's initial experiments with noise, but prior to his further, somewhat insular studio refinements of sound—dense minimalism that is characterised by an almost underwater sensibility. This mid-period Deathprod.—typically recorded in the relatively uncontrolled environment of a live setting, and veering towards composition (rather than audiophile ambient music reduced to texture)—is Helge Sten at his very best, the music not yet restricted in any way by the studio perfectionism that would come later.

From about 1996 to '98, Sten composed what in many ways are more ambitious pieces, trying his hand at added instrumentation of various kinds, and to great effect. Where Imaginary Songs from Tristan da Cunha's «The Contraceptive Briefcase II» incorporated a choir, and the Jörg Mager Ensemble project a string orchestra, «Komet» is the only piece of Deathprod.'s to feature percussion. More accomplished than his early recordings, and more visceral than his later ones, «Komet» truly is a lost masterpiece.

As for the personnel listing, I'm assuming that—the percussionist(s) notwithstanding—the name «Deathprod.» here refers to the period's usual core trio of Helge Sten (theremin, various electronics, «audiovirus»), Ole Henrik Moe (violin) and Hans Magnus Ryan (electric violin).

Tonguing Meaning 3: Matt Burt

Deathprod. vs. the Death Dwarf: «Albino Monkey Organgrinder in the City of Lights» [mp3]

Back in 'Tache Town for a couple of weeks, I thought I'd post something Trondheim once had to offer the world (but which the world ignored).

In 1997, dBut Records released the now out-of-print various artists comp Det norske hus. (The Oslo Agreement upon international release.) Besides various branches of the Origami Republika anarcho-collective (Galaktika and Teknika), the album featured Jaga Jazzist and once-hyped Norwegian electro acts such as Palace Of Pleasure, Perculator and Sternklang. Naturally, the sleeve was designed by Kim Hiorthøy.

But the real gem was the last track, credited to «Deathprod. vs. the Death Dwarf». This is obviously a collaboration between Helge Sten and Trondheim's resident expat American dictaphone poet, the self-deprecating shorty Matt Burt, reciting something that sounds unmistakably like passages penned by William S. Burroughs (probably from Naked Lunch, possibly The Soft Machine).

It's only after your mind has drifted off to Burt's monotonous Burroughs impression and the minimalist drones of Deathprod. that you notice a sudden change of tone. The contrived deadpan drops from Burt's voice, and you awaken to realise that the words now come from a different place altogether. No longer the cold satire of the sci-fi junkie straight out of Surrealist Hell, after about nine minutes Burt starts reciting his own material, tacking it onto the end of Burroughs' hypnotic gibberish, as if bashfully wishing no one would notice his awkward confession, or else hiding it behind another's stoic work, secretly ashamed at the self-pitying soft core at the heart of his own, thus sabotaging his own attempt at communication.

But the communique's truthful, it's honest, and the words nail the meaning they seek to convey right on the head. And although Burroughs' words are hilarious («What in God's green earth do these telecommunications transvestites think they're doing?!»), it's not until Burt's turn that «Albino Monkey Organgrinder in the City of Lights» is injected with sincerity and an emotional nerve that's hooked into the mainline of everdyay reality, rather than into the abstract, comic nightmare of a hallucinating, cock hungry junkie on the run.

Tragedy teaches us that the objects of our contemplation—ourselves, each other, our world—are more diverse than we had imagined, and that what we have in common is a dangerous propensity for overrating our power to comprehend that diversity.

When the assumption that we have very much in common with each other is rejected by Burt as an illusion, his statement—being an attempt at communication, at meeting another mind—is a contradiction in terms. Because if it were true, would it make sense to utter it? Would anyone even understand it? To whom is he speaking? Then again, if you do understand it—do identify with it—perhaps that's simply because what little we have in common is precisely how little we have in common…

Whatever the case, the bottomless solitude Burt touches upon—hemmed in as it is by our limited empathy—remains, both for Burt and for the listener… But at least there's some sort of consolation: You're not alone in being alone.

Whatever that's good for.

Rare or Unreleased 7: Deathprod.

Jörg Mager Ensemble: «Siemens» [mp3]
[Download disabled.]

In 1996 and '97, producer and ambient noise composer Helge Sten's Deathprod. outfit (by now a trio, completed by Ole-Henrik Moe and Motorpsycho guitarist Hans Magnus Ryan) teamed up with the contemporary classical Cikada Ensemble to play some of Sten's compositions at various festivals, under the joint moniker of Jörg Mager Ensemble.

On 18 October 1996 one of these concerts was recorded at Oslo's Rockefeller venue as part of the Ultima Festival, but unfortunately nothing came of the recordings. (Although in 1997 it was rumoured that parts of this recording would be released as a split CD with Origami Arktika, on a Young God Records release that label boss Michael Gira announced in press announcements, but which never materialised.) The tracklist consists of songs from Deathprod.'s 1994
classic Treetop Drive («Treetop Drive 1», «Towboat») and two as-yet unreleased pieces, one of which («Dead People's Things») would later be released—in a different version—on Deathprod.'s final album before Sten's retirement from solo recording, 2004's Morals and Dogma. Only the above piece, «Siemens», remains unreleased.

And criminally so, which is why I'm taking the liberty of putting it out there. Oscillator, saw, electric violin and strings never before came together to sound so mesmerising. (They probably never came together at all!) This is a prime example of Sten's hypnotic, gradually ascending (and simultaneously ecstatic and horrific) brand of minimalism. It's a shame both that Sten hasn't received more recognition (as a composer; he is routinely praised for his work in jazz improv quartet Supersilent) and that he stopped performing and recording solo material. His noise ambient music avoids the pitfalls of both the noise and ambient genres, and combines an emotional intensity with a patience and will that amount to some of the most courageous and pure music I've ever heard—because he dares to keep it simple, dares to make no compromises, and dares to explore the headspace that he does. This is spiritual music for atheists, touching a space virtually untouched but for Arvo Pärt.

This recording is also one of the last wherein Sten indulges in the raw soundscapes of his early recordings. After expanding on his electronics-reliant compositions with forays into choirs and percussion (watch this space for another exclusive later on), Sten's next official releases offered up a sedate sonic universe that seemed fuzzily insular by comparison, as if heard underwater—contained within the embrace of valium (or the womb)…

Oh, and if you're wondering about the name under which this piece was performed, Jörg Mager was a German pioneer in sound who, from the 1920s up until WWII, invented exotic instruments such as the
Electrophon, the Kurbelsphäraphon, the Klaviatursphäraphon, the Partiturophon and the Kaleidophon—none of which survived the devastations of the Second World War (except in Helge Sten's imagination). These instruments were oscillators, supposedly similar in sound to the theremin. You know, that 1950s sci-fi sound as if a violin got confused with a voice in your slipping consciousness:



Now that's what I call a David Lynch moment!

But I digress. I recall coming out of the Jörg Mager Ensemble gig in Trondheim sometime in 1997, accompanied by a friend who, as we left, confided in me that his mother and he had come to this planet to «help the humans»—she'd always told him so. Naturally, I wasn't convinced, and in hindsight it's not surprising that only months later he would be incarcerated in a mental institution from which he's never been able to free himself, his mind lost now deep inside a body bloated by pharmaceuticals that shroud his brain in a fog full of half-mumbled fragments of sentences, spoken to no one in particular, not even himself. But when you're a teenager, eccentricity, unlike consensus reality, is cool, and I never set any limits.

Neither did Deathprod. that night, as the engulfingly deafening noise and resonance, rich with the scratch and scrape of strings, the hall ringing with razor sharp frequencies, «washed our souls away, where they never could be found.»

(Credits:

Deathprod.
Helge Sten: theremin, various electronics
Ole Henrik Moe, jr.: violin, saw
Snah: electric violin, various electronics

Cikada
Kjersti Walldén: flute
Terje B. Lerstad: clarinet
Bjørn Rabben: percussion
Kenneth Karlsson: ondes Martenot
Henrik Hannisdal: violin
Odd Hannisdal: violin
Marek Konstantynowiez: viola
Hjalmar Kvam: cello
Conducted by Christian Eggen)