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There's the pop-rock mindset at work again. It's not a bunch of short songs, it's one long piece--in fact I thought Skinny Fists copped out a little by dividing each disc into two halves.
It's a distinction that doesn't exist in the same way in other musics: symphonies have movements (some of them, anyway), but god forbid you clap in the pause between movements: the piece needs to be considered as a whole.
This morning I was listening to Miles Davis playing Gil Evans's of the adagio movement from Joaquin Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez, originally written as a concerto for guitar and orchestra. The piece is seventeen minutes, and it shifts tempos and moods and melodic themes any number of times. There's no schema for it—all you can say is, "I like the fast part, there, where the tambourine comes in and it goes ba-ba-bum, ba-ba-bum, ba-ba-bum, ba-ba bum up the chromatic scale... oh, that's a great bit when the oboe does this... did you here what he was doing on that little tango bit...?"
By experimenting with extended forms, Godspeed demand a lot of trust (and a long attention span) from their listeners: you can't skip tracks on the CD to hear your favorite songs, you've got to sit back and wait for them to arrive in a time of their own choosing, not yours—applying the paradigm of live performance to the construction of a recorded document.
Unless you're the type who shouts out requests when you go to a live show, assuming in your arrogance that you can devise a better set list than the band can. If that's the case, there's no hope for you. |
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