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Interview with Rroland

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When I write, as part of the ritual necessary to putting me in the right frame of mind, as well as making myself a pot of tea, I tend to put on some music. This is usually instrumental (with one or two exceptions). For instance, favourites include the soundtrack the from film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters by Philip Glass and (currently) Mum's Finally We Are No one. Another disc that has graced my player during the ritual of writing, and at various other times, is Reflections on a Past Life as Played on the Roland Synthesiser, by Rroland. Rroland's music is, to offer a very general description, instrumental, electronic and ambient. However, I'm not sure I could really give an idea of genre here, and even the word 'ambient' seems misleading. Sometimes, when I'm writing, I find that the music refuses to be background music. Some of the pieces are too structured to really be 'ambient', seeming to build themselves in cyclopean blocks before the mind's eye, and even those that have a drifting quality are only really misty - if at all - at the edges. If this is drifting, then it is drifting as experienced by Walter Gilman in H.P. Lovecraft's 'The Dreams in the Witch House', who finds himself nocturnally travelling in dream through regions that "lie beyond the three dimensions we know" in "plunges through limitless abysses of inexplicably coloured twilight and bafflingly disordered sound; abysses whose material and gravitational properties, and whose relation to his own entity, he could not even begin to explain."

In the case of Reflections on a Past Life, however, there is some explanation, and that explanation is in the title. The fifteen tracks on the disc are a musical representation of a past-life re-lived, and, I must say, they do rather feel that way, like a therapeutic session, perhaps, with the likes of R.D. Laing, whose aim is to re-experience and thus to exorcise buried trauma. The reviews I have read of the disc use phrases such as "Candyland-on-crack", but my own experience is not of 'electronic popsicles'. To give an example, The Road up to Hell sounds to me like a cryogenically frozen soul watching paralysed as bits of karmic space debris burn up in the atmosphere of its aura.



Just the other day, Momus invited the readers of his blog to interview each other in his comments section. I wrote down an impromptu list of questions, and a number of people were generous enough to answer these (and all of them interestingly). Among these people there was Rroland, who has kindly given me permission to reproduce the interview here:

Q: What was the last book (s) that you read?

R: Street of Crocodiles Bruno Schultz

Q: How was it?

R: Funny, sad, inspiring made me want to compose new stuff

Q: Do you have any pets?

R: no, a mouse once lived with me but my landlord killed it

Q: What's your favourite non-alcholic drink?

R: Trader Joe's Bedtime tea

Q: What would be the preferred manner of your death?

R: in the backcountry while hiking, or with my head on my keyboard playing an endless distorted note

Q: What is the oldest article of clothing that you still wear?

R: that's a long answer, i wear everything until it falls apart

Q: What is your favourite kind of weather?

R: thick fog

Q: What is the least touristy place you have ever been?

R: San Diego, CA

Q: What place names make you laugh?

R: San Diego

Q: Have you ever been personally involved with someone born on an island smaller than Taiwan?

R: No

Q: Do you prefer to use chopsticks, knife and fork, or hands?

R: Chopsticks when possible

Q: Have you ever walked out on a film in the cinema, and if so, what was it?

R: 'I'm not There', The Heath Ledger parts were pissing me off

Q: What's your least favourite cartoon and why?

R: He-Man, because i am a mis-anthropist

Q: Who is the world's funniest comedian?

R: Franz Kafka

Q: What do you want to do next week?

R: Yoga

Q: Have you ever admired someone for political reasons?

R: yes, Momus

Q: What is the most psychologically formative event of your life before the age of nine?

R: when I burned my dad's porn collection and started a field on fire and got in trouble with the fire department

Q: Where did you last go for a daytrip and why?

R: I walked about 10 miles across the GG Bridge from my house in SF and took the ferry back from Sausalito

Thanks for interview Quentin!


You may listen to some of Rroland's music at his Myspace page, here.

When you turn pro, you know, she'll let you know

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I've just been leaping around in the kitchen in a manner deranged to the music of Sparks. Well, apart from my evening constitutional, I live a fairly sedentary existence, and we all need exercise, and, furthermore, I can't afford to go to the gym. And that's my excuse. I'm just grateful that there are still some places left in this country that are not fitted with CCTV and that no one came home from work early or anything.

The Sparks album - Kimono My House - was sent to me recently by a friend, with six other CDs. I realise I've come to it over thirty years late, but so far this is my favourite CD of the seven, and I've been playing it constantly. I don't really know much about Sparks, but I'll try and give my impression here in a really trite way - The Smiths crossed with Queen and Talking Heads. I can hear Morrissey's choirboy falsetto in Russell Mael's vocals, and there's a fair resemblance in the witty turn of lyrical phrase, too. I can also hear Queen's creamy guitar and light-opera melodies here. And I can sense David Byrne's nervous quirkiness in the stage presence of the brothers Ron and Russell. I know that Sparks are an influence in the case of Morrissey, and would not be surprised if the same were true of the other two bands mentioned.

Because of Russell's super-high-pitched vocals, it's not always easy to make out the lyrics, and I didn't have much idea what the songs were about until I looked up the lyrics online. At that point, many things fell into place. Certainly the first two songs on the album - This Town Ain't Big Enough For the Both of Us and Amateur Hour - are quite startlingly evocative depictions of awakening sexuality in adolescence, and all the competitiveness, excitement and humiliation that come with this. Reading the lyrics and then re-listening to the songs was like going back in a time-machine to a teenage that I'd almost forgotten, and not necessarily my own, since my own experience was more humiliation than excitement. Nonetheless, the lyrics were as familiar as if they were my own experience:

Zoo time is she and you time
The mammals are your favourite type, and you want her tonight
Heartbeat, increasing heartbeat
You hear the thunder of stampeding rhinos, elephants and tacky tigers
This town ain't big enough for both of us
And it ain't me who's gonna leave

Yes, I recognise the teenage panic of not knowing if you're going to be the one who gets the girl. This agony was to be expressed later in a somewhat more downbeat, but equally witty form in songs by The Smiths such as I Want the One I Can't Have:

On the day that your mentality
Decides to try to catch up with your biology

Come round ...
'Cause I want the one I can't have
And it's driving me mad
It's all over, all over, all over my face...

And if you ever need self-validation
Just meet me in the alley by the Railway station.

The same theme, as I said, continues in Amateur Hour, and I have to say, I found the lyrics to this hilarious:

She can show you what you must do
To be more like people better than you

Amateur Hour goes on and on
When you turn pro, you know, she'll let you know
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I don't think the Mael brothers were actually teenagers when they wrote this, but the freshness of the expression suggests that they weren't writing entirely from the point of view of outside observers, and that maybe, even if it's buried, this teenage experience continues to be a vital part of us. Certainly, it still sounds vital to me, a thirtysomething old codger and curmudgeon. In recent years I have found music far less physically addictive than I used to and have tired somewhat of guitar bands who trade on the sheer energy of their performance. But I am listening to Sparks now in the way I haven't listened to music for a long time. I find myself really getting off on the energy of it. Just watch this YouTube clip of them performing This Town Ain't Big Enough.... I defy you not to get caught up in the wonderful rising tension of the whole thing:

Anyway, that's why I've been playing Sparks like a teenage guitar-addict recently. It also helps that the lyrics are actually witty, because then I can always fall back on the alibi of irony if I absolutely must. And wit in popular music is so rare, it's a real blessing when it comes; I'm never tempted to scorn it, in the manner of the jealous, as affectation. Some of it actually makes me laugh, which is no bad thing:

You mentioned Kant and I was shocked
You know, where I come from, none of the girls have such foul tongues
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Okay, so it's slightly laboured, but it's still funny. Or how about a verse from Talent Is an Asset, sung from the point of view of parents proprietorial over their little Albert Einstein:

Albert is smart, he's a genius
Watch Albert putter, an obvious genius
Someday he will reassess the world
And he'll still have time for lots of girls
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No? Please yourselves.

I'm going back to do some more dancing. When I turn pro, I'll let you know.

New Music and Old

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I am a man of very limited means. Most of my clothes are what people have given to me. Recently, the same seems to be true of music. This morning I recieved no less than seven CDs in the post, from the same person, I might add. That's right, I have become very lazy in keeping up with the music scene. I used to read all the music papers, in a previous century, but no more. Now I have a secret agent out there in the world who keeps me musically informed and supplied. If you are reading this, thank you. I shall not reveal your secret identity. Anyway, the music I received this morning consists of music new and old:

Mono - You Are There.

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra La La Band - Horses in the Sky.

Sufjan Stevens - Illinoise.

James Figurine - Mistake, Mistake, Mistake, Mistake.

Elliott Smith - Either/Or.

Sparks - Kimono My House.

Add N to (X) - Avant Hard

If you want to know what any of these are like, just ask me, and I'll let you know.

I also read Momus' blog today, and was reminded of my fondness for Okinawan folk music, which prompted me to look up clips on YouTube. It seems to me that Okinawan folk music has the mystery of Japanese samisen music with an added warmth. The songs are generally sung in the Okinawan dialect, so I don't have much idea what they are about, but they seem to swell with genuine emotion in a way that moves me. The songs don't seem to me to be merely curated museum pieces, but still to be very much alive, and yet, at the same time, they transport me to another place and another time. The best things in life are beyond words - even words are beyond words sometimes - and Okinawan music is a case in point. To be completely subjective, listening to Okinawan folk music makes me feel like a Japanese novelist from, say, the Taisho era - possibly Meiji - holidaying with a mistress in Kumakura, and smoking a cigarette in my yukata, fresh from the hot baths, as I gaze out of the window at the curving rooftops crowding higgedly-piggledly to the sea, catching here and there a glimpse of petals falling upon a gust of spring wind. Even though Kamakura isn't in Okinawa. (I said it was subjective.) I also like the fact that this kind of folk music seems to make the age of the singer utterly irrelevant. The power of the songs remains the same, and this difference to modern pop music seems instructive. Anyway, here are one or two that I like: