The
magical
thing
about
Animal
Collective’s
co-founding
member
Avey
Tare, also known as David
Portner, is his ability to make
the abrasive sound beautiful.
He can take piercing, droning
synths fit for an industrial
show and alter them until
they are more fit for a relaxing
summer evening of reflection
and remembrance. Avey Tare
showcases this prowess once
again on his sixth full-length
release, Cows on
Hourglass Pond.
Tare kicks off
the
album
with
the
remarkably
abstract
“What’s
the
Goodside.”
Though a dance-
inspired
drum
pattern drives the
song,
Tare
has
no
intention
of
coaxing
listeners
to get up and dance. Instead,
through
the
utilization
of
nearly indecipherable lyrics
and vocals processed with
effects like distortion, reverb
and god knows what else,
he conjures a song that is
guaranteed to make listeners
stop what they are doing for
a chance to decode whatever
meaning they believe to be
hidden within the song.
This trend continues and is
expanded upon as the album
rolls. Songs like “Nostalgia
in Lemonade” are not nearly
as lyrically dense as “What’s
the Goodside,” but they are
just as challenging sonically.
“Nostalgia
in
Lemonade”
is
simply
about
enjoying
lemonade on a warm day,
yearning for just one more
sip long after the drink has
been finished. Despite this
straightforward
message,
the instrumental is anything
but simple. It begins with a
clipping, skipping hum that
metamorphs into a buzzing
synthesizer
burst
layered
beneath a glimmering string
section led by an airy guitar.
The sheer contrast of these
sounds is challenging enough,
but further exacerbated by the
fact that it is just as gorgeous
as it is trance-inducing.
If
the
electronic
instrumentals were stripped
away
and
replaced
by
something more acoustic and
folksy, Cows on Hourglass Pond
would be fit to be performed
at local folk venue The Ark.
Each song on the album has
the ability to call old memories
to the forefront of listeners’
mind and make readers reflect
on the lyrics, no matter how
nonpictorial
they
may
be.
Tare’s
ability
to
combine
psychedelic folk music with
the avant garde and create
something completely new is
truly a marvel. The album’s
closing track “HORS_” is the
ultimate culmination of Tare’s
skill.
Unlike
“Nostalgia
in
Lemonade” and “Chilly Blue,”
“HORS_” finds Tare at his
most subdued musically. Until
the very end of the song,
he keeps the instrumental
relatively simple with a driving
acoustic guitar, pulsating hand
claps and chime-like keys,
instead opting to experiment
with his voice by messing with
the elongation of each word
and raising and lowering his
voice at whim. The lyrics are
marked by non sequiturs and
verge toward the nonsensical,
described by Tare himself
as “an ode to horses.” As the
song continues, all lyrics are
replaced
with
unintelligible
vocals
and
humming
that
would
sound
right at home on
Bon Iver’s 22, A
Million. As soon
as listeners settle
into this soothing
section, the song
disintegrates into
static, providing an
abrupt end to the album.
Avey Tare’s efforts on Cows
on Hourglass Pond do not
go unnoticed. He creates an
atmosphere of curiosity and
wonder in manner similar to the
early work of Wallace Stevens,
specifically
“Comedian
as
the Letter C.” That is to say
that album does not primarily
emphasize meaning. The lyrics
are still important, but they
are not central to the album,
which is why they are often
muddled and processed. Cows
on Hourglass Pond focuses
instead
on
the
form
and
execution of its sound, so that
all listeners can find a way to
relate their own nostalgia and
memories to each song.
‘Cows on Hourglass Pond’
is folk for a new generation
JIM WILSON
Daily Arts Writer
ALBUM REVIEW
DOMINO
Cows on Hourglass
Pond
Avey Tare
Domino Recording Company
Certain genres of electronic
music, such as house and
techno, are ostensibly quite
limited in their scope. 110-150
BPM. Four-on-the-floor beats.
Synthesized basslines. These
frameworks exist to make
DJ’s lives easier, allowing
them to tempo match and
transition seamlessly between
songs in their mixes. The last
thing a DJ wants, after
all, is a transition that
makes
things
choppy
and disrupts the flow of
the party. It takes a truly
talented
musician
to
reside in this somewhat
limited framework and be
creative and innovative
within it. One of the most
exciting of these masters
is South Africa’s Black
Coffee.
Nkosinathi
Innocent
Maphumulo,
better
known as Black Coffee,
was
born
in
Durban,
South Africa and studied
music
at
the
Durban
University of Technology
before
launching
into
the South African dance
music scene. He started
DJing at a very young
age,
taking
influences
from the local disco and
popular music coming
from the townships of
South Africa. His first
big break came when
he was selected as a
participant in the Red
Bull Music Academy. Since
then, he’s only risen upward,
winning award after award for
his work and performing with
Boiler Room, Mixmag, Ultra,
Sonar and a host of other
electronic music institutions.
He sells out shows everywhere
from Miami to Ibiza, with a
unique style that has helped
him stand out from the hordes
of similar-sounding European
DJs.
Black
Coffee’s
specialty
house originated in Chicago
in the early 1980s. Black DJs
such as Frankie Knuckles used
new instruments, particularly
a variety of drum machines
and synthesizers. They used a
love for genres, such as disco
and European dance music,
to create a genre to be played
in spaces which expressly
forbade
any
discrimination
with regards to race, gender,
sexual orientation, etc.
In an interview with DJ
Mag, Black Coffee notes, “I
understood the depth of the
jazz genre, and on the flipside
I also understood dance music.
So I was in a very fortunate
position. What I wanted to
do was bridge the gap, and
with my understanding of
jazz, be able to simplify it so
the dance music fan doesn’t
feel overwhelmed by it.” But
jazz is far from the only genre
to influence his mostly deep
house discography.
In the backdrop of the fall
of apartheid in the late 1980s
and early 1990s, a genre called
kwaito emerged in the Soweto
township
of
Johannesburg.
Kwaito borrows heavily from
house, but often slows down
the beats and incorporates
elements of disco and R&B as
well as spoken lyrics.
Watching
one
of
Black
Coffee’s sets, it’s easy to notice
he is not a run-of-the-mill DJ.
Tall and imposing, he is one of
those DJs who is fully focused
on the technicalities of his
craft, preferring to eschew
frequent crowd interaction.
His
mixes
are
fluid
and
vibrant, with several remix
tracks of the South African
canon.
He
is
particularly
talented
at
managing
the dynamic of the mix,
pacing his sequence of
tracks, not only using
melodic or rhythmic cues
but also dynamic range
and character. Even more
impressively, he does his
work without the use of
his left arm, which was
paralyzed after a car
accident when he was
only 14.
Even
within
the
aforementioned
limited
house framework, Black
Coffee innovates. Those
same
four-on-the-floor
breakbeats are infused
with
rhythms
and
instrumentation from his
home country’s musical
tradition. House clichés,
such as whispery female
vocals,
are
executed
using
samples
from
South African soul and
disco
music
coming
from the townships of
Johannesburg
and
his
hometown, Durban.
Diversity is not quite
what people associate with
house these days. But it’s worth
remembering the origins of the
genre, and especially now, it’s
worth getting excited about
its future. The rise of artists
such as Black Coffee represent
a future of house where the
world’s soundscapes become
ever more present. The bare
bones of house will likely
remain the same, and will
remain as a canvas for artists
to paint over. But the sounds
will hopefully be as varied as
the people that make them,
and the parties of the world
will become a bit richer.
Black Coffee, South
African house
DAILY WORLD MUSIC COLUMN
SAYAN GHOSH
Daily World Music Columnist
Even within the
aforementioned limited
house framework, Black
Coffee innovates. Those
same four-on-the-floor
breakbeats are infused
with rhythms and
instrumentation from his
home country’s musical
tradition.
TV REVIEW
Community is a fragile thing,
often built on fantasy, or a
promise of a different reality.
A community is a collection of
people, some good and some
bad, who share the goal of
doing what’s best for their small
locality. Yet, NBC has crafted
“The Village”: a show based not
on the give-and-take of living
and finding commonality with
those who are vastly different
from you, but on the premise of
interlocking stories as the sole
basis of a familial relationship.
“The Village” is an almost
fairytale-like
apartment
building in Brooklyn, where
the colorful residents find not
just a community, but a family.
The premiere follows a few
intertwined
threads.
First,
disabled veteran Nick (Warren
Christie,
“The
Resident”)
returns home from Iraq, finding
companionship with some old
retired soldiers. One of these
is Enzo (Dominic Chianese,
“The Sopranos”), who’s escaped
from his nursing home with his
son’s credit card. Meanwhile,
one of Enzo’s nurses — and
Nick’s old girlfriend
— Sarah (Michaela
McManus,
“Aquarius”)
struggles to relate
to
her
teenage
daughter,
Katie
(Grace
Van
Dien,
“Charlie
Says”),
who
finds
out
she’s
pregnant.
Meanwhile,
when
Ava (Moran Atias,
“The
Resident”),
an Iranian refugee,
is apprehended by
ICE,
local
police
officer, Ben (Jerod
Haynes,
debut)
takes her son in as she is being
investigated further.
To clear the air, “The Village”
has been compared to — and for
good reason — NBC’s emotional
tour de force, “This Is Us.”
They share a lot in common:
interconnected
stories,
tearjerker moments and a plot
built on the struggle of familial
relationships. That being said,
“The Village” is absolutely not
“This Is Us.” It isn’t because the
story is different, but because
“The Village” has fundamental
flaws that stop it from ever
reaching the emotional gravity
of “This Is Us.”
First and foremost is the
very
strange
use
of
“Talk
Dirty to Me” by Jason Derulo,
featuring
2
Chainz.
When
might this song play during a
show whose integral drive and
fuel is its viewer’s tears? When
three old guys are ogling a yoga
instructor in the nursing home.
Additionally,
rather
than
crafting
a
story
that
will
organically
offer
emotional
gravitas, “The Village” exploits
elements that will guarantee
cheap sympathy. Take Nick,
who represents the
show’s
pinch
of
token
patriotism.
There’s no genuine
discussion
of
the
horrors
of
war
or
the
hidden
repercussions
that
haunt
the
minds of veterans
— something that
is
very
important
thematically to “This
Is Us.” Instead, we
simply receive the
hollow presence of
a one-legged vet and
his
twin
German
Shepherds.
While the show is on the
verge of a diverse cast, the
problems are very white, while
the problems facing minorities
go mostly overlooked. There’s
yet to be a discussion of what
inner conflict Ben must feel
as a Black cop in gentrified
Brooklyn.
Likewise,
the
presence
of
undocumented
immigrants are used as a self-
explanatory critique on current
politics, rather than a genuine
exploration of what it means to
be stateless in modern America,
following a disturbing new
trend in TV where all immigrant
characters are undocumented
and on the verge of deportation.
The
emphasis
on
family
in “The Village” is awkward
and misplaced. Not because
it doesn’t belong, but because
it feels forced. The show’s
generally talented cast cannot
save the story’s inability to
create
genuine
connections
between the characters. It’s
very mellow and seeks to score
easy,
passionate
clout
that
it really doesn’t deserve. If
there’s any takeaway from “The
Village,” it’s that this is not
what a community is like. It’s
time to put an end to the “This
Is Is” counterfeits.
MAXWELL SCHWARZ
Daily Arts Writer
‘The Village’ aspires to
emote, falls short of feeling
The Village
Pilot
NBC
Tuesdays, 9 p.m.
NBC
6A — Monday, March 25, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com