Earth Trumpet - s/t
(Cenotaph)
They say that there is a thin line between genius and madness. Generally
this is applied to the evil geniuses who, with their earth-orbiting
doomsday lasers, threaten annihilation. In the case of Earth Trumpet,
fortunately, crossing the line does not threaten all of our lives. It
just means that this record is full of some crazy sounds!
Earth Trumpet's eponymous offering has a great sense of whimsy. That
whimsy, however, is not altogether unthreatening, but it is nowhere near
enough to send one scurrying for one's escape pod. The mad, whimsical
nature of the music is certainly no surprise, given that its principle
architect, one L. Coleman, is also a member of the likewise pranksterish
Volcano the Bear, and that both that group and Earth Trumpet drink from
the same cup as Steven Stapleton, chief inmate and caretaker of the
asylum/funhouse known as Nurse With Wound. So, rather than an
arch-villain, Earth Trumpet is more like the crazy dude on the corner who
is really fun to talk to because of all of his nonsense, but you get
nervous every now and then when he starts to get really excited and
unpredictable.
It is almost impossible to discuss this record in terms of "songs" or
"tracks," as many of the pieces flow together and make abrupt 180-degree
turns at various and sundry points. Plus none of them have names so it
doesn't matter. In any case, the record is comprised of some regular,
everyday instruments that can be picked out, like pianos, guitars, organs,
electric pianos, and some other stuff that you can't figure out, but it
has all been layered, processed, chopped up, rearranged, and generally
mixed about in a way that renders discussion of them moot. Sometimes,
like on the first couple of tracks, it seems like the guitar and piano are
doing something like a linear melody, but their rhythms are spaced just
enough off from one another that you can't quiet get a grasp on it. It's
the sonic equivalent to being dizzy. Other times, the music is given over
to more atmospheric tendencies, like deep, layered organ tones that seem
to stretch out forever, bending along strange paths, or echoing clangs
that never quite fade. Remarkably, the pieces often find their own alien
groove.
I once read a profile of Anton Le Vay, deceased founder and head of the
Church of Satan, about how, in his later years, he enjoyed playing a
synthesizer in his home and believed that he could control the elements
through his music. The writer characterized the sounds Le Vay produced as
being a kind of somewhat sinister sounding circus music. Earth Trumpet
makes me think of the music Le Vay may have produced if he weren't such a
dumbass and if his music was actually good. If that makes sense, then
this record is for you. If it does not, well, then neither will Earth
Trumpet.
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