Vale and Year - Holy Art and Music
(self-released)
When Peter Greenaway dropped The Tulse Luper Suitcase, which consists of – at least what I understand it at the moment encompasses – three films, an art exhibit and supposedly 92 CD-ROMS, a book, daily internet updates expanding ideas in one of the films (Not being available in the US, I’ve only been able to see the first film The Moab Story on a Spanish DVD a friend ordered, and I believe this is in reference to one of the other two films), when Greenaway dropped this Ambitious Project into critics’laps, a great cry of exaltation must have leapt from the lungs and mouths of the assembled cineastethetic crowds, for this was something of substance – an overarching artistic vision uniting a mass of multimedia. How overwhelming must it be for anyone, let alone the well-versed, to deal with this project? Maybe you notice a thread or theme or leit motif that weaves its way throughout – or two or three – but what is the commanding principle? What foundational laws, what Unification of Science program underwrites such a mind-boggling artistic statement?
And is that the appeal, or rather, is that the only reason we enjoy Ambitious Projects, for the challenge of discovering, of piecing together, of assembling it into a whole? That is a facet of our enjoyment, yes, but what of our admiration too, what of our enjoyment of the sheer magnitude of these kinds of works? Do we marvel at them to like a bunch of trust-fund twits on Semester at Sea gawking at the pyramids, waiting to score some of that sweet Nile Valley weed? Are Ambitious Projects just the intangible version of monuments, massive reminders of our individual insignificance? Or whatever pop-psychology reason you want to attribute to the human penchant for that which dwarfs us, either physically or mentally. Me, well, I just think they’re neat. I mean, have you ever seen a pyramid up close? Pretty cool, huh? That is, uh, well I haven’t exactly seen them myself– I don’t have the cash – but I think I get the idea from the stock footage I keep seeing on TV.
And while Vale and Year’s latest album (yeah, I was getting to it eventually) is no suitcase or pyramid, there is certainly enough her to boggle one’s mind as you try and piece it together or to marvel at the immensity of it all, if that is your choosing.
Holy Art and Music was the second album to be released in 2004 from the Pittsburgh duo Vale and Year. The first, A Perfect History, was released in February, and if I remember my initial reaction exactly, it was something like, “Holy shit!” I can’t knock Pittsburgh music as a whole – there’s a ton of amazing things going on there – however, Pittsburgh is predominantly a “rock” town, and I’m not a huge “rock” fan, so while I enjoy a lot of the bands coming out of Pittsburgh, most of them don’t grab me on any more than a visceral level. So, when I first heard A Perfect History, I plotzed. The perfect combination of diverse instrumentation, pop sensibilities, interesting structures and non-standard lyrics, Vale and Year was the first Pittsburgh band in a while to really engage me.
And then came their Ambitious Project Holy Art and Music – a double CD and a book of Barthelme-like short pieces. A band that I thought was interesting and fun leapt into a whole new category – intellectually challenging! I must admit that the more complex a work is, the more engaging I find it. Is that a personal quirk? Does challenging music in general excite natural human curiosity? Maybe? But Vale and Year are more than just intellectually engaging. Yes there is a mystery – How does the album and the book fit together; what does it all mean? But there is more. Often I find that that which only engages me on a cerebral level cannot hold my attention. Yes, there are rare cases like Greenaway’s films, which are so complex that they range into baffling and that, combined with the aesthetics and Nyman’s soundtracks, are enough to keep me occupied, but even with that, sometimes I wish there was more of an overt emotional center in his films. Engaging the emotions is an easy way to captivate people, to get their attention, and more often than not, it’s merely a ploy, a manipulation – like most indie pop – but in the hands of good artists it’s no scheme. Vale and Year are like this, challenging, but also emotionally fulfilling. The lyrics tend into Tweedy territory being abstract relationship songs. Combined with Bernabo’s voice, which is good but pleasantly non-trained, a scream or a wonderful melody, Holy Music and Art is really emotionally captivating.
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