Richard Matheson, 1926–2013

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The Incredible Shrinking Man.

Of Richard Matheson’s many books I’ve only read I Am Legend so can’t say much about his fiction other than to confirm (as everyone else does) that none of the three adaptations so far have managed to do it justice. Of his work for film and television there’s too much to say, it’s so copious and indelibly memorable. Here’s a list of five favourite Matheson creations.

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957)

JG Ballard frequently referred to this as one of his favourite science fiction films, not because of the SF element, which is never properly explained, but because of its inadvertent Surrealist qualities. For my part, every time I watched this I was always impatient to get to the later scenes where the unfortunate Scott becomes trapped in the cellar, and his own house becomes an increasingly alien and hostile environment. The ending where he accepts his condition is very Ballardian.

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Duel (1971)

A sweating and manic Dennis Weaver is pitted against an anonymous truck driver who remains unseen but for a few shots of an arm and some boots. The lethal game of cat-and-mouse was famously directed by Steven Spielberg, his second feature, and one that’s a lot more impressive than some of his subsequent films. Watch it on YouTube.

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The Legend of Hell House (1973)

Matheson’s take on Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House—four investigators in a haunted mansion—with the gain ramped up 100%. The film starts off quietly but is very soon into full-on hysteria; director John Hough finds so many eccentric camera angles you could actually calm down after this by watching a Terry Gilliam film. Meanwhile Roddy McDowell chews the scenery as though over-acting is going out of fashion. Bonuses are a grown-up Pamela Franklin (Flora in Jack Clayton’s superb The Innocents), and a great score from Radiophonic synthesists Brian Hodgson and Delia Derbyshire. Watch the trailer.

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Trilogy of Terror (1975)

A three-story TV movie in which Karen Black took all the leading roles. No one remembers the first two stories but everyone who’s seen this remembers the third, Amelia (based on a Matheson short story, Prey), in which Ms Black is hunted in her apartment by a Zuni fetish doll. It’s on YouTube!

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Nightmare at 20,000 Feet (1983)

Sorry, Shatnerphiles, but the superior version of this story is the one from Twilight Zone: The Movie. John Lithgow is a much better actor than William Shatner, the gremlin on the wing of the plane is a fearsome creature that’s seriously destructive (not, as Matheson lamented of the original, “a surly teddy bear”), and the whole sequence is directed by George Miller fresh from Mad Max 2. The original Twilight Zone episode wasn’t bad but it can’t compete with Miller pulling out all the stops. Watch it here.

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New York City abandoned

A playlist for Halloween: Hauntology

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Flyers by Julian House for tonight’s Ghost Box event at Mono Cafe Bar, Glasgow.

It’s a tradition here to post some recommended listening each Halloween. This year there’s an embarrassment of riches with five listings chosen from the multitudes at Mixcloud. Hauntology is the theme, not Jacques Derrida’s spectral musings but Simon Reynolds‘ deployment of the term to define the music produced by artists on the UK’s Ghost Box label—Belbury Poly, The Focus Group, The Advisory Circle, Pye Corner Audio et al—and their allies delving into similar areas: “folklore, vintage electronics, library music and haunted television soundtracks”. I’ve been plugging the Ghost Box people for years but going by Mark Pilkington’s recent introduction to the sub-genre some still find this information to be news.

All the following mixes feature Ghost Box tracks, with the Ghost Radio mix being almost solely derived from the label’s releases. All the mixes are a year or so old apart from the Samhain Seance which was posted at the weekend. I’ve been playing these round the clock for the past couple of days, enjoying the way one playlist bleeds into another. Given the choice of only one I’d pick Samhain Seance, a great selection and very adeptly sequenced. Among the highlights there’s a lengthy extract from the occult-themed TV serial I mentioned yesterday, Children of the Stones, which had a superb vocal score by contemporary classical composer Sidney Sager. The Aethereus Mix also features Sager’s score, and opens with a warning from The Stone Tape which has even greater resonance today: “It’s in the computer!”

(Note: I corrected some of the track credits.)

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The Aethereus Mix by Soulless Central Radio

The Box Of Delights by Roger Limb
Ecneuqes Rorrim by Pye Corner Audio
The Unseeing Eye by Malcolm Clarke
Cheyne Walk by Jon Brooks
Manège by Jaques Lasry
Children Of The Stones by Sidney Sager
Chocky by John Hyde
A Year And A Day by Belbury Poly
Willow’s Song by Paul Giovanni
Saturn by Neu! [What? This isn’t Neu! It’s a piece by an American artist, Neue.]
Variation 19 by Andrew Lloyd Webber
House Among The Laurels by Jon Brooks
The Ghost Of John by Kristen Lawrence
Double Trouble by John Williams
Windfall by Dead Can Dance

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Fantasmagories by Timewriter

Funerailles Des Vampires by Acanthus
Hypnosis by Atrium Carceri
The Moonlawn by Belbury Poly
The Giving Of The Grape by Blood Stereo
Enferissimo by Camille Sauvage
Dream Music by Jonathan Elias
Evaparizione by Ennio Morricone
Spellbound by Creed Taylor
Sequenza Psichedelica by Piero Umiliani
Fantasm by Bernard Fevre
Funeral Organ by Fred Myrow
Uomini Al Bando by Bruno Nicolai
Lucifer Rising by Jimmy Page
Black Mass by Mort Garson
Spookies by James Calabrees
Forest Of Evil by Frank Reidy & Eric Allen
Hell House by Brian Hodgson & Delia Derbyshire
Raven’s Lament by The Haxan Cloak
Voodoo by The Natural Yoghurt Band
Lost World by Moran Russell
Falling by Delia Derbyshire
Sang Pourpre by Igor Wakhévitch
Untitled by Vladimir Ussachevsky

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Ghost Radio by elevatoresque

Activate The Poacher by Moon Wiring Club
The Willows by Belbury Poly
Sundial by The Advisory Circle
The Third Eye Centre by Mount Vernon Arts Lab
Hey Let Loose Your Love by The Focus Group
Mind How You Go by The Advisory Circle
Ghost Radio by Moon Wiring Club
Owls And Flowers by Belbury Poly
Civil Defence Is Common Sense by The Advisory Circle
Inside Shoebox Garden by Moon Wiring Club
Albion Festival Report by The Focus Group
Erosion Of Time by The Advisory Circle
Opening Leaves by Moon Wiring Club
Meditation On Nothingness by Roj
Feldspar by Mount Vernon Arts Lab
Nuclear Substation by The Advisory Circle
Far Off Things by Belbury Poly
Plant Room by Mordant Music
Jam Jar Carnival by The Focus Group
Everyday Electronics by The Advisory Circle
They Are In The Room With Us Right Now by Roj
Wool Book by Moon Wiring Club
Post Apocalypse Listings by Mordant Music
From An Ancient Star by Belbury Poly
Fire, Damp And Air by The Advisory Circle

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The Insomniacs Almanac by Melmoth The Wanderer

While London Sleeps by Mount Vernon Arts Lab
So Run Down by The Caretaker
Moondial (Theme) by Unknown
The Bane Tree (intro) by (Episodes From) The Field Bazaar
Sorcerer by Ataraxia
The Black Drop by Mount Vernon Arts Lab
In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country by Boards Of Canada
Of Grace And Providence (Remixed) by The Caretaker
The Voice by Brian Hodgson & Delia Derbyshire
The Wicker Man by Paul Giovanni
Children Of The Stones Theme by Sidney Sager
Legend Of Hell House by Brian Hodgson & Delia Derbyshire

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Samhain Seance by The Ephemeral Man

Twins Of Evil (extract)
Forest Of Evil (Dawn) by Demdike Stare
Blackthorn Winter by Sproatly Smith
The Harmony Programme by The Focus Group
Sulphur by Cyclobe
The Power Of The Witch (extract) Rare BBC Documentary
Another Witch Is Dead by The Eccentronic Research Council
Blood On Satan’s Claw (intro)
Disorder by The Haxan Cloak
Black Blind Light by Moonstone
Denned Earth (Decay And Rebirth) by Ruhr Hunter
Children Of The Stones — Episode 3 (extract), soundtrack by Sidney Sager
Strung Like Lights At Thee Printemps by Godspeed You Black Emperor
Grim Reaper by Teen Suicide
The Globe Inn by The Future Kings Of England
Halloween 3 (ending)

Previously on { feuilleton }
A playlist for Halloween: Orchestral and electro-acoustic
A playlist for Halloween: Drones and atmospheres
A playlist for Halloween: Voodoo!
Dead on the Dancefloor
Another playlist for Halloween
The Séance at Hobs Lane
A playlist for Halloween
Ghost Box

White Noise: Electric Storms, Radiophonics and the Delian Mode

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Many sounds have never been heard—by humans: some sound waves you don’t hear—but they reach you. “Storm-stereo” techniques combine singers, instrumentalists and complex electronic sound. The emotional intensity is at a maximum. Sleeve note for An Electric Storm, Island Records, 1969.

An Electric Storm by White Noise is reissued in a remastered edition this week. It’s a work of musical genius and I’m going to tell you why.

Hanging around with metalheads and bikers in the late Seventies meant mostly sitting in smoke-filled bedrooms listening to music while getting stoned. Among the Zeppelin and Sabbath albums in friends’ vinyl collections you’d often find a small selection of records intended to be played when drug-saturation had reached critical mass. These were usually something by Pink Floyd or Virgin-era Tangerine Dream but there were occasionally diamonds hiding in the rough. I first heard The Faust Tapes under these circumstances, introduced facetiously as “the weirdest record ever made” and still a good contender for that description thirty-four years after it was created. One evening someone put on the White Noise album.

It should be noted that I was no stranger to electronic music at this time, I’d been a Kraftwerk fan since I heard the first strains of Autobahn in 1974 and regarded the work of Wendy Carlos, Tangerine Dream, Brian Eno and Isao Tomita as perfectly natural and encouraging musical developments. But An Electric Storm was altogether different. It was strange, very strange; it was weird and creepy and sexy and funny and utterly frightening; in places it could be many of these things all at once. Electronic music in the Seventies was for the most part made by long-hairs with banks of equipment, photographed on their album sleeves preening among stacks of keyboards, Moog modules and Roland systems. You pretty much knew what they were doing and, if you listened to enough records, you eventually began to spot which instruments they were using. There were no pictures on the White Noise sleeve apart from the aggressive lightning flashes on the front. There was no information about the creators beyond their names and that curious line about “the emotional intensity is at a maximum”. And the sounds these people were making was like nothing on earth.

Continue reading “White Noise: Electric Storms, Radiophonics and the Delian Mode”

New Delia Derbyshire

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Well…new for us. Glo Spot Records have reissued Psyche-Delia‘s scarce KPM album, Electrosonic (1972), in an edition that will quickly become as scarce itself: 500 copies on green vinyl.

Order it (or hear clips) from Boomkat.

The great BBC documentary about the Radiophonic Workshop, Alchemists of Sound, can now be found on YouTube. Lots of archive footage of Delia and her collaborators showing how they extracted extraordinary sounds from primitive equipment.

Delia Derbyshire is best known as the woman who created the sound of the original Doctor Who theme. This one piece is so globally famous that it has overshadowed the wide ranging work of one of the most creative women working in the 1960s and ’70s. Delia collaborated with many of the most significant figures of the era and was admired by many more. Her story involves such names as Paul McCartney, Yoko Ono, Pink Floyd, Anthony Newley, Frankie Howerd and The Rolling Stones, in addition to work with the National Theatre, seminal electronic innovators and, of course, the BBC’s Radiophonic Workshop. Since her death in 2001, Derbyshire has gained cult icon status and her influence over artists who weren’t even born when she made some of her groundbreaking recordings has never been stronger. John Cavanagh (BBC Radio, Phosphene, author of The Piper at the Gates of Dawn etc. etc.) has found a rare album Delia recorded with Brian Hodgson (the man who created the sound of the TARDIS) and Australian mood music composer (who also scored some Doctor Who episodes) Don Harper in 1972. This was originally an lp of what is known as library music and was only made available to film, tv and radio organizations when originally issued. Cavanagh has licensed these recordings and the album—Electrosonic—will be released commercially for the first on his Glo-Spot label.

Electrosonic (1972)
Label: KPM
Cat: KPM1104

1 Quest
2 Quest – fast
3 Computermatic
4 Frontier of Knowledge
5 The Pattern Emerges
6 Freeze Frame
7 Plodding Power
8 Busy Microbes
9 Liquid Energy (a)
10 Liquid Energy (b)
11 No Man’s Land
12 Depression
13 Nightwalker
14 Electrostings
15 Electrobuild
16 Celestial Cantabile
17 Effervescence
18 The Wizard’s Laboratory
19 Shock Chords

Previously on { feuilleton }
A playlist for Halloween
Ghost Box

A playlist for Halloween

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Der Tod als Erwürger (1851) by Alfred Rethel.

It’s a fact (sad or otherwise) that a substantial percentage of my music collection would make good Halloween listening but in that percentage a number of works are prominent as spooky favourites. So here’s another list to add to those already clogging the world’s servers, in no particular order:

Theme from Halloween (1978) by John Carpenter & Alan Howarth.
What a surprise… All John Carpenter‘s early films have electronic scores and great themes, Halloween being the most memorable, and one that’s gradually infected the wider musical culture as various hip hop borrowings and Heat Miser by Massive Attack demonstrate.

Monster Mash (1962) by Bobby “Boris” Pickett.
The ultimate Halloween novelty record. A host of imitators followed the success of this single while poor Bobby struggled to be more than a one-hit wonder. It wasn’t to be, this was his finest hour. Available on These Ghoulish Things: Horror Hits for Halloween with some radio spots by Bobby and a selection of other horror-themed rock’n’roll songs.

The Divine Punishment (1986) & Saint of the Pit (1988) by Diamanda Galás.
Parts 1 & 2 of Galás’s Masque of the Red Death, a “plague mass” trilogy based on the AIDS epidemic. These remain my favourite records by Ms Galás; on the first she reads/sings passages from the Old Testament accompanied by sinister keyboards, making the Bible sound as steeped in evil and metaphysical dread as the Necronomicon. On Saint of the Pit she turns her attention to French poets of the 19th century (Baudelaire, Gérard de Nerval & Tristan Corbière) while unleashing the full power of her operatic vocalizations. Einstürzende Neubauten’s FM Einheit adds some thundering drums. “Correct playback possible at maximum volume only.” Amen to that.

The Visitation (1969) by White Noise.
An electronic collage piece about a ghostly lover returning to his grieving girlfriend. White Noise were David Vorhaus working alongside BBC Radiophonic Workshop pioneers Delia Derbyshire and Brian Hodgson to create an early work of British electronica and dark psychedelia. The Visitation makes full use of Derbyshire and Hodgson’s inventive tape effects and probably accounts for them being asked to score The Legend of Hell House a few years later. Immediately following this is the drums and screams piece, Electric Storm In Hell; play this loud and watch the blood drain from the faces of your Halloween guests.

Zeit (1972) by Tangerine Dream.
Subtitled “A largo in four movements”, Zeit is Tangerine Dream’s most subtle and restrained album, four long tracks of droning atmospherics.

The Masque of the Red Death (1997) read by Gabriel Byrne.
From Closed On Account Of Rabies, a Poe-themed anthology arranged by Hal Willner. The readings are of variable quality; Christopher Walken’s The Raven is effective (although I prefer Willem Defoe’s amended version on Lou Reed’s The Raven) while Dr John reads Berenice like one of Poe’s somnambulists. Gabriel Byrne shows how these things should be done.

De Natura Sonoris no. 2 (1971) by Krzysztof Penderecki.
More familiar to people as “music from The Shining“, this piece, along with much of the Polish composer‘s early work, really does sound like music in search of a horror film. His cheerily-titled Threnody For The Victims Of Hiroshima is one piece that won’t be used to sell cars any time soon. Kubrick also used Penderecki’s equally chilling The Dream of Jacob for The Shining score, together with pieces by Ligeti and Bartók.

Treetop Drive (1994) by Deathprod.
Helge Sten is a Norwegian electronic experimentalist whose solo work is released under the Deathprod name. “Electronic” these days often means using laptops and the latest keyboard and sampling equipment. Deathprod music is created on old equipment which renders its provenance opaque leaving the listener to concentrate on the sounds rather than be troubled by how they might have been created. The noises on the deceptively-titled Treetop Drive are a disturbing series of slow loops with squalling chords, anguished shrieks and some massive foghorn rumble that seems to emanate from the depths of Davy Jones’ Locker. Play it in the dark and feel the world ending.

Ouroborindra (2005) by Eric Zann.
Another collection of sinister electronica from the Ghost Box label (see this earlier post), referencing HP Lovecraft and Arthur Machen’s masterpiece, The White People. Spectral presences haunting the margins of the radio spectrum.

Theme from The Addams Family (1964) by Vic Mizzy.
Never the Munsters, always the Addams Family! If you don’t know the difference, you must be dead.

Happy Halloween!

Previously on { feuilleton }
The music of the Wicker Man