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Reviews: #1: Aarktica, no solace in sleep #2: Aarktica, Morning One #3: Aarktica, ...or you could just go through your whole life and be happy anyway. #4: Aarktica, Pure Tone Audiometry #5: John Adams, John's Book of Alleged Dances and Gnarly Buttons #6: John Adams, Violin Concerto and Shaker Loops #7: John Adams, Chamber Symphony and Grand Pianola Music #8: John Adams, The Death of Klinghoffer #9: AGF, Head Slash Bauch #10: AGF, language is the most #1 -
Aarktica, "no solace in sleep" 1) glacia Aarktica is Jon de Rosa, one of many folks I dig whose instrument is really the studio, the mixing board, and the laptop. I'm pretty sure that he has a strong grounding in classical training; his primary influences are probably Brian Eno and Steve Reich, though his music is very different. His songs are generally -- though not always -- built out of various looped figures that slowly transform, enter, and drop out, creating a slowly changing counterpoint. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that my favorite tracks of his are constructed that way. no solace in sleep, his debut album, is a succession of slow, poignant, guitar-based soundscapes, ranging from desolate to ominous to warm...but all with a sense of melancholy and wistfulness, like remembering a long-lost lover. It's a great CD for falling asleep to, full of lovely but sad lullabies, of which my favorites are you have cured a million ghosts... and welcome home...though inebria and i remember live... are a bit more abrasive, and serve as a contrast the gentler tracks on the album. Though I'm rarely in the right mood to listen to it all the way through, I consider this a great album. Aarktica has a clearly stated goal, to put together a variety of quiet, lovely, ambient compositions, and he realizes it with beauty and subtlety. #2 -
Aarktica, "Morning One" 1) these days fail to bring me
near Morning One is an three-track EP in which Aarktica tries to do something a bit different. He still makes very floaty, dreamy ambient music, but he tries a few new things. The first track, "these days fail to bring me near", is still very much in the vein of his work on no solace in sleep. Though it features him singing, he uses his voice more as another part of the overall texture rather than as a focal point. He's a baritone, and his voice is very reminiscient of Brendan Perry's, the male lead from Dead Can Dance. Like Perry, he sometimes has trouble staying on pitch, though it's not a big deal here. It's pleasant enough, but seeing as how his vocals really just provide another instrument, it kind of feels like he's coasting a bit. On "≤ 23", for the first time, he uses the piano to provide the track's foundation, over which some recorded speech loops. Unfortunately, the piece is something of a failure. The music basically consists of slow arpeggiated notes fairly high on the piano, with some additional glockenspiel tinkling, and it isn't much to listen to. Nor is the looped speech particularly compelling. Without the lush sound of the guitar, I think he needs to do more with the piano's low register to give the song weight. Instead, all the high stuff gets boring pretty quickly, and, as I said, the taped stuff doesn't make up for it. I find "morning one", the last track, quite lovely and Eno-esque. Again, as on no solace in sleep, creates a slow-moving cloud of sound that's relaxing and soporific without being dull. Rather than create his loops using his guitar, he uses electronic sounds that make me think of signals from some deep space probe. Morning One seems to really be a curiosity, a few small experiments he decided to release. It's pretty enough to listen to, but after no solace in sleep, it sounds like more of the same. #3 -
Aarktica, "...or you could just go through your whole life and be happy
anyway." 1) aura lee One of the challenges of being an artist is to grow and develop while still holding on to what's worthwhile in your art. To remain relevant, an artist has to try new things and find fresh ways of looking at both the world and themselves. The problem is that even though rehashing is a guarantee of artistic failure, constantly trying to explore and expand beyond what you already are and know is by no means a guarantee of success. The field of artistic possibilities is infinite, and we have to navigate it blind. We have no choice but to grow, to find our way by trial and error, but the path is narrow and every step is a potential misstep. On ...or you could..., Aarktica expands upon his explorations in morning one, and introduces drums and vocals into a full-length CD while still trying to create (mostly) a gentle, warm bath of sound. The results are promising, but mixed. The album opens with a signal that things will be a bit different, opening with nothing but a light, steady tapping on a cymbal which persists throughout the song aura lee, soon joined by low guitars and de Rosa's singing...but the song really opens up when he's suddenly joined by a female vocalist, one of my favorite moments on the album. It's a beautiful song, and with much more of a sense of growth and climax than anything from no solace in sleep or morning one. However, things drop off a cliff with "you're landlocked, my love". It features only drum kit and his singing, and it's just terrible. His singing works well in the lush textures he usually builds, but without accompaniment, his wandering sense of pitch becomes really grating, as does the electronic manipulation of his voice...and the beats he puts together just don't work. It's an exercise in making the most out of drums, voice, and electronic manipulation rather than a real piece of music. Not much, apparently, can be made. "happy anyway" doesn't help matters much, with just some sparse drones and small figures on intentionally detuned guitars. I detest most microtonal music[1], and this is no different. But even if the guitars were properly tuned, "happy anyway" would be, at best, quite boring. Thankfully, things get better with "a correspondence in film", a welcome throwback to the sleepy guitar ambience from no solace in sleep; but, like aura lee, with more of a sense of development. Though the guitar which forms the focal point is, again, slightly detuned, it sounds poignant rather than grating. "nostalgia = distortion", like "aura lee", begins with a statement, opening with a slow backbeat that provides the foundation of the song, which is again filled out with intertwining guitar lines. de Rosa sings a simple melody over it, and it's a nice track. The title of "the hook, the reel, and the pull"[2] is taken from lyrics in the previous song; the track also draws from "nostalgia = distortion" in its musical material, recycling some motives and figures in a much more dreamy setting. ...or you could... closes with "song for a free williamsburg", a track that seems to draw a great deal from proto-Goth[3] in both texture and vocal treatment, as it opens sparsely -- electronic noises over a drum machine beat and a low sung melody -- and grows into a complex satisfying final track. ...or
you could... is a good album, despite tracks 2 and 3, and it's
heartening to see him try to do more than create relaxing, lovely
ambience, which he already proved he could do very well indeed on his
debut CD. He introduces new elements to his musical sensibilities: not
just introducing instruments -- drum kit and voice -- but also trying
to create structures that have a real sense of growth and momentum, of
arrival. For the most part he makes them work within his aesthetic,
even as they change it. While he still fundamentally builds his songs
the same way, by the gradual introduction of more and more layers, it's
an effective method (that particularly appeals to my own sensibilities
as listener and composer) with a lot of possibilities to be mined. 1. Microtonal music makes me feel...uh..."mentally queasy" is the best way I can phrase it. 2. Three cheers for the Oxford comma! 3. I'm sure one of Jon de Rosa's influences is New Order -- in particular, the track "elegia" from Low-life -- who was once Joy Division...so there's some kind of causal chain, I think. Aarktica's musical connection to the late '70s post-punk and proto-Goth movements will come up when I briefly discuss his latest album, bleeding light. #4 -
Aarktica, "Pure Tone Audiometry" 1) Out To Sea It all comes together for Jon de Rosa on his masterpiece, Pure Tone Audiometry, which combines a sense of grand calm with deep emotional resonance and an exquisite sense of counterpoint. Each song is beautiful and distinct, as he explores a variety of textures while still maintaining a sense of flow between them, such that the album forms a complete and satisfying whole. He uses his gentle but occasionally pitch-wobbly baritone to its best advantage, either making it more an instrument than a focal point or adding a lovely soprano as support. This was the first Aarktica CD I bought after hearing "Williamsburg Counterpoint" on WZBC (out of Boston College) and being blown away -- and I might note that its title is a reference to Steve Reich. It's still my favorite track, though each has its considerable merits. I don't know what else to say other than this is a great work. Everyone should buy it. Aarktica - Epilogue #5 - John
Adams, "John's Book of Alleged Dances" and "Gnarly Buttons" John's
Book of Alleged Dances (1994), performed by the Kronos Quartet ___ While minimalism traces its origin to Satie and Ravel and was made an aesthetic position by La Monte Young and Terry Riley, it came to fruition with Steve Reich, Philip Glass, and John Adams in the mid-late '60s. In large part a revolution against the hypercomplex, aggressively dissonant (and often wicked ugly) music in vogue in academic circles (exemplified by Boulez and Stockhausen), that era of minimalism is characterised by extreme use of repetition (of both motivic and harmonic material), the reestablishment of continuous pulse as an integral part of music, and a highly austere approach to form and timbre. All three members of the Second Minimalist School have since developed minimalism into something greater: Reich's most interesting projects these days are about integrating music, speech, and video; Glass is intensively exploring the inverse relationship between quality and popularity; and Adams is melding the rhythmic and harmonic approach of minimalism with the grand narrative sweep, rich instrumental textures, and emotional resonance of Romanticism. John's Book of Alleged Dances is, as advertised, a suite of nonexistent dances for string quartet, with some backed by rhythm tracks made on a prepared piano. I think of it as what would happen if Bartok encountered Tom Waits, taking the robust, rough cheer of American folk music and developing it in the classical idiom while still preserving its rustic character -- and there are some more elegant, stately movements in there that also have a lot of charm. It's great fun[1], with a lot of bounce, physical verve, complex and pleasing interlocking rhythms, and virtuosic fiddling. Listening to it always makes me smile. *** Gnarly
Buttons (1996), performed by the London Sinfonietta; John Adams,
conductor; Michael Collins, clarinet Gnarly Buttons, a clarinet concerto for chamber orchestra with extras[2], is a more dynamic and varied piece. "The Perilous Shore", somewhat melancholy and anguished, begins with a desperately somber melody based on a shape-note hymn, played by solo clarinet; the line provides the musical material for the entire movement. The orchestra hesitantly takes up the melody, and the movement is built out of the orchestra and clarinet riffing back and forth on the opening melody, growing and developing until being interrupted by a banjo solo, after which the orchestra wanders around confused before the clarinet takes control again. But the orchestra fragments again and fades away, and The Perilous Shore ends ominously, with some light rhythmic screeching on the violins, bowing behind the bridge. "Hoe-Down (Mad Cow)" is a scherzo of sorts, a stilted, clumsy dance that takes some of its material from the accompanying figures in the first movement. It's cute and energetic, with surprising and amusing moments, in what I guess is a simple (A | B | A+B) structure. The last movement, "Put Your Loving Arms Around Me", again begins with the clarinet, playing a sweet, tender melody over a simple chordal accompaniment in the piano. As the rest of the orchestra joins the piano in the accompaniment, the harmony underneath the clarinet changes, recalling the desperation and ominous feel of the first movement; the tension builds, culminating in a chaotic free-for-all, out of which emerges the simple clarinet/piano duet of the opening, and they fade out to end Gnarly Buttons. Despite the scope of Gnarly Buttons, I like the Alleged Dances better. They're
tighter and more focused, and more fun to listen to. Gnarly Buttons is an excellently
crafted piece, and I enjoy listening to it, but it's not a piece I need
to hear that often. I suppose, also, I'm not a big fan of Romanticism,
and it's a larger part of GB than JBoAD, which are much more
emotionally neutral[3]. (1) It occurs to me that 'delightful' rather than 'fun' would be a better word; and that at one of the many worthwhile things that art can do is inspire delight in its audience, something I think many artists have forgotten. (2) One player doubling on guitar, mandolin, and banjo; and two synthesizers. (3) I recall an exchange: #6 - John
Adams, "Violin Concerto" and "Shaker Loops" Violin
Concerto (1993), performed by the London Symphony Orchestra;
Kent Nagano, conductor; Gidon Kremer, violin In music -- and, I suppose, in general -- I've always preferred altos to sopranos. While others seem to find it impressive, wailing away at the top of the musical range, whether it be a by vocalist or a violinist, is insipid and tiresome to my ear. Lots of swooping up and down just annoys me, coming off as a cheap attempt at introducing drama even when used by even my favorite composers. It's the diva-prone roles I find least appealing. No, it's the altos and basses, violas and cellos that really catch my ear. Hell, the lower and crunchier the better -- I've even written a piece for double bass quartet...that perhaps someday I will find someone to play. So I have an inherent dislike of the solo violin, and Adams's Violin Concerto doesn't really do anything to change my mind. The piece opens uncertainly, with the orchestra supporting the violin in an ambiguous harmony. And then they wander around for 15 minutes not really doing very much. And the violin just keeps going, no matter how much we (where by 'we', I mean 'I') want it to take a break. I've tried to pay more attention to what happens but just get too bored. The same is true of the second movement, "Chaconne"; a musical form in which a harmonic progression is repeated, supporting a series of variations. It's just that not much variation seems to happen. The damn violin keeps playing a melody which I find dull rather than expressive, occasionally joined by other instruments, but I just can't care. Body through which the dream flows is a nice title, though. Finally, in "Toccare", something interesting and engaging happens. After two movements in which the violin just kind of flutters and floats around being pretty and NEVER STOPS, it takes on a much more rhythmic and energetic role...more as a fiddle than a violin, really. Probably in rondo-variation form, it's catchy and fun, and at least partly makes up for the two movements that preceded it. It's certainly enjoyable on its own, and I usually just start listening to the CD with this track. *** Shaker
Loops (1977/83), performed by the Orchestra of St. Luke's; John
Adams, conductor Shaker Loops, one of Adams's seminal pieces, is much, much better. Originally for septet, this arrangement for string orchestra was written in 1983. True to its title, it is composed of small, intertwining loops. Adams, though, is much less rigid about his structures than Glass and Reich, and takes a much more fluid approach to structure and harmony -- a characteristic of his style that is now writ large. Part one, "Shaking and Trembling", opens with a quiet, constant, fast sixteenth-note pulse in the violins, over which the other strings slowly build...if not a melody...a figure. The music grows, builds, and develops, but the opening pulse is always present. Listening to it is like flying just above the ground. Or maybe just above the ocean, passing over waves that are all the same, yet each subtly different, slowly changing over time -- and occasionally, a big wave will pass by that changes the whole texture. The music suddenly stops, as harmonics float above the suddenly placid surface before things begin to accelerate again. But the energy begins to dissipate, and the stillness of that quiet moment forms the basis of "Hymning Slews" in which whispered, delicate notes emerge and disappear into a soft, lush environment. It's a lovely, excellent contrast to the restlessness of Shaking and Trembling, which leads into "Loops and Verses" as a beautiful and simple solo cello melody provides one of the first focal points in the entire work. Spurred on, the rest of the strings begin to resume the nonstop shuddering of Part one, over which the cello grows more searching and insistent, and is joined by another cello, which plays a similar line as the first but out of phase in a gorgeous counterpoint. The solo is taken over by a viola as the cellos are subsumed into the rest of the orchestra, but all eventually combine to recall the opening, though much more forcefully. As in the opening, a figure begins to form above the other instruments...but this time, it takes over, until all the strings start stomping around, hammering on every quarter note. Things calm down as they subside into a more rocking motion, eventually quieting down to the etheral sound of harmonics while still maintaining the quarter-note pulse, and the harmonics bring us into "A Final Shaking", which begins by referencing both the opening and the languid figures of Hymning Slews before building again into the fast, relentless pulse that's the backbone of this piece. While there isn't as much motivic variation in this movement, the music is pushed forward by a procession of dynamic swells until the texture begins to thin out, and the music fades away into nothingness, leaving you feeling weightless. Holy crap, this piece is intimidatingly great. It's one of the best examples of the what minimalism can accomplish when combined with a strong sense of musical narrative. #7 - John
Adams, "Chamber Symphony" and "Grand Pianola Music" Chamber
Symphony (1992), performed by the London Sinfonietta; John
Adams, conductor I believe that Adams's Chamber Symphony marks something of a break in his choice of musical language; in classic minimalist style, he wrote strongly diatonic music until his opera The Death of Klinghoffer, after which his harmonic language is much more wide-ranging and elusive, his gestures more angular and aggressive. Yet while he consciously wrote his Chamber Symphony with Schoenberg in mind (Schoenberg's own Chamber Symphony is considered one of the great [and unplayable] works of the 20th century), this piece is much more reminiscent of Charles Ives's glorious jumbled cacophonies and Carl Stalling's cartoon music. Throughout the entire piece, it sounds as if every instrument is doing its own thing independently of the others: in its own key, at its own tempo, even in its own musical style. Polyrhythms and multiple tonalites abound. And yet, rather than sounding like a hideous mess, the effect is more one of celebrated idiosyncrasy...like being at a party and drifting from conversation to conversation; you're listening to a couple of people talk when all of a sudden someone else says something that catches your attention, but you can still hear what you were first listening to in the background, etc., etc. "Mongrel Airs" is a lovely confusion. Every player is clamoring for attention, trying to play over everybody else, refusing to walk in step. Random things just happen, and Adams somehow manages to control it, has it make a fun kind of sense. "Aria With Walking Bass" is supported by an ungainly, lumbering bass line over which everybody else jostles for position, shoving each other out of the way, often mocking one another in the process. "Roadrunner" is a little more focused, concentrating on a kind of breathless forward motion as everyone seems to hone in on the same goal...though they each want to do it their own way. It's also hellaciously fast and jumpy, constantly pushing ahead, getting a little bit out of control -- maybe like trying to push a car downhill. After a weird interruption by the solo violin and then some thumping by low synth and double bass, things start building and building...and suddenly stop. The final climax is bit of a disappointment, actually. I think it would have been really satisfying for all the instruments to join hands and do something as one, even for just a little bit. Then again, I'm not John Adams. Nevertheless, it's a lot of fun. *** Grand
Pianola Music (1981), performed by the London Sinfonietta; John
Adams, conductor An older piece from Adams, Grand Pianola Music is much more hardcore diatonic...and less successful. The piece begins with some delicate pulsing from the pianos, and some high, arpeggiated tinkling by the winds and pianos. It sounds more New Age-y than profound, pretty but incidental. Then the sopranos join in, singing wordless harmony above the orchestra, and the cheese starts to pile up. I mean, it just doesn't work. When the brass finally join in to give body to the texture, it's more of an eye-roller rather than a revelation, trying to manufacture drama where there is none. Add on top of that the fact that the harmonic progression is pretty standard and uncreative, basic mid-19th-century theory (using mediant and submediant modulations to create tension), "Part IA" is just kind of dull, and ever so slightly embarrassing. There is a section just before the end in which everything quiets down and it's just the sopranos' hushed singing over the piano pulses which is really lovely, though. Then things begin to build, leading into "Part IB", which starts as a slow, quiet movement, but as a pretty standard one. Then, the solo melodies are suddenly interrupted by loud, dramatic blows by the full orchestra, and it's quite surprising and effective. The pounding dies away, and things get soft again, with the low winds softly supporting some flute and piano meandering in the high register. It's nice enough, but five minutes of it is too much. "On the Great Divide" gets us back into the cheese-fest of "Part IA". A fairly insipid melody forms the basis of this movement, repeated again and again, changing slightly every time, Bolero-style...and we're also into really basic chord changes again, kid stuff. The sopranos come back, as do the big brass. And it goes on for a while, swelling and receding, trying to grow and ramp up and prepare us for a big payoff at the end, sending us soaring into the sky...but the end isn't an epiphany; it's a relief. So, while there are some really great
moments in Grand Pianola Music,
overall I think it's pretty unsuccessful. It sounds forced and
clichéd; Adams seems to expect us to feel payoffs and arrivals
that are, in the end, unsatisfying. (1) I don't mean to say that to be worthwhile, a piece has to be harmonically complex, sophisticated beyond the reach of mere mortal ears. But, I mean, come on. Even though you may have loved Hippos Go Berserk! as a kid, you wouldn't read it 20 years later and think it great literature, right? #8 - John
Adams, "The Death of Klinghoffer" The
Death of Klinghoffer (1991), performed by The Orchestra of the
Opera de Lyon; Kent Nagano, conductor The Death of Klinghoffer is Adams's second opera both in general and about contemporary events (his first was Nixon in China). It centers on the 1985 hijacking of the cruise liner Achille Lauro by four members of the Palestine Liberation Front, during which American tourist Leon Klinghoffer was shot and thrown overboard. As I noted in review #7, Adams claims that it represents a serious change in his choice of harmonic language and structural and formal devices. This is a big work, and in this medium I can really only barely touch on it; a detailed discussion of any one aspect would be a chapter in a book. Alice Goodman's libretto presents the
PLF terrorists as villians but as humans, condemning their actions
while still making (most of) them more than heartless killing machines.
Much of the story is told in speeches, crew members' and passengers'
remembrances what took place and their reactions to it. What
interaction between characters there is is intimate and personal; it's
more about arguments between people than a reenactment of events, and
even those are soliloquy-zed (which is fine). Some moments that I think
stand out: But while I think the text is excellent, the music to which it is set is not so, though I find Marilyn Klinghoffer's aria about the loss of her husband -- which ends the opera -- incredibly moving. That's probably much more a personal thing -- for the most part, I don't like how classical music treats solo voice[1]. Most of the singing in Klinghoffer is in recitative, and in a highly shifting -- sometimes bordering on atonal -- harmonic environment, it begins to sound more like random noodling than melody. And in general, I think that the highly declamatory nature of spoken English makes it an inppropriate language for how soloistic modern music tries to treat it; the decorative, melismatic swooping developed when composers were setting French, Italian, and German that still informs contemporary composers is simply not idiomatic to English. Adams keeps to that misguided tradition. The real gems of the opera are the choruses which separate each scene. Each is beautiful and powerful, with texts that offer commentary and background on the centuries of tension in the Middle East. The climax of the opening chorus is a real attention-grabber, featuring the repeated line, "Israel, laid all to waste," in a way that's somehow both terrifying and pathetic -- though that may just be my own take on the relentless antagonism that has indelibly poisoned that region of the world. [2] To sum up, I have tremendous respect
for The Death of Klinghoffer,
even if, outside the choruses, I don't really enjoy the music. I think
it's worth experiencing for Alice's Goodman's amazing libretto, though
Adams's music doesn't measure up to it; and I think it's an incredibly
daring and important thing to dramatize current and controversial
events in a medium that has mostly ossified. (1) My fiancee made the amazing assertion -- with which I fully agree -- that popular musics tend to do a much better job of featuring the solo voice than the classical idiom. (2) I believe that the choruses are available separately as Choruses from Klinghoffer, which I would definitely recommend. #9 - AGF,
"Head Slash Bauch" 01) liniendicke agf stands for Antye-Greie Fuchs, a female vocalist and electronic artist best known for her work with electronic pop outfit Laub. Head Slash Bauch, her first solo album, is extremely abstract, harsh, and abrasive electronic music, but quite satisfying if I'm in the right mood -- which, admittedly, is a rare occurrence. The tracks on the album are based on "glitch" music, music based on the pops and clicks of malfunctioning equipment, bad wiring, skipping CDs -- "wrong" sounds, essentially. Unlike much glitch music, this is not so much intended to be danced to as to provide an alien sound-world (probably conciously) in the spirit of Xenakis and Stockhausen. This in and of itself would be interesting but not really good. What makes this CD compelling is the extensive processing agf applies to her vocals. Most of the text -- German HTML code, I believe -- is chanted, with a bit of singing. Her voice is clear, silky, and cold, detached from any humanity...and therefore perfect for electronic manipulation, which ends up sounding like the aural equivalent of corrupt video -- pixelation, digital artifacts, color bleed, etc.[1] I think that's quite cool, as I have always been fascinated by electronic deformation of the human voice, although I've never done anything significant with it myself[2]. Your mileage may vary. Despite Head Slash Bauch's abrasive sonic
environment, agf's voice somehow gives it a fragility, like a complex
tower built out of glass or crystal, even as its presence adds a
grotesque and unsettling element. It's not an experience for everyone,
and only barely one for me. But it's a very cool project, one which I
respect very much; and I'm glad to have heard it, even though it's
something I would rarely listen to for pleasure. (1) Think Shodan, but, like, cubed and used as a musical instrument. (2) I think that no matter how dense or interesting a musical texture, if there's a vocal element in it -- even if barely audible -- our ear automatically and inescapably latches onto it, the way a streak of red would focus our attention in a painting of mostly blues and greens. We're hardwired to lock on to the human voice, to give it priority over any other auditory stimulus -- and I find it particularly interesting when that focal point is distorted and made clearly inhuman. #10 - AGF,
"language is the most" 00) loading language is the most is a live recording of AGF's performance at the 2003 Ars Electronica Festival. It is much more spartan and pointillist than her first release, head slash bauch, retaining the pops and clicks of glitch music but letting go of the sonic wash and much of the vocal manipulation that imbues much of head slash bauch. language is the most has a much more evident ryhthmic impulse, with beats and thuds drawn from dub/reggae. Oddly, the presence of those beats makes the album less compelling. By using less experimental material and making her music less abstract, including more conventional elements, AGF's electronic music becomes more banal; generic moody glitch music that anybody could have thrown together. When the music becomes more ambiguous and severe, the limited presence of the most compelling element of head slash bauch -- AGF's treatment of her voice -- makes her aural tinkering sound aimless. Again, this is a live performance, most likely built on improvising with prerecorded material; making aggressively abstract music without the considered, controlled environment of the studio and still getting a worthwhile result is very difficult to pull off. But most of the laptop artists I've seen live have been able to create incredibly satisfying pieces using similar methods. Perhaps there are other live sets of hers that are better.
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