ambient and its discontents

T

thirdform

pass the sick bucket
ok ok we get it, mizell brothers aren't no rashied ali or coltrane, but why can they hit the sweet cocooning spot when brian eno or harold budd or all them annoying middle class white blokes fail to?

It's not even the babymaking you get with people like sylvia striplin Stephanie Mills etc. It's more suave romantic. late night soothing balm.

I'm not even a particular fan of smooth sax (the saxophone is a much better instrument when treated like an electric guitar and made dissonant and distorted) but this pisses all over anything eno has done. And before patty goes in with the soul argument, we've done that, been there. I want to hear about the discontents of graphic designer ambient.



@luka @craner this is your calling oliver.
 
T

thirdform

pass the sick bucket
don't you see. this ridiculed music does exactly what everyone expects ambient to. serves as a backdrop to when you're half awake and half asleep between the hours of 2-5. Yes we can criticise this British soulboy lot in the club scene but they are alright when you're exhausted... They are true ambient warriors! of course ambient can be horrifying in most peaktime gangsta sheffield Ipswitch darkside 93 acid hard jungletechno gabber clubs.



yes it's almost cloyingly revolting in its smoothness. but it's ambient.
 
T

thirdform

pass the sick bucket
100% cloying. and yet it was sampled by the geto boys and is irresistable when you are too tired to turn off the radio.
 
T

thirdform

pass the sick bucket
craner said:
An interesting thread would be, is 80s Jazz redeemable? When I moved to London in 2000, Jazz FM still existed. It was a weird station. It used to broadcast 24 hours a day to London and surrounding counties, and being an insomniac at the time I would put it on at about 3 or 4 am every night until I fell asleep and woke up at, say, 11 am. Late night to early morning it would play hours of 80s yacht jazz, all mellow electric piano and George Benson guitar, totally Saint Tropez circa 1987. Sort of georgous and grotesque at the same time. And there was tons of it. No DJs to tell you what it was. Just an endless, wordless, ambient wash. It had an eery, lovely glow at these moments, but only then. Presumably some people knew these records and rated them. But they seemed, still seem, totally lost pieces of music, not redeemable, but effective for certain unnatural moments that lack all original context.
Click to expand...
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top