#robert viger

April 5, 2018.

A venture into New York City is always a good thing. Give me any reason - a doctor’s appointment, family, or a show in Greenpoint - and I’m there. This time it was a check-up on the pricier Lower East Side. I asked the team to give me an early time because I knew something else was going on behind the clinic. I know because my old man drove me home all the time and took a specific rote to do so.

The chilly 35* temperatures bit like any early April would. The sharp white sun constantly cut across the passing white clouds drifting through the dry blue sky. I stand at the Deer Park platform for a few minutes and anticipate its’ arrival. The iPod Classic (160GB) is still holding up. It’s been my only companion that comes with me for Christ knows how long, ever since it’s not-as-capable brother (30GB) took it’s first ride with me supplying Whitehouse’s Racket, Vincent Gallo’s When, and various Boards Of Canada and Roy Ayers cuts. That was another springtime trip where Cath- and I joined forces at Penn Station to go to the Brooklyn Museum and back home on the Ronkonkoma line for what was one of the most significant days ever lived. I loaded up the 400 or so finds to it of songs I never heard of before, songs then in the auditioning phase for Omega WUSB’s airplay. Train rides on the Deer Park line are usually prime-time to cycle through it all with no distractors around. My other companions? A Sony kit and a tripod.

I board and sit on the outer left aisle facing forward. No window seat this time. Public Image Ltd.’s “Poptones” couldn’t have come at a better time as the Deer Park line slowly rolled down through Farmingdale. None more fitting when those loopy dangling notes of Keith Levene’s Veleno moved perfectly with the slow floating crawl of the car. I’m not even paying attention to the motion blur of the graffiti or the industrial buildings usually experienced when looking out of the window. Another song plays, it’s The Plugz’ “Satisifed And Die”. It was a gift from Holly, a Brooklyn goth girl who followed me here. She’s made me roused and stimulated like no other. We been trading recommendations for a couple months based on our equivalencies of industrial, noise, punk, and other artists. I never heard of Plugz until she told me that “Hammy” from The Pee-Wee Herman Show was in the band.

The music still spun in my ears. Each song that played was saved to the day’s on-the-go playlist. No skips or fast-forwards. Eventually there’ll be seven or ten songs out of thirty that will follow me around forever out from the 400 chosen for April 5th. They kept going, and so was I on the way to Penn Station. Final track to end the ride? “Hold On To Your Genre” from Les Savy Fav, a band I’ve heard about over the years, and maybe a mention from former selector Xtina who used to run The All Ages Show before I took over her timeslot. Holly’s hits kept on parading through.

Penn Station here. I save my energy taking the A/C/E connecting me to the N/Q/R/W line to Lexington Av. and walk up 3rd St. to the clinic. Here I am! I’m directed to go upstairs and angle myself for some x-rays before heading downstairs to see the silver surgeon who saved my life eighteen months ago.

“Wow! What’s that?” excitingly ask Renee, the surgeon’s assistant. She saw my kit and tripod and told her I was going to shoot after our appointment. She was happy to see me. They’ve seen them all come and go during all their years in practice. It was a treat for them to see me have this new energy from when I was either blacked out on the hospital bed or frustrated and itching ready to go. But here I was. That’s the most important thing for all of us, right? Silver took his hand and pressed his tips on my shoulder to feel any changes. Looked over the film and saw no changes. Asked me how I was doing with this British / Irish roll and was pleased to hear that I was doing great. An hour later, I was good to go. Show’s over for now. See you in six months.

I haul my inventory out of the clinic and head towards where my old man would start our path home. It’s the Grand Army Plaza at the southeastern corner of Central Park. Look up and you’ll see the golden monument of William Tecumseh Sherman riding high on a stone pedestal with Victory guiding the way. I take several photos of all their heroic glory. A few horse-and-carriage jockeys were all around me with their furnishings dressed in white, red, and purple with gold trim. I see many overseas families make the best of their time taking photos for mementos forever to be remembered by, not knowing if and when they’ll have another opportunity to return again. But I don’t stop there.

Forward I go into Central Park, because I had all the time in the world to tread into uncharted territory. I walk past the disused zoo and end up at the Balto statue. How cute. I stop and snap away for more test shots before some former aspiring Aron Kay wanna-be rode his bike past me and said something about Balto being a liberal conspiracy, and self-declared it a debacle that was worse that seeing Oprah’s goatse. I walk away from his trailed stench of shit and dried blood and now here I am walking right down the middle of The Mall and Literary Walk. It literally welcomes you in with its pathway, where its generousity is measured by its wideness.

It was at that exact point where I started feeling euphoric again. I’ve beaten cancer to see my final benefits loaded into savings. Three paychecks in March, the tax refund hit, and our company gave us full-timers a surprise $1,000 bonus. Minimal and synthwave finds connected me with some of my best followers here, good times with me and twenty of my other co-workers at my neighborhood arcade, and the record-store victory tour just started. All of my on-going projects at Ω+, VMFX, and WUSB kept me going and proud. My nerves straightened themselves out and for once in my life I was on top of everything. There were no worries, no stress, no pressure. There was only hope. I hit the sweet spot that I been trying to acquire for so long and this was it. I felt like I was the person I always wanted to be. Keep going.

To my right is the Naumburg Bandshell where I did my best to preserve whatever dynamics it presented me with a press of a button. Further I go and I encounter the Besthesda Terrace, a dazzling array that’s been around for almost 175 years. Greeting me is its accompanying fountain where The Angel Of The Waters looks over all of us. A Danish family of four wanted their picture taken together so they asked me kindly to snap them with their camera, which I happily obliged.

It’s 5PM. Joggers and bikers are imminent. Young couples are sitting on the hills admiring the skyscrapers to the south and west side. I let myself get lost as I head north. I reach the Bow Bridge to see a young Filipine couple in their wedding threads have their photos taken. I continue to wander through all the winding pathways and steep hills to find myself at Belvedere Castle which was gated off and closed indefinitely. A few thousand feet later, I stop short at the 86th Street Transverse to catch my breath and pause to experience the current moment of clarity. Robert Viger’s “Limpidite” started to play. The sun’s about to set and it’s getting dimmer. Now was the time to head back.

I didn’t remember the path I took to get here, so what fun I had when I got lost and realized I had to walk the equivalent of thirty city blocks to even reach East 59th Street again which I returned to. I was exhausted and was tempted to take the N/Q/R/W line back to Penn Station, but no. It’s rare for me to be in the city, so why not make the best of it and walk it all back to Grand Central? My time was limitless because I didn’t have to be at work until 1PM the next day. Let’s reverse the process.

I take part in the crowded hustle and bustle of Manhattan. I walk 30 blocks south back to Penn Station for the ride home eastward, still bathing in the new euphoria and pending Spring renewal I just felt. I arrive five minutes to my train, but no big deal. I’m more than happy to re-hydrate with a $2.50 bottle of water and wait around until the Ronkonkoma line arrives. I have another relaxing 65-minute train ride back to Deer Park to cycle through more auditions and selections for the day’s forever soundtrack before it’s gone forever. I arrive on the Deer Park platform and step off the train. I step off the platform and walk through the aluminum overpass and steps onto the parking lot. I get in my car and drive away to sweep up the rest of the way home through the Brentwood streets. 10:30PM and I’m home for the night.

**********

There’s a message waiting for me after I walked in. It’s Holly. She asked how my day was and what I was up to. It was real nice for one of my all-time favorite followers to even ask. I had to reply to her before heading to bed. I also sent her the day’s photos and then asked to see if we could finally meet up. The momentum was stronger and now more essential than ever. I’m thriving for more.

Ghost Spell: “People On The Street”

This Is Hell: “Anarchy On The Atlantic”

Stars Are Insane, The: Versus

Ramleh: “Soundcheck Changeling 2”

Alan Shearer: “Dark Is The Color”

Public Image Ltd.: “Poptones”

Ghost Spell: “Tzz”

Plugz, The: “Red Eye #9″

Jan Jelinek: “They Their”

Pan Daijing: “Female”

Candy: “Rain In Spetember”

Pierre-Alain Dahan & Slim Pezin: “Slim Bertha”

Pisschrist: “Fatal Control”

Alan Shearer: “Only For One Girl”

James Clarke: “Silent Summer”

Thomas Leer: “Saving Grace”

Paul Dupont & His Orchestra: “Lovelorn”

Boy Harsher: “Modulations”

Zola Jesus: “Bound”

Errorsmith: “Superlative Fatigue”

Pisschrist: “Fuck The World”

Alan Shearer: “Generation V”

Joanna Brouk: “The Space Between”

Grey Hairs: “Emergency Banger”

Hogan’s Heroes: “Drugs”

Plugz, The: “Touch For Cash”

Kap Bambino: “More Machine“

Leon Gardner: “Farm Song”

Les Savy Fav: “Hold On To Your Genre”

Marijuana Deathsquads “All Deep”

Red Apollo: “Knife Party”

Stars Are Insane: “I Stayed Up All Night Thinking Of You” (ver.)

Wolf Alice: “Sad Boy”

76% Uncertain: “Coffee Achievers"

Kedr Livanskiy: “Sunrise Stop”

Haircut: “Shutting Down”

Keiji Haino: “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean”

Cabaret Voltaire: Extended Play EP

Candy: “Bears”

Frumpies, The: “I Just Wanna Puke On The Stereo”

Pan Daijing: “Overdose”

Ajax: “Paper And Steel”

Les Savy Fav: Inches

POST-SCRIPTUM 845

AGITATION FRITE, le volume 3, sous-titré “chroniques de l’underground français” est en cours de rédaction. Il contiendra entre autres un TOP 320 commenté des albums les plus singuliers en la matière. Merzbo-Derek en diffusera quelques extraits avant parution en 2018 chez Lenka lente… À signaler, bien qu’annoncé partout “out of stock”, il reste encore quelques exemplaires du premier volume chez Metamkine : qu’on se le dise !

EXTRAIT…

VINCENT GÉMIGNANI, Modern Pop Percussion (1970)

JEAN-CLAUDE VANNIER, L’Enfant assassin des mouches (1972)

Quand Modern Pop Percussion, originellement sorti sur Concert Hall, a été réédité à juste titre par Musique pour l’image, référence 35 avec titre (Musique pour un voyage extraordinaire) et tracklisting différents, il a été présenté par Robert Viger comme une suite de matériaux sonores d’une grande richesse pour l’illustration musicale. Vrai ! À son écoute, le temps du splendide « Ophis le serpentaire » par exemple, on peut évoquer Airto Moreira, Les Percussions de Strasbourg, voire Miles Davis rencontrant Jean-Claude Vannier (période L’Enfant assassin des mouches, voir chronique plus loin).

PATRICE SCIORTINO, Chronoradial (1970)

BERNARD PARMEGIANI, Chants magnétiques (1974)

CHARLES BELLONZI & ROBERT VIGER, Structures percussions (1972)

MARTIAL SOLAL, Locomotion (1974)

Patrice Sciortino est un compositeur contemporain passé par le Groupe de Recherches Musicales parisien. Comme pour certains de ses confrères, l’un de ses meilleurs disques a été édité par un label consacré à la library music : l’excellent PSI, sous-label de Musique pour l’image, dirigé par le pianiste Robert Viger, spécialiste du genre. À son catalogue, à côté de jazzmen français réputés, tels les pianistes Henri Renaud et Georges Arvanitas, figure l’électroacousticien Bernard Parmegiani avec l’édition originale des Chants magnétiques – une pièce majeure !

En duo avec le batteur de jazz Charles « Lolo » Bellonzi (connu pour avoir fait partie d’un trio de Martial Solal et accompagné Maurice Vander, René Thomas, Ivan Jullien ou Claude Nougaro), Robert Viger a réalisé un disque, certes pas foudroyant comme un Cecil Taylor / Tony Oxley, mais étonnant à bien des égards, où voisinent compostions d’ambiances et improvisations bruitistes.

Sur le même label, Martial Solal délivre en Locomotion le disque de jazz funky ultime en trio piano électrique / acoustique, accompagné par Henri Texier (basse) et Bernard Lubat (batterie). Son auteur l’avait quasiment oublié, car à l’époque on prenait ce genre de disque, depuis largement réhabilité par les DJ curieux, pour de la musique au kilomètre. Les accords répétitifs d’« Un Drôle d’escalier roulant », par exemple, possèdent quelque chose de bêtement fascinant ! Certes, on est loin de la palette harmonique et des digressions virtuoses de ses solos tel Nothing But Piano.