Scott Walker
The Drift
What the fuck does Scott Walker do for fun? His use of the phrase “swanky suit” is close,
but not good enough. Here’s a guy who
once joined a monastery in order to learn Gregorian chants. Here’s a guy who dive-bombed his career as a
pop star in order to make impenetrable works of existentialist art—he’s put out
only three albums in 25 years. (Name one
other existentialist musician. Go
ahead. We’ll wait.) Seriously, what does he do in his down
time? I can’t imagine that he sits in an
armchair resting his baritone voice—which most people would find more suited to
Andrew Lord Webber than to political indictments—for ten years while his ideas
form. Then again, I can’t imagine him not
doing that. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised
if he spent ten years setting his EQs. The music either pulverizes with industrial squeals and thunder, or
everything drops away to highlight one particular—and, usually, particularly
unnerving—sound, be it crickets or footsteps or squiggly white noise. But always there’s that voice, singing
precious bits like “Can’t turn from a crotch in the darkness/ To turn to the
valley of a king/ ja-da ja-da ja-da ja-da jing jing jing.”
With most of our picks for albums of the year, you’d be
hard-pressed to name the most genius moment. With The Drift it’s the same,
except that genius=terrifying. How about
the moment when the footsteps get closer and closer and closer? Or how about the moment in “The Escape” when
Satan speaks through the voice of Donald Duck? Or how about the jarring “Pssst pssst”s in “A
Lover Loves” that ends the album by making you feel like there’s someone with
you in the empty room? How about when
Brogue says, “I’LL PUNCH A DONKEY ON THE STREETS OF GALWAY”? With most of our picks for albums of the
year, we enjoy listening to the music. With The Drift, we stand in
awe that the album ever got made. We
can’t imagine life inside Scott Walker’s head, but we’d love five minutes to
try it out. The Drift gives us seventy.
-Marty Brown, 2006
You want some more impenetrable masterpieces, eh? Well… I’ll let Tucker field this one. Tucker?
Tucker here: If you like your music to require a little exploration, check out Ornette Coleman's new album Sound Grammar--it's not his best, but average Ornette is better than anything then the Marsalis family ever did. Wolf Eyes put out two powerhouses this year as well: Human Animal and the incredible, transcendent, ugly Anthony Braxton combo single, Black Vomit. Derek Bailey unfortunately passed away early in 2006, but his final studio release the Play Sessions is a quiet, but fitting goodbye. The Sub-Rosa Noise Anthology 69-2005 is one of the best all-inclusive noise compilations ever released, if you can't find a copy of the ten album California noise anthology (vinyl only.)
If you can find that ten record set, give it to me immediately. I'll like it for you.
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