Mark Beckwith, shortwave geek
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Unmatched use of over-the-air content and minimalism
Attention shortwave geeks, this review is for you. Disclaimer: I'm not the type to wax poetic about the genre of modern pop music. I'm a retired opera singer so I spent my life under a rock where pop culture is concerned. I think I can recognize the influence of early David Byrne on Weiskopf’s art (did I spell his name right? Did I spell both of their names right?), but that’s about the most pithy thing I can say about that. I am also a world-class shortwave nerd, so I can hold my own on that side of the equation: Over-the-air material penetrates “30: A Retrospective 1976-2006” deeper than it does the works of comparable artists, and he uses it more effectively. The most exceptional difference, which I feel elevates Weiskopf to unchallenged status, is this: there is a romance and intrigue inseparable from shortwave, and Weiskopf knows it, understands it and how to use it. I hope he might indulge this incurable shortwave romantic and notch up the over-the-air content about 20% sometime - he’s on to something that takes me deep inside myself and speaks to the long-since abandoned World Person of my innocent days. Be warned – Weiskopf’s minimalist approach to “Attack Warning” (track 12) is every bit as masterful as John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine” or “Nixon in China”, and has the power to leave you exhausted, frightened and agitated. Strong stuff that minimalism, and Weiskopf can hold his own. If you appreciate the romance of the short waves, you’ll enjoy “30: A Retrospective 1976-2006.”
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gota
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Although unknown, if you are looking for a guy who is passionate about radio, as well as actively releasing CDs like an industry pro, Myke is your guy. A "shortwave-surfer" and "shortwave avatar" is how he is known. His instrument is a Kenwood R-5000 Communications Receiver, both a source of his material and inspiration.
Furthermore, if you will recall the CD collection of cryptographic world broadcasts from The Conet Project (see Wilco/Yankee Hotel Foxtrot), if Myke's name rings a bell as contributor, you realize that he is not simply mono but totally stereo. (^^;) As for his album, the title is meant to be a sonic autobigraphy of raw Myke from the ages of 14 to 28 in 30+1 tunes. It meanders in the art of sound from ambient to rock (which is sung personally by him as Science Park) to '80s electropop. Myke's vocals are a little weak (but never is it not skillful! ^^;) but as time goes on, they have noticeably gotten better.
Radio sounds are freely used throughout the CD. (perhaps too much! ^^;) As for the radio sounds, they are not excessively processed but rather used straight up; it is not only using the acoustic material itself, but the critical use thereof which is unique. With one of the electronica songs, there are also some radio sounds which hook to the rhythm, leaving the impression of being different from back back. That being said, this CD has limitless sounds of the radio that would be tedious to list. You may ask about this CD and pass on it, but Myke's love of music and radio is clear. I also love music and radio, and I feel a deep rapport with him and his expression thereof.
This CD illustrates the locus of work Myke has put forth in the past ten years. I expect in the future to see only more and better work from him, and I see great potential in him. I can feel it in the tracks he has already put out, which I have deeply taken in.
There is a tendency where those from the previous generation inspire those in the future. Artistic expression such as this CD is evidence of radio as a powerful medium.
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Robert Burns Neveldine
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The loneliness of the short wave: Myke Weiskopf at 30
With 30: A Retrospective 1976-2006, I re-enter the carefully constructed sound world of electronica auteur Myke Weiskopf.
But not by the means expected. After fronting and directing Science Park (the self-titled debut; Futurama; and Disinformation compose the band's catalogue), Weiskopf took a few years off to rethink his relationship to his work as well as to the music business. Those of us who felt as though we'd lost touch with him may be puzzled to find that this collection doesn't represent the usual sort of career retrospective, with every single, outtake, and B-side. We should instead be glad that the CD offers a more complete picture of Weiskopf's aesthetic—and obvious clues to its future course.
Granted, the album's songs as such, "Ascension Island," "WWV," "Truth Will Out," and others will be easily located by anyone who's carried a torch for melancholy synthpop. However, many of 30's 30 tracks offer up the kinds of experiments that Weiskopf has performed since his precocious youth: bedroom and studio assemblages of electroacoustic tracks whose most common points of reference lie along the frequencies of shortwave radio broadcasts.
The use of such source material shouldn't come as a surprise, despite Weiskopf's having supposedly inhabited the category of the singer-songwriter for most of his early adulthood. We've heard these snippets by domestic and foreign-language announcers and newsreaders—along with the cryptic, repetitive interval signals that punctuate them—many times before in popular music. Weiskopf, though, transforms the sound artifacts that have fascinated him for so long into works that evidence a greater sense of sophistication than what we normally encounter.
For example, the beginning of "To Have and to Hold," on Depeche Mode's Music for the Masses, features some overdubbed nicks from an unknown Russian broadcast, but DM use them as background to the collage supporting Dave Gahan's singing. And then they fade from the mix. By contrast, when Weiskopf uses such verbiage, it becomes foreground to the accompaniment he provides, as though he's supporting the primary voice, which is in itself not an intentional one. That is, the broadcast source was never intended to be used in this way, but there it is, acting as if it's speaking on his behalf—or, more to the point, that he's accompanying its speech (parole) on its behalf. I find that procedure to be a fascinating form of impersonality within the context of a work transitional between the format of the pop song and that of the ambient assemblage. Hence my prediction that Weiskopf may follow the direction indicated by the field mic, literally or figuratively or both—a field crowded with content that simply passes by, or through, most of us.
Thus a broadcast gets rebroadcast in a new form. Sampling, from far or near, becomes resampling shared with listeners, who never heard and don't comprehend the original. Weiskopf has created a kind of AI—call it artificial interference—that preserves the original's integrity, even as it subtends it, in order both to satisfy a personal interest and communicate with fans.
If the analysis verges on the clinical, 30 certainly never does, as it can be played as late-night headphone music or Enoesque ambience that keeps you company on a long drive through the dark, when you may mistake it for its own radio program. If the twilit cover art, with its poles, power lines, and lurking satellite trajectories, doesn't make it clear enough, Weiskopf wants to provide the soundtrack to that most peculiarly American journey across the dusky frontier, whether urban (Chicago, Boston...) or otherwise: to experience a sense of connectedness while being left alone to go where one's inner monologue dictates. "Why are you so far away?" he sings. This album brings us closer to the answer.
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Prince Gomolvilas, Host of BAMBOO NATION Podcast
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Discovering an Undiscovered Gem
For me, experimental music often collapses beneath the weight of its own experimentation. I mean, sure, I understand why artists would want to play with soundscapes, create cool aural experiences, and reframe the idea of what music can be--it is their desire to emit a nose-thumbing screech of defiance to an industry that drips in pop excess and celebrates style over substance. But experimental music doesn't make for a particularly enjoyable experience (I'm a sucker for joy; shoot me) unless you're high, doing yoga, or in a David Lynch movie (and even the latter is in question). MY ears demand definitive melody and strong hooks. However, a few musicians who have delved into the world of "experimental" music (and I use the term very loosely here) have managed to make it onto my MP3 player: Stephin Merritt, Kid Koala, Mirwais, and Cat Five, to name a few. The common thread among them? They don't drown in their own self-importance. And their aim seems to be having fun and wanting others to have fun, rather than daring to be different for the sake of being different and secretly wishing to be labeled a "pioneer" on alternative music blogs.
"30: A Retrospective 1976-2006" is a generous 31-track collection of Myke Weiskopf's forays into different types of "sound": a diverse and inviting anthology of sampled audio over hypnotic beats, instrumental pop, other-worldly noises, and "found sound." But the bulk of the album gives way to accessible experimental pop music, highlighted by Weiskopf's coolly unpretentious vocals. You see, Weiskopf is avant-garde enough to mess around with the effects capabilities of ProTools, but he's smart enough to want to be liked--so he's compiled a disc that encourages us to alternately sing along, bob our heads, tap our feet, dance. But those who need music that they can trip to can find comfort in this album as well because there are many fine examples of a sound geek's love for technology. Because this compilation spans a career, it lends itself to variety. Every track redefines your idea of Weiskopf as an artist. Bouncing from "experiment" to "experiment," it all goes down easy, and even the shortwave radio interceptions (which seem apropos of nothing) invite repeated listening and make the cut onto my Creative Zen V Plus. (For radio- and ear-friendly tracks, check out "Ascension Island" and "WWV"; for cool sound trips, check out "Wonderful" and "Attack Warning.")
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Gucky
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Amazing, touching, lovely, lonely and everything I'd hoped for.
As a fan of Weiskopf for some time, I've heard about half these tracks before. However, the way they're put together – the segues, the flow from one track to the next – it's truly a beautiful collection that holds together as listenable loveliness from the first moment to the last.
It obviously spans his eras, fascinations and phases and they're all wrapped together in a intimate musical package. The uber-polished tracks juxtaposed against the more impromptu sounding emotional moments make it all the more real for me.
I can't recommend it highly enough.
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