greg davis general press
grooves #8 - spring 2002
the stereotypical image of computer-based music is that is is coolly robotic and shorn of emotion. some artists have transcended this image by combining acoustic sound sources and digital processing to construct music that is often melodic and evocative. on arbor, his recent full-length debut on new york’s carpark imprint, boston-based musician and composer greg davis does just this, combining simple melodies, acoustic instrumentation, and complex digital textures. the result is a record that is both sonically and emotionally adventurous.
as davis describes it, his recent work represents a convergence of different strands of seemingly disparate musical activities, which began with an obsession with hip-hop when he was still in junior high school. after playing in various hip-hop groups and experimenting with making beats and composing rhymes as a teenager, davis became interested in jazz and improvisation, as well as honing his skills as a classical guitar player. while in college at chicago’s depaul university, he continued to explore different musical paths, studying classical guitar, then sound recording, before eventually getting his degree in jazz studies. by the end of his time at depaul, though, he had further expanded his interests to include formal composition and, three years ago, he moved to boston to enroll in the masters program in composition at the new england conservatory of music.
in many respects davis’ love of electronic music –sparked by artists like aphex twin, orbital, and the orb—initially ran parallel to his other musical interests, but it eventually served as a point of convergence. the purchase of a mac in the mid 90s marked his entrée into computer-based production. and davis admits it was something of a revelation. "up until that point," he says, "i had just played around with a four-track. When i got the computer and realized that i could get sound into it and edit it, it was really exciting. i began to do more and more with computers and music—including composing on them—and my musical interests expanded even more. "all these worlds just sort of met down the line, and about two or three years ago things began to synthesize: my guitar playing, my composing, my interest in electronic music all found their way into what I’m doing now."
while he sees his academic and pop pursuits as separate spheres of activity, there is considerable overlap, points of intersection, where, as he puts it, "elements bleed over." in both his academic compositions (which are influenced by the work of composers like morton feldman and john cage) and his electronic music, davis favors quite pared-down structures. "a common thread that runs through all my music is simplicity," he explains. "actually, my electronic music is more complex than my composed music, which is stripped down to almost nothing. i always like to use elements of melody and texture together in my electronic music." A number of tracks on arbor—with their simple, repetitive melodies and use of instruments like glockenspiel and acoustic guitar—seem nostalgic in tone, but, with one exception, davis says, he’s not trying to evoke memories of childhood a la nobukazu takemura or boards of canada. "there is one piece on arbor that is directly related to my childhood and that’s ‘coventry,’" he says. "the title comes from the subdivision that my family lived in when I was really little. we lived there for about a year just after I was born."
"I have a vivid memory of being picked up out of my crib by a babysitter. it’s really weird, but it’s a memory i’ve always had. That piece harkens back to that memory, although I usually title my pieces after I make them, but that one made me think of that image."
since arriving in boston, davis has been active in the local electronic music scene, performing both as a solo artist (as asterisk) and with fellow conservatory graduate student don mennerich as parallel and running his own label, autumn records. for the last nine months or so, davis has been working with keith whitman (hrvatski) on a series of live shows, including a full US tour (which he was preparing for when we spoke). it’s a collaboration that davis has found particularly interesting: "his music is very different from mine, but when we do our duo sets, we find a common ground that we can meet on."
their performances are largely improvised, with the two often working within a specific set of parameters, incorporating live playing and real-time processing. "we’ve been quite interested in using a single sound source," says davis. "so, for instance, we’ll do a piece using just guitar with keith playing his guitar directly into his computer, processing it in real time, and i’ll be processing the guitar as well. we’ve been trying to be purists, seeing how many sounds we can generate from just one source."
in contrast to the preprogrammed feel of many laptop sets, davis says that he tries to incorporate elements of chance and risk into his live performance, building elements of surprise into the patches that he makes on max/msp and improvising on guitar and other instruments. "i have mixed feelings about laptop performance," he says. "i’ve always gone to performances to listen, and on some level i feel that people should do the same, but i realize that everyone’s not like me. people expect certain things from the performers."
"for me, though, the idea of a person sitting onstage with a powerbook is amazing. i love both the image and the idea that they can make all these sounds by just moving their finger on a track pad. i saw pita perform in new york about a year ago, and it sounded like he was going to blow up the room with the sounds he was making. it was the most powerful live set, but he’s not doing anything. he was just sitting there, stonefaced, moving his finger."
- susanna bolle
the weekly dig – 5.8.02-5.15.02
greg davis – sensitive new guy?
most people won’t admit to being a part of the genre commonly known as folk. In fact, the closest it has come to hip was being buried in segments of the thrill jockey back catalog. and while it has seen light amongst a small contingent of followers, it’s time we face the fact that while it is eminently likable, in a period, where genres are in such quick flux, a venerable style of music like folk isn’t exactly in vogue.
somehow, though, greg davis has managed to break these preconceptions, as he has showcased folk in a new, more modern light. there is a seductive simplicity to davis’ work that is aptly described by the term, and brings to mind the focus of other artists. and as much as the sparseness of guitarist john fahey or even minimalist terry reilly cuts right to the core of what music is all about, davis has to be recognized for achieving the same feat.
his cd arbor is among the most original debuts in recent memory. soft floods of processed electronics meet tranquil beats over a smattering of synthesized sound, with a cleanly presented guitar taking center stage. the result is subtle and refreshing, full of pastoral references. what really stands out, though, is that outside the obvious fact that it was created on a powerbook, it isn’t immediately recognizable as electronic music at all. that said, is guitar the new laptop, or do we need to, god forbid, give consideration to a new genre, "folktronica"?
davis’ first experiences were anything but academic. "my original musical forays were in hip-hop. from junior high, basically up until 1994, i was making beats, doing rhymes…we were pretty serious about it." but there’s no doubt that he moved in more of a scholarly directions when he started at the new england conservatory of music. becoming more open to a variety of styles, he began to work on guitar theory in earnest, building up the chops that now serve him well. the other key point in his musical genesis was the discovery of the possibilities of digital audio, or to use a popular yet vague catch-all term, "laptop electronica."
many of the rare, beautiful moments on arbor were created with a programming package created by cycling74 called "max & msp." this software is totally customizable, lending itself well to the carefully considered, even anal, sculpting of sounds. "it allows you to have a vast palette…a lot of sound possibilities," Davis rightly claims. unlike other artists, such as oval, who also utilize vast suites of processing to tweak and sequence audio, davis approaches the concept with a musician’s eye rather than that of a programmer. fittingly, organic qualities are prevalent on much of his latest album. Most of his songs are extremely mellow, sounding as natural as the wind rustling leaves on a brisk autumn day. davis uses the computer as an instrument, providing more than just a backdrop for guitar melodies.
although he considers himself more of a musician than a gear-obsessed producer, he takes obvious joy in tailoring all aspects of sound, shying away from using pre-fabricated or canned sounds. "ultimately, you can tell when people aren’t putting any of their own unique ideas into a piece of music….it has the stamp of software on it," and then pauses to mull the idea over before saying, "if I was using present [sounds] on a synthesizer, I would feel guilty in a way."
it is this love of sound that (partially) led him to head out on a recent and fruitful 7-week tour with keith whitman, a.k.a. hrvatski, who himself is on the popular planet-mu and kranky labels. balttling shoddy transportation and laptop theft, they could be seen rubbing elbows with underground talents such as lexaunculpt, kit clayton, richard chartier, adult, and loscil. the two would routinely perform as a duo, each with a powerbook, processing live instrumentation. the exact specifics of the collaboration would vary from night to night, but keeping true to their inventiveness, they drew from almost every variety and type of sound imaginable, including casio drum machines, guitars, and found sound recordings.
"we both love music and sound, which is why we decided to start working together," says davis. that’s an excessively simplistic, explanation for their connection, however; whitman and davis have much more in common than that. both have a passion for acoustic guitar, jazz improvisation, and the creative possibilities that open up when playing it by ear. "it’s like a third creative outlet for both of us…different from the solo stuff we do…totally improvised," davis enthuses. Indeed, as both will probably profess, playing it by ear is the key to keeping ideas fresh and the performance enjoyable on both sides of the stage.
in this incarnation, the two showcased their greatest degree of synergy. the collaged soundscapes theyproduced were abstractly ambient, alternately droning and squeking, clanking and whining, much to the amazement of the audience. their eyes would hardly meet during their collaborative performances, but there was a unique rapport between the two. "i think keith definitely influenced my live set a bit on this tour. at the beginning, i was sort of jealous of his live sets – they were so killer," davis admits. from the sound of it, however, much of the success of whitman’s charmed solo live performances has rubbed off already.
it occurs to me how great a soundtrack arbor is during these first melancholy days of summer. but what is to be made of the cd insert declaring "peace" – another debatably passe catchphrase? irony-free to the last, davis chuckles, "my peaceful bliss shines through, I guess."
- andrew schrock
portland mercury- april 4, 2002
Armed with a laptop and an acoustic guitar, greg davis’ music is completely unpredictable – some kind of folk-electronica hybrid teetering purposely off-balance and tinkering with different musical weights; pastoral acoustic guitar work, discordant when crushed by his computer.
- BG
The stranger - april 4, 2002
FOLK
IMPLOSIONS
Nice Guitar Damaged by Evil Laptop
It's not clear what Greg Davis will do on stage to support his debut release because the man's music is completely unpredictable. He'll be armed with a laptop and an acoustic guitar, and, like his unusual album Arbor, the music will be some kind of folk-electronica hybrid, but the tools of his trade are where the certainties stop. As Arbor shows, Davis' music teeters in a purposely off-balance act that tinkers with different musical weights: Guitar melodies gently rest the songs on solid conceptual ground, while computer-driven sound effects send the tracks off into abstraction. The overall sound isn't overtly aggressive, but the pastoral acoustic guitar work is more often discordant when crushed by his computer.
Davis' earthy guitar-playing is very folksy, with sweet chord progressions that recall sunny meadows, crackling fireplaces, and other naturey Hallmark images. His playing style is very precise and perfectly measured, with melodies that usually resolve themselves in complete 16-bar phrases. When he's got his guitar in hand, Davis is an impeccably programmed, mild-mannered musician.
If his guitar brings out a calm Dr. Jekyll, though, Davis' laptop work forces Mr. Hyde to the surface, and he uses the machine to tweak the acoustic sounds, break the melodies, echo the tone into odd fragments, add sharp blips and blips, and, on occasion, send the song into swift motion with a breakbeat. Unlike the gentle, dependable guitar, Davis' laptop component is spontaneous, erratic, and sometimes even a little nasty with the noise.
If these sonic mood swings sound a little manic for your taste, Davis is happy to settle into whatever vibe you request when he plays live. Before his gig, he plans to take an oddball survey to determine what the audience wants to hear, where the crowd can choose from such polarities as "Harsh, Hyper-active," "Soothing, Womblike," "Showy, Interactive," and "Less distractive from sound." As the hopeful Dr. Jekyll, Davis will concoct the formula to give the people what they came to hear. Judging from the sounds of Arbor, though, no matter what mood you choose, Davis will be sure to show his evil laptop Hyde.
Austin statesman – march 21, 2002
...It's this latter style that Greg Davis explores on his debut album "Arbor" (Carpark). Davis, a New England musician whose interests originally lay in hip-hop, jazz and improvisational music, began futzing around with electronica in 1997. He's hit upon an exceptionally lovely formula, a recombinant glitch-plus-folk guitar sound that adds a melodic depth to the beats and a thin coating of modernity to the guitar. What's most striking is the not dissimilar nature of the acoustic and electric sounds. Each note is a tiny impression, the leaf-by-budding-leaf soundtrack to a cool and clean spring. By the album-closing title track, Davis has stripped away the beats completely, leaving a spare plucked guitar. It takes a few minutes to notice they're gone. A subtle and lovely exercise in organic and inorganic coexistence -- even if the Nick Drake tribute "Nicholas" rather unsubtly samples a mighty large chunk of the man's music.
- joe gross
creative loafing – march 20
Cross
pollination
Davis shares the hybrid results from his analog/ digital Arboretum
"Autumn has always been a time of mixed feelings for me. There is this sense of melancholy and crispness and nostalgia and sadness. But it's all made sweet and clear in a way."
Composer Greg Davis could just as well be commenting on the feelings elicited by his full-length debut, Arbor, as making seasonal observations or, as the case may be, explaining the name of his label, Autumn Records. But the CD Davis is touring behind -- while autumnal in many respects -- is out on New York's Carpark Records. And it's a bright beacon in a season that has found a new nomenclature in the warm, warping sound of "folktronica."
Released after a slew (OK, maybe closer to a trickle) of amazing marriages of acoustics and electronics by U.K. artists, including Four Tet and Minotaur Shock, Arbor is staking an American claim in a quickly ripening field. To date, any music that is so much as brushed by bytes is discussed -- save perhaps by its most fanatic devotees -- in more starkly analytical than strikingly emotional terms. Yet, beyond the stray static and occasional beats, the acoustic-guitar-anchored ambiance of Arbor is melancholy, crisp, nostalgic, sad, sweet and clear. The album is the culmination of Davis' studies, which have seen him leaf through hip-hop jams, free jazz and folk guitar before arriving in his own personal Arbor.
Educated at DePaul University and the New England Conservatory, Davis doesn't seem the type of composer to choose mouse over inked measure. But Davis' process doesn't rely solely on one instrument -- in this case, the computer or the classical guitar -- perhaps because his musical education has been so broad. Citing the sources of his most life-changing experiences as Stevie Wonder and John Cage, not Aphex Twin or µ-ziq, Davis previously made loop-based four-track hip-hop, even forming a band described as "Ornette Coleman meets Orbital meets DJ Premier." He now captures through delicate acoustic guitar the indirect sunshine that makes fall so peaceful and pensive, then peppers the stereo field with digital snow to make each track dazzle.
Often closer to Ida than IDM, Arbor builds more on pastoral John Fahey-like picking than the evolving fragmented textures of Austria's Christian Fennesz -- two artists Davis often draws comparisons to. Still, Davis isn't afraid to include "field recordings," and gleaning some harmonic chaos from the virtual environments he sets up on his laptop, adding the element of chance to his compositions.
"I am definitely an additive type of composer," says Davis. "I usually start with some basic element and layer things on it until it is just right. Then I will fine-tune and edit things until they are just right. I compose a lot in terms of densities and textures and tonal area -- sound colors and interesting chords and harmonies."
Live, an even more seemingly disparate combination takes place. Pairing with fellow Boston musician Hrvåtski (one Keith Fullerton Whitman), Davis is able to explore the more abstract side of his musical personality in real time. While each performs a solo set that represents his own style (Hrvåtski is more brazenly electronic), it's in the duo format that Davis truly branches out.
"When Keith and I do our duos, it is often quite varied," he says. "I tend to stretch out a little more in the duo stuff. It is improvised. So some nights it's great and others it's just OK, but it's always exciting and fresh."
- tony ware
pulse - february 2002
6-STRING
SYNTHESIZER
The guitar is the tool of choice among a certain breed of atmospherists
Despite relentless death knells sounded for rock'n'roll, three recently
released CDs reveal that the guitar, at least, is far from dead.
Apparently, the instrument simply took a nap after rock's supposed funeral
and woke up with renewed vigor and a fresh sense of purpose.
All three albums in question utilize the guitar -- electric and acoustic
varieties -- in the pursuit of a personal vision of ambient/electronic music.
On Steve Roach's 'Streams and Currents' (Projekt Records) the guitar is
reported to be the primary instrument, but it's almost unrecognizable; the
result of much electronic processing is an album rich with an undercurrent
of spiritual, almost shamanic intent.
On 'Keimar Sky' (Coombe Records), by a British duo called Dual, the focus
on the guitar as a source of droning ambience resembles Roach's recording,
but with entirely different textures and sounds.
And on Greg Davis's 'Arbor' (Carpark Records) the presence of an acoustic
guitar is self-evident; Davis's strumming appears to be virtually the only
non-digital sound amid computerized drums and samples. That the various
elements work together so seamlessly is a testament to Davis' artistry as a
composer and producer.
That the guitar should surface today as a useful instrument in a genre more
closely associated with synthesizers, samplers and turntables makes sense,
given the history of electronic music. One of pop's first flirtations with
classical minimalism came about from guitarist Pete Townshend's fascination
with the music of composer Terry Riley, while the Who was still at the
height of its powers. The Beatles' George Harrison, famously, took the
vocabulary he developed in his study of open-ended Indian ragas and applied
it to the electric guitar.
And Brian Eno, the godfather of ambient music, made one of his first forays
into the formless genre in a project with guitarist Robert Fripp; in 1973,
half a decade before Eno produced his landmark 'Ambient 1: Music for
Airports' album, he and Fripp recorded 'No Pussyfooting,' a record of
beatific soundscapes and voluble dissonance.
The recent albums by Steve Roach and Dual most closely resemble the work
that Eno and Fripp were doing almost three decades ago: treating the
electric guitar with all manner of electronic effects in order to wring
beautiful tones, dense with harmonic complexity, more akin to the vast
spaces of choral music than to the elegant structures of chamber
composition -- and, most importantly, entirely devoid of the momentum that
rock demands of its guitarists. There are no riffs on these albums, no
songs for that matter, certainly not in the traditional sense of the word.
Only two things matter in this sort of music: tone and drone. Tone is the
ineffable pinnacle of sound, a sonic flavor pleasurable unto itself. Drone
is the zen beauty of that sound sustained at length, either on its own or
overlapping with other sounds. Both Roach's 'Streams and Currents' and
Dual's 'Keimar Sky' have these two ingredients in abundance.
The guitar is, by no means, the primary focus of Steve Roach's work.
Perhaps America's premiere ambient figure, he has summoned ethereal sounds
from all manner of source material, including didjeridus, percussion and
synthesizers. Since the late '70s he has released approximately 40 albums.
The guitar has made numerous appearances on Roach's records, especially in
the hands of others. He teamed with guitarist Roger King in 1998 for 'Dust
to Dust' (also on Projekt), a duo album that summoned the desert spirit of
the American southwest, with an obvious debt to Ennio Morricone, the great
film-soundtrack composer. Roach has also recorded with David Torn and
Michael Brook, two musicians who use the guitar as an ambience-generator.
'Streams and Currents,' however, is Roach on his lonesome -- and not just
alone, but recording live, equipped with (to quote the album's liner notes)
"2 electric guitars, Ebow, various live looping and sound processing
equipment." This "live in the moment" recording process is
essential to
Roach's belief that performing music is a kind of ritual. 'Streams and
Currents' should be heard as the document of a service, a heavenly
accumulation of sounds that ebbs and flows, like some dreamtime current.
He's sort of like a Les Paul for the 21st century. Whereas Les Paul
astounded us with the guitar's various sonic possibilities, and with the
powers of multi-track recording, Steve Roach astounds us with how much one
person can do, all alone, without the benefits of post-production or
overdubbing.
Dual, which consists of Colin Bradley and George Richardson, has an
apparent affinity for silence. Several tracks on 'Keimar Sky,' such as the
opening "Pe-gglass" and another one titled "Nucell," either
fade in or out
at an extreme length, taking minutes to work up to a low hum, or to
dissolve into nothingness. Fripp and Eno aren't the only evident influences
on Dual's music. About two minutes into the second cut on Dual's album, a
track titled "Kattus," you can hear the beading -- a kind of
pointilist
reverb -- that Pete Townshend employed on "Baba O'Riley" (and, much
later,
"Eminence Front"). That is about as visceral as the album gets. Like
Roach's record, Dual's indulges in gravitas -- it could easily be the
soundtrack to an existentialist remake of 'Blade Runner,' all of the dread
but minus any of the action sequences.
It must be understood from the outset that Greg Davis's album, 'Arbor,' is
a breed apart from the work that Roach and Dual are up to. Davis' album is
included here as evidence of the guitar's varied roles in electronic music,
not to suggest some single-minded guitar-ambience movement. Davis' music is
far more difficult to classify than the tone-for-tone's sake ambience of
these other two recordings.
For one thing, the acoustic guitar he uses throughout 'Arbor' sounds like
an acoustic guitar, not like a vast swath of atmospheric ether. He plucks
the thing, he plays rhythmic figures on it, and he comes close, at times,
to sounding like he's working out an exercise of "Dust in the Wind,"
with
circular picking motifs that are downright folksy.
On a track titled "Nicholas," he initially sets the guitar against a
tasty,
automated backbeat, the sort of hip-hop-derived rhythm you might expect
from Cornershop or the Gorillaz, with just enough of a psychedelic flavor
to qualify as Britpop. Later on, the song reaches a chaotic plateau, the
drums flailing like drum'n'bass at its most frenzied, and random sound
samples appearing like ET has convinced the telephone operator to break
into your call. On a song titled "Eleven Eight" Davis' playing recalls
the
backward-taped guitar solos of George Harrison and, for that matter, Adrian
Belew.
Davis is a master arranger and editor. What makes 'Arbor' great is how all
these little elements -- tiny drum beats, the sound of a finger against a
guitar string, an otherworldy effect -- balance against one another.
Not all the tracks on 'Arbor' have evident guitar elements -- the brief
opening cut, for example, is a bauble of dulcet samples. However the
album's last cut, from which it takes its title, is almost entirely
acoustic guitar, resplendent in its echoes of John Fahey's philosophical
folk music. Only toward the end of the nearly nine-minute song do other
elements (little globules of sounds, like day-glo chimes and a child's
piano) appear. The song can be heard as a reversal of the rest of the
record, in which the ratio of acoustic elements to digital ones is flipped.
The lesson is clear: all of these sonic items are just tools, none more
important than any other, in the composer's toolbox.
- marc weidenbaum
de-bug - february 2002
elektronika
Boston träumt
Greg Davis
Boston, MA. New England. Unamerikanischer wird es nicht in den USA.
Zu jeder Straße gehören Bürgersteige und die altehrwürdigen
Universitätsgebäude könnten auch in Cambridge stehen. Zwischendrin
ein paar Appartmentblocks. Hier wohnt Greg Davis, zwar ohne Job, aber
mit "Arbor", einem der besten Alben eines Jahres, das noch halb grün
hinter den Ohren ist. Wie das geht? Man nehme einen jungen, begabten
Mann, lasse ihn in Chicago aufwachsen, jedes Wochenende HipHop
Platten kaufen, dann Komposition studieren und schiebe ihm
schliesslich ein paar Elektronika Platten unter. Fertig ist ein Star,
der die Wärme seiner Akustikgitarre mit den weichen Harmonien
amerikanischer Folk Helden paart und dann in nächtelanger Kleinarbeit
am Powerbook den Rest besorgt. Das ist die Kurzfassung einer
Lebensgeschichte, die mit "Arbor" nicht nur einen ersten großen
Höhepunkt erfährt, sondern die man sich auch gerne en Detail erzählen
lässt, denn: Greg ist ein Netter. "Mit HipHop fing alles an. Alles.
Ende der 80er lebte ich in der Nähe von Chicago und fuhr jedes
Wochenende zum Plattenkaufen nach Downtown, kaufte 12"s ohne Ende",
erzählt er am Telefon. "Damals war HipHop die interessanteste Musik,
mit der man sich beschäftigen konnte. Gesampelt wurde einfach alles
und bald saß ich an meinem Kassettenrecorder und experimentierte mit
Loops, las Artikel über Sampling und wollte Musik studieren. Wieder
war ich zur richtigen Zeit am richtigen Ort, denn das Aufblühen der
Chicago Improvisationsszene und Thrill Jockey habe ich hautnah
miterlebt. An der Uni setzte ich mich zwar auch mit der akademischen
elektronischen Musik auseinander, begann aber eben auch Gitarre zu
spielen, komponierte Kammermusik und lernte Aphex Twin Platten
kennen. So war das damals." Wir wollen diesen rasanten Zeitraffer
hier gerne beibehalten, denn er erspart unnütze Erklärungen und ein
paar Jahre, in denen einfach nicht viel passiert ist. Sachte
auseinandergefusselt betrittt hier jemand die Bildfläche, der über
HipHop und die dazugehörende nerdige Sample Clearance Jagd Jazz und
Funk streifte und sich in der Windy City in einer Umgebung
wiederfand, in der Elektronik auch in anderen Szenen kein Schimpfwort
war und in ihr das perfekte Mittel fand, seinen kleinen melodischen
Gedanken einen etwas moderneren und abwechslungsreicheren Rahmen zu
geben. Boston schließlich, als neue Homebase, mit seiner lebendigen
Szene an Producern und Clubs rundete alles perfekt ab. Hier kommt
"Arbor": eine Platte, die zwischen Lagerfeuer und DSP-Fabrik der
Mittelpunkt einer wundervollen, neuen Welt werden wird.
Raus damit
Nicht dass Greg irgendetwas an "Arbor" stört, aber er hat schon neue
Pläne. "Ich will Sampler und Synthesizer aus dem Studio schmeissen,
mehr Musik wirklich auf Notenpapier komponieren und vielleicht der
erste sein, der Kammermusik nur am Rechner mit seinen spezifischen
Sounds umsetzt. MIDI habe ich schon völlig verbannt, hat eh nie
funktioniert. Beats brauche ich eigentlich auch nicht mehr, es gibt
wichtigeres. Für mich macht es keinen Sinn, fünf Platten im Jahr
rauszubringen und die ganze Palette von IDM-Standardsounds mit
Standardtools immer wieder aufzunehmen. Das sollen andere machen.
Gute Musik braucht Zeit." Bis es soweit ist, packt Greg Gitarre und
Powerbook in eine Tasche und geht auf Tour. Mit Hrvatski, einem uns
nicht unbekannten Gleichgesinnten, "der nur auf Tour geht, weil ich
ihn überredet habe." Vier Wochen kreuz und quer durch Amerika. Und
eins ist klar: Auch im VW-Bus auf dem Highway kann man Gitarre
spielen. Es geht also weiter.
- thaddi herrmann