Chattanooga Pulse

Laurie Anderson
Nothing in My Pockets
(Dis Voir Editions)

If Laurie Anderson was a narrator and nothing else, she’d still be a remarkable performer; that voice—that unmistakable voice—is often cool and composed, like a news reporter, but there’s also a comforting quality and a delivery that conveys her as curious and observant, but not pedantic.  Anderson has many other talents, as a visual and video artist, instrument inventor, violinist, and singer, and she made her name by working at the intersection of the art world and the music world, bringing the avant-garde to wide audiences through recordings and elaborate multi-media performances.

Anderson’s latest release, Nothing in My Pockets, is an audio diary on two CDs, with accompanying book, that details three months of her bustling life in 2003.  There are no stand-alone, conventional songs on the two hour-length pieces; however, original electronic song snippets serve to bridge various segments together, and there are some welcome excerpts from her live orchestral piece A.E., about Amelia Earhart.  For those three months, Anderson carried a recorder around with her, capturing conversations, ambient sounds, concert recordings, and pretty much any interesting noise she might have encountered.

Bouncing between locations such as Italy, Sri Lanka, Germany, and her home in New York City, Anderson does extraordinary things like being onstage with Lou Reed and Patti Smith, helping plan the opening ceremony for the 2004 Olympics, or being the first (and last) artist-in-residence for NASA.  But, also documented on Nothing in My Pockets are the everyday, honest glimpses of her life, like taking her dog to the vet or ironing her clothes, which serve to make the audio diary seem that much more genuine.  I’m reminded of the Jim Jarmusch film Mystery Train and the Japanese tourist character who snaps photos of mundane things (hotel room and train station, for example), and not the big sights, so that he can better remember the details of his travels.

The frequent narration on Nothing in My Pockets makes it most similar to Anderson’s storytelling album, The Ugly One with the Jewels, but without the inevitable moments of revelation.  This makes Nothing in My Pockets a unique item in Anderson’s catalog, and while it’s still fascinating listening, some listeners may be confounded by the lack of a central theme or an overarching plot.  But, it’s like Anderson’s visit to an Italian theater and her explanation that, centuries ago, the theater would be flooded on purpose to recreate naval battles:  “These weren’t really plays—they have no plots.  Then again, not every show needs a plot.”

Various Artists
Yeti 7
(Yeti Publishing)

On one end of the ‘zine spectrum is the kind that typically comes immediately to mind: the photocopied, hand-assembled and stapled booklet, created by ardent music fans.  Then, on the other end, are the publications that show the next level of the ‘zine, made by people who are no less passionate about music but have publishing software and more resources.  Some of the best ones that come to mind—like The Believer’s annual music issue, Badaboom Gramophone, and Yeti, provide a deluxe package: a perfect-bound book, one that can take up shelf space and dispel the notion of being disposable, with an accompanying CD.

The latest Yeti compilation is admirably diverse, kicking off the proceedings with a rousing acoustic rockabilly track from the late Abner Jay, who called himself the “last working Southern black minstrel” and boasted a full, arresting baritone voice.  “Docta King” from Nancy Dupree, originally released on the 1970 Folkways album Ghetto Reality, is a chilling MLK tribute, with a children’s choir singing piercing lines like “They murdered him” with piano accompaniment.  The Bible Aires Spiritual Singers provide an upbeat, two-minute gospel-soul-rock number, “You Better Get Ready,” from 1967, which leads right into a spirited live recording from the New Zealand band the Great Unwashed, featuring members of the Clean, propelled by an irresistible motorik drum beat.

Carl Simmons’s 1999 home recording “Scotty Guffy Sings” is a strangely compelling munchkin folk song, and “Stupid Art” from the early ’80s German duo 39 Clocks has a sort of low-rent Velvet Underground meets Young Marble Giants approach, while never really heating up to a satisfying degree.  Speaking of the Velvet Underground, the new track from Moon Duo sustains a great, brisk “Sister Ray”/Krautrock groove with a nervous, druggy kind of Spacemen 3 distorted guitar.  Another highlight is the animated, hook-laden lo-fi power-pop song “Brite Futures” from the one-woman band Dum Dum Girls, and “False Horizon” by Grouper (a.k.a. Elizabeth Harris) is a gorgeous, reverb-drenched strum-and-sing song with non-obvious vocal harmonizing.

The CD’s hit-miss ratio is very healthy, and its selection, developed with an ear for the uncommon, is wide enough to likely inspire further listening for even the most hardcore music geeks.  Yeti is in a different league than certain magazines that come with free CDs as a marketing gimmick, as a tool of the corporate music biz; publications like Yeti show an equal interest in the past and the present, serving a wealth of rarities and obscurities that are often undeservedly unknown.