Damon Krukowski

  • Electronic Music

    THE TRADITIONAL SCENARIO might be described like this: People onstage make music, and, in response, people in the audience make noise.

    And if the people onstage make noise?

    Sonic Youth’s contribution to the two-CD Anthology of Noise and Electronic Music 1921–2001, the first of eight planned releases on the theme, takes this situation to its logical conclusion: “Audience” is six minutes of applause taped at the end of a 1983 Sonic Youth performance in Berlin, subjected in the studio to the same sorts of manipulations that the band applies to sounds generated by their instruments. The result is

  • Arnold Schönberg

    When the New York Times cautioned its readers in 1913 about SCHOENBERG, MUSICAL ANARCHIST, WHO HAS UPSET EUROPE, it didn’t neglect to mention that the composer “also paints gray-green landscapes and sickly visions, the latter dug up from the abysmal depths of his subconsciousness.”

    When the New York Times cautioned its readers in 1913 about SCHOENBERG, MUSICAL ANARCHIST, WHO HAS UPSET EUROPE, it didn’t neglect to mention that the composer “also paints gray-green landscapes and sickly visions, the latter dug up from the abysmal depths of his subconsciousness.” One era’s warning is another’s hype. Today, Schönberg’s paintings—seen here in a show of around 150 canvases, more than half his entire output—are valued precisely because these psychologically unedited works look more like outsider art than like correlatives of the notoriously abstruse “second Viennese school” of

  • Nam June Paik

    NAM JUNE PAIK IS OFTEN PICTURED with an instrument: banging his head on a piano; dragging a violin along the ground; stretching a string across his back, to be bowed by cellist Charlotte Moorman. What these images share with many of Paik’s multimedia works is the sense of a dreamed art-they represent a music that isn’t heard, necessarily, but whose effect might be even greater than music that is. With television, the distance between Nam June Paik’s dreams and reality seems starker: Works such as Zen for T. V., 1963, Moon Is the Oldest T.V., 1965, T.V. Buddha, 1974, and Candle T.V., 1975,

  • Lunapark 0.10

    Lunapark 0.10, released as part of the “Aural Documents” series by the Belgian label Sub Rosa, is more like a séance than a CD. Compiled by Marc Dachy, this spoken-word anthology begins with the ghostly voice of Apollinaire declaiming his poem “Le Pont Mirabeau” in 1912 and ends with Caetano Veloso performing the Brazilian poet de Campos’s work in the late ’70s. In between, Dachy includes scraps of recordings by Mayakovsky, Joyce, Artaud, Duchamp, Stein, and others, piecing together a personal survey of twentieth-century sound art. To those for whom the historical avant-garde constitutes a living