Pump Up the Volume

The first wave was unexpected, rolling over my head and leaving me slightly disorientated. The second wave I was a little better prepared for and, having anticipated it correctly, pulled me from within and pushed me out on top of it all. This is what the payoff was, certainly: a transcendental experience not found in nature. My waves were not oceanic and I wasn’t surfing – my waves were decibels, sound waves so large they shook my bowels and rattled my skull. Luckily, I had earplugs in, as did the rest of my section (Tenor 3) and the rest of the orchestra. These waves were part of the score, written in for the exact effect I was both participant and recipient in. I was playing electric guitar in Glenn Branca’s 13th Symphony along with 50 other musicians, grinding out an exhilarating hour-long performance with my amp turned up as loud as possible.

I had been wanting to do this for many years. As an undergrad in music school, I idolized Branca. I was already a fan of Sonic Youth, who owes quite a debt to Branca (Lee Renaldo’s infamous chord cluster was pulled from Branca’s technique, not to mentioned both he and Thurston Moore played in a few symphonies themselves). He was also already a living member of the Grove Encyclopedia of Music and Musicians – the dude had arrived. I did what any undergrad would do – wrote a paper (on his third symphony for my analysis class). I’m sure that paper is now incomprehensible, trying to infer theoretical structure on pure visceral and ephemeral beauty. Branca became a big influence on my composing and still informs my aesthetics, to some degree. Regardless, many years later, I was so jacked to finally participate that I sacrificed my “obligations” and showed up ready and willing. One month later, I can’t think of a better decision I’ve made this year.

There’s something about participation in a large ensemble – regardless of the type of music – that allows for something much greater than ones ego. It’s when your section aligns perfectly, creating symmetry and informing the whole. You tend to abandon yourself, whilst simultaneously being completely in the moment. I couldn’t help myself. I banged my head. Evidence is here: (I’m far to the left and in and out of frame). What can I say? The music moved me, and that wave churned over and over again.

The type of music I composed prior to performing in an electric guitar orchestra had been increasingly tonal, which I’m still largely committed to, but there were intangibles in that orchestra – aural anomalies, churning swarms and strains of phantom voices that were bi products of high volume – which, once heard and experienced, become a new source of inspiration and artistic aspiration. Now, as I consider my next piece, I can’t admit to not tinkering again with many, many guitars, all amplified. Parked at 10.

I’m already looking forward to the next performance.