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View From The Crow's Nest

In the wake of the distasteful coup against those American voters who attempted to exercise their virtual freedom of representation, and with HAL now installed in the Oval Office, the Tentacle once again emerges from the murky depths to flap its molluscular mandibles. Welcome to the penultimate Ink edition of the Tentacle – that's right, after three-plus years of publication, the Tentacle Collective has decided to put this, the Ink edition of the Tentacle, into drydock. Of course, the web and T-mail versions will continue as before. The significant extra time and sanity afforded by this decision should help us concentrate on our respective music projects and other neglected areas of our lives. Further explication of the Collective's decision to suspend Ink publication will appear in the Summer 2001 issue.

We're excited to present the first part of our feature on Northwest creative instrument makers, focusing on a cadre of dedicated musicians who build their own unique musical instruments for performance of adventurous music. The survey is a glimpse into alternate perceptions of sound, and how and why we create it in the first place. In addition, we invite readers to digest several offerings from the "Littoral Zone," in which musicians and fans around the region review seminal books that explore music from varying angles. Stir in a Northwest creative music calendar, provocative letters from readers, a sanguine view from inside the halls of academia by Bret Battey, and other marine morsels, and you have a millennial stew fit for Jerry's Squids.

Thanks to the following generous readers who contributed to the Tentacle over the past few months: Gust Burns, Jarrad Powell, Peter DeLaurenti, and the ubiquitous Mr X. We are grateful for your assistance, and urge others to follow your lead. The Tentacle is still and will remain a labor of love and community service run by volunteers, but we need donations in order to pay for this magazine. Thanks also to our advertisers, without whom we would never be able to stay afloat, and to all of our volunteers who help steer the ship all over the Sound and beyond: Keith McKenney, Erin Jorgensen, and Alex Keller.

Auld Lang Sine Waves

In this, our first issue of 2001, the Tentacle crew would like to raise a glass to the late director Stanley Kubrick and to Hungarian composer György Ligeti, whose collaboration on Kubrick's epochal film 2001: A Space Odyssey stands as one of the most sublime marriages of sonic and visual art ever produced. Kubrick's inspired use of Ligeti's riveting "Atmospheres," "Aventures," "Lux Aeterna," and "Requiem" to enhance the film's stunning cinematic imagery introduced more listeners to the delights of the classical avant-garde than all concert-hall presentations of such work combined. (Interestingly, Kubrick used Ligeti's music without seeking the composer's permission, but Ligeti was extremely pleased with result.) More than 30 years later, both the film and Ligeti's music still stand the test of time – more than can be said for most of the shallow sci-fi effluvia that's been disgorged by commercial studios in the decades since 2001's release. A hearty tip o' the tentacle to Kubrick and Ligeti for their part in furthering contemporary music, and to 2001 author Arthur C. Clarke (still with us!).

Harpooned! — Letters to the Tentacle

Duly Noted

In response to the article by Art Bloom ("Notation and New Music in Seattle," December 2000–January 2001), I would like to quote something Jean Dubuffet wrote in 1966:

"I find that true music should not be written, that all written music is a false music, that the musical notation which has been adopted in the West, with its notes on the staves and its twelve notes per octave, is a very poor notation which does not permit to notate the sounds and only allows the making of a totally specious music which has nothing to do with true music. It is impossible to write true music, except with a stylus on the wax, and this is what they do now in recordings. This is a way of writing and the only one that's proper to music."

Given the contents of Dubuffet's record, I would guess he wasn't too worried about rhythm either. In fact, I can pretty accurately report that electronic music without the subtleties of rhythm is doing fine in popularity, and certainly gets more of an audience than new music notated for ensembles.

Eric Lanzillotta

For the Record . . .

I hate all of you. I am sick of this fucking town of whiners.

Every time I pick up the Tentacle lately, someone is whining. If I were less sympathetic, I'd say this rag often comes off quite often as a newsletter for a clique of hipper-than-zoot-suit nitwits. I myself may have sounded like part of this exclusive coterie when I wrote that experimental music will always appeal to a minority audience. I still believe that, not because I want it that way, but rather because it is a brusque unpleasant truth.

So why am I complaining about the Tentacle's insular attitude. Because none of this bullshit helps. You people complain about the dumbest crap when there is a much larger problem.

The reason creative music does not thrive in Seattle is the same reason why no creative activity thrives in Seattle. Creative people in Seattle are too damned unorganized. Too much complaint and grievance and no decisive action.

The essence of Seattle art isn't even close to Dennis Rea's rather Romantic notions of a Seattle style. It is much simpler: Be a do-nothing, or go to New York. Or worse, London. This is hardly limited to music. For instance, Seattle is the most desirable town in the United States for cinema, literature, and theater. Seattleites spend more money on films, books, and plays than any other city: no other city is even close. This is and has been the fact for over 20 years. Yet what Seattleite can name a local filmmaker, author, or playwright without being part of their inner circle? Seattle audiences have never bred Seattle artists, nor vice versa. Mere proximity means nothing. Even if given a clear opportunity, most Seattle artists couldn't pull their heads out long enough to take it.

I'll give you an example from my own book. I once helped organize an independent film consortium. The goal was to raise the profile of local artists, of course, but more importantly, just to let everyone in the community know what great resources and talent are right here in town. And, typically, everyone in the film community showed their support by crowding 150 people into the Alibi Room, enthusiastic as could be on that first meeting. And, typically, within four months, there were fewer than 15.

I have done this same organization with local actors, theaters, and writers. I even started and published monthly with my own money a magazine where aspiring writers could publish anything they wanted. Just to get that first story, poem, photograph, or drawing on their resumé. The magazine disappeared off the shelves. My partner and I estimated that about 1,000 people read it. Yet we had to beg every month for submissions. We wound up writing about three-fourths of every issue.

So I have some grasp of the pathetic nature of Seattle's ahhh-tists. I was naïve enough to think if I merely provided the opportunities and the necessary structure, people would simply jump and the chance. So much for idealism.

Perhaps you all believe in that cliché, "If you build it, they will come." Any musician who thinks that because she whips out David Maslanka with her chamber group or who thumps, thuds, and beeps with his trio of bass, percussion, and Deck III software, that there will suddenly, magically appear an audience is a fucking moron.

"If you build it, they will come." Maybe – but what the hell are we building?

If you want to build something, build the audience. I cannot stress this enough. Now, while the Tentacle is glibly complaining about the IRS denying their educational value, why not just grab some instruments, draft up a short proposal for guest appearances in Seattle schools, from elementary to university? Get a banner with the Tentacle logo on it and have it say, "Sponsored by the Tentacle." Teachers will love you for giving them a break from their babysitting career; students will love you for sparing them another boring, monotone lecture. You build an audience for the future and prove your educational value at the same time.

You have to be organized. The Tentacle's just fine for readin' all about the neato stuff in this hep town. But that's not enough. People have to know that the Tentacle is the place to look. I know many Seattleites who have never even heard of the Tentacle. Some are musicians, some are music writers, some are devoted listeners. If you're not reaching them, what fucking good is your rag? You have not even done a fraction of your job. Every student in every middle school band, every college music department in Seattle should know your name. Then you can start reaching the listeners of KBCS, KCMU, KAOS, KGRG, KSER... Why not underwrite some more public radio shows?

If you all love this music so much, shouldn't it be a priority to expose people to it? Keith Eisenbrey's crap that it's about doing "our" music in "their" system (as if anyone owned vibrations) strikes me as especially naïve. It isn't even to the point. The point is getting people to listen. No composer I've ever met wrote music to sit in some damned box in a mildewy closet, and very few musicians are so solipsistic that they just want to hear themselves. Any musician who wants to make amplified noises for himself alone can go masturbate with a microphone and free up the fucking stage for people who want to communicate.

I'm sure you're all sitting on your asses thinking this is all talk – unlike the monthly lamentations of your magazine. But, like it or not, the truth is that you need to learn how to promote yourselves if you want to have an audience beyond your faithful 30. (A good proof of how weak that audience is, is that they don't even know each other, and no one could even name all 30 of them. Your core audience – and none of them communicate with each other.)

So listen up, art lovers. I will offer you my services for free. I'll gather up your list. I'll write your damned grant proposals. I'll even come up with the banner. Because all this talk is just that. It is time to shut up. Gird up thy loins, roll up your sleeves and get to work. I certainly will. Anything you need to write, read, review, paste, cut, print or post, I will do efficiently but quietly. (And if you think it's easy, consider that I normally get $1/word for freelance writing.)

All I ask as a fee is that you all shut the fuck up. Get back to writing about deep listening, score transcription, the breakdown of noise and sound – all that we readers pick up the Tentacle to see. If you want to be an educational organization, then get back to education. Moaning without meaning does not qualify.

Omar Willey

Ahoy Omar,

Thanks for your forthright, if rather rude, letter. We will consider your suggestions and respond in the next issue.

The Tentacle Collective