When it was announced that Joyful Noise made Kramer their artist-in-residence last year, which would generate the release of a five-record box set that was limited to 500 copies, I had to have it. The item stirred up feelings that have been dormant for a few decades, taking me back to the time when I waited for what seemed like an eternity to buy his three-record solo album The Guilt Trip (1993) or back even further to the time that I drove the music director at WPTS-FM crazy by asking her constantly if the new Bongwater album had been released yet.
Like many college radio kids in the late '80s and early '90s, I found Kramer fascinating. Too poor to buy a whole lot of records, I utilized the radio station library to explore the Shimmy-Disc catalog, which all seemed to have his name listed as producer and very often as a musician as well. His work was driven by serious musical chops with a fondness for shtick, which often came in the use of random samples (back then they were simply referred to as "tapes" in his personnel credits) that might appear in his songs. After seeing B.A.L.L. (his most rock-oriented band, which included future members of Gumball) and Bongwater live, this zany bass playing/record-label-owning guy seemed like what I wanted to be.
Tzadik, John Zorn's label, released two Kramer discs: The Brill Building and The Brill Building Book Two in 2012 and 2017 respectively, each devoted to classic pop songs that were associated with the album's title. But there haven't been many Kramer solo albums of original material in recent years. "I
haven’t written too many happy songs," he told me in 2013, on the eve of B.A.L.L.'s reunion show. "Creativity for me as a solo artist has
never really come from a place of great contentment or joy. It always comes
from trouble. It always comes from decay and decline. A marriage
or a relationship or some terrible things that have happened." He went on to say that he works better in collaborations, as his discography indicates, from Bongwater and B.A.L.L. to projects like Milksop Holly and Glen or Glenda to albums made with friends like Jad Fair, Dogbowl, Daevid Allen and/or Hugh Hopper.
While that might be the case, the long sprawling epic of The Guilt Trip had some amazing moments that still hold up. Its followup, The Secret of Comedy, might have been uneven but when he put his heartbreak on display ("I Can Watch"), Kramer was pretty convincing. Therefore, I had to hear this new set of albums. especially when it was announced that he was revamping Shimmy-Disc as a living label. (Pittsburgher Emily Rodgers released her album I Will Be Gone on the label earlier this year. Kramer produced it, here in town.)
Worried that I might miss out the Make Art, Make Love, Die box set, I advance-ordered it in November 2020. It finally arrived on November 13, 2021.
Each of the five records is a project independent of the others. Although the vinyl box set is now sold out, all five can be purchased as downloads or individual records from Joyful Noise. Two of them include vocals, including a new collaboration with a singer, two are instrumental and one features music combined with recordings of poets.
Let It Come Down
Songs We Sang In Our Dreams
Let It Come Down evolved from a solo album into a duo collaboration after Kramer met vocalist Xan Taylor (who has been in the bands Mission Control and Technique). Our intrepid multi-instrumentalist has said he heard Taylor's voice in his dreams for years and was beside himself when he heard her while awake and producing a recording for her. Although he wrote most of the album's songs, it begins with a track written by both of them, and also includes one written solely by Taylor.
These days, Kramer prefers slow tempos where songs take their time getting settled. Let It Come Down feels a bit closer to vintage 4AD releases than vintage Shimmy-Disc, but there's nothing wrong with that. Taylor's voice beams in over a blend of keyboards and acoustic guitars. Most of it feels slow and dreamy, but "Fingers" also moves into bossa nova, complete with a sampled guica adding the asthmatic dog/percussion sound. The four instrumentals also recall vintage Kramer, combining found tapes with the music. The most impressive one is "Three Wishes" which includes the tape of a woman expressing her trio of desires.
Kramer
Music for Films Edited by Moths
On Side 4 of The Guilt Trip (starting with song number two on the disc two of the CD), Kramer went down an instrumental spacey rabbit hole for a few songs. "The Seven Seizures" started off this section with a blend of Eno sensibilities and a keyboard sound that tipped the hat to Pink Floyd's Richard Wright. Music for Films Edited by Moths revisits this style, with 10 tracks that could easily be paired with cinematic images.
It can be easy to get lost in a loop of sustained notes and loops, but Kramer comes up with a varied set of moods and tempos. The first couple tracks could have easily appeared on the Kranky label, with long tones that expand vertically or move through a three-chord pattern at a snail's pace. But then "Stars Will Die Tonight" moves at a quicker tempo, with a pedal point bass note that has melodies flowing on top. A few tracks add (electronic) drums, which takes "Ladder to the Moon" closer to actual rock than post-rock. The pinging keyboard in "Burial at Sea" helps to evoke a nearby submarine, adding to the scene set by the title.
Kramer
Words & Music Book One
The opening minute of the Corso track provides some tension, as Kramer's organ is mixed as loudly as Corso's voice, but once the latter begins reading, the music steps back and the words are front and center. The same thing goes for the rest of the album. Throughout, Kramer elevates the words rather than distracting from them. Even when he adds vibes, it never comes across with the whimsy that can be felt during an NPR story. In fact, it helps take away from the rather monotone delivery of the Ginsberg piece. While a good deal of Kramer's output might be too idiosyncratic for prime time, this one should be heard and appreciated by a bigger audience.
Kramer
Music for Pianos and Sunflowers
Like all of the albums, this one comes with a beautifully printed cover and inner sleeve, which both have photos and credits on them. The liner for Music explains that it was created with three different pianos and three "vintage tape echo machines. All the sounds were generated by the strings of the piano." That being said, the sound of the keys being struck can only be detected once, at the very the start of Side One, when the 22-minute track ("Before") begins the way "A Day in the Life" ends - with a single chord that rings out. In this case, it never decays, leading instead to an ever-evolving pile of sounds, It might be minimal but it's also quite rich in its scope.
Side Two's single track, "After," continues the mood but sounds like its original source is being played in reverse. This could be an homage to Eno and Robert Fripp's No Pussyfooting, which infamously and accidentally was played entirely in reverse by John Peel when he first received a tape of it. The effect is a little unsettling for the entire 22 minutes though still enjoyable. And it's not merely the preceding side played in reverse either, because it doesn't end with that long chord sucking itself back into the keys.
Kramer
And The Wind Blew It All Away
The front cover and one inner sleeve photo of And The Wind Blew It All Away feature stills from Buster Keaton's 1928 film Steamboat Bill, Jr. A master of deadpan physical comedy, Keaton leans against the wind on the front cover, as everything else blows around him, swept up in a tornado. The liner photo shows him and a woman being blown to the ground as a house falls apart behind them.
Context is everything. On the silver screen in 1928 (when it might have still been silver), the idea was to laugh at the character's misfortunes. The film contains one of Keaton's best known stunts, where the façade of a house falls around him but misses hitting him directly because the attic window leaves enough room for his body. Slapped onto the front of an album of sad songs by Kramer, it's hard not to feel sympathy for the Bill, Jr,, making us look beyond the eyes of the character and wonder what he's really thinking. Poor fellow.
True to Kramer's words in the above quote, the 10 songs all feel dark and tragic. Song titles like "The Rain," "The Wind," "The Crying," "The Heartache" and "The Killing" hint that they were born out of of some unhappy times. Of course, it was recorded between this year and last year, when the whole world seemed to be falling apart, so the feeling is understandable.
Things move at a snail's pace, often sticking with a couple of chords that receive embellishments on top. Aside from a short interlude, only one song lasts less than four minutes, with several coming close to six. It might be interminable if the lyrics weren't so poetic and engrossing. (They're printed on the inner sleeve in a micro-mini font.) Kramer's voice, heavily effected at first for a gruff delivery, eventually comes into focus, revealing that he still possesses the reedy sound of troubadours like Nick Drake, Donovan and John Lennon. The blend of his pipes and a steady acoustic guitar on "The Rain" recalls the moody folk of Pearls Before Swine on their first ESP-Disk' album.
Between the effort needed to read the lyrics and take in the sound of his voice, Kramer has again hooked his devoted followers, who understand the sonic benefits of deep listens (with headphones) to his '90s work. His sound has changed in the three decades since Shimmy-Disc popped to the surface, but this is a good thing. It's better than he has evolved rather than stayed in the same place all these years later.
Incidentally, Steamboat Bill, Jr., has a relatively happy ending, so maybe I'm interpreting And The Wind the wrong way. Or maybe it just means there's hope for Kramer in the end.
Go to Joyfulnoise.com to find out more about any of these albums.
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