wichita lineman no. 1: justus köhncke, “wichita lineman” (1999)

This is probably as good a place to start this project as any. Justus Köhncke is a German house producer (from Köln, I think) who makes records for Kompakt. Here is what he looks like:

His records tend to be more vocal than not, and while not quite pop certainly edging in on it. He’s released a lot of cover versions – Barbara Morgenstern & Jürgen Paape on his first record for Kompakt, Carly Simon (in German) on his second, among others I’m sure I haven’t noticed. He’s a fine appropriator – “Shelter” takes a sample from the intro to the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” and runs with it as the basis of a galloping house track for six and a half minutes. It’s guaranteed to throw Stones fanatics into hysterics – though Cal Tjader’s vibraphone-tastic jazz rendition of the same (released on Descarga, 1971) doesn’t have the same effect.

The discogs page for Köhncke lists a record he did in 1999 before joining the Kompakt stable, Spiralen der Erinnerung (“spirals of memory”, says Google translations). It’s on iCi records, some German label that only put out two other releases (one of the two being a single of two of the tracks) – not the sort of thing that’s easy to track down outside of Germany, probably not that easy to track down inside of Germany. But the tracklisting! oh, the tracklisting! It’s all covers, mostly of old folk/rock songs – John Cale’s lovely “I Keep a Close Watch”, Neil Young’s “Old Man”, Janis Ian’s “At Seventeen”, another Carly Simon song. And, of course, “Wichita Lineman”. 

Against all hope (if somewhat predictably) a filesharing program turned up a copy of this. I might as well admit right now that filesharing makes this project possible – I certainly wouldn’t go out and buy twenty CDs just because they had a copy of “Wichita Lineman” on them. I would probably buy a copy of this one, were it available on CD (it’s not) because it’s lovely. On seven of the eight songs, Köhncke is singing in English (the last track is by Hildegard Knef, a German singer I know nothing about). I like singers who don’t have English as a first language: they tend to stress words in ways that makes them them new through defamiliarization. “I can hear you through the whine” he says, but there’s a “d” sound at the end of the last word: “wind”? Can he hear us through the whine, or the (mispronounced) wind? I don’t know what the actual word in the song is. Either would make sense, probably.

The instrumentation on this is mostly an organ, very up front at certain points. The vocals are spoken, almost whispered, sometimes double-tracked. There’s faint wood-block percussion in the background, at about the same level as Justus’s voice. A guitar comes in about two-thirds of the way through – it sounds fake and somewhat perfunctory. And then something curious happens 33 seconds from the end, after the vocals are done: the organ leaves, and there’s a full band playing, with wood blocks, still distant, for good measure. It sounds like it might be a treated version (static added? or is this just my MP3?) of the Glen Campbell version, though I can’t quite tell.

wichita linemen

I have a number of versions of “Wichita Lineman”, the song written by Jimmy Webb & popularized by Glen Campbell. Here, as an exercise, I’m going to attempt to go through them all & say something about each one. Hopefully the process will teach me something about repetition and variation; I’m also interested in originality, and the idea of standards.

(Also, I need some content to play with on Drupal. That’s the most proximate reason. (The sharpminded may notice that this site is not actually running Drupal which is true – I didn’t care quite enough about Drupal to sort out its confusion and then I moved everything to Drupal including the first six entries or so which I actually wrote a while ago and then forgot about while I was busy doing other things.))

Why “Wichita Lineman”? It’s a nice song, first of all. It’s not a song I can claim to know anything much about – it came out & was popular well a decade before I was born. While I had heard of the song – most specifically in the context of the title of the KLF’s “Wichita Lineman Was a Song I Once Heard”, a track on Chill Out, an album I’ve played more often than just about any – I don’t think I’d actually heard the song, to my conscious knowledge anyway, until I downloaded Glen Campbell’s version a couple of years ago out of curiosity. It’s strange that I never would have heard it, but I don’t think that I had.

As of this writing, I’ve got somewhere over 50 versions, three-and-a-half hours worth. Most – but not all – of these are by artists I don’t know, or don’t know particularly well, if at all. This is somehow nice: there are an enormous range of interpretations, only fixed around a basic structure. They range in time over the past 37 years. Some are very nice; some are abysmal.

Alas, I am a very slow writer.

Precedents for this project (or a bibliography):

  • Raymond Queneau, Exercises in Style
  • Michael Daddino’s “Send in the Clones”, which started off doing roughly the same thing for “Send in the Clowns”
  • Glenn McDonald’s The War Against Silence for its inspiring magnitude.
  • Allmusic’s review of Glen Campbell’s version

death by water

PHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell
And the profit and loss.
                          A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
                          Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

(T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land.)

start

“We can safely assert, even, that human civilization has added no essential feature to the general idea of play. Animals play just like men. We have only to watch young dogs to see that all the essentials of human play are present in their merry gambols. They invite one another to play by a certain ceremoniousness of attitude and gesture. They keep to the rule that you shall not bite, or not bite hard, your brother’s ear. They pretend to get terribly angry. And – what is most important – in all these doings they plainly experience tremendous fun and enjoyment. Such rompings of young dogs are only one of the simpler forms of animal play. There are other, much more highly developed forms: regular contests and beautiful performances before an admiring public.”

(Johan Huizinga, Homo ludens: a study of the play element in culture.)

found epigraphs, cont’d.

“. . . Kearns had the fortune to meet the two fighters who in my opinion had the best ring names of all time – Honey Melody and Mysterious Billy Smith. Smith was also a welterweight champion. ‘He was always doing something mysterious,’ Kearns says. ‘Like he would step on your foot, and when you looked down, he would bite you on the ear. If I had a fighter like that now, I could lick heavyweights. . . .”

(A. J. Liebling, The Sweet Science, p.69, quoted in Alice Notley’s notes on Ted Berrigan’s “Sonnet XIX”.)

eagleton for [some other] day

“. . . but he suffered from the empiricist illustion that what was real was what you could smell with your own fingers. Samuel Johnson held much the same view – and if Johnson is the kind of ‘character’ the English adore, it is not only because they take a stoutly individualist delight in the idiosyncratic, but because a ‘character’ represents the tangible truth of a person rather than the abstract truth of an idea.

Hence the English obsession with biography, which is among other things a covert anti-intellectualism.”

(Terry Eagleton, “Reach-Me-Down Romantic” in the London Review of Books, 19 June 2003)

mandeville

“Though Sir John Mandeville (in his Travels, among the earliest and most heroic of plagiaries in the French) confessed, “Of Paradise I cannot speak properly, for I was not there”: what matter? Here above, the concrete cliffs had disappeared, only their lights studding darkness which posed as space and postured firmament.”

(The Recognitions, p. 387.)