Word: chord
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...night during freshmen orientation week, I heard rhythmic chanting emanating from a group of freshmen across the Yard. Because of the breeze and the distance between us, I could not discern the words and yet something about that melody of monotones and its degenerate animalistic qualities struck a responsive chord deep within me. Where had I heard this droning before? The beastly grunts and yells had a tribal sound like that of a rain dance or perhaps a war dance. The blood in my veins got hot. Did evolution inscribe this primitive melody and rhythym in my mind for some...
...jazz musicians, of course, are abandoning their convictions for crossover record profits. A number, like Taylor and Coleman, have headed in the opposite direction: into free-form experimental jazz, which seems to flaunt its abrasive sound, hitting you like a kick in the ear. Free jazz dispenses with the chord progressions and set rhythm that traditionally have ordered jazz, leaving each member of a group free to improvise both notes and tempo. It is intense sounding and often looks to the emotional power of African music for its antecedents. Says Taylor: "One of the things I had to divorce myself...
Carter rode the rails for all they were worth. Her voice drove effortlessly over octave jumps and lightning arpeggios, dropping into racing scat syllables that taxed its entire range and timbre. She finally chugged home on a slow, low, unresolved chord, leaving the song unfinished until the cheers silenced it for good...
There is no slick stuff about Seger, not on the records and not in concert. His brown hair flows over the collars of modified Elizabethan shirts, stage gear long out of favor. The music has no labyrinthine lyrics or arcane chord changes. Seger still opens his show with Tina Turner's good-humored, hard-rocker Nutbush City Limits, and the song sets the tone for what follows: plain good times...
...himself. While Robertson respects some boundaries of taste and discretion, the film bears the entirely self-centered stamp that characterizes the music business. If this taint is unavoidable, The Last Waltz keeps it to a palatable minimum. Nonetheless the self-consciousness of the whole effort continually strikes a negative chord. There is nothing as cheaply obvious as a singer directing his eyes and gestures solely to the camera and ignoring the audience. The atmosphere of the film is suffused with an inescapable sense of heady profiteering--remember, boys, this one's a wrap, and don't forget about...