Dialogo HHV Records 23 Items

The first-ever reissue of Gianni Marchetti's 1978 LP "Solstitium", released as part of RCA's venerable "Original Cast" series in a handful of promo copies only, sits among the most rare and enigmatic artifacts of Italian library music, it is heralded by collectors as one of the greatest free-standing gestures in the entire genre.

Riyl: Piero Umiliani, Egisto Macchi, Stefano Torossi

Gianni Marchetti's Solstitium, originally released in 1978 as part of RCA's prestigious Original Cast series, stands as one of the most elusive and iconic records within the realm of Italian library music. Its first-ever reissue brings this long-sought gem back into circulation, offering an opportunity for modern listeners to experience its raw, innovative energy and immersive soundscapes. Originally released in only a handful of promo copies, Solstitium quickly became a holy grail for collectors, its rarity only adding to its mystique and allure. The album embodies a free-spirited, avant-garde approach to composition, blending elements of jazz, progressive rock, and experimental electronic music. Marchetti’s use of unconventional instrumentation and studio techniques marks Solstitium as an audacious departure from the more conventional library music of the era. ‘Solstitium’ remains a fascinating listening experience, revealing new layers with every listen, and it is not surprising that it has earned its place as one of Marchetti's most revered works, continuing to fascinate old fans and new listeners alike.

"Equinox", Gianni Marchetti's 1977 twin album of "Solstitium", released in a handful of promo copies by RCA in their renowned "Original Cast" series, takes us on a journey through the author's groovier and wilder temperament, feeling as fresh and surprising today as the day it was made, offering immediate understanding of the reasons why it has remained one of his most sought after - and virtually impossible to find - titles over the decades.

Riyl: Piero Umiliani, Sandro Brugnolini, Stefano Torossi

The limited release as part of RCA's "Original Cast" series only increased its mystique, making it a coveted piece among collectors and connoisseurs. The album's distinctive character lies in its spontaneous, freewheeling approach, which contrasts with the more polished productions of the era. It's a perfect example of Marchetti's unique vision, where each track seems to evolve organically, offering both intricate musicianship and a sense of unrestrained creativity.

Piero Umiliani’s “L’Uomo e la Città” perfectly fits into the urban-themed section of Italian library music, an album where our Man is accompanied by jazz celebrities Bruno Tommaso, Oscar Valdambrini, Dino Piana and Nino Rapicavoli, all part of this Umiliani-led ensemble. “L’Uomo e la Città” takes less risks in favor of an extraordinary jazz tightness (“Rete Urbana”, “Quartieri Alti”, “Città Frenetica”), but amazes even more in the two excellent renditions of “Centrale Termica” and “Suoni della Città”, among the best tracks of the album.

The first-ever LP box set gathering the entire 10 albums collection of Obscure Records produced by Brian Eno’s. Curated by Gavin Bryars Originally issued between 1975 and 1978, nearly 50 years on the output of Obscure remains radically forward-thinking - offering glimpses of a future yet to be fully seen - and amounts to one of the most important, influential, and creatively accomplished album series ever conceived. Co-curated by Eno and the composers Gavin Bryars and Michael Nyman - issuing the recording debuts of Bryars, Nyman, John Adams, Christopher Hobbs, David Toop, Max Eastley, Jan Steele, Simon Jeffes / The Penguin Café Orchestra, and Harold Budd, in addition to important works by John Cage, Tom Phillips, and John White - Obscure’s collective output is a groundbreaking landmark in the histories of Minimalism, modern composition, and Experimental music, and laid much of the groundwork for the soon to emerge movement of Ambient music. Illuminating the remarkable, and largely otherwise undocumented, creative ferment within and between the British and American scenes of experimental music during the mid to late 1970s, this collection - made in full collaboration with all of the composers or their estates - contains the entire 10 album output of Obscure, the majority of which have been out of print for years, with a number having never received a CD reissue. Offering each of Obscure’s albums, completely remastered and housed in faithful replicas of their original covers and liner notes, as well as a 80-page book (LP dimension) for Lp-box SET, filled with rare photos, archival material and texts by - among others - Gavin Bryars, Bradford Bailey, David Toop, Max Eastley, Richard Bernas, and Tom Recchion, this historic collection marks the first time this seminal series has received a complete LP repress.

Long coveted by diggers, connoisseurs and beat makers, here we have the first-ever reissue of Amedeo Tommasi's "Industria 2000", released in 1974 via RCA's "Original Cast" series under his Jarrell alias. These 12 sonic experiments - totally devoted to synthesizers - offer tense tonalities, dissonant ambiences, complex textures, white noise rides and muted rhythms that can easily be seen as cornerstones of what would become later known as Industrial Music, also anticipating the sonic landscapes found in some of the early Warp Records releases. Comprising 12 tracks entirely devoted to synthesizers, Industria 2000 explores a range of stark, tense tonalities and dissonant atmospheres. The album’s complex textures, white noise swells, and muted rhythms can be seen as precursors to industrial music, anticipating the aggressive, abrasive soundscapes that would later come to define the genre. It is clear that Tommasi's work was not only ahead of its time but was also laying the foundations for the sound realms explored in the early days by major electronic record labels of the 1990s and future electronic pioneers.

Enrico Rava was the first Italian jazz artist to represent the country internationally, born in Trieste in 1939. A border city with a long history as part of Austria, an important port on the Adriatic see, a places influenced by different cultures. Rava's music at its best is a product of this city - a mix of Central European and Italian culture. 'Pupa o Crisalide' is one of the most interesting works in Enrico's discography. It is a good summary of the first phase of his solo career, and contains tracks recorded with three different line-ups: an all-Italian line-up for the opener "Pupa O Crisalide" and the closer "Giromondo", recorded in Rome with Giovanni Tommaso, Bruno Biriaco, Franco D'Andrea, Michele Ascolese, Mandrake and Tommaso Vittorini - an Argentinian octet for the B-side of the LP, recorded in Buenos Aires, and finally an impressive American septet with Jack DeJohnette and John Abercrombie, to name a few for the A-side, recorded in New York. The musical style clearly reflects the composite nature of the album. The first half is funkier, edgier and more fiery, evidently influenced by the jazz-rock/fusion tendencies that were spreading at the time. The second is more placid, elegantly incorporating some Latin/samba elements into the alchemy. The two halves are held together by the similarity in timbre of the line-ups (which feature almost the same elements), and Enrico Rava's renowned trumpet style. Often compared to Miles Davis and Kenny Wheeler, his technique involves rarefied notes, full of atmosphere, and erratic melodic lines that surprisingly do not undermine the 'presence' of his trumpet sound. On the contrary, the charisma of Rava's trumpet seems to emerge precisely from this surprising balance of detachment and red blood.

Alvin Lucier (born May 14, 1931) is an American composer of experimental music and sound installations that explore acoustic phenomena and auditory perception. Much of his work is influenced by science and explores the physical properties of sound itself: resonance of spaces, phase interference between closely tuned pitches, and the transmission of sound through physical media. Bird and Person Dyning is his first solo recorded work; originally released on the Italian Cramps Records label as the 11th volume of the Nova Musicha series dedicated to contemporary avant-garde composers, Bird and Person Dyning is now made available again on Dialogo in a faithful reproduction of the original gatefold cover artwork, including also an inner sleeve with the English translation of the liner notes. From the original liner notes of “Bird and Person Dyning”: The Duke of York (1972) “A long time ago I wanted to build a grotesque jukebox. I thought of merging three or four old jukeboxes and then recording sounds on 45s, so that you could mix the sounds together. [...] The original idea of this work was about the power of singers and vedettes in our society and the hypothesis that their vocal personalities are present in our memory at different levels and, in addition, that all of us, living or dead, might somehow be part of a huge composite identity that is constantly changing with the birth and arrival of new people. The Duke of York is an attempt to elaborate these ideas. A single performer chooses and determines the order of an indefinite number of whole songs, speeches, arias, selected excerpts from books, letters, poems, films, plays, TV series or any other vocal sounds, including non-human ones. The actual duration of these sounds is altered by one or more people using synthesisers or other electronic tools, basing their choices on memories or similar experiences. Once altered, for example through a filter, the example can no longer be undone, and other changes must be made to the previous examples. The effect is that of a vocal identity made of layers of separate and partial iden tities. [...] The Duke of York was composed in 1971 and was performed in its current version on 19 February 1972 at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art in New York. Bird and Person Dyning (1975) for performers with microphones, amplifiers, speakers and a sound object. One day I got an electronic bird in the mail. It was a silver ball with an electrical cord that, when connected, made a sound similar to that of a chirping bird [...]. A few months later I read an article in «Scientific American» about how certain birds that fly at night, particularly the bunting, cross long distances by partly orienting themselves looking at the position of the stars in relation to the rotation of Earth [...]. I owned a Sennheiser binaural microphone consisting of two mini microphones which, when introduced into the ears of a dummy or a person, faithfully reproduced the sounds as heard when they were bouncing inside the head and in the ear canals. I began experimenting by moving the sounds of the bird between two speakers, listening to them through the two mini microphones inserted in my ears, as I walked slowly through the space between the two speakers. The amplified chirps moved left and right according to my movements, creating small time delays and phase-shifts in relation to the position of the motionless bird. Sometimes the microphones would resonate with the loudspeakers, thus generating a Larsen feedback, and I could control the timbre and volume with small head movements [...]. A performance of Bird and Person Dyning is a live exploration of these phenomena. The title is meant as an exact description of the activity.

Martin Davorin Jagodić (1935 – 2020) was a Croatian contemporary music composer and educator. His work includes theatre music, graphic scores, instructions for performances, multimedia installation art, radio art, electroacoustic music on tape as well as experimental film soundtracks. Despite a very long series of performances during the years, only one single LP has officially been released under his name, named Tempo Furioso (Tolles Wetter), a collage of electronic and ‘found sounds’ divided in two long movements (one for each side of the LP). Originally released on the Italian Cramps Records label as the 8th volume of the Nova Musicha series dedicated to contemporary avant-garde composers, Tempo Furioso is now made available again on Dialogo in a faithful reproduction of the original gatefold cover artwork, including also an inner sleeve with the English translation of the liner notes. From the original liner notes of “Tempo Furioso”: My first thought was to state that ‘Tempo Furioso’ is a version of the song entitled ‘Tolles Wetter’. But things are not so straight-forward (after all, what is a version?), so I prefer to talk a bit about ‘Tolles Wetter’. This way, I am sure that I will be able to avoid illustrating the relationships existing between the ‘version’ of ‘Tempo Furioso’ and the ‘original’, namely the music of ‘Tolles Wetter’. Reading the diagram of ‘Tolles Wetter’ will help in listening to the record. It will also explain why I am forced to avoid the terms ‘version’ or ‘variation’. These expressions, for several years now, have become faithful counterparts to certain compositions featuring ‘multiple possible versions’; they make us almost automatically think of any ‘Third Sonata’, ‘Klavierstück XI’ or other open works of this kind. Because all of this is very far from my work, I do not want to use any of these terms. They would inevitably mislead the listener [...]. I’m saying all this in order to reassure the listener, who might otherwise think they are in front of a second-hand work (a minor version) and would therefore feel deprived, almost robbed, of the original. So, what is ‘Tolles Wetter’? The actualisation of a (musical) situation – a place, an action – in which we are at home, well warmed up, in our room, while outside there is a storm. The disturbing elements – atmospheric or otherwise – are already there and will eventually find their way into our space. (Have you ever noticed that there are places, whole cities, that are penetrated by frequencies that create a particular kind of sound – oscillations that are in the air?). They can be fire, or some annoying ‘Tafelmusik’ (“what’s going on under my table?”), wood creaking, wind blowing, as well as lines connecting us with the outside world, far away as it might be (radio stations, for instance). Now, little by little, our situation becomes more complex. It is no longer a question of one story but of several. Bad weather has definitively stabilised (this does not mean that the action always has to be actualised in a violent way; not all possible actualisations are like ‘Tempo Furioso’). Weather and time-duration are confused, we are invaded by memories, by projects... The different situations appear more and more like crystallised and superimposed objects/images, as if one wanted to be everywhere at the same time. Zigzagging through time, stumbling, enlarging the picture... reading makes its way into this picture. Of course, not all actions can be performed at the same time. The overall actualisation/hearing will depend on the organisation of the connections. In sight of a global actualisation/hearing, roles are distributed, and the scripts of the different versions of the same story are written. At this point, we can already better understand the sense in which - regarding the relationship between ‘Tolles Wetter’ and ‘Tempo Furioso’ - the term ‘version’ has little meaning. Let’s say, therefore, that ‘Tempo Furioso’ is a possible actualisation that came to be because of its recording. This also explains why – and perhaps helps instigate – different and diverse possibilities of overlapping sides and records are proposed.

Piero Umiliani’s Africa was released in January 1972, a years-ahead record that includes the prog-tingedblack rhythm of “Africa To-Day”, the ‘fourth world’ inspiration coming from Jon Hassell’s “Green Dawn”, the‘exotic’ references in Martin Denny’s style (“Lonely Village”, “Echos”), the electronic new wave (hearing is believing!) of “Sortilège”, the folk music (“Rite”, “Folk-Tune”). An incredible album summarizes sounds and styles that will make the fortune of much more celebrated and popular musicians and artists.

Africa (1972) In 1972 Piero Umiliani was above all the man of a thousand soundtracks and the first Italian jazz experiments; from his later career we’ll soon learn that wasn’t enough for him, showing just a tiny part of a more complex picture. Closed within the walls of his Sound Work Shop Studio, the Maestro was weaving much more complicated and satisfying plots, incorporating dozens of influences from a life spent experimenting and discovering new sounds. Among the most fascinating ones, those who came from a continent like Africa, as much fabled as actually little known, but enchanting to the point that Umiliani dedicated to it the entire Africa - which is paired with its twin-record Continente Nero - and released it as M. Zalla, pseudonym used when it came to tidying up uncompromising and avant-garde music textures, as will later happen with masterpieces such as Suspense, Problemi D’Oggi or Mondo Inquieto. Always keep in mind when this album had been released, in January 1972, before approaching its content: here the prog-tinged black rhythm of Africa To-Day, the ‘fourth world’ inspiration coming from Jon Hassell’s Green Dawn, the ‘exotic’ references in Martin Denny’s style (Lonely Village, Echos), the electronic new wave (hearing is believing!) of Sortilège, the folk music (Rite, Folk-Tune). Many years in advance, in Africa Piero Umiliani summarizes sounds and styles that will make the fortune of much more celebrated and popular musicians and artists.

In February and March of 1977, for Brian Eno’s Obscure Records, I made a version of Irma. The following notes on the piece arise out of that involvement and try to show how the piece can be made into a performance state. Irma is a curious score – it is printed on a single sheet 50cms x 50cms. The notation consists of fragments from Tom’s continuing treatment of the victorian novel by W. H. Mallock, which he calls A Humument, and utilises those short verbal fragments that refer to either ‘‘libretto’’, ‘‘decor and mise-en-scène’’ or ‘‘sounds’’. These 3 categories are arranged in separate sections on the square sheet with, at the bottom, a line of stave notation. At first sight it looks like a piece of indeterminate music – clearly there has to be some preparatory work done before it is performable and no-one would venture to perform directly from the score - but if it is approached in this spirit, like realising a piece by John Cage or Morton Feldman written during the 1950’s, the sounding results are either largely of a documentary interest, or rely entirely on the gifted performer to make into a coherent sounding whole. True, one could say the same thing for a piece by Cage, such as Variations I, but there the performer is given a number of precise parameters of sound within which he should work, whereas Irma needs to be re-composed rather than realised. If the distinction between ‘‘composing’’ and ‘‘realising’’ is overlooked, and if only the materials present in the notation are used, then the result is likely to be impoverished and it is clear that, looked at in isolation as a self-contained work, the score is notationally very thin. So one either produces an impoverished piece of sounding music, or one takes the responsibility to look further. Tom does not say explicitly that one must go beyond Irma into the rest of his work, but he does say that one has to go outside the piece. On the score he writes: ‘‘Perhaps to treat the indications here given as if they were the only surviving fragments of an ancient opera, or fragments of eye and ear witnesses’ accounts of such, and given no knowledge of performance tradition of the time, to reconstruct a hypothetical whole which would accommodate them economically, would be an appropriate basis of approach to a production.’’ So, try to put it back together and try to fill in all the gaps between these fragments. This approach, which, incidentally coincides with an interest in such procedures within my own work, seems to be the most suitable. If the ‘‘composer’’ uses the sorts of methods that Tom evidently uses in producing pictures, in making A Humument (of which Irma is a part), and if he uses the notations of Irma as clues to lead him into whatever area seems likely to yield rich results, then a much more satisfactory outcome is likely – satisfactory both in terms of the quality of the sounding material and in terms of consistency with the rest of Tom’s oeuvre. There are clearly many ways in which the various fragments of verbal notation can be used. One fruitful way was to take each of the fragments as the notes of, say, a critic at the only performance of the work (in a hypothetical past), perhaps jotted down on the back of an envelope (then torn into fragments in a rage, or through frustration at some element in the piece? Make the piece inadequate in some way?!). These elements, then, would have been memorable for some reason or other, or used as an aide-memoire to recall something else (even something outside the work). The elements could have occurred at evenly-spaced intervals throughout the performance, they may have all been featured in some way (loudly, as solos), they may have been the worst parts (being retained to damn the piece in a subsequent review, since lost or never written – the composer got wind of the review and murdered the critic, retaining the fragments as the only link with the crime. . .). On the other hand they could be used as discrete musical units quite separate from the main body of the work, which has to be looked for elsewhere. Whatever solution, or combination of solutions, is found it is evident that the composer and librettist are more or less obliged to move outside the work itself i.e. outside the printed score. (One of the original ideas I had, which was not very practical, was to see if I could use another opera called Irma. A possibility was one written by H. J. Banawitz first performed in 1885, which would have had the right period in terms of the connection with the W. H. Mallock original. This seems to have had few performances, perhaps only one, and seems to have disappeared. I thought of looking for the manuscript, treating it in the same way as Tom had treated the Mallock novel, and making a sort of ‘‘musical Humument’’ out of it. While that seemed to have some intellectual sympathy with Tom's work, it might not have sounded anything like an opera, and it did seem to me that one of the notions of Irma is that it is conventional to some degree. Indeed, while much of Tom’s musical work lies within the field of experimental music and graphic notation, his musical taste is conservative, and the greater part of the musical references in the main body of his work are to past, and historically respectable, composers like Brahms, Mozart, Fux, Scarlatti and so on.) The sources that were used, then, in making the piece apart from the score itself involved the following. I obtained the volumes of A Humument and noted all connection with music, with the role of Irma, and with the possible narrative; I looked at all the prints of Ein Deutsches Requiem after Brahms, which use elements from the Humument and refer directly to a musical work; I went through the catalogue of Tom’s work (Works. Texts to 1974); I went through Trailer, which uses the Humument, in fact a spin off from the main work; I went through all the other pieces of music that he has written to see if they could be used in any way; and I checked as many paintings/prints that I could which had a direct or indirect connection with either A Humument, Irma or with music. The painting The Quest for Irma (1973) which shows her in back view looking out to sea gave much information. It is the only portrait of her and she appears even here as anonymous, or rather, faceless. It gives a marine setting for the work (though since at least two pieces of music that I have written deal, to some degree, with marine incidents it might be argued that I might have been better off avoiding such a reference, but it is very blatant). She is looking out to sea from the Dorset coast and this attitude seems to be characteristic of her behaviour: ‘‘I tell you. . . that’s Irma herself. . . watching the waves fall. . . repeating certain sorts of verse. . .’’ So here we have an elusive heroine, obsessively watching the sea off the Dorset coast, given to repetition. Further checks within the Humument revealed a spate of marine references: ‘‘boat of dreams. . . lost on rocks’’; ‘‘the sad horizon of sea, hours she spent with her sadness on the beach’’; ‘‘see, see, the things. . . the things from the changed sea’’; ‘‘a cruise in an opium clipper’’; ‘‘marine engines and boilers’’; ‘‘ten years’ travel and sport in foreign lands’’; ‘‘a certain light flashed. . . among the eastern clouds’’; ‘‘sinking lights. . .’’ and so on. On the other hand, she is not in mourning since she wears a bright red dress. One page of A Humument is almost a summary of the feeling of Irma and is certainly one that I tried to emulate. ‘‘. . . The whole history of it is so vague. . . eagerly, gradually the words that I heard I put aside as an opera, an insufficient one; still organ for what – me, me. . . I can’t quite tell. hardly books. . . it was the libretto of the music, of the music – I can’t tell. . . I can’t tell - but all was for the same thing to capture in drawing, and to express in music, thought and study. . . the loss. . . the least important. . . moon I myself am myself in search of an object for love? way? Yes and no – enter myself. . . associating me and me. It made me within me some mystery. . .’’ Other pages give more precise information about particular sounds, rhythms, timbres and so on. The instrumentation was, to a large extent, governed by the references to musical instruments that I found in all these sources. ‘‘Tube’’ suggested tuba. The piano is mentioned many times, especially in connection with John Tilbury. The gong is specified – ‘‘suddenly a gong in series’’ – which also gave me the whole of a short percussion interlude between the second and third sections of the work. Strings were suggested by a phrase ‘‘the history viola’’ occurring in A Humument and this gave me a reason to feature the viola in some way, in fact using it in unison with the female voice, identifying the viola with the title of the opera. The fact of having strings is such a convention of normal orchestral scoring that it would really have needed a positive clue to the contrary to have excluded them, bearing in mind the relationship of the piece to musical convention. I used the tuned percussion, and especially metallic instruments, from certain onomatopaeic syllables, like ‘‘ting’’, ‘‘ping’’, ‘‘ding’’ which I had originally considered using as a chorus of instrumental imitations, but decided ultimately to use the instruments themselves. Two of the prints from Ein Deutsches Requiem after Brahms gave me a great deal of material for the second section of the opera, a slow duet between the two main characters. Print number 5 shows a number of parasols, both closed and open, and has the legend ‘‘. . . a sound was given up’’ taken from A Humument. That particular picture suggested itself since there is, within both the score of Irma and within the published Humument a fragment which reads ‘‘the first parasol sound’’, with the addition, in Irma, of ‘‘f, f’’ indicating loud. From the text of the Requiem printed on the picture, I could find the precise section of music in the Brahms original which consists of a solo for trombone (in the score I use baritone horn for its greater flexibility and ease of pitching, but it uses the same range, and has the added advantage of resembling the French Horn, an instrument more closely associated with noble operatic melodies.). The ‘‘parasol sound’’, then, indicated that I should use that particular instrument. What it plays came from another source, from the score of Irma. which gives ‘‘quiet, high, intonation divine. . .’’ and ‘‘. . . drops the tone . . . various phrases. . .’’ all of which enabled me to have that particular instrument playing, with "divine intonation’’, a long melodic line consisting of a descending stepwise chromatic scale from top E down an octave, but very elongated. The other use of the Requiem was for the other half of the slow section, and used the following print, number 6, which refers to a sequence of rather chromatic chords in the original which I used as fragments, like the Irma score, inserting chords of my own between groups of those by Brahms to make a new sequence. So the whole of the second section uses references to the Brahms Requiem – in the first half to the harmonic content (vertical), in the second half to the melodic line (horizontal). The last section of the piece, a chorus ‘‘Love is help, mate’’ uses a page of A Humument that is dedicated to Morton Feldman, though the actual results bear no relation to Feldman's music as such. What I did with that page was to look through some of Feldman's music to see if there was anything in it that was consistent with the way that I was approaching the score of Irma. It occurred to me to use a vocal piece for something that would be vocal within Irma and since Tom had dedicated another page to Christian Wolff – in fact a page of Trailer – and since Wolff and Feldman were close associates with Cage in the 1950’s, I used a piece called Christian Wolff in Cambridge (in spite of the fact that Tom had attended Oxford, and the Cambridge here refers to Harvard). This is a wordless choral piece which is hummed – and I used a lot of humming in the score, often as a means of separating discrete images – and consists of mildly dissonant chords. There were, however, one or two more consonant ones and I omitted those which sounded like ‘‘modern music’’, and so was left with one or two chords that I used, along with others interjected to produce a smooth flow, as the accompaniment to the melody of ‘‘Love is help mate’’. The addition of other chords was necessary because of the static quality of Feldman’s piece in which each chord is an isolated entity, and this mirrored what I was doing, on a larger scale, with the whole of Irma; taking isolated fragments and finding ways of reassembling them into a continuous whole. It could be said that I was doing to Feldman what Tom had done to Mallock since each of us extracted from a body of material what was needed for a particular circumstance, though my extraction was a good deal more cursory. The melody that this accompanies comes from a number of sources. One of these is the stave notation and references to specific notes on Irma itself – about 60% of the notes in the melody – the rest being added by myself. One of the ideas for this came from Eric Sams’ researches into the ciphers in Schumann's music, and in particular from the fact that he originally found a clue to the cipher by finding 5-note melodic phrases in which the 1st, 3rd and 5th notes were C-a-a (Schumann’s wife was called Clara) and this gave the possibility of finding what L and R became in the musical code, and thence other possible letters. Using this notion, using the notes given by Irma, and inserting between them other notes, the melodic lines are composed by myself but taking as a starting point the notation of Irma. The stave notation at the bottom of the score I found more usable in this way, and also as bass-lines, in transposition, rather than as originally given. There are, obviously, some very direct references in the score, and it is the presence of these that ensure a very eclectic result: references like ‘‘the Ring’’, ‘‘the Emperor’’, ‘‘the International’’. The first of these, allied to a notation that refers to many ‘‘s’s’’ (German for E flat) suggested the opening of the Rheingold. The second, ‘‘Emperor’’, could have been a number of references – the ‘‘Emperor’’ Waltz (Strauss), the ‘‘Emperor’’ Concerto (Beethoven), the ‘‘Emperor’’ Quartet (Haydn) and so on. In the event I used the last two, and toyed with the idea of using the source for Haydn’s ‘‘Emperor’’ Quartet viz. his ‘‘Emperor Hymn’’ which became the Austrian national anthem, and which was, in its turn taken from a Croatian folk tune. I considered omitting all the musical references and only using the words of this latter ‘‘Vjutro rano se ja stanem Mal pred zorom’’ – and relished the fact that I would have been injecting something with precise semantic value, though one which I did not understand, but in the end omitted it for reasons of pronunciation difficulty. With ‘‘the International’’, I was delighted that it was misspelt (Internationale) and this made of it a lipogram (like the Ellery Queen story that omits the letter ‘‘t’’) and so I quoted the music leaving out the note ‘‘e’’. I had also considered the idea of the lipogram in another context. The original of A Humument is the Victorian novel A Human Document which leaves behind the letters AN DOC, and this gives a lipogrammatic anagram of NO ADC, that is, to avoid the notes A D and C in the piece as a whole. This seemed to be excessive, however, since it would have effectively ruled out one of the two vowels available in musical cryptography, and they are not easy to come by.

‘‘Aran’’ and ‘‘McCrimmon Will Never Return’’ date from the period 1970-72, and were written for the Promenade Theatre Orchestra, a group started by White, consisting of 4 performers; White, Hobbs, Hugh Shrapnel and Alec Hill. ‘‘Aran’’was written at a time when the PTO was beginning to combine the sounds of reed organs and toy pianos, the original instruments of the group, with some newly-acquired percussion instruments. The note-to-note procedure of the piece was determined by random means, in the hope of producing a gentle unpredictability in the final result. It was hoped that the whole would be grittily resonant. This recorded version, for 12 performers, is generally more soft-centred than the original.

American Standard Although the instrumentation of the piece is not specified, an ideal group would be similar to that which performed this version, recorded at the first performance of the piece in March 1973. It is played by the New Music Ensemble of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, directed by John Adams, the composer, and the instruments used here are: Flute, clarinet, clarinet (doubling bass-clarinet), clarinet (doubling bass-drum), tuba, percussion (trap set), violin, 2 violas, cello, double-bass, and harp. A conductor is not necessary for performance, since the arrangement and distribution of parts depends on what instruments are available, and ensemble problems that arise are ‘‘to be worked out in standard American fashion: proposal, debate and vote’’. Extra materials, that anyone making a version considers appropriate, may be used in performance in various forms whether film, tape, video, speech, mime, dance etc. Each section of this performance has at least one example of the use of ‘‘extra materials’’. The piece is in 3 parts, each separately performable, and separately titled: 1. John Philip Sousa The use of a steady, insistent pulse makes the title’s derivation quite clear; the pulse is given by a bass drum and other instruments have constant pitches which are departed from and returned to. As with all 3 pieces, the dynamics are restrained and undramatic, with the exception of the ‘‘extra material’’ – a crisp snare-drum roll that both sets the tone and gives a dramatic touch that is not present anywhere else. This is not in the score. 2. Christian Zeal and Activity The main body of the music consists of a series of long held notes, very consonant, in 4 parts which are occasionally synchronised to give unified chords. The instruments are divided into 4 groups according to their pitch ranges, with at least one sustaining instrument in a group, each group having a leader who cues movement from one note to the next. During this piece, the ‘‘extra material’’ consists of a tape-recording of a radio talk-show. 3. Sentimentals This is the most melodic piece of the 3 and the one which involves the greatest range of variation, quoting extensively from Duke Ellington’s ‘‘Sophisticated Lady’’.The gentle swing of the trap set, that is added during the piece, is again not included in the score, and its presence gives the sound a distinctively Californian feel, close to that of the Beach Boys, or Hollywood studio bands.The curious ending is an ironic affirmation of the maudlin chromaticism of the Ellington piece which generates the music.

McCrimmon Will Never Return ‘‘McCrimmon Will Never Return’’ stems from a temporary interest in Piobaireachd (Pibroch), the most highly developed form of Scottish bagpipe music. The melody of the title has several variants, which are played simultaneously on 4 reed organs. The tempo is sufficiently slow that the characteristic skirls or flourishes in the music become audible as individual notes.

1, 2, 1-2-3-4 The piece is for instrumentalists/vocalists, each wearing headphones connected to a portable cassette machine. Each performer hears only the music in his headphones, music which contains ‘‘parts’’for his instrument or voice, and he plays, along with the cassette, his own instrumental part. His ability to reproduce this part depends on how familiar he is with what he hears, and this can range from careful practice over a period of weeks with his cassette to an immediate response from a first or second hearing. The present recording, to some extent, contains elements of these two extremes: a few players had played the piece on other occasions (at least one of which used the same material as is used on this recording), while others became acquainted with it for the first time in the recording studio. Each performer plays the‘‘part’’that corresponds to his instrument.Thus, if the music be jazz, a bassist is likely to play more than, say, a violinist. In the case of a bassist hearing jazz (and, hence, usually a bass) on his headphones, he would attempt to play, as best he can, the bass-line in the headphones such that there is an intended one-to-one relationship between what he plays and what he hears in the headphones. He may try his part several times beforehand, or he may choose to busk ‘‘on the night’’, like the accompanist in cabaret who is told, in the middle of the act on stage, that there are no parts for the next number but that it is ‘‘Happy Streets and Paper Rainbows in D flat, 1, 2, 1-2-3-4’’ (and his entry must be prompt, even to the extent of ‘‘inventing’’ an eight-bar introduction). In this performance, all the players have identical material on their cassettes, though each was recorded individually and not copied simultaneously, and their performance reflects a number of variables that occur: the starting point of the music on the cassettes is not precise (but the click of the machines switching on, however, is); the cassettes may not be all running at the same speed due to the uneven quality of the different machines, the state of their batteries and so on, and this, in turn, affects both the duration and key of the piece; players vary in their ability to ‘‘shadow’’ material (i.e. to simultaneously hear and reproduce); players, in this recording, vary in their familiarity with the material. The material itself, however, is perfectly homogeneous and the dislocations that occur do not destroy this. The piece was originally written for a series of concerts organised by John White and is, amiably, dedicated to him.

THE Composers’ Notes ON THE Works

The Machines, which date from the period 1967-1972 represent a departure from the more traditionally “narrative” nature of the rest of my pieces. I use the word Machine to define a consistent process governing a series of musical actions within a particular sound world and, by extension, the listener’s perception thereof. One might thus regard the Welsh Rarebit as a Machine in which a process is applied to the conditioning and perception of the world of bread and cheese. Autumn Countdown Machine presents the guaranteed dis-simultaneity of six pairs of bass melody instruments, each conducted by a percussionist playing in time with, and making minor adjustments to the setting of a bell-metronome. Son of Gothic Chord presents four keyboard players’ mobilisation of a sequential chord progression rising through the span of an octave. Jews Harp Machine presents various permutations of the articulations “Ging, Gang, Gong,Gung, Ho!” Drinking and Hooting Machine presents some observations on the world of bottles and their non-percussive musical potential. The effect of this piece has been compared to that of a large aviary full of owls all practising very slow descending scales.

John White, March 1976

THE Squirrel AND THE Ricketty Racketty Bridge The piece, for one player of two guitars, was written at the request of Derek Bailey, the jazz guitarist, in 1971. I had worked closely with Bailey from 1963-6 in and around Sheffield as a member of a group which included Tony Oxley on drums and myself on double-bass. Since that time, I have lost all interest in jazz, and in improvisation, and since Bailey was involved in both I wrote a piece which uses a technique which Bailey would be unlikely to have evolved in his playing. The two guitars are played simultaneously, each one lying flat on its back, and they are arranged side by side so that the two fingerboards can be played with the fingers hammering down on them, like two keyboards. In addition, the score contains a number of ironic references to jazz and to its critical literature - short texts added to the ‘musical’ notations, somewhat in the spirit of Erik Satie, involving the performer in a hypothetical dialogue with the composer using fragments culled from particularly banal pieces of jazz criticism e.g. “ ‘there is an area up here’, holding his hand above his head, palm down,’ where musical categories do not exist.’ ”. The left hand of the player moves at an even pulse, like the walking jazz bass, at a tempo “between Lady is a Tramp” as a medium bounce, and Cherokee as an embarrassment to lesser, and more intrepid, musicians”, while the right hand punctuates this with short notes, like a highly selective, or extremely lazy, trumpet soloist. The title involves an oblique pun to do with the nut of the guitar, the guitar’s bridge, the faint noise of the music in between – that each attack gives two pitches rather than one – and an English children’s song about Billy Goat Gruff. Derek Bailey recorded the piece on Incus Records in 1971, and this new version is a multiple one, four players on eight guitars, in which each player uses a pair of guitars which are characteristically different from those used by the others.

First time officially reissue, sourced from the original master tapes in a new edition, the Milan based imprint Dialogo, returns with this compilation published in Italy by RCA Victor in 1962 - a precious historical document of some important international jazz and pop artists who came to Italy and left their marks, influencing the generations of those golden years. The RCA artists on this LP record have only two things in common: “Inter-continental Airport Rome-Fiumicino” stamped on their passports and a great love for Italy. As a tribute to the country which gave them a friendly welcome and where they spent unforgettable vacations and reaped enthusiastic applause, all of them chose to sing songs in Italian or perform - in the case of Perez Prado - a number of outstanding Italian hits. The dazzling trumpets and electrifying rhythms of Perez Prado, the captivating voice of Helen Merrill, rightly considered the top-notch white jazz singer by critics over the world, the young, all-time best-sellers, Paul Anka and Neil Sedaka, the fantastic trumpet of Chet Baker and his mysterious swinging style of singing, and lastly Antonio Prieto, the Latin-American singer-songwriter who wrote “LA Novia”, are the guest stars of this “passport TO Italy”, which, more than a record, is a full-fledged musical show, with a vast assortment of voices, of musical styles and songs. The Italian pronunciation of these North and South American recording artists is virtually perfect and particularly praiseworthy, if for no other reason than for the effort they have made in getting around, in just a few days, the difficult twists and turns of the Italian language. Their accent is naturally somewhat exotic but it only adds to the charm and the originality of the interpretations. The “show” opens with the already classic “arrivederci Roma”, which, though turned into an overpowering “chunga” by Perez Prado, has kept all its original melody intact. Prado, the wizard of Latin-American dance music, is an extremely refined blender of sounds and rhythms, and without any difficulty can take even a Neapolitan song, change it into a mambo and adapt it to his orchestra. In “guaglione”, for example, the “corruption” comes off perfectly and testifies to the everfresh inventiveness and the unmistakable personality of the Cuban-born pianist arranger. Helen Merrill prefers quality over quantity and so has made very few records but they already occupy a place of their own in the annals of jazz. She consented to record two popular ballads only because Armando Trovajoli, the most qualified exponent of Italian jazz as well as a far-out modernist, was to conduct the orchestra. Furthermore, the two songs, “nessuno AL Mondo” and “estate” are particularly congenial to her musical temperament, for she is most of all concerned with creating subtle and seductive moods, making an intelligent use of her vocal resources in that she tries to “add” her voice to the orchestra as though it were another instrument. Canadian-born Paul Anka, by now a regular member of the exclusive club of top-selling vocal artists of America, presents one of his own songs, “ogni Giorno” originally entitled “love ME Warm AND Tender”, the most requested hit in his present-day repertoire. And the young singing star’s interpretation of “voglio Sapere” (“i’d Like TO Know”) once again makes clear why his name became a permanent fixture as all-time best-seller. Neil Sedaka is another representative of the younger generation of American singers. When he was still in high school in Brooklyn, Neil became a close friend of one of schoolmates: Howard Greenfield. The two of them wrote numerous songs together for school shows: Neil handled the music and Howard the words. Their collaboration proved extremely fruitful, and they were soon to make their debut as professional songwriters with two hits of the calibre of “stupid Cupid” and “falling”. The Sedaka-Greenfield team, which in only a few year time has become one of the best-known, presents, in Italian, two songs which in their original tongue have already climbed to the top: “esagerata” (“little Devil”), translated by Leo Chiosso, and “UN Giorno Inutile” (“I Must BE Dreaming”), translated by Gentile and De Simoni. After Sedaka comes one of the big names of cool jazz: Chet Baker. Trumpet-player and singer, he proves here for the nth time that the names “Golden Trumpet” and “Angel Voice”, given him not only by his fans but by the crites as well, are in no way exaggerated. With an at once restless, desperate and almost possessed musical style, Chet sings and plays two songs which he himself wrote: “IL MIO Domani” and “SO CHE TI Perdero”. His reserved, curiously, precarious and profoundly dramatic way of singing, virtually the mirror-image of his life, is the same in both songs and makes them seem almost unconsciously autobiographical. The “show” then closes with Antonio Prieto. Precisely because of his Latin origins (he was born in Chile, but is Argentine by adoption), it is perhaps easier for him than for the others to express himself in Italian. As is well-known, the name of Prieto soared to the Olympic heights of popular music with “LA Novia” which he wrote in collaboration with his brother, Joaquin. He is a typically Latin singer with a warm, melodious and romantic voice, tinged with melancholy, and on more than one occasion he has shown that he thoroughly understands the tastes of the public. Listen to his two most recent compositions: “papà”, written in collaboration with singer-songwriter Sergio Endrigo, the author of “aria DI Neve”, and “baciami” and... judge for yourselves.

First time officially reissue, sourced from the original master tapes in a new edition, the Milan based imprint Dialogo, returns with this compilation published in Italy by RCA Victor in 1962 - a precious historical document of some important international jazz and pop artists who came to Italy and left their marks, influencing the generations of those golden years. The RCA artists on this LP record have only two things in common: “Inter-continental Airport Rome-Fiumicino” stamped on their passports and a great love for Italy. As a tribute to the country which gave them a friendly welcome and where they spent unforgettable vacations and reaped enthusiastic applause, all of them chose to sing songs in Italian or perform - in the case of Perez Prado - a number of outstanding Italian hits. The dazzling trumpets and electrifying rhythms of Perez Prado, the captivating voice of Helen Merrill, rightly considered the top-notch white jazz singer by critics over the world, the young, all-time best-sellers, Paul Anka and Neil Sedaka, the fantastic trumpet of Chet Baker and his mysterious swinging style of singing, and lastly Antonio Prieto, the Latin-American singer-songwriter who wrote “LA Novia”, are the guest stars of this “passport TO Italy”, which, more than a record, is a full-fledged musical show, with a vast assortment of voices, of musical styles and songs. The Italian pronunciation of these North and South American recording artists is virtually perfect and particularly praiseworthy, if for no other reason than for the effort they have made in getting around, in just a few days, the difficult twists and turns of the Italian language. Their accent is naturally somewhat exotic but it only adds to the charm and the originality of the interpretations. The “show” opens with the already classic “arrivederci Roma”, which, though turned into an overpowering “chunga” by Perez Prado, has kept all its original melody intact. Prado, the wizard of Latin-American dance music, is an extremely refined blender of sounds and rhythms, and without any difficulty can take even a Neapolitan song, change it into a mambo and adapt it to his orchestra. In “guaglione”, for example, the “corruption” comes off perfectly and testifies to the everfresh inventiveness and the unmistakable personality of the Cuban-born pianist arranger. Helen Merrill prefers quality over quantity and so has made very few records but they already occupy a place of their own in the annals of jazz. She consented to record two popular ballads only because Armando Trovajoli, the most qualified exponent of Italian jazz as well as a far-out modernist, was to conduct the orchestra. Furthermore, the two songs, “nessuno AL Mondo” and “estate” are particularly congenial to her musical temperament, for she is most of all concerned with creating subtle and seductive moods, making an intelligent use of her vocal resources in that she tries to “add” her voice to the orchestra as though it were another instrument. Canadian-born Paul Anka, by now a regular member of the exclusive club of top-selling vocal artists of America, presents one of his own songs, “ogni Giorno” originally entitled “love ME Warm AND Tender”, the most requested hit in his present-day repertoire. And the young singing star’s interpretation of “voglio Sapere” (“i’d Like TO Know”) once again makes clear why his name became a permanent fixture as all-time best-seller. Neil Sedaka is another representative of the younger generation of American singers. When he was still in high school in Brooklyn, Neil became a close friend of one of schoolmates: Howard Greenfield. The two of them wrote numerous songs together for school shows: Neil handled the music and Howard the words. Their collaboration proved extremely fruitful, and they were soon to make their debut as professional songwriters with two hits of the calibre of “stupid Cupid” and “falling”. The Sedaka-Greenfield team, which in only a few year time has become one of the best-known, presents, in Italian, two songs which in their original tongue have already climbed to the top: “esagerata” (“little Devil”), translated by Leo Chiosso, and “UN Giorno Inutile” (“I Must BE Dreaming”), translated by Gentile and De Simoni. After Sedaka comes one of the big names of cool jazz: Chet Baker. Trumpet-player and singer, he proves here for the nth time that the names “Golden Trumpet” and “Angel Voice”, given him not only by his fans but by the crites as well, are in no way exaggerated. With an at once restless, desperate and almost possessed musical style, Chet sings and plays two songs which he himself wrote: “IL MIO Domani” and “SO CHE TI Perdero”. His reserved, curiously, precarious and profoundly dramatic way of singing, virtually the mirror-image of his life, is the same in both songs and makes them seem almost unconsciously autobiographical. The “show” then closes with Antonio Prieto. Precisely because of his Latin origins (he was born in Chile, but is Argentine by adoption), it is perhaps easier for him than for the others to express himself in Italian. As is well-known, the name of Prieto soared to the Olympic heights of popular music with “LA Novia” which he wrote in collaboration with his brother, Joaquin. He is a typically Latin singer with a warm, melodious and romantic voice, tinged with melancholy, and on more than one occasion he has shown that he thoroughly understands the tastes of the public. Listen to his two most recent compositions: “papà”, written in collaboration with singer-songwriter Sergio Endrigo, the author of “aria DI Neve”, and “baciami” and... judge for yourselves.

A Brief History OF THE Drums Jazz Drums as we know them today are a complex group of percussive instruments that reveal the inventive genius of the first jazz-band players of New Orleans, on Mississippi show-boats and later, in Chicago. In their actual form (which is substantially the same as that used in the first New Orleans groups ) they are none other than the como ination into one single instrument of all the percussive units used by the Southern blacks. Let us examine the drums in their single parts: the bass drum is a percussion instrument without definite pitch, normally beaten by a stick that has a large, felt-covered knob on one end, while the other end is attached to a pedal played by the right foot. It is the same instrument used in parades with brass bands, when it is worn around the neck and can also be played with regular drumsticks if a drum roll is required. Also a descendant of the traditional New Orleans brass bands are the Charlestons, two superimposed metal plates which are also played by pedal. Drumsticks or brushes are used to play one or two cymbals, large, slightly cupped disks of brass which when struck together loudly, also produce a crashing, dramatic effect. Drumsticks are also used to play the snare drum, of military origin, and the tom tom, of African descent, which can also be played by beating the drum-head with the fingers and the heel of the hand to accompany dancing. Other supplementary instruments such as the castanets, cow-bells, etc., are also played with drumsticks. In early jazz formations and in all New Orleans jazz, drums were used to rhythmically sustain the group, in other words, to furnish the beat, particularly with the bass drum playing the strong beats; the Charlestons would follow on the weak beats and the other parts would more or less ‘fill in’ depending on the player’s ability, by playing syncopation and off-beats. Rarely were the drums used as a solo instrument in New Orleans or traditional jazz bands; at the most, the drums would perform during a break, that is, a brief solo that filled in a pause left by the other melodic instruments between two stanzas or refrains. In jazz history the most important representatives of this ‘archaic’ jazz style are considered to be Warren ‘Baby’ Dodds (brother of the famous clarinet player Johnny Dodds ) and Zutty Singleton; both can be heard on the historical recordings of the Hot Five and the Hot Seven where they played under Louis Armstrong. During the swing era the drums were somewhat modified and perfected (it was during the ’30s that they assumed their standard and present form), thus requiring players to develop a more refined, sophisticated playing technique. In fact, during the swing era the small groups that had made up the backbone of New Orleans and Chicago jazz moved momentarily into the background and attention was focused on the first big, commercial dance bands, then to small, experimental groups that consisted of trios and quartets. But while the New Orleans drummer had been accustomed to playing with musicians he knew personally and with them performed music with which he was completely familiar and could therefore easily provide rhythmic support to, during the ’30s the drummer found himself in the new situation of having to play with a large number of musicians who played written music that had been selected for commercial reasons and part of complicated, orchestral arrangements. In addition, because of continuous changes in orchestral personnel, he seldom had time to familiarize himself with his fellow musicians; he was forced, by necessity, to adapt himself to the needs of the group at a short time notice and it was not unusual for the band leader to expect an exceptionally long break during which the drummer had to demonstrate his particular virtuosity. Naturally the technical superiority of this generation of musicians found supremacy in small groups in which the drums sustained first place together with the melodic instruments. An example of two such outstanding drummers of the swing era were Chick Webb and Gene Krupa. Around and immediately following World War II there took place, gradually and not as suddenly as one is led to believe, a so-called ‘revolution’ that initiated what was the ‘modern jazz’ trend, to which the preceding jazz style was superimposed and defined as ‘traditional’ jazz. While it would be impossible to analyze here all the melodic, harmonic, rhythmic and timbric innovations created by modern jazz musicians, two considerations can be made about the drums. The first is that in modern jazz there is no longer any distinction between ‘melodic’ and ‘accompanying’ instruments, thus leveling all instruments of the group to equal importance, all with solo possibilities (just think of what a classic accompanying instrument like the guitar becomes, in the hands of Charlie Christian!). The second is that while in traditional jazz the beat, i.e., the basic rhythmic scansion of a piece, offered the possibility of rhythmic balance, in swing, rhythm became explicitly an element of sound, while in modern jazz the beat is implicit and despite its prominence throughout an entire piece, whether solo or group playing, no instrument has the specific job of sustaining the others. It is clear therefore, that when the drums have been given equal value to the other instruments, they are freed from the obligation they once had to sustain rhythmically an orchestra or group and in modern jazz find enormous expressive possibilities. The musician most responsible in giving the drums their prominence in this era was Kenny Clarke, and among his many followers two of completely different styles but both with supreme technical skills, were Shelley Manne and Max Roach.

THE Drums AND POP Music The introduction of drums in European pop music occurred at the same time as the transformation of dance bands and was conditioned by the popularity of jazz. In the first dance orchestras that offered American dance music in Europe (the fox trot, one-step, and later the Charleston), the drummer often gave his name to the entire group, which was called a ‘jazz band’. The pop music drummer, in general, was not just a pale image of his jazz colleagues. If he performed any virtuoso passages they were certainly not the result of an expressive need, but rather, well-calculated effects created by an arranger for purely commercial reasons. The drums in pop music were also liberated from their secondary role, however, in another change similar to that brought on by the modern jazz revolution: it was with rock ‘n’ roll and the experiments of the new American groups that followed the Beatles and the Rolling Stones that re-evaluated the possibilities of the drums in new forms of instrumental ‘sounds’ and added to the wealth of technical capacity and the actual physical make-up of the instrument, adding other percussive instruments from both Afro-Cuban origin (bongos) and classical music (tympani), as well as oriental instruments like the gong, Chinese bells, Korean blocks, etc. For those who are fascinated by the virtuosity of some jazz or pop musician and have undertaken the study of the drums with the intention of imitating them, it is well to remember that it is no longer possible to do so with just a good sense of rhythm, musical sensitivity and the physical capacity to play. The modern drummer must also have a thorough theoretical background and a good teacher to guide him. Sightreading is of course indispensable particularly for playing the drums and a music school diploma certainly helps. This record, therefore, does not pretend to offer more than a series of modern rhythms that anyone with a good musical background can learn from and have fun with. The rest is up to you!

A body of evocative recordings included in Pupa O Crisalide with three different line-ups for this fantastic album by Enrico Rava which, thanks to Dialogo Records, finally sees the light for jazz lovers. With the Italian Giovanni Tommaso, Bruno Biriaco, Franco D'Andrea, Michele Ascolese, Mandrake and Tommaso Vittorini in “Pupa O Crisalide” and “Giramondo”, the American David Horowitz, John Abercombie, Herb Bushler, Jack De Johnette, Warren Smith and Ray Armando in “C.T.’S Dance” and “Tsakwe” and the the Argentines Finito Ginbert, Matias Pizarro, Rodolfo Mederos, Riccardo Lew, El Negro Gonzales, Nestor Astarita and El Chino Rossi in “El Samba Graciele”, “Revisione Del Processo N.6” and “Lingua Franca” Enrico Rava was the first Italian jazz artist to represent the country internationally, born in Trieste in 1939. Rava's music at its best is a mix of Central European and Italian culture.

This is a release known mostly by Italian progressive rock lovers, since its sound can be easily associated to the jazz-rock delivered by the way more popular Napoli Centrale and Perigeo - but also to the ‘fundamentals’ Dedalus, Arti & Mestieri, Uno, if not Maad, Nadma or Aktuala, or even the lesser known Bauhaus for instance. But playing this kind of music and trying to release an album in the first half of the ’70s in Italy was also incredibly hard and courageous: Spirale, in fact, was one of the many bands that lived a very short life, before splitting up and disappear forever.
Spirale were an Italian quintet from Rome, consisting of Gaetano Delfini (wind instruments, vocals, percussion), Giancarlo Maurino (saxophone, ute, percussion), Corrado Nofri (piano, marimba, mbira, siren, Jew’s harp), Giuseppe Caporello (contrabass, guitar, percussion) and Giampaolo Ascolese (drums) who released a single eponymous album in 1974.
Spirale was originally released on the International King record label, thanks to Mario Schiano, a free-jazz saxophonist who discovered the band, and producer Toni Cosenza, who included the album in the ‘King Jazz-Line’ series. Consisting of just four tracks, most of which taken by the 13-minute long “Cabral, Anno 1” and the marvellous 17-minute “Peperoncino (Cose vecchie, cose nuove)”, Spirale is an incredibly balanced and owing record that sounds still fresh and inspired even today, and it’s a shame that it has remained hidden and overlooked for such a long time. Moreover, it is characterized by that undescribable and particular Mediterranean avour that only Italian musicians were able to obtain.
This beautiful album is of course immensely rare in its original edition, and is now nally reissued on Dialogo record label in a faithful restored version that will finally satisfy any collectors who have waited for years for this beauty to see the light again!
Italy has proven to be a treasure trove of obscure, archival sounds. For decades, the products of its free-wheeling sonic countercultures - spanning numerous musical genres - remained as overlooked from within as without, until being uncovered by diggers searching for treasures in the shadows of time. Thankfully, those efforts have morphed into countless revelations via the reissue market. Leading the way is the Milan based imprint Dialogo, who have made their name by diving far from the predictable path. Their latest, the first ever vinyl reissued of the lone, self-titled LP produced by the Rome based quintet, Spirale, in 1974, stands among their most exciting offerings to date. A visionary hybrid at the juncture of rock and jazz, it was so ahead of its time that it remained almost entirely overlooked for decades, before ultimately ascending to holy grail status among lovers of Italian prog. Creatively thrilling - filled with emotive highs and lows - it’s a crucial piece in the puzzle of Italy’s wild and wonderful history of radical sound.
Founded in Rome by Gaetano Delfini (wind instruments, vocals, percussion), Giancarlo Maurino (saxophone, flute, percussion), Corrado Nofri (piano, marimba, mbira, siren, Jew’s harp), Giuseppe Caporello (contrabass, guitar, percussion) and Giampaolo Ascolese (drums), Spirale is among the most obscure projects to have emerged from Italy during the first half of the 1970s. Almost as soon as their lone, self-titled LP was issued by International King Record in 1974, the trial goes dark. Members turn up on recordings by Gaetano Liguori Collective Orchestra, Folk Magic Band, and numerous other projects over the years, but in this incarnation the music on Spirale seems to be all we have.
Spirale’s fate seems to have rested with the simple fact that they were too ahead of their time, producing a music that would subsequently come to find broad favour among audiences of popular music only a year or two down the road. Their lone, self-titled LP, carving out uncharted territory between Bitches Brew era Miles Davis and mid-70s Soft Machine, pushed progressive rock into a near undefinable realm; not rock enough to be called rock, not jazz enough to be called jazz.
Across the two sides of Spirale, comprising four works, a band of uncompromising talent stretches out, laying down cycling rhythms and bass lines that channel the modalism of John Coltrane, the funkiness of Donald Byrd, and hypnotic psychedelia, before embarking upon melodic excursions - peppered with Mediterranean sensibilities - into the outer realms.
Joyous, engrossing, and the product of exacting musicianship, how Spirale remained overlooked for all these years is one of the great mysteries of Italian music. An absolute revelation of the highest order brought to us by the capable hands of Dialogo, the first time ever reissue of this 1974, obscure masterstroke is an absolute must for any fan of prog, jazz, or Italian music at large. Beautifully pressed with fully restored and remastered audio and issued in a facsimile gatefold sleeve, reproducing the stunning original design, Spirale is just about as good as reissues get.

At long last, after remaining out of print for decades, the Milan based imprint, Dialogo, dives into the legendary catalog of Cramps, bringing forth the first ever vinyl reissue of Horacio Vaggione’s LP, "La Maquina de Cantar", issued as the 18th instalment of the label’s Nova Musicha series in 1978 and among the most important examples of Latin American experimental music from the 1970s. Engrossing and creatively riveting, heard more than 40 years on its rippling electronic tones recast the terms of minimal music and shatter the historic perceptions of these sounds. Horacio Vaggione (born 21 January 1943) is an Argentinian composer of electro-acoustic and instrumental music who specializes in micromontage, granular synthesis, and microsound and whose pieces are often scored for performers and computers (mixed music). His music is regularly played worldwide in major centers and festivals of contemporary music. La Maquina de Cantar is his first solo recorded work; originally released on the Italian Cramps Records label as the 18th volume of the Nova Musicha series dedicated to contemporary avant-garde composers, La Maquina de Cantar is now made available again on Dialogo in a faithful reproduction of the original gatefold cover artwork, including also an inner sleeve with the English translation of the liner notes.

“Polinesia” is another incredible example of Piero Umiliani’s versatility, showing how he could combine an artistic path intimately bound to Italy and to its traditions with the world’s sounds - and even more, given the cosmic ventures of some of his releases. Fully recorded with glowing percussion and exotic suggestions that remind of Martin Denny, bringing to mind sunny white beaches, Oceania and the famous Bora Bora island, “Polinesia” is the perfect soundtrack to a full-moon exotic night.

“Pianofender Blues”, originally released in 1975 and entirely recorded with the aid of two electric pianos - Fender, of course, and Wurlitzer, bass, piano, drums and percussion, is another curious foray for the eclectic composer Piero Umiliani into territories other than the usual jazz, soundtrack and avant-garde ones. This album blends the Fender Piano melancholic sound over an easylistening repertoire, testifying the author’s versatility once again.

At long last, after remaining out of print for decades, the Milan based imprint, Dialogo, dives into the legendary catalog of Cramps, bringing forth the first ever vinyl reissue of Steve Lacy’s LP, "Straws", issued as the sixth instalment of the label’s DIVerso series in 1977. Truly singular in the legendary American saxophonist’s discography - featuring stunning solo excursions and dialogs with himself - it remains one of the great documents of 1970s improvisation, and is as engrossing, creatively riveting, and as ahead of its time today as it was when it was laid to tape. Complete with original liner notes penned by Lacy himself, it’s not to be missed!

Steve Lacy (July 23, 1934 – June 4, 2004) was an American jazz saxophonist and composer recognized as one of the important players of soprano saxophone. His career has been long and prolific; Lacy worked extensively in experimental jazz and to a lesser extent in free improvisation, but his music was typically melodic and tightly-structured. Lacy also became a highly distinctive composer, with compositions often built out of little more than a single questioning phrase, repeated several times. In 1977 he released a one-off record titled Straws for the Italian Cramps Records label, as the 6th volume of the DIVerso series (which included, among others, Demetrio Stratos’ solo albums) dedicated to contemporary avant-garde composers. Straws is now made available again on Dialogo in a faithful reproduction of the original gatefold cover artwork and inner sleeve.

Released in 1975, “Continente Nero” is the perfect flip side of “Africa” (1972), an album that significantly expanded Piero Umiliani’s music perspectives, incorporating partially explored rhythmic variations already used in “Percussioni ed Effetti Speciali” and “To-Day’s Sound”. It does so by taking inspiration from a tradition that starts from the divine Fela Kuti and reaches the amateur and field recordings by musicologists such as David Toop, but also from the Afro-American jazz history of Art Ensemble of Chicago, John Coltrane, Max Roach and hundreds of others.

Continente Nero (1975) Released via the Omicron label in 1975, three years after Africa, Continente Nero is the perfect flip side of an album that significantly expanded Piero Umiliani’s music perspectives, incorporating partially explored rhythmic variations already used in records such as Percussioni ed Effetti Speciali and To-Day’s Sound or experimenting new solutions that drew from a musical heritage little known at the time such as the African one. Without bothering with the usual alias M. Zalla, Umiliani reveal his birth name and surname for a second foray into a territory that pays homage to an entire continent. And it does so by taking inspiration not only from a tradition that starts from the divine Fela Kuti and reaches the amateur and field recordings by musicologists such as David Toop, invaluable documents of an artistic heritage still today almost impossible to map in its complexity, but also from the Afro-American jazz history by Art Ensemble of Chicago, John Coltrane, Max Roach and hundreds of others. It sounds clear in tracks such as Nuovi Fermenti, Rivoluzionari, Riscossa or Ultimo Stregone that show Umiliani’s extraordinary ability to grab a distant tradition essential traits and put them effortlessly into a personal imaginary world, as much exciting as the original one.

First Official LP Reissue Ever!

**Sourced from the original master tapes and housed in a deluxe gatefold cover. Edition of 500 copies**

The Milan based imprint, Dialogo, returns with the first ever vinyl reissue of Spirale’s lone 1974 self-titled LP. Resting at a fascinating juncture between progressive and free jazz, it was years ahead of its time when it first appeared, rendering it to the shadows for decades, before its ultimate ascent to becoming one of the great holy grails of Italian Jazz prog.

This is a release known mostly by Italian progressive rock lovers, since its sound can be easily associated to the jazz-rock delivered by the way more popular Napoli Centrale and Perigeo - but also to the ‘fundamentals’ Dedalus, Arti & Mestieri, Uno, if not Maad, Nadma or Aktuala, or even the lesser known Bauhaus for instance. But playing this kind of music and trying to release an album in the first half of the ’70s in Italy was also incredibly hard and courageous: Spirale, in fact, was one of the many bands that lived a very short life, before splitting up and disappear forever.

Spirale were an Italian quintet from Rome, consisting of Gaetano Delfini (wind instruments, vocals, percussion), Giancarlo Maurino (saxophone, flute, percussion), Corrado Nofri (piano, marimba, mbira, siren, Jew’s harp), Giuseppe Caporello (contrabass, guitar, percussion) and Giampaolo Ascolese (drums) who released a single eponymous album in 1974.

Spirale was originally released on the International King record label, thanks to Mario Schiano, a free-jazz saxophonist who discovered the band, and producer Toni Cosenza, who included the album in the ‘King Jazz-Line’ series. Consisting of just four tracks, most of which taken by the 13-minute long “Cabral, Anno 1” and the marvellous 17-minute “Peperoncino (Cose vecchie, cose nuove)”, Spirale is an incredibly balanced and flowing record that sounds still fresh and inspired even today, and it’s a shame that it has remained hidden and overlooked for such a long time. Moreover, it is characterized by that undescribable and particular Mediterranean flavour that only Italian musicians were able to obtain. This beautiful album is of course immensely rare in its original edition, and is now finally reissued on Dialogo record label in a faithful restored version that will satisfy any collectors who have waited for years for this beauty to see the light again!