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A review by aprholt
Monolithic Undertow: In Search of Sonic Oblivion by Harry Sword
3.0
Perhaps it's my own fault for reading more than the entire second half of this book in a single day, but its repetitive, in most parts relentlessly linear structure began to grate rather than give grounding. It is undoubtedly at its most vital in those sections where it capitalises upon the conceptual potential provided by the drone, as in the quite revelatory first couple of chapters on its ritual and ecstatic uses. The genre-centred sections, however, all too often devolve into list form, each new item inevitably signposted by something like "if X were doing *this*, then Y were doing it altogether differently" before a (sometimes tenuous) mention of the drone's relevance is hastily dropped in in the manner of a student repeating the terms of the essay question at the end of every paragraph to give the illusion of staying on track.
The approach is clearly intended to and effectively does uncover the startling ubiquity of the drone, from the varyingly appropriative use of the raga in 60s pop to its covert infliction upon unsuspecting techno audiences by the likes of Surgeon and Regis. It is also well suited to dealing with a dizzyingly large volume of artists, and though I had heard of many of them I nonetheless finished the book excited to approach music new and already beloved alike with fresh impetus and perspectives. Still, I think a thematic approach would have proved more rewarding, and some of the placements and inclusions were confounding -- Eliane Radigue, in my mind pretty much *the* essential drone artist, only gets her own, fairly limited section right at the end. Tim Hecker apparently merits no more than a single paragraph. As much as I sometimes appreciated the kaleidoscopic approach and understand that demonstrating that variety was really the point of the book, I feel it would have benefitted from more prolonged reflection on the obvious and really essential exponents of the drone; the comparably thorough treatment of La Monte Young et al, for example, was much more rewarding than the rushes through proto-punk and hardcore.
Sword is a good writer, and contrary to one of the other reviews here I found his drug descriptions contributed a great deal to their relevant sections. The description of the gritty psychedelia of the Velvets' beloved Speed was a particular highlight, and I for one didn't feel he over-indulged when talking about the subject elsewhere. And while over the course of the book you definitely begin to notice some of his favourite phrases recurring rather more often than you would like ("...a paean to...", "this is *italicised adjective* music", etc), he consistently and effectively conveys the subjective spirit of the music he's talking about; he can certainly be forgiven a few repeated adjectives given he is predominantly talking about one type of sound for an entire book.
Undoubtedly an enjoyable, worthwhile, and informative reading experience: but the more intriguing conceptual slant of the book as laid out by the first few chapters disappointingly recedes into the background as it progresses. What follows is largely closer to a compendium of the drone than an exposition of its essence.
The approach is clearly intended to and effectively does uncover the startling ubiquity of the drone, from the varyingly appropriative use of the raga in 60s pop to its covert infliction upon unsuspecting techno audiences by the likes of Surgeon and Regis. It is also well suited to dealing with a dizzyingly large volume of artists, and though I had heard of many of them I nonetheless finished the book excited to approach music new and already beloved alike with fresh impetus and perspectives. Still, I think a thematic approach would have proved more rewarding, and some of the placements and inclusions were confounding -- Eliane Radigue, in my mind pretty much *the* essential drone artist, only gets her own, fairly limited section right at the end. Tim Hecker apparently merits no more than a single paragraph. As much as I sometimes appreciated the kaleidoscopic approach and understand that demonstrating that variety was really the point of the book, I feel it would have benefitted from more prolonged reflection on the obvious and really essential exponents of the drone; the comparably thorough treatment of La Monte Young et al, for example, was much more rewarding than the rushes through proto-punk and hardcore.
Sword is a good writer, and contrary to one of the other reviews here I found his drug descriptions contributed a great deal to their relevant sections. The description of the gritty psychedelia of the Velvets' beloved Speed was a particular highlight, and I for one didn't feel he over-indulged when talking about the subject elsewhere. And while over the course of the book you definitely begin to notice some of his favourite phrases recurring rather more often than you would like ("...a paean to...", "this is *italicised adjective* music", etc), he consistently and effectively conveys the subjective spirit of the music he's talking about; he can certainly be forgiven a few repeated adjectives given he is predominantly talking about one type of sound for an entire book.
Undoubtedly an enjoyable, worthwhile, and informative reading experience: but the more intriguing conceptual slant of the book as laid out by the first few chapters disappointingly recedes into the background as it progresses. What follows is largely closer to a compendium of the drone than an exposition of its essence.