FOLLOW US ON:
GET THE NEWSLETTER
CONTACT US
Rod McKuen’s noise album, ‘Music to Freak Your Friends and Break Your Lease’
08.14.2015
10:31 am
Topics:
Tags:


 
When you hear the name Rod McKuen, you’re more likely to think of “Listen to the Warm” than of challenging avant-garde compositions. But in 1974, under the pseudonym Heins Hoffman-Richter, McKuen released the forbidding “Symphony for Tape Delay, IBM Instruction Manual, & Ohm Septet” on his massively successful Stanyan label, which Billboard had called “one of the biggest music mail order houses in the world” the year before.

It doesn’t sound like Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music (what does?), but there are undeniable similarities. Both albums were released in quad, adorned with classical pretensions, gag liner notes and technical jargon. Reed listed intimidating “specifications” on the back of his noise record (“Distortion 0.02 bass and treble ceilings”); McKuen reproduced a schematic diagram labeled in German:
 

 
The liner notes, by Rod McKuen Enterprises/Stanyan Records employee Richard Oliver, told the preposterous story of Hoffman-Richter and his discovery of electronic sound:

One day not too long ago, but then again not recently, recognized raconteur, genius, composer, musicologist conductor Heins Hoffman-Richter was spending a quiet evening in his flat in Cherbourg, south of Paris. He often went there to escape the tensions of metropolitan existence although it necessitated a good many umbrellas. During these sojourns his only companion was the music he loved so well, particularly the work of Brahms. (That man did know how to soothe!)

As he gazed out the window at the gently falling rain and thought of Catherine Deneuve singing her heart out and reeking of expensive perfume, a flash of lightning whisked across the black night sky. The room was lit with a blinding burst of bright light and Brahms went berserk. Suddenly the soothing concerto turned into a maze of electronic sounds emanating from the surrounding speakers.

At first Hoffman-Richter was frightened by this celestial phenomenon, no doubt thinking it was some terrible world holocaust. Suddenly Hoffman-Richter gasped, “egads!” On second thought, the sounds seemed to make sense and what was more amazing, once the storm subsided they continued despite the fact the recording was by a well-known symphony orchestra!

Was this some sort of message? Had Hoffman-Richter finally been given a sign as to the path of his existence? There was no other explanation as deeply metaphysical questions hurled themselves into his tortured inner self. Fascinated with this electronic magnificence he began coding the various movements at a furious pace. Laughter burst through the air as he understood the humor of a passage, then within moments tears would flow. He remembered the kindly old professor (now dead) from his days as an eager young student at the Berlin Conservatory of Music. He remembered the quivering old man’s attempts to direct him, all the time knowing he possessed a bottomless well of creativity that must be unleashed or tragedy would wave its ugly wand.

As the Cherbourg sky cleared, Heins Hoffman-Richter walked out of his flat never to return. He wandered through the glistening streets to the train station, boarded the Orient Express, brushed past internationally renown[ed] spies, paid little heed of the intrigue, bid a final farewell to his romantic thoughts of Catherine and Cherbourg and began his odyssey.

Soon the face of Hoffman-Richter became familiar as he haunted the most advanced electronic labs in Germany, Austria, England, Japan, Turkey, and Tazmania [sic]. Resistors, capacitors, connectors, excitors!!! They all added up to a tremendous and life-fulfilling experience. A euphoria rarely experienced by man, of this he was sure. He shrieked with delight and ignored the fact that many thought he had gone mad. He literally did cart wheels through mazes of electronic apparati upon completion of his composition “Gidget Gets In Trouble” and suffered complete emotional exhaustion after wiring up “Milkshake.” The height of ecstacy [sic] was shattering following his coding of “This Is My Beloved’s Chamber” and “Send Out The Clowns,” “Let the doubters scoff,” he thought, “little do they know of true passion and dedication. Little do they know of the power of electronic music and its ability to stimulate and freak out the weariest and wornest of hep cats!” Heins Hoffman-Richter had found the true meaning and reason for his existence.

When premiered at a lower off-Soho nightclub, the majority of the audience fled, trampling each other as they raced out into the London fog. Bothered bobbies took a look inside, but quickly withdrew. Only a few junkies stayed behind and really appreciated the initial performance. Staunch in his beliefs, Hoffman-Richter was not dismayed and knew that Royal Albert Hall and Carnegie Hall would be shockingly alive with his debut someday.

Alas, he never personally witnessed that day for he died from an ear lobe tumor. However, we too believe in the love and dedication of this man toward the advancement of finer music. It is indeed an honor to present this outstanding collection of his works. It’s wonderful that we were able to locate and reproduce these tapes so the world could finally pay homage to this remarkable talented and dedicated man. Heins Hoffman-Richter has finally achieved his goal.

The clip embedded below is a four-and-a-half-minute excerpt from Music to Freak Your Friends and Break Your Lease. The original LP is quite scarce and goes for about $200 on Discogs. If you really must hear the whole thing, the Creel Pone label has it on CD-R for $10.

Posted by Oliver Hall
|
08.14.2015
10:31 am
|