Scratches that survive

Press, 18 March 1989, Page 27

Scratches that survive

TAe Recording Angel. By Evan Eisenberg. Picador, 1988, 216 pp. Index, $15.95 (paperback). (Reviewed by Gary Nicol) “A record is a world. It is the world scratched by man in a form that may survive him ... Every disc is a microcosm, a twelve inch or four and three quarter inch world. A shelf of records is a row of possible worlds. Take one out, put it on and a world unreels, the world one has chosen to live in for the next hour.” Phonography is an exclusively twentieth century art form. It is the art of making music in a recorded form and began with the arrival of the first popular phonograph in 1906. With this event music was at once removed from the immediate orbit of the person who played it and became an object, or in economic terms, a commodity which could be traded, hoarded and more often than not, taken for granted. Evan Eisenberg has written a highly original and provocative analysis of the effects of recorded music’s many forms on both our personal lives as well as society at large. He has delved into a bewildering variety of sources — from Aristotle to Zappa — in order to demonstrate cogently the profound effects resulting from the continuous and many-faceted exposure which,

whether we choose to or not, most of us have to records, cassettes, compact discs, and background music. Often witty and sometimes controversial, “The Recording Angel” focuses on people who make records as well as some of the people who listen to them. Take for example Clarence who lives alone in Brooklyn in conditions of abject poverty with at least three quarters of a million records for company (oh, and by the way, Clarence is deaf!); and Tomas, who is both a physicist and drag queen, and who whiles away whatever spare time he may have acting out opera scenes in his bedroom. Recording artists and producers as diverse as Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll Morton, Phil Spector, Leopold Stokowski, The Beatles, Glenn Gould, John Culshaw and many others are mentioned and their contribution to the art form is discussed.

Through a veritable potpourri of philosophical insights and real-life examples, Eisenberg enthusiastically develops and refines his central thesis. Recorded music is as different from live music as film is different from theatre. This is a viewpoint which will stimulate and challenge readers who care about music, whether in its live or recorded form.