Buzzed at Hastings

I’m sitting at my usual table at Hastings, basking in the glow of yesterday’s Massachusetts Miracle, wearing a Brown corduroy shirt and a Brown safari jacket, and listening to Come Out from the Steve Reich album Early Works.

Here’s what Wikipedia says about Steve Reich and Come Out:

Stephen Michael Reich born October 3, 1936) is an American composer who pioneered the style of minimalist music. His innovations include using tape loops to create phasing patterns (examples are his early compositions, "It's Gonna Rain" and "Come Out"), and the use of simple, audible processes to explore musical concepts (for instance, "Pendulum Music" and "Four Organs"). These compositions, marked by their use of repetitive figures, slow harmonic rhythm and canons, have significantly influenced contemporary music, especially in the US. Reich's work took on a darker character in the 1980s with the introduction of historical themes as well as themes from his Jewish heritage, notably the Grammy Award-winning Different Trains.

Reich's style of composition influenced many other composers and musical groups. Reich has been described by The Guardian as one of "a handful of living composers who can legitimately claim to have altered the direction of musical history",^[2] and the critic Kyle Gann has said Reich "may...be considered, by general acclamation, America's greatest living composer."^[3] On January 25, 2007, Reich was named the 2007 recipient of the Polar Music Prize, together with Sonny Rollins. On April 20, 2009, Reich was awarded the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for Musicfor his Double Sextet.^[4]

The 13-minute "Come Out" (1966) uses … manipulated recordings of a single spoken line given by Daniel Hamm, one of the falsely accused Harlem Six, who was severely injured by police. The survivor, who had been beaten, punctured a bruise on his own body to convince police about his beating. The spoken line includes the phrase "to let the bruise’s blood come out to show them." Reich rerecorded the fragment "come out to show them" on two channels, which are initially played in unison. They quickly slip out of sync; gradually the discrepancy widens and becomes a reverberation. The two voices then split into four, looped continuously, then eight, and continues splitting until the actual words are unintelligible, leaving the listener with only the speech's rhythmic and tonal patterns.

I was introduced to this piece back in 1967 while smoking pot with fraternity brother Bill Broadstreet in his Indianapolis apartment. Listening to it today, without the benefit of recreational chemistry, I still get a buzz.