IN MEMORY OF MICK KARN: CANTON

It was a year ago yesterday that musician Mick Karn (1958-2011) lost his battle with cancer. In memory of this remarkable artist, here's a live rendition of his old band Japan's classic instrumental "Canton." This performance, documenting part of a superb November 1982 concert at London's Hammersmith Odeon (now the Apollo), is drawn from the group's posthumous 1983 live album and video release Oil on Canvas. Karn's acrobatic fretless basswork made this composition a highlight of the band's 1981 studio album Tin Drum, and the live version is even better. (When I was a college deejay, I always began my show with a twelve-inch single of this concert classic.) Also featured are Japan's David Sylvian, Steve Jansen, Richard Barbieri, and adjunct member Masami Tsuchiya. Oil on Canvas was directed by Tony Lawson. Enjoy!

HAIL AND FAREWELL: MICK KARN (1958-2011)

 This post has nothing and everything to do with film. I was deeply saddened to learn that musician Mick Karn succumbed to cancer yesterday at his London home. Karn, born Andonis Michaelides, remains my all-time favorite bassist, from his early years with the legendary art-rock/New Wave band Japan to his solo and collaborative efforts with Peter Murphy and David Torn. Karn's primarily instrumental compositions possess a distinct cinematic majesty, unfolding like scores to imaginary movies. My favorite of his many creations remains "The Sound of Waves," the B-side to his 1982 solo single, "Sensitive." (Almost unbelievably, this sweeping, exquisitely-textured masterpiece did not appear on the vinyl version of Karn's first solo album, Titles, but was eventually released as a bonus track on the CD reissue.) The tidal synthesizer washes and African flute effects are a prelude to the gathering storm of Karn's fretless bass, which, which finally unleashed, progresses with acrobatic grace, like some magnificent creature penetrating the oceanic depths towards its destiny and delighting in its own existence. The scope of this piece is positively Herzogian.

Farewell, Maestro! You were a magician of my youth, and you will be much missed.