Review Summary: Branca deserves that applause you hear at the end of this.
"A symphony to me is a full-length, large-scale piece with a variety of instrumentation and orchestral range. I've never dealt with any kind of sonata form. But in the density of texture, the sense of slow movement and the development of thematic ideas, I think of my music as symphonic."
-Gleen Branca, to Steven Holden of the
New York Times.
Prior to this contrastingly beautiful and abrasive first symphony, Glenn Branca was playing in bands that were primarily involved with the no-wave scene that was overtaking poverty-ridden New York. There wasn’t any sort of eye-winking teaser that showcased Branca’s future skill as a fiercely innovative composer, despite being having a performing arts degree and a reasonably adept understanding of minimalist mavericks such as Steve Reich. However, while playing in a no-wave band of his creation named Theoretical Girls, Branca managed to finally put his long-dormant ideas to record, easily creating a sort of minimalist heavy metal with groundbreaking works like
The Ascension and
Lesson No. 1. Branca quickly became a sort of poster boy for this quirkily eccentric and experimental type of music coming out of the fringes of New York, and built important friendships with band members from Sonic Youth and the Swans.
Two years passed after he created what is arguably his best work with
The Ascension, in 1981, before he unleashed a monster with as equal as fervor as that ferocious beast. Titled
Symphony No. 1 (Tonal Plexus), Branca’s first actual symphony and his first work in two years is just as and mostly even more impressive than
The Ascension, and features all of Branca’s usual hallmarks: heavily abrasive guitars, repetitive structures that can get to the point of being overwhelming, and spine-tingling build-ups that are far more monstrous and jaw-dropping than anything modern post-rock has ever given us. Everything on this first symphony seems to be on a greater and more grand scale than
The Ascension, including longer, more developed songs (every song on here extends past the ten minute mark, with two exceeding fifteen minutes) and the inclusion of various instruments. Of course, guitars are still the primary focus of these compositions, but instruments like keyboards, trumpets, and various percussion instruments flesh songs like this symphony’s highly repetitive second composition out. These instruments finger-paint streaks of red and gold over the second movement’s rather spotty and simplistic rhythm; without this more ambitious (for Branca, anyways) instrumentation, the movement would be a rather dull and primitive one. The same goes for the seventeen-long third movement, which often resembles nothing more than a directionless drone. It’s a testament to Branca’s genius that he never lets the song become too aimless, whether he’s injected the fireball of noise with throbbing and rhythmic percussion or softening things up a bit with (what I swear sounds like) a few seconds of keyboard lines, only to be thrust right back into the drone’s thrall again. These modern touches make
Symphony No. 1 more engaging than you would initially believe.
Symphony No. 1 (Tonal Plexus) truly is excellent throughout its entire hour-long length, staying fresh despite the repetitive nature of its songs, and it comes together as a rather triumphant listen when digested whole. However, the last movement of this symphony manages to stand tall as the obvious highlight. Opening with a thunderous and rhythmic trapping of deep percussion and throbbing and noisy guitars, the track repeats this thunderous rhythm in a variety of ways for the next few minutes, leaving a tiny pause in between each blast to dull the explosion. After a few minutes, just as you are starting to get used to these heartthrobs of noise and are even starting to perversely enjoy them, the track segues into one long drone; a drone that’s more raging and deafening in its freaky droneiness than anything else you’ll probably ever hear this side of the Boredoms. Then other instruments, like some horns, enter into the fray: the whole thing ends up sounding like a twisted choir of the devil. The movement ends in a wash of feedback and random drumming: it’s the perfect way to cap off such a perfect symphony.
Perfect isn’t a word that should be thrown around a lot, but I find it truly applies when talking about Branca’s first symphony. His later works--of which are all labeled as symphonies; he found it made him and his music seem more professional--ended up becoming more and more ambitious and even slightly less abrasive, but they never reached the same high as this. It’s a shame that
The Ascension is more often looked at as his most defining work: that record, while excellent, pales in comparison to this. Be sure to check out this completely defining masterpiece that’s sadly ignored by too many today.
