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Rise Up!

by DADADAH

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1.
Snow White (Rose Red) 09:18
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2.
The Night is Mine 07:27
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3.
Plain Song 00:46
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4.
Don't Look Back 04:59
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5.
Machaut à Gogo 06:39
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6.
Texture 1 05:10
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7.
Texture 2 06:45
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8.
Texture 3 (Baby Now) 03:16
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9.
Texture 4 08:44
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10.
Texture 5 (My Perfect Toes) 04:35
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11.
Little Gamelan Da 02:34
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12.
Rise Up 14:11
lyrics
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weight of your body weight of your sin cannot live without it cannot weaken pull me down beside you body meet the ground let me lie there quiet cannot weaken now cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up and be strong cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up now as one touch the fire of lonely burn the hand which knows that giving is just taking and taking is to lose lose my life forever take away my drug leave me to recover dying just to live cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up and be strong cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up now as one what if I should leave you? suddenly I'm gone weakness comes to tempt you but you cannot be won but I would never leave you it's written on my soul that I would always be here having you to hold cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up and be strong cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up now as one there is a house in new orleans they call the rising sun an it's been the ruin of many a poor girl my god I know I'm one go and tell my baby sister not to do what I have done go through the night of darkness and rise up rise up rise up with the sun cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up and be strong cannot cannot cannot weaken rise up now as one

about

The illusion of love — vivid as a hallucination, destructive as a spurned queen or a cold president — fires up how many wars in the world, how great the terrors of the heart? Plain song soothes but won’t dispell it. To break an illusion’s hold you force yourself to call it by name. Walk away, slam the door, and know that looking back will turn you to salt, stone, or something even worse.

Goin’ to the go-go should (please, Please, PLEASE!) remain an option, so soul horns can slip empowering riffs under Ars Nova sources and help everyone trip to the harp and the cello, the explosive guitar, the lay-it-down bass and that in-the-pocket drummer’s thang. Go on, get back… No, really. Even the dashing, tactful, seductive cleric, that prodigious tunesmith and 14th century spiritual son of the trouvère Guillaime de Machaut — himself! — would approve, we believe.

Through all, Kitty’s voice seeks an answer. Over and over: her coos, her roars, her power pop mezzo, her microtonal whisper, her siren scream, her spreachstimme hysteria needs no processing but the live inspiration of the band she’s nurtured like a mother to arrive at the conclusive statement. Looky here, that’s no illusion. It’s the baby, now.

Crawling through a mine field, over barbed wire, across the parched desert, to the gates of a city quite besieged by monsters. But the innocent are without fear. And consider the size and scope of that baby — wond’rous and miracle! All but believable! At once both so scary and heartening! Its very cry seems enough to clear the air.

See, that baby will be furious if it doesn’t ifnd it dadadah in the caves of logic and/or the dens of devotion. Down by the river it will come for us next. And trust its perfect toes to carry it across.

More doubts may be raised by the primacy of private poetry, but here’s the bottom line: You gotta rise up. It’s the only way. In that end is a beginning. Play on, I pray thee, la-di-dadadah. Time’s come to comprovise.

Yet, truth to tell, there’s more than one story. You’d have to ask Chris and Danny and Tom — the ethnomusicologist salsero, the fly boy Prince Jamile, and the upright but not uptight composer and hornist — for their variations. Same with Elizabeth (Have Harp, Will Travel) Panzer, the effervescent Mary Wooten, stalwart Hui the Coxman, Ed “Holy Grail” Broms and Jim rhythm-of-real-music Pugliese. In fact, there are more than nine visions of the naked ditties here enscribed, what with Tracy Eunice and Chris Tso having been so involved not to mention the rest of the extended family.

But lo and behold, fanfares, textures, and vignettes, the baby’s just fine. She walks, she talks, she sings, dances, grows and is not deterred by those little green lizards that demonized ma and pa but fled before her chubby hand. This baby, perhaps no longer entirely innocent, does not retreat from the unknown. This baby embraces dissonances, polyrhythms and a little smart plundering to serve the greater purposes of musical expression. A good intuitive impulse, we agree, anticipating a second edition (at least, further developments) and joining in cheer without compunction: DADADAH!

—Howard Mandel

credits

released August 16, 1994

Kitty Brazelton: voice, flute
Danny Weiss: alto sax, flute
Tom Varner: French horn (tracks 1-3, 5, 8-10, 12)
Tracy Turner: French horn (4, 6, 7, 11)
Chris Washburne: tenor & bass trombones
Elizabeth Panzer: harp
Mary Wooten: cello
Hui Cox: electric guitar (5, 8-10, 12)
Chris Tso: electric guitar (1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 11)
Ed Broms: electric bass (1, 2, 5, 8-10, 12)
Eunice Holland: electric bass (4, 6, 7, 11)

Produced by Kitty Brazelton with engineer Bryce Goggin at Baby Monster Studios, NYC.
Mastered by Hugoo Dwyer.
Oil pastel, notes & counsel by Howard Mandel.
Booklet & graphics by Harriet R. Goren.
Photos by Walter Cessna, Carol Ford, Ellen Perlman and Mandfred Rinderspacher.

All songs composed by Kitty Brazelton, except Macahut à Gogo composed by Eve Beglarian with materials derived from 14th c. virelai “Moult sui de bonne heure née” by Gillaume de Machaut, text adapted from Medieval French by Kitty Brazelton, (c) 1994, EVBVD Music and Snicim Vinahel, and Plain Song, (c) 1994, Tom Varner.

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Kitty Brazelton New York, New York

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