Explores the weird world of lo-fi music to investigate its revolutionary potential and its ability to subvert what we think music can do.
Homemade records, tape-hiss worship and a taste for a very peculiar kind of psychedelia have carved themselves a weird niche in the contemporary musical landscape under the name of lo-fi.
This genreless genre, characterized by poor recordings and rough sounds, spanning from the most extreme heavy metal to the sweetest ear-candies pop can offer, has become a solid presence in our collective sensibility. And yet, it has largely been this staunch refusal of anything hi-fi and hi-tech has fallen under the radar of the categories we use to analyse ourselves and our times.
The Great Psychic Outdoors, dedicated to the most interesting and controversial artists in this movement, will rectify this injustice and vindicate the revolutionary potential of lo-fi music, engaging with this weird genre on its own terms and facing head on the contradictions and possibilities of this multi-faceted phenomenon. Confronting the aesthetic and conceptual stakes of this sonic craft, The Great Psychic Outdoors shows what lo-fi says about us, our lives under capitalism and the strange ways we cope with pain, madness and beauty.
After finishing this book, I felt it unfolded in a way that didn’t differed much from a long chat with a close friend. You’re just finished talking and you’re left in your mind with numerous tabs open, which are there to be navigated and explored and sometime forgotten with the next beer.
The book has interesting theoretical and philosophical suggestions that I feel can be appreciated even without any back-knowledge, since these connections emerge as consequences of the music, the artists’s DIY process and the emotional landscape which Enrico Monacelli dives in. The book itself feels to follow the words of Paolo Virno who is quoted for his theory of ‘revolutions as an exodus’. It feels as an invite to an exit (whatever might be your personal exit) through the lens of an exploration, that can or might happen even within our own-reality, as a bedroom-music listener, diy-er, Bandcamp-explorers, and so on. All of this verges in a beautiful chapter on Phil Elverum. The feeling that through pain and joy there might be room for something else, so let’s try to hug the unknown.
I feel that this books gives also a lot of fresh air to all the geeky people that thinks they cannot create stuff because they need this or that thing.
I also enjoyed the visual images that the book was able to transmit, spanning from the warm and erratic los angelesque scenarios of Brian Wilson’s chapter till that Mc Donald’s brutality that lies within Sematary’s lyrics. Lines loaded with an emotional charge that brought me back at light speed to Jim Goldberg’s last video of Dave at McDonalds in his ‘Raised by Wolves’ project. In general I like when books are able to produce a similar feeling as going through an old box of photographs that portrays people and events that you don’t even know. It creates the possibility of new meaning and the space where the imagination can unroll. The fact that this book presents itself as a sort of genealogical approach at lo-fi music production explain at least in part why this feeling is able to emerge.
Even in my very limited knowledge bubble of lo-fi music (I can barely name the biggest hits of the Beach Boys), I enjoyed the interconnected web Enrico spans between the minds of these DIY-masters and the plethora of interesting topics like major philosophical concepts, the current global political landscape, and gender identification.
The biggest plus I can give to this book is that this is written by a true fan, and that is meant in the best way possible. You can clearly read and FEEL that Enrico lived this book through and through and that just makes me feel impressed, enormously lucky, as well as just feeling a need to see what he wants to tell and show me next. Thanks for showing your little piece of happiness I guess.
So if you are like me, and don't feel the particular need to read the first thriller you can find in the book store while you laying on the beach during your vacation, but would rather learn about something that you don't know anything about it, than I would say: book a one way trip to the great psychic outdoors and get this book.
I buy, read and enjoy a lot of Repeater/Zero books, but it makes me wonder if in order to get a deal you have to include at least one mention or quote from the late founder Mark Fisher in your work?...
I remain a huge fan of a lot of lo-fi, like vinyl and cassettes it speaks to ideas of a bygone era of no frills simplicity, and a kind of humble authenticity, but also too often that sonic poverty can go hand in hand with quality poverty, there are a lot of terrible lo-fi bands and acts out there making some truly awful music and the lo-fi label can act as the perfect cover for them.
He starts off by making the case for Brian Wilson being a starting point for the genre, this is by far the longest of his pieces and its certainly interesting making a convincing enough case. I thought his piece on Ariel Pink was rather excellent and I got a lot out of that.
What I enjoyed about this was that I got introduced to some new and obscure music and books like Klaus Theweleit’s “Male Fantasies” and R. Stevie Moore and “chief acid communist” Daniel Johnson and The Microphones etc. He also references better known work from the likes of Marcuse, Deleuze and Debord. Also with Monacelli being Italian it was good to get a fresh perspective on music, I was interested to learn what he had to say about the likes of Radio Alice in 70s Bologna and the political culture around that.
So this is a book that seems to come and go in terms of quality, and overall I think Monacelli has written an enjoyable if uneven book, he writes really well in terms of the feel and impact of his chosen music, but the links to philosophy can be tenuous and clunky, giving a slightly amateur and unconvincing feel at times, but I enjoyed this and learned some new and interesting things.
The music side of the book were fun and engaging and felt very natural but the application of philosophical theory really felt forced and almost like an afterthought. Unfortunate but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
My thanks to both NetGalley and the publisher Repeater Books for an advanced copy of this book on music, politics, corporate greed, and the need to create even when everyone around you can't understand why.
When I worked in a music store, back before the new century began, our store had numerous customers who were audiophiles. Their stereos were made of components from 7 continents, each one chosen to work with the next in order to find the perfect sound. Their shopping habits corresponded with this. Gold Mobile Fidelity compact discs, Japanese vinyl and more. There talk would always be about the recording of the mediums, DDD, ADD, AAD, always looking for remasters on CD, Family Bear collections from Germany, tricks to get the highest possible sound. They were fun, but could get boring after a while, but still time passed, and honestly they spent a lot of money, so being nice was expected. I never knew though, if they even liked music, or if they just liked the way things sounded, clear as a bell, all soul removed. I envied their equipment, and yet getting into my Jetta, throwing a cassette into the player, that was how I liked my music, and to a certain extent still do. Lo-fi music would have driven these men, and it was mostly men, crazy. Hearing a mistake, a cough, a sorry while playing. Not every band can be Steely Dan, and thank god for that. The Great Psychic Outdoors: Adventures in Low Fidelity by writer, editor and lo-fi enthusiast Enrico Monacelli is a look at the artists who record well off the beaten path, with thoughts about why, the politics of low fidelity music, and why this genre is so important, and ever changing.
The book begins with the author discovering the band Smog, which was mostly Jim Callahan and his song Teenage Spaceship. The rawness, the feeling of alienation, the recording all spoke to Monacelli and introduced him to the genre of low fidelity music. Lo-fi is genre with a lot of different sounds, jazz, death metal, experimental, scream, but recording with the least amount of studio trickery, usually on cassettes with the mistakes left in, or even made on purpose. Lo-fi to Monacelli can be a form of rebellion against the corporate masters who control music, like the Beach Boys, who Monacelli considers a precursor to the lo-fi movement. They owed an album to the label, and Brian Wilson just couldn't deal with it anymore. So Wilson took the band back to their roots, and magic to a certain extent happened. Monacelli looks at some of the other pioneers in lo-fi, the late great Daniel Johnston, who never wrote a song that didn't make me want to sigh at the end. R. Stevie Moore whose father was close to the King of Rock n' Roll, but has recorded more songs than I have eaten potato chips. Five other artists are explored, along with some thoughts about the future of lo-fi.
A book that challenges readers with a lot of questions and thoughts that usually don't appear in music books. Normal books about a genre would lists songs, studios and Billboard charts. Monacelli asks bigger questions, and mostly answers them. Can one be an artist, if no one hears the songs that are being recorded? Is lo-fi a reaction to corporate music, or just a marketing scheme. Monacelli like, no loves music, and loves to think about music as bigger and better that we care about it now. The writing is very good, a bit academic in some spots, but Monacelli makes a lot of good points. Plus the writing is funny, which helps a lot.
An interesting look at a musical genre, one that might be for a more particular crowd. I worked in record stores and independent bookstores, and I know a lot of people who would love this book. That and the fact there is a lot of bands mentioned that are really worth listening to. For fans of lo-fi music, music fans and for readers interesting in the philosophy of making music that matters to maybe only the artist.
The Great Psychic Outdoors by Enrico Monacelli is an interesting look at lo-fi, both the music and how it can speak to capitalism and contemporary society as a whole.
I initially came to the book for a discussion of the music and music production, expecting a bit of reception analysis as well. Those aspects of the book did not disappoint, but I ended up more interested in his ideas about how lo-fi, both the production and the consumption, responds to our world and the powers that be.
Monacelli's use of various theorists is not heavy-handed and for the most part fits his arguments quite well. If you don't care for theory, don't be put off, it is quite accessible, and the theory is explained clearly when he uses it.
I am comfortable with his decision on a starting point (Brian Wilson) since he is focusing on lo-fi as a form of resistance. I thought some of the potential starting points he mentioned, however, shouldn't qualify. Going back in time to when what now has a lo-fi sound isn't truly lo-fi since they were using state-of-the-art, or close to it, technology for the period. Lo-fi wasn't lo-fi when there was no hi-fi. By definition it is a relational category. That, however, is just a minor thing that doesn't affect the book's thesis, it just annoyed me.
Whether you're a fan of lo-fi as a sound you prefer or you simply like when you hear lo-fi because it takes you back to when it was the norm, this book will be an interesting journey for you.
Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.