David Shea
Hsi-Yu Chi

The TV programming during Christmas is something indecent, let me just say that. Basically: why, between panettone and sambenedettese fish soup, will I have to endure "Trading Places" on Christmas Eve and "Home Alone" on Christmas Day once again this year...? Have mercy, you've had us with these movies, and with your unspeakable schedules. And why, if I switch to channel 6, do I have to see Schwarzenegger's face in some trashy action or sci-fi movie (no, not "Police Academy", please no)...? Why, if I switch to channel one, must I witness the disaster of a third-rate Christmas concert complete with Bryan Adams singing "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town"...? Ah, luckily the remote control still has number 3... but no, Teo, you're mistaken, they only show Blob on New Year's Eve, for Christmas Eve they've reserved a documentary about the Nazi invasion of Poland...

Wrist-slitting stuff.

But give me a vintage Spaghetti-Western, I say, give me a Leone or a Corbucci, they always work, an "Animal House" that I would watch for the 50th time, or... yes, even some good Kung Fu, some martial arts movie, why not? Some classic with Bruce Lee and the like, is it asking too much...?

If it has ever happened to you, at least once, to have these thoughts, and like me, you have a weakness for China and tai-chi moves; and especially, if these days of a TV void you don't have a film library at your disposal, nor the time or desire to sit at the computer to download... Do one thing: turn off the TV and go listen to a record that will certainly suit you: namely, the present "Hsi-Yu Chi" by David Shea (not exactly a brand-new album, it's from 1996; but it's easily available as part of the rich Tzadik catalog). Now then, who is David Shea? A few (necessary) notes on the subject: he is an almost 50-year-old composer from Springfield (Massachusetts, not the Simpsons one), who for years has been working on a challenging and exceptional program: studying the relationships between images and sound, establishing correspondences between the two perceptual planes, and translating simple visual suggestions into concrete music. You might say: but in the end, all the great soundtrack composers have done that; yes, but not all with the same variety as D.S., who with ease is capable of moving from electronics to orchestral arrangements, from Jazz improvisation to string quartet and chamber music. Literature has often inspired him (he made a musical transposition of Petronius' "Satyricon"), but it's cinema that has offered him the greatest stimuli: particularly, Western cinema and Kung Fu of the last 30/40 years, to which the "Hsi-Yu Chi" project is dedicated (Zorn too is a fan of certain cinema: is it a coincidence...?).

Put on this record, and you'll hear a hypothetical anthology of 4 decades of martial arts movie music. Orchestral openings alternate with claustrophobic radical "free" piano passages, with obvious references to Chinese and Thai ethnic music. Very ambitious temptations, no one denies that, but the final product will surprise you with how it manages to be a pleasure to listen to, that pleasure often denied by some more "academic" avant-garde. Drums, bells, and gu-zheng abound, but also Blues and piercing wah-wah guitar lines, exactly what you wouldn't expect to find around here. Frantic and pounding rhythmic rides sometimes give way to delicate symphonic digressions for female voices, as well as to unexpected harmonics reminiscent of "Morriconian" memory. A copy of "The Big Gundown", perhaps? Absolutely not, despite recognizing the affinities. By the way, J.Z. himself is on saxophone, and there's Marc Ribot playing all the guitar parts...

Can a single album be capable of so much, and above all: can it sound very "Zornian" while avoiding the most obvious imitation...? I can tell you what I felt, or rather what I "saw" while listening to it. Believe it or not, to a Kung-Fu enthusiast like me, all the faces of the greats of that cinema came to mind in succession: from Bruce Lee to Jackie Chan, from Angela Mao-Ying (the "Lady Kung Fu" of the '70s who beat them all) to the magnificent Xu Feng "sung" by Zorn himself (she, the star of King Hu's films: never seen a look like that on a screen); to arrive at the recent revival of our years, with Zhang Ziyi of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" or "House of Flying Daggers." For those familiar with certain filmography, the evocative power of this record will appear irresistible.

Have I rambled on too much? I hope not. Just enough to convince you of the value of the work (all Zornians, this is a blast: 5 full stars).