Robert Wyatt's "Comicopera"

I don't know why my Zappa-loving college crew wasn't more into Soft Machine. In the fullness of time, it seems like the Brit Ur-undergrounders' early (first three albums) confluence of benthead psychedelia (they were, after all, Canterbury mates of Pink Floyd's), electronic experimentalismo, and Coltranesque jazz woulda been right up our alley. Oh well. Following the exit of fellow founder members Daevid Allen and Kevin Ayers, the man with the plan was Robert Wyatt, who was that rarity -- a singing drummer who didn't suck. Wyatt bailed after Thirds and had formed a new band, Matching Mole, when he fell out an open window during a party, plunged three stories, and broke his back, winding up permanently paralyzed from the waist down. By all accounts he took this event philosophically, continued making music, and battled the BBC to be allowed to appear on Top of the Pops singing his first solo single, a cover of the Monkees' "I'm a Believer," from his wheelchair rather than a regular chair. Much of his music-making has reflected political concerns; he's a Communist and antiwar activist who famously covered Elvis Costello's "Shipbuilding" as a protest against the Falklands War.



Wyatt's name came up when Dre and I were over at Jon Teague's house, and when I saw his new album Comicopera at the Princeton Record Exchange, I picked it up. It's an intimate-sounding record, reflecting the influence of Wyatt's wife and longtime collaborator Alfreda Benge, who found Soft Machine's music cluttered and encouraged him to pare down and simplify, as well as Wyatt's desire to capture the sound of a group of musician/friends playing together in a room (in this case, his home or ex-Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera's Gallery Studio).

The "opera's" three acts have to do with loss and betrayal in relationships ("Lost in Noise"), England at war in 2007 ("The Here and the Now") and Wyatt's rejection of it ("Away with the Faeries"). The first act includes a song ("A.W.O.L.") about an aged dementia victim that's particularly resonant for me in light of my dad's condition. The second includes a melody that appears twice ("A Beautiful Peace"/"A Beautiful War"), first to turn rustic English pastoralism on its head, then to depict a British airman on a bombing mission; Wyatt's vocal recalls quintessentially English pop voices like Ray Davies' and Ronnie Lane's -- until you listen hard enough to hear the lyrics (It's a beautiful day to see my prey / It's a beautiful day for a daring raid ... It's a shame I'll miss the blaze, but I'll see the film within days). In the next song ("Out of the Blue"), you hear the voices of the bombs' victims (You've planted your everlasting hatred in my heart). There's also a dig at organized religion ("Be Serious") with ex-Jam/Style Council modfather Paul Weller on jazzy R&B guitar.

In the last act, Wyatt turns his back on England and sings in Italian and Spanish, including a text by Federico Garcia Lorca (whom Wyatt described to an Italian interviewer as "a homosexual surrealist who was shot by the fascists") and Carlos Puebla's ode to Che Guevara performed with an Italian ensemble. The three instrumentals (one per act) are evocative mood pieces, not opportunities for musical exhibitionism. There's still a degree of experimentalism present (sampled voices used as musical instruments, f'rinstance), but not in a way that calls attention to itself. This is thoughtfully-constructed music that tugs at the heartstrings.