Musica Elettronica Viva - The Sound Pool (LP)

Product specifications

Details

Album

The Sound Pool

Artist

Musica Elettronica Viva

LP release year

2023

Album release date

15 mei 1970

Label

BYG Records

EAN

5060767441299

Available

Yes

Product information

Format

LP

Quantity

1 piece(s)

Type

Reissue

Mono or stereo

Stereo

Duration

41 min

Tracks

4 tracks

Weight

180g

EAN

EAN

5060767441299

Other

Limited Edition

Yes

Country

Europe

Genre

Free jazz

Box set

No

Remastered

Yes

Reissue

Yes

• Haunting Avant-Garde Noise

  4 out of 5 stars
  fvahtin5712316 October 2025United States🇺🇸

  This album wasn't unfamiliar to me. Back in 1979, when I was just a kid of six, my dad picked up a copy. He probably expected something electronic, like Jean Michel Jarre or Tangerine Dream, or perhaps an early Moog experimental album, given the band's name. Instead, he ended up with something entirely different: harsh, abrasive avant-garde with screaming and shrieking voices, pounding, and blasting trombones and saxophones. Alvin Curran was part of this, along with Ivan Coaquette and Patricia Coaquette, Frederec Rzewski, Nicole Rzewski, Franco Cataldi, and many others. All these musicians (and non-musicians) hail from America, France, and Italy. When I first heard this album through my dad, it terrified me. It sounded like a haunted house. Those wailing voices and pounding reminded me of ghosts. And the BYG laughing Buddha on the label (the BYG/Actuel's trademark logo) looked a lot more sinister to me as a kid. Not to mention I didn't know what a Buddha was or anything about Buddhism. I begged him never to play it. He rarely did, mostly around Halloween. But then again, he probably didn't anyway, because it likely drove him crazy. The album was stolen by a so-called friend of my dad's in 1986, so I didn't miss it. Until more recently, I was feeling nostalgic for it. I found a copy, and it doesn't scare me anymore, but if relentless noise of screaming, wailing, pounding, and blasting trombones and saxophones drive you nuts, don't buy this album. But if you're into harsh avant-garde, give it a try. By the way, I start noticing new things every time I listen to it. You'll find stuff like electronic sound effects, some people announcing things, whistles, and much more than the most obvious: wailing voices, pounding, squawking saxophones and blasting trombones. There is so much stuff buried in this wall of noise that things can be so easily missed I never noticed before! By the way, the version I own (which is an original) I am almost certain was the one that belonged to my father. At the time we had a cockatiel who often chewed on the seams of some of the albums, and the scuff marks on my copy looks like chewing from a bird. The fact I ordered this copy from a Portland, Oregon online record dealer makes me believe it's so, because there's a chance since 1986 when the album was stolen in Eugene that it could have easily wound up in Portland somewhere between that time and now. If so, a bit of my early childhood had returned, literally, but without me so frightened now as then.

• Haunting Avant-Garde Noise Revival

  4 out of 5 stars
  vrecqav4939631 August 2024United States🇺🇸

  This album wasn't unfamiliar to me, as my dad picked up a copy way back in 1979 when I was just a little kid of six. He must've thought it was going to be all electronic, like Jean Michel Jarre or Tangerine Dream, or maybe some early experimental Moog stuff, probably because of the band's name. But what he ended up with was this harsh, abrasive avant-garde stuff with screaming and shrieking voices, pounding, and blasting trombones and saxophones. Alvin Curran was part of this, along with Ivan Coaquette and Patricia Coaquette, Frederec Rzewski, Nicole Rzewski, Franco Cataldi, and a bunch of others. All these musicians (and non-musicians) are American, French, and Italian. The first time I heard this album through my dad, it freaked me out. It sounded like a haunted house. Those wailing voices and pounding reminded me of ghosts. And that BYG laughing Buddha on the label (the BYG/Actuel's trademark logo) looked way more sinister to me as a kid. Not to mention I had no clue what a Buddha was or anything about Buddhism. I begged him never to play it again. He didn't play it much, mostly around Halloween. But he probably didn't play it much anyway, because it likely drove him crazy. The album got stolen by a so-called friend of my dad's in 1986, so I didn't miss it. Until more recently, I started feeling nostalgic for it. I found a copy, and it doesn't scare me anymore, but if you can't handle the relentless noise of screaming, wailing, pounding, and blasting trombones and saxophones, don't buy this album. But if you're into harsh avant-garde, give it a shot. By the way, I notice new things every time I listen to it. You'll find stuff like electronic sound effects, some people announcing things, whistles, and much more than the most obvious: wailing voices, pounding, squawking saxophones and blasting trombones. There's so much stuff buried in this wall of noise that things can be so easily missed I never noticed before! By the way, the version I own (which is an original) I am almost certain was the one that belonged to my father. At the time we had a cockatiel who often chewed on the seams of some of the albums, and the scuff marks on my copy looks like chewing from a bird. The fact I ordered this copy from a Portland, Oregon online record dealer makes me believe it's so, because there's a chance since 1986 when the album was stolen in Eugene that it could have easily wound up in Portland somewhere between that time and now. If so, a bit of my early childhood had returned, literally, but without me so frightened now as then.

• Childhood Noise Returns

  4 out of 5 stars
  bvusnac043054 May 2024United States🇺🇸

  This album wasn't unfamiliar to me. My dad purchased a copy around 1979 when I was just a kid of six. He likely expected it to be electronic, similar to Jean Michel Jarre or Tangerine Dream, or perhaps an early experimental Moog album, given the band's name. However, what he ended up with was a harsh, abrasive avant-garde piece featuring screaming and shrieking voices, pounding, and blasting trombones and saxophones. Alvin Curran was part of this, along with Ivan Coaquette and Patricia Coaquette, Frederec Rzewski, Nicole Rzewski, Franco Cataldi, and many others. These musicians (and non-musicians) hail from America, France, and Italy. When I first heard this album through my father, it terrified me. It sounded like a haunted house. Those wailing voices and pounding reminded me of ghosts. And the BYG laughing Buddha on the label (the BYG/Actuel's trademark logo) seemed much more sinister to me as a child. Not to mention, I had no idea what a Buddha was or anything about Buddhism. I pleaded with him never to play it. He rarely did, mostly around Halloween. But then again, he probably didn't anyway, because it likely drove him crazy. The album was stolen by a so-called friend of my dad's in 1986, so I didn't miss it. Until more recently, I started feeling nostalgic for it. I found a copy, and it doesn't scare me anymore, but if relentless noise of screaming, wailing, pounding, and blasting trombones and saxophones drive you nuts, don't buy this album. But if you're into harsh avant-garde, give it a try. By the way, I start noticing new things every time I listen to it. You'll find stuff like electronic sound effects, some people announcing things, whistles, and much more than the most obvious: wailing voices, pounding, squawking saxophones and blasting trombones. There is so much stuff buried in this wall of noise that things can be so easily missed I never noticed before! By the way, the version I own (which is an original) I am almost certain was the one that belonged to my father. At the time we had a cockatiel who often chewed on the seams of some of the albums, and the scuff marks on my copy looks like chewing from a bird. The fact I ordered this copy from a Portland, Oregon online record dealer makes me believe it's so, because there's a chance since 1986 when the album was stolen in Eugene that it could have easily wound up in Portland somewhere between that time and now. If so, a bit of my early childhood had returned, literally, but without me so frightened now as then.