Hussalonia Song # 5: The Locomotion

Vindication! Recognition! A blurb!
I would like to begin this entry by thanking Hussalonia founder for announcing the presence of this humble little blog on the official Hussalonia news page! Once again, traveling back to the Hussalonia Internet Concourse for a bit of fact-checking for the purpose of writing this blog, I was greeted with another welcome surprise. It seems that lately every visit to Hussalonia's website has provided me with some such unexpected good news. I am honored to have my written ramblings recognized by Hussalonia!
I would also like to mention that [The Hussalonia Founder] has recently posted on the website (though he'd alluded to it once before in the Hussalonia newsletter, which you would know if you subscribed to it; what are you waiting for?) his intention to release at least one project per month for this entire, grand old year known as 2010. I congratulate The Hussalonia Founder on his forming of such a plan and I wish him all the best in following it through! I, for one, greatly look forward to the prospect of new Hussalonia material each month, and I very much hope that the project winds up a rousing success. Viva Hussalonia!
Now, it is time for me to return to this week's entry, track number five off of the "Ernest Evans Hussalonia" album, "The Locomotion."
This is the first Hussalonia recording I am faced with writing about that isn't a traditional song at all, but more or less a full-blown sound collage. I fear writing about these a bit, as sometimes, to be honest, I do not have much of a reaction to them, and even to the extent that I do, I'm not sure that my writing skills are capable of capturing the very mercurial thoughts and feelings they inspire. I imagine that these probably aren't instant-favorites with most listeners. I, however, do have a soft spot for them, even when I don't really know what to make of them. Elsewhere on the official website, it is mentioned that [The Hussalonia Founder] collects old recordings, and these often seem to wind up in sound collage, and occasionally in the more traditional songs as well. These are used to great effect on both counts, though it will be some time before I am able to write about some of my favorite examples. For a bit of background on exactly what the nature of these antiquated recordings are, I give you a quote from the official description of the 2008 public domain sound collage release "OMG LOL WTF." It reads: "[The album] is comprised of experimental instrumentals and sound collage compiled from home-recordable, Wilcox-Gay acetates dating to the mid 1940s/early 1950s." I know little of acetate collection myself, but I imagine it is quite a fun hobby. It certainly appeals to my magpie-like urge to collect things. These recordings, explained elsewhere on the website (I admittedly forget where), contain everything from audio from radio and television to people just goofing around for the fun of it. "OMG LOL WTF" even includes some rather hilarious audio from a record designed to teach parakeets to talk. However, I must pace myself; that's quite far ahead! I must get back to the matter at hand.
The first thing that strikes me about "The Locomotion" is that it isn't "The Loco-Motion." To be more specific, it isn't the well-known pop song originally performed by Little Eva. In case you wonder, yes, I did just search online for who the original performer was and yes, I've never heard of her before now, despite being quite familiar with the song. In an odd side-note, my late great-grandmother was good friends with someone called Little Eva. Looking back, for all I know, it might have been the same person. In retrospect it was rather like a reoccurring gag out of a sitcom, in that I heard the adults of my family reference Little Eva, and my great-grandmother would talk to her on the phone while I was around, but I never saw her or even heard her voice. It reminds me of Wilson on "Home Improvement," or Carlton the doorman on "Rhoda." I half-remember this Little Eva supposedly having a sister named Big Eva, though I can't imagine why two siblings would have been given the same first name, unless it was not a sibling but a mother or an aunt or something. At any rate, my great-grandmother passed away several years ago and I've heard scarce mention of Little Eva since. How very odd that is, now that I think about it.
Oh, wait; I was supposed to be writing about a Hussalonia track, wasn't I?
As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by my own memories, short attention span, and the complete disregard for your precious time that prevents me from editing out the superfluous and unnecessary text, when I listen to "The Locomotion," no matter how many times I hear it, like Pavlov's dog I instantly expect to hear "The Loco-Motion." I'm not really sure why, but I always feel a bit disappointed at first that this isn't a cover of that song. This is especially strange considering that I never really liked "The Loco-Motion" all that much. I recall being made to listen to it, and, I think, dance to it in elementary school, probably in the same music class that ruined "This Land Is Your Land" for me. It conjures memories of some faded music textbook with bland pictures of a smiling cowboy clown next to the lyrics to "Home on the Range."
At any rate, after I settle down from the shock of not hearing "The Loco-motion," I find myself listening to a very intriguing little sound collage. It begins with some singing. Who is it? I have no idea. I think that the words are "When you're alone on the street of regret." It sounds quite mournful, buried though it is under distortion. Before long what appears to be a recording of the hymn "Angels We Have Heard on High" (if I'm not mistaken) comes to the fore, with the instantly recognizable "Gloria in Excelsis Deo" chorus. This has a lovely quality, yet as it sounds fuzzy due to age, it has kind of a ghostly quality as well. As if to accentuate the creepiness, dubbed over the rest of the track is a single sound: it appears to be a man sighing or grunting "uh." This sound, coupled with the relentless repetition, makes me quite uncomfortable. It brings to mind the feeling of being spied on by some perverse and inconsiderate voyeur. Before you ask, I have never knowingly experienced that, thankfully. Hearing that "uh" sound makes me imagine all too vividly what it might very well be like, though.
By the end of the track there is the sound of children babbling and repeating a phrase. It sounds like "taffy," or "coffee," or "Cathy." Each syllable is spoken separately but I still can't quite tell exactly what they are saying. I find the creepy "uh" sound mixed with the carefree sounds of children especially disconcerting.
What can I say about this track? I couldn't begin to interpret it. I have covered what each element of it makes me feel. Perhaps I should conclude by making a solid attempt at describing the overall impression that the track leaves on me.
When I listen to "The Locomotion," I am given a feeling of childhood, a certain part of childhood that is rather dry, boring, and, at times, vaguely unsettling. It is a feeling at once of smaller, country, churches and at the same time of larger cathedrals. For one moment I feel as if I'm at an uncomfortable Christmas Eve service, surrounded by candles; at another moment I feel as if I'm in some regular, typical Sunday service, being pressured against my will to sit on the altar while somebody gives me a sermon that I know full well I won't listen to if for no other reason than that I'll be too distracted by feeling nervous about having to sit up there to listen to it. I am reminded of the character "No-Face" in the film "Spirited Away" and that "uh!" sound he makes when he holds out his hands to offer gold, and how, in high school, a friend of mine liked to imitate it to be intentionally bothersome and disconcerting. Lastly, the track gives me the feeling of being in Sunday school, surrounding by construction paper and safety scissors, or else at some birthday party where everyone wonders why I don't feel compelled to hit the piñata. In either case, I am driven primarily by the urge to go home.