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The work contained herein goes even further down the idiosyncratic path in evidence on The World of's more abstract tracks such as "Schoolbell/Treehouse" and "Keeping Up." These songs make it clear that Russell was a perfectionist of sorts, meticulously adding echo, splices and overdubs to his songs until they achieved a complexity that, on the surface, can appear almost effortless. These tracks cannot be deemed "disco" in any sense. They sound more like bedroom pop masterpieces, made with a working knowledge of the patterns and clichés of current pop music, but with a striking originality that transcends its time and technology. "The Platform on the Ocean" showcases Russell's striking use of distortion and stereo panning, and his throaty, soulful vocals curl and echo around the clipped African percussion. His simplistic, almost childlike lyrics are elevated to high poetry with inflected repetition and Russell's distinctive production: "On the wood platform on the ocean/I looked down and saw the fish/Which way its tail was pointing and why." Even tracks that sound very much like a sincere attempt at hackneyed 80's pop balladry, such as "You and Me Both," retain a dreamy, alien distance that is utterly magical. It's as if we are seeing 80's pop filtered through Arthur Russell's dreams and hallucinations, and this altered perception allows the music to arrive untainted by its tenuous attachment to the tired clichés of the period. Many of these songs come from a shelved album called Corn, a strangely appropriate symbol for the sonic alchemy that unites the urban sprawl of NYC with the windswept, oceanic expanses of the Midwest, Russell's birthplace and spiritual homeland. Some track are marred by crude drum programming, but Russell's intuitive approach to the cello and keyboards more than make up for these weaknesses. For me, encountering Arthur Russell's experimental disco work three years ago was a revelation, like rummaging through an attic and stumbling upon a collection of perfectly eccentric artwork that was there all the time, waiting to be discovered. It often occurred to me that Russell's released material must be only the tip of a vast, multifaceted iceberg, and Calling Out of Context wonderfully proves my suspicions were correct. -
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