For those familiar with the work of James “Twig” Harper Johnson, it comes as no surprise that he’s a fan of The Okeh Laughing Record, the infamous 1922 shellac 78 that features a duet of maniacal, infectious hysterics. Harper self-released a limited run of ten lathes of a personal tribute to that landmark work back in January, each one “real time cut and unique with a different algorthmitc [sic] permutation of source audio.” I only became aware of it recently, however, due to Hanson’s standardized cassette edition (it’s also not a shock that Dilloway, who also provided some of the “giggle loops” used, shares an appreciation for the Okeh record). I don’t normally review reissues, but because this one makes available a distinct version of the material—and because it’s such a blast—I elected to laugh in the face of precedent. Knee-slapping paradoxes abound in the musical process of Ha Ha Laughing Record itself: to my ears, much if not all of this is automated digital arrangements and abstractions of analog sources, which clears room for a dual allegiance to craft and caprice. Every second is crammed with gut-busting bells and whistles, all of which emerge, contort, and dissipate with an uncanny logic. I love coughing fits on the B side as well (not for nothing, it’s thanks to Dilloway that I discovered A Child’s Cry: A Clue to Diagnosis, another historic essential for any oddballs enamored with the human voicebox—see also Speech After the Removal of the Larynx). There are chuckles, cackles, and chortles galore across the half-hour duration of Ha Ha, but it’s also sort of a love song to utterance at large, a delirious gallivant around a run-down sound stage with all the freedom of knowing that the line between horror and humor is often nonexistent.
Noise Not Music 