Norae pagwon books, also known as Narae pagwon or Narae p'agwon, are a unique form of Korean traditional instrument scores. Norae pagwon books were developed during the Joseon Dynasty, which lasted from 1392 to 1897. These books are a collection of musical scores and notations for the norae pagwon, a traditional Korean instrument similar to a zither or harp. The norae pagwon books are composed of both lyrics and musical notations. They are written in the traditional Korean musical notation system called jeongganbo. This notation system uses various symbols, dots, strokes, and lines to represent different pitches, durations, and ornamentations.
Overall good pressing. Sound is rich and full. Very vibrant. Biggest issue I have with it though (this also goes for other NIN records too) is that it's super quiet and you have to turn it up pretty loud. Overall not too big of a deal, but when it comes to the track "I'm not From This World", it's a pretty quiet track, so surface noise can be heard. The surface noise isn't too loud, but is present. Will turn some people away from this, but it doesn't bug me too much. Overall, pretty good pressing, for a really good album.
I find it astonishing that a man in his mid 50s can lay out music as raw as this, more so than the avalanche of soft electronic music that is pumped out over the internet nowadays. And, although I was loathe to admit it, Trent Reznor was thinking about music, technology, psychology and geopolitics with an exacting vision and fluency that was equal to, if not greater than, that of Radiohead of Bjork or other artists I unabashedly admired.
This notation system uses various symbols, dots, strokes, and lines to represent different pitches, durations, and ornamentations. The lyrics in the norae pagwon books often depict various themes from nature, love, or historical events. The melodies are usually written for solo performances but can also be adapted for ensemble or orchestral arrangements.
Nine Inch Nails “Bad Witch”
I first heard Nine Inch Nails in early 1990, on Long Island’s once great, famously alternative radio station, WDRE. At the time I was a pretentious teenager, deep in the Rock cannon, exploring Elvis Costello, The Clash, The Rolling Stones and the like. I was curious about Goth music and understood its appeal, but I managed to avoid any real seduction. Additionally, I didn’t really know much about Electronic music, aside from experimental or ambient music, like Brian Eno’s, or danceable Pop music, like Disco. Hardcore was popular around New York at the time, but I was far too beta to partake. So, when I first heard “Head Like a Hole” back then, it sounded to me like Skinny Puppy covering the Pixies. There was a din that I vaguely associated with an admittedly scant knowledge of Industrial music. But there was also a quiet/loud/quiet structure and sense for melody that sounded like what was then called “College Rock.” When that song came on the radio, I perked up. I definitely appreciated it, but I did not consider the matter beyond that.
The next year, in the summer of 1991, I attended a summer arts program at a college in Vermont. It was completely precious, pastoral, coming of age stuff — an idyllic locale wherein I could learn about writing and, moreover, about girls. That summer was pierced, however, by a series of bizarre, vaguely sadistic notes that I received from an anonymous source that accused me of being a vampire. You see, I have two birthmarks on my neck that, from a distance, could double for bite marks. Beyond that, however, I share none of the darkly good looks or charisma of the bloodsuckers. In these notes, which sometimes were accompanied by gruesome drawings or decapitated baby doll heads, I eventually recognized lyrics from “Head Like a Hole.” Upon further investigation, I learned that many of the words were culled from NIN lyrics. Before the month long program came to its end, the culprits revealed themselves. Unsurprisingly, it was two very nice, arty teenage girls and their completely sensitive, Gothic boy partner. What was unnerving to me for weeks felt relieving, but also kind of sad. I left the summer and returned home with the sense that Nine Inch Nails was music for my tormentors. I decided it was simply not for me.
For most of the 1990s and early 2000s, I was able to sustain my avoidance. I had my music. I had my heroes. And they did not have stringy long hair, sport a triangular soul patch or wear a black trench coat. They did not peddle sadomasochism to teens. They did not headline Lollapalooza. They did not inspire Harry Potter’s Professor Severus Snape. They were not chummy with Marilyn Manson. No. My heroes were singular geniuses and talents making transcendent Rock music for discerning adults. I was a young adult and serious music fan, after all. No Nine Inch Nails for me, thank you very much.
And yet, I increasingly had to acknowledge that there was something about the music. And the guy. NIN occupied this previously unthinkable space between Industrial, Goth, Experimental, Dance, Hardcore and Pop. In its exceptionalism, it tapped into incredibly diverse audiences. And while I was more an evader than a completist, every song I heard from the band was remarkable in its obsessiveness and its texture. I was not evolved enough to put aside my biases, but I was smart enough to realize that Trent Reznor had a profound vision for his art that went well beyond trend or cliche.
Eventually, with distance from “Hurt,” which was impossible to ignore, and from “Pretty Hate Machine,” which had nearly scarred teenage me, I was able to revisit Nine Inch Nails. The second approach was not swift. However, by 2008, Trent Reznor had cut his hair to a photo-ready bob, had bulked up like 80s Lou Reed and had reportedly gotten sober. What I heard from “With Teeth” and “Year Zero” sounded similarly coiffed to my ears -- a notch cleaner and with more expensive beats. I secretly missed some of the noisy, visceral, carnal rush of the early songs, but I was beginning to appreciate what seemed like clearheadedness. That being said, I sensed that it was too late for me to join the party. I was in my mid-30s. Plus, the club felt too intense and religious to me. In my mind, the music required secret codes and easter egg downloads and video game hacks and unsolvable puzzles. In the mid-2000s, I believed that listening to NIN necessarily required immersing myself in a multi-media experience that was actually a test for something that I probably would not understand.
As the first decade of the new millennium concluded, Reznor’s universe expanded even further. He married singer and future collaborator Mariqueen Maandig and cemented his relationship with producer, Atticus Ross. Increasingly, his music was leaning towards the expansive and experimental side of his tastes. His love of Brian Eno and David Bowie was coming to the surface. And, although I was loathe to admit it, Trent Reznor was thinking about music, technology, psychology and geopolitics with an exacting vision and fluency that was equal to, if not greater than, that of Radiohead of Bjork or other artists I unabashedly admired.
In 2010, having been completely floored by Reznor and Ross’ score for “The Social Network,” I knew that the moment had come. The time for avoidance was up. It was not his fault that a bunch of teenagers with Bauhaus shirts and black lipstick had spooked me. It was not his fault that Alt Rock culture had collided with mall culture. I could no longer dismiss Nine Inch Nails’ music. What had started as willful dismissiveness was beginning to feel like ignorance. Trent Reznor had fully cut his hair and was wearing what seemed like functional, comfortable athleisure. He had children. He had grown up. He was, by this point, fully a middle aged man. And I was not far behind. If he could bury the S&M whips and chains couldn’t I bury the hatchet?
Beginning in 2010, I waded into new Nine Inch Nails’ music gradually, but whole heartedly. The film scores were a complete pleasure -- dark, beautiful, spare and affecting. 2013s “Hesitation Marks,” while not revelatory, was accessible for me. The beats were more muscular and the programming more intricate. In some ways, the music resembled what critical darlings LCD Soundsystem were making at the time. On “Hesitation Marks,” the highs were not as high as his iconic hits. But the fury was less cartoonish to me. There was deep introspection rather than reductive self-loathing. The entire affair sounded more existential than adolescent. Further, with Ross’ considerable help, NIN had developed a breathtaking ability to build up textures to their breaking points, only to then remove everything that was inessential. Middle-aged Trent Reznor did not sound as furious as the guy I had avoided, but he sounded doubly focused.
In 2015, Trent Reznor turned fifty. By this time he had won an Oscar and been named the Chief Creative Officer for a subsidiary of Apple. Moreover, he had gracefully transitioned from Industrial Rock renegade to a venerable artist working at the intersection of composer and musician, Experimental and Pop. Between 2016 and 2018, Nine Inch Nails would release three products, all born out of a dialogue partially between Reznor and Ross, but mostly between Reznor and Reznor. The first two of these releases -- “Not the Actual Events” and “Add Violence” -- were sold as EPs (“Extended Plays”) and did not eclipse thirty minutes in length. “Bad Witch,” the final piece, is just six songs and thirty-one minutes long. It was marketed as an album largely because that format afforded the band and the label more promotional benefit on streaming services. In truth, all three of the releases are as considered and whole as any album but as succinct as most EPs. The fact that the first two are considered EPs is an unnecessary distinction.
Conceptually, these three releases are vast and deep. They were also highly intricate products, coming with hidden lyrics and elaborate packaging. “Not the Actual Events” famously included a mysterious black powder and label warning in its vinyl jacket. Further, the ideas that Reznor and Ross were contemplating are not for the faint of heart. According to Reznor, on the first EP, the band is considering the shame and viability of self and of ego. When looking for problems, Reznor starts from within but then wonders if he is even real. On the second release, the band turns its glare outwardly, decrying the regressive, insular culture that has led to our cultural and political doom. The theme for the finale was apparently discussed and agreed to at the outset. But then, on the heels of “Add Violence” and amid peak Trump America, Nine Inch Nails reconsidered. On “Bad Witch,” the finale, the band goes from masochistic, to cynical, to downright nihilistic. “What if none of this contemplation and desire to make things better matters,” they wonder. “What if humankind is just a mistake, a mutation, or a meaningless simulation?” There is something decidedly mature and impressive about pausing in between records to consider the original thesis. In that pause, NIN avoided redundancy and something pat and convenient in favor of something headier but even darker. If America in 2018 is the plot of “Bad Witch,” however, David Bowie’s passing is the unmistakable subplot.
Both “Not the Actual Events” and “Add Violence” feature five tracks. Both also include one, unmistakable single wherein Reznor and Ross prove that they are still eminently capable of carving verses, bridges and choruses out of the sturm and drang. “Add Violence” is the more experimental of the two, culminating with an eleven minute track that degrades a programmed loop fifty-two times until the music completely disappears. The two EPs, though divergent in perspective, are musically relatable. “Bad Witch,” however, sounds like something else altogether.
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One notable feature of norae pagwon books is their visually appealing layout. The books are beautifully decorated with intricate calligraphy and illustrations, often depicting scenes related to the lyrics or the instruments themselves. Norae pagwon books played a significant role in preserving and promoting traditional Korean music during the Joseon Dynasty. They were primarily used by professional musicians and scholars who sought to study and perform traditional music accurately. Today, norae pagwon books continue to be a valuable resource for those interested in traditional Korean music. They are often used in music education, and many musicians still perform from these ancient scores. In conclusion, norae pagwon books are an essential part of Korean musical heritage. They provide valuable insights into the traditional music practices of the Joseon Dynasty and continue to be a source of inspiration for contemporary musicians and scholars..
Reviews for "The Evolution of Norae Pagwon Books: From Traditional Tales to Modern Narratives"
1. Karen - 1 star
I found the "Norae pagwn books" extremely disappointing. The characters were one-dimensional and lacked depth, making it hard to connect with them. The plot was predictable and had no real surprises or twists. The writing style felt amateurish and unpolished, with repetitive phrases and cliché dialogue. Overall, I was left feeling unsatisfied and would not recommend this book to others.
2. Mark - 2 stars
I have to admit, I had high expectations for the "Norae pagwn books", but unfortunately, it fell short. The pacing was sluggish, leaving me bored and uninterested. The world-building was poorly done, with inconsistencies and gaps in the lore. The romance felt forced and lacked chemistry between the characters. While the concept had potential, the execution was lacking, and I was ultimately disappointed.
3. Sarah - 2 stars
I struggled to get through the "Norae pagwn books". The writing was clunky and lacked sophistication, making it hard to fully immerse myself in the story. The plot had promising elements, but they were poorly developed and left unresolved. The dialogue felt unnatural and stilted, and the characters lacked distinct personalities. Overall, it was a forgettable read that didn't live up to the hype.
4. Ryan - 1 star
I really wanted to enjoy the "Norae pagwn books", but unfortunately, it just didn't work for me. The prose was filled with unnecessary descriptions and dragged on, making it difficult to stay engaged. The characters were flat and uninteresting, and their actions often seemed illogical and inconsistent. The plot lacked cohesiveness and failed to deliver any meaningful payoff. I was left feeling frustrated and unsatisfied, regretting the time I spent reading this book.
5. Lisa - 2 stars
I was hoping for a captivating and unique reading experience with the "Norae pagwn books", but I was disappointed. The story was slow-paced and failed to hold my attention. The dialogue felt forced and lacked authenticity, making it hard to invest in the characters' relationships. The world-building was underdeveloped, leaving many unanswered questions. Overall, it was a lackluster read that didn't live up to its potential.