December 1, 2019
Released in 1968 to great acclaim, huge sales, a long stay on the Billboard charts, and three Grammy awards, Switched-on Bach, a collection of Johann Sebastian Bach recordings performed on a Moog synthesizer, inspired many imitators and provided a giant shot in the arm for electronic music. The world wanted more, and it wanted to see the artist. But Wendy Carlos (b. 1939), then known as Walter Carlos, wanted to be left alone. Sewell (music director, Interlochen Public Radio) tells the story of this pivotal album's elusive creator. Carlos, a transgender woman, underwent hormone treatments before the release of the album and had gender reassignment surgery in 1972. Firm in her belief that music should be judged by its own merits, Carlos has avoided interviews and intrusions into her personal life. Even with limited secondary sources to rely on, Sewell has written a long-overdue scholarly work that sheds light on Carlos's creative process while never sensationalizing her private life. VERDICT Sewell's nuanced biography of an overlooked composer is our best look yet at this groundbreaking artist, and a reminder that art can and should speak for itself.--Bill Baars, formerly with Lake Oswego P.L., OR
Copyright 2019 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
February 1, 2020
A pioneering musical artist belatedly receives her first biography. In 1968, the release of Switched-On Bach blew the doors open for the acceptance of synthesizers in music. That album was created by Wendy Carlos (b. 1939), who was born Walter Carlos before transitioning to Wendy. Though she wouldn't undergo "gender confirmation surgery" until 1972 and wouldn't go public with her gender identity until the end of that decade, the artist the public knew as Walter was deeply closeted and "nowhere to be found" as the album became a critical and commercial success. Sewell, music director of Interlochen Public Radio, focuses more on Carlos' music than on her personal life, as Carlos would clearly wish, though she didn't participate in this book or consent to an interview. Nonetheless, the author demonstrates that she was as important to the success of the Moog synthesizer as the Moog was for her, that she was a pioneering artist in ambient music as well, and that she dismissed being pigeonholed for her synthesized Bach. Sewell shows that she is a difficult woman who has fallen out with friends and collaborators, filed suit against those who attempt to stream or sell her music--currently unavailable except through back channels and secondary sources--and accused the "New York musical mafia" of killing her career by ignoring her. Her unexpected initial success, writes the author, was "both a dream come true and an absolute nightmare come to life," and she continued to shrink from public view just as public interest hit its peak. Subsequently, it became increasingly challenging to promote an artist who wouldn't perform or appear in public, resisted being photographed, and wanted absolute control over everything, from her rare interviews to the way her music was sold. Sewell, who does solid excavation work, includes a discography and videography as well as a glossary of "terms and concepts related to gender identity." A balanced biography that gives credit where it is due.
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