by Jack Jordan
Stanley Bowsza (aka “Minóy” ) was not only one
of the acknowledged “creators” of the 1980s “homemade” independent music scene,
he was also one of its most-acclaimed and well-known through his extensive
collaborations with literally dozens of other luminaries in the burgeoning
scene.
Many have wondered how Mr. Bowsza came to
adopt the name “Minóy.” It stemmed from his interest the visual arts: His
favorite artist was Joan Miró, the renowned Catalan surrealist painter who died
in 1983. One of Stanley’s friends, knowing this, mispronounced the artist’s name
one time when discussing him with Stanley, referring to the artist as “Minóy.”
Well, Stanley loved it, and the rest is history. As an aside, anyone who ever
received a cassette from Minóy can attest to his talent with abstract art – some
of his J-card cassette cover creations are works of art in themselves. And it
was not unusual for him to artistically “decorate” the plastic cover so that it
too became “art,” sometimes incorporating 3-D relief features with all kinds of
embellishments.
But Minóy is best known for his solo
compositions, which number well over 100. Whether a C60 or C90 cassette boasted
only one, or perhaps six, works of audio art, he is recognized as the master of
controlled noise, who used every sound imaginable in the world around him as his
audio palette. Many releases had only one or two compositions, and these gave
him the time to develop his themes and hypnotically enshroud the listener in
what were usually very powerful works – which made for a very memorable and
powerful “trip.” This was the secret to his magic and magnetism – calling his
music “noise” properly identifies it in the respectful lexicon of the time, but
doesn’t do it justice. It was, rather, a composed and, again,
controlled manipulated agglomeration of sounds, natural and/or composed,
that sucked you in with its precision and power. Then again, some of his works
were totally different in structure, delicate yet powerful little mantras with
alien riffs and melodies, often using, notably, a toy mouth organ, manipulated,
echoed and multi-tracked to sound like a warning call from heaven – or hell. He
also reveled in manipulating the human voice, another ingredient in the brew of
several of his works. In summary, Minóy knew how to expertly manipulate any
sound with another sound to come up with an engrossing, totally unique,
brain-bending opus.
Minóy spent a couple of days with me in
November 1987 in conjunction with a guest radio gig he was doing at a local
radio station, and we toured San Francisco and the East Bay, visiting good
record stores and doing a bit of the “tourist itinerary.” His recorder was
clipped to his belt, always ready to capture interesting ambient sounds around
us – which, with later manipulation and embellishments, were released as the
Burning Tree (for Jack) cassette. It was great to meet him and I remember
well his good humor, warm personality, acidic wit, and overall intelligence. He
painted a wonderful work of abstract art for me, which hangs on our living-room
wall to this day. We continued to keep in contact via phone and letters until we
lost touch after he began a journey down different roads in the early ‘90s. But
his music will live on forever.
- Jack Jordan
Knoxville, Tenn.
On the right, Minoy graces the cover of the July 1991 issue of Electronic
Cottage magazine.
To the left, some assorted pics that were included with the feature
article.
One rainy night I was driving home with the tape on the right on my
cassette deck. The lightning bolt static, the powerful noise blanketing
me and transfixing me to my car seat even after I had arrived. I sat
there in the dark hypnotized by the sound, the revelation.
