Having completed Remède de Fortune, which is probably both a digression in this space, as well as a little project that considerably occupied me for a number of months, it feels like time to rotate the previous set of entries off onto an archive page. (This is the largest set of entries collected on one archive page here thus far, in part because of the delay in preparing the Fortune article.)
I concluded that set of entries with an announcement of a performance fellowship, and I am pleased to have had the opportunity to do so. For the future of that endeavor, I have created a separate page that will be kept up to date regarding status. At the moment, some money remains available.
I will keep my remarks for this, the fifth iteration of an opening statement in this space, brief. I refer you to my list of favorites, of course, as well as to previous introductory remarks by way of orientation.
Finally, I note that the promised article on Familiarity continues in its development, and that this will be a more properly "aesthetic" article, although I've declined to circumscribe its content thus far. But this article, not yet named as I write today, has been the container — of sorts — for the past couple of years of discussion in this space.
Hopefully there will also be some worthwhile comments on recent albums, and perhaps other endeavors, to appear here over the coming months.Todd McComb <email@example.com>
I want to write very briefly of my recent decision to include the free trio Taylor / Dixon / Oxley (recorded in 2002 at Victoriaville) in my list of favorites. Obviously this is a rather earlier recording than the others, and I do not intend it to mark a shift toward featuring older material. Simply put, I found it too compelling to neglect, and with nothing since then that is really comparable. Perhaps something for which I have similar feelings will appear, but there is nothing currently on that horizon.
Cecil Taylor needs no introduction, and if I had been more aware of free jazz in the 1980s, it's safe to guess that Cecil Taylor would have been a performer I particularly admired. Now, seemingly with no new performances forthcoming, that admiration moves into more of a retrospective register. (Kris Davis, who appears regularly in this space, is sometimes compared to Taylor, and not without reason, but I do not actually take a similar feel from their music.) I have already mentioned the late Bill Dixon a number of times, including around his Tapestries double album, something of a summation of his late style. (Dixon's Envoi album, also from Victoriaville, functions as more of an appendix in the same style, to my mind.) This was perhaps his last improvised (uncomposed) album, although one never knows what else could be released subsequently. Having these two giants of African-American music share an improvising stage — nicely complemented by Tony Oxley, who has also released little since — becomes an opportunity that in turn yields a production that becomes emblematic of some views I have on the previous generation of performers. Although I rarely mention it here, I have taken numerous opportunities to listen to older recordings, particularly centered in the 1980s (when the "business" of jazz changed so much, as well as coincidentally the one decade during which I was personally captivated by popular music), but Taylor / Dixon / Oxley stands out for me in that context, as styles continued to develop into the early 2000s. (The context includes both the Taylor & Dixon reissue boxes from Black Saint / Soul Note, as well as various others in that series.) It continues to seem very relevant today, and not really duplicated, even as some of the other styles from that period have served as crucial influences for more recent creation. Of course, the latter doesn't make an album worse, and certainly not less influential, but it does mean that I often prefer the later music for having worked out more of the ideas & techniques. So this inclusion is not a matter of "influence," but rather of enjoyment today.24 June 2014
I have enjoyed Leaf House, the piano trio album released by Jeff Davis in 2012, and so was looking forward to his most recent album — adding two horns to the same piano trio personnel — Dragon Father. One criticism I have of Leaf House is that it can be a bit stiff at times, with some excellent rhythmic-harmonic schemes that don't always soar the way they might. Adding a couple of horns seems like a reasonable way to get a different result, but unfortunately, I'm disappointed with Dragon Father. It has some similar material — meaning that I like it — by Davis, but also some other tracks that could only be termed as sentimental, and the horns serve more to create a traditional jazz "showpiece" vibe than to forge changes in structure in the basic material. In other words, it's a louder & more demonstrative group, but with similar rhythmic-harmonic ideas that the horns are simply amplifying with classic-style solos. Perhaps this album will play better for a more typical jazz audience.
On the topic of drummers whose music I've enjoyed, Joe Hertenstein has been playing with The Core Trio, led by Houston-based bassist Thomas Helton. He is the newest member of that trio, replacing Richard Cholakian and joining sax player Seth Paynter. Their recent album Featuring Matthew Shipp (if that can be considered its title) is often rather minimalist, whether featuring ostinati or solos, and includes a lot of tonal chords. So many triads seem unusual for Shipp! In any case, within the one long track, there are also some animated sections where Hertenstein's drumming can be enjoyed, but mostly he remains in the background. The album can almost be viewed as American minimalism (e.g. Philip Glass) meets classic rock & roll.25 June 2014
A few other recent albums of note....
Ingrid Laubrock has appeared in this space a number of times already, and like some of the other recent albums from New York musicians she plays with often, her Zürick Concert album seems well-suited as an introduction to her style for more modestly adventurous audiences. The live octet performance features a wide variety of sonorities, textures & ideas, but does so across a long program (73 minutes), without too much happening at any one time. Many sections have more of a minimalist orientation, in fact, some centering on a particular dramatic gesture. (There is something of the soundtrack here at times.) The suite — if I should call it that — climaxes with some rather elaborate ensemble interaction in track #6, which is certainly a highlight. The various other musicians employed in the octet include some of my favorites, and it's a very nicely done production, although none of it is very provocative relative to Laubrock's previous work. Zürick Concert does not sound like "jazz," but listeners open to a more contemporary style will likely find it accessible & enjoyable. It's a real tour de force in that sense.
[ As an aside, English trumpeter Tom Arthurs (b.1980) from Zürick Concert, with whom I was previously unfamiliar, also has a new album, Chats with the Real McCoy, on Creative Sources. This is a trio album from Berlin that features some of the same characteristics, namely an emphasis on fairly minimal ideas that change with each track. The greater intimacy of the trio setting provides a different context for this sort of interaction, in this case especially between Arthurs & drummer Yorgos Dimitriadis. (The bassist is Miles Perkin from Canada, whose plucking also seems percussive often enough to blend into one rhythm duo.) The sometimes repetitive nature of the album seems to draw from the hypnotic, particularly Griot, styles of West Africa at times. (I'm calling this an aside, because Chats with the Real McCoy is unlikely to draw mainstream attention, particularly given the complete lack of description from Creative Sources.) ]
The Sauna Session by Piero Bittolo Bon's Lacus Amoenus featuring Peter Evans is also attracting similar positive attention, even if it seems to be a more obscure release from my perspective. This is an Italian quartet, adding the famous US trumpeter, with a colorful & nicely produced album on the Italian Long Song Records. There is much to enjoy about The Sauna Session — I especially liked the opening track, featuring the tuba (with no string bass in this group) — but I also find the many stylistic references to popular music to be rather literal. This extends from various kinds of rock & metal, as typical of many improvisatory albums these days, even to country music (which is rather literal on track #5), blues & folk. I would tend to favor more of a transfiguration of this material, but here I believe we're supposed to enjoy the sounds for their own sake, as part of a (somewhat prototypical) postmodern collage. This is another long album (74 minutes), with much lively interaction and a carefree spirit. I found it rather striking, despite some different preferences, and well worth hearing.
Another album I've enjoyed is Spectral, a wind trio of Dave Rempis, Darren Johnston & Larry Ochs, recorded on two dates here in the Bay Area, and released on Aerophonic Records (Dave Rempis's label, also nicely produced). It has not been a conscious decision, but I have not spent much time on all-wind ensembles in this space. Obviously there is a great deal of potential in using only instruments from the same family, and even if we're more accustomed to e.g. the string quartet, the idea of matched wind consorts goes back to the Renaissance. Here, the instruments aren't really matched, and the three players have no problem differentiating their sounds. A bit like Zürick Concert, although in a very different style, Spectral relies on detailed interactions within a rather constrained space. The various tracks come off spontaneously: Even if one musician adopts a relatively strict procedure, the others interact in different ways. That tension between strictness & freedom is what forms much of the interest. (I contrast this somewhat with what's become the cliché of composition vs. improvisation.) The result is that group structures form & fall apart, but with more intimacy than typical of the "soundscape" style, given the latter's typical distance. Spectral gets the listener thinking about the individual notes, so it's both very technical & self-conscious in that sense. The general sparseness is critical to that focus, a focus not uncommon in "experimental" concerts in the Bay Area.3 July 2014
The duo Period has added Chuck Bettis (who I correspond with occasionally at DMG) on voice & electronics for their second album, 2, as well as a couple of sax players on some tracks. This is basically doom metal reconfigured, decontextualized. I enjoy some of their sonorities, particularly Bettis on vocals & Mike Pride's drumming, but Charlie Looker sticking closely to "metal" chords on the booming guitar gets to be monotonous for me. (This is in distinction to The Gate, mentioned in this space back in September 2012, which mixes interval permutations into their doom style.) I have a hard time listening to the entire first track, which is only the core duo, as well as the longest track on the album, without getting bored by the lack of variety. The track certainly does have a consistent foreboding quality, though, in keeping with the "doom" genre. Track #2 is then a similar setup, but with vocals. Some of the other tracks have a bit more happening. All the vocals are wordless, basically decontextualized metal-style howling, often staying in the background. That aspect of the album is appealing, and Pride scrambles time throughout, so there's plenty of rhythmic interest. (The wind players don't really change the basic sound when they participate.) It's as if doom metal songs have been broken apart and put back together in some incoherent (in the good sense) order, but unfortunately keeping the harmonies mostly intact. Anyway, I don't listen to too many albums that are so focused on rock or post-rock styles, so I thought Period 2 was worth mentioning.5 July 2014
Skulking in the Big House is another worthwhile improvised quartet album on Creative Sources, recorded by German bassist Alexander Frangenheim in Berlin, and featuring the Israeli players Ariel Shibolet (soprano saxophone), Nori Jacoby (viola), and Ofer Bymel (drums). Although I hadn't noticed it at the time, Skulking in the Big House prompted me to also have a listen to Berlin — another improvised quartet album recorded the previous year in Berlin by Frangenheim, with Bymel, but also Creative Sources director Ernesto Rodrigues on viola, and Chris Heenan on reeds. The similarities are obvious between the two groups, and likely Berlin prompted Rodrigues to also release Skulking in the Big House. In any case, although Rodrigues's technique on viola is quite advanced, Berlin is generally a very quiet album, either with not a lot happening, or remaining on the edge of audibility. (The final track does have a bit of an "animal roar" to it, but that fades away also.) I have nothing against exploring such areas in principle, but the fact is, an exploration of audibility doesn't suit my life very well: There's so much environmental noise around me, and trying to listen to music I have trouble hearing only makes it seem more frustrating. So I'm not all that personally compatible with Rodrigues's own style, even if I like much of what he does, particularly as a label director. Another natural point of comparison for Skulking in the Big House in this space is Martin Blume's quartet album In Just, with which I've had a bit of a strange relationship: This is the only album, so far at least, that I've dropped out of my favorites only to add again (and now dropped again). I enjoy much of In Just, even if it's rather quiet for extended periods, but apparently that enjoyment stops short of true enthusiasm. The comparison is likewise fairly obvious, with its two string players, reedist & drummer. I think that ultimately I feel similarly about Skulking in the Big House, in that it's an enjoyable album that doesn't force me to seek it out — not quite enough ideas for a full album, I guess, although the best parts are very striking. Nonetheless, some other thoughts are appropriate. Skulking in the Big House is not so much a study in quiet, although it's never very loud, but more of a chamber atmosphere with quick pointillist sounds often in extended technique. (The percussive attacks are specifically reminiscent of In Just.) I consequently enjoy the way the musicians interact when playing together simultaneously. Although certainly "indoor music," there is a bit of wildness to it in the evocations of insect & small animal sounds, an observation that could be made of a number of albums featured in this space. (Whether this is intentional, I do not know.) The result is a kind of hybrid sensitivity that deserves more exploration, and indeed seems to be getting it. This is one of the more compelling albums to appear so far this year, particularly since (as on Eye of the Moose) it mostly features musicians with which I was not otherwise familiar.
Considering that the majority of musicians on Skulking in the Big House are Israeli, I feel compelled to state at this time that I do not support the Israeli government's policies toward the Palestinians. The actions of that government are very offensive to me. I also do not automatically believe that anyone from Israel must be in favor of them, just as I am not in favor of many of the things done by the United States government. (And I have no idea what these musicians' specific views are.) That said, Bymel also has a recent trio album recorded in Israel, Spatial Awareness on OutNow; this was worth hearing, although more noise / electronic rock influenced. An album that mostly features Israeli musicians that I continue to find striking is Growing carrots in a concrete floor, largely for its reconfiguration of interior space — including what likewise might be evocations from the animal world. (The final/title track on Skulking in the Big House is the most similar in this regard.)16 July 2014
I discussed the first Dark Tree release, Pourtant les cimes des arbres, more than two years ago in this space. The album received quite a bit of positive attention, particularly in France, and I enjoyed it. (I also continue to like the label packaging, which does not cut corners, has a nice design, ample size, and a sturdy plastic sleeve.) I did have some misgivings about recreating a classic haiku in music, not only about the shift in medium, but also the shift in culture, in this case to a France-based trio. After all, Japan has its own musicians, both traditional & otherwise, and we can hear them as easily as we can this French trio. These topics arise naturally [*] again with Sens radiants, the fourth release by Dark Tree, and the next of this particular trio. Here we find, again, a literary basis, this time in the twentieth century writing of Henri Michaux. The mediation is rather different, however, starting with the French author. Michaux is, to a high degree, a travel author, and his sense of encounter with the cultural other figures his work. This sense of encounter is already highly mediated by Michaux himself, however, rather than arising starkly from a more direct encounter by the musicians (although one can certainly take their previous album as highly mediated by the Western concept of haiku in general). These other layers of dialog — if I may call it that — yield a rhetorical richness throughout the single long improvisation. The imagery is not always especially abstract, however, so that one feels oneself on a train in the opening, later in the jungle, on a ship, etc. These more concrete sensations then interact with other layers of commentary. Another significant difference in Sens radiants, that I approach with some degree of trepidation, is that the world that inspired Michaux is not presented to the West in the way that Japan is: The music or ideas he encountered are not presented in our artistic spaces, or if they are, not self-consciously by the creators themselves. In other words, whereas Pourtant les cimes des arbres doesn't give me a new appreciation of Japan, Sens radiants does give me — at least somewhat — a different feel for e.g. the Amazon.[**] The musicians themselves utilize a variety of technique, and create a rich sonic tapestry, often (but not always) out of quite minimal materials. I would not characterize it as narration or description any more than is Michaux's late poetry: It is, I might say in keeping with the preceding, further mediation — rather, a further transplant — of some very different ways of looking at the world. It's also a chance to hear a very capable sax-bass-drum trio featuring the baritone saxophone in an extended improvisatory piece of many different moods, and that's probably plenty.
[*] This is a self-conscious use of the term "naturally," given the naturalist — and particularly cross-cultural view on nature — evocation (or provocation) of these albums.
[**] Coincidentally, when this album appeared, I was in the midst of reading Descola's Beyond Nature and Culture, which opens with an Amazonian anecdote from Michaux. Perhaps, absent this coincidence, I would have found Sens radiants much less engaging. How can I ever know?4 August 2014
It was serendipitous to have spent some time listening to Spectral a couple of months ago, because that opportunity to ponder the wind trio format made it easier to hear Sonic Rivers subsequently. I don't know why that format presents challenges for me, out of proportion to other sorts of instrumental trios, but in any case, I found Sonic Rivers rather harsh and difficult to approach.[*] However, with some time, the strength of the interaction between these three very distinguished players did shine forth. The frame for the program consists of two compositions by Wadada Leo Smith (b.1941), with the remainder being free improvisation. Having John Zorn (b.1953) invite Smith to record for his label, forming a trio mediated by George Lewis (b.1952), who contributes the electronics to the ensemble sound, is clearly an event (and sure to be widely heard).[**] Moreover, the opening track is a tribute to Cecil Taylor (who I had discussed in this space only a handful of weeks ago), engaging another giant of USA music. Following the opening Taylor homage, the second track, "The Art of Counterpoint" lets loose the exotic sound of electronics to demonstrate just how sophisticated this improvising trio can be. The next set of improvisations might be generically named — or perhaps really evocative of their directional terms — but the last improvisation, "Screaming Grass," has a very clear referent: Coincidentally, my partner watched a TV documentary on plant intelligence & communication the same week this album appeared, although the (colorful) descriptive term goes back to at least 2010. (So the serendipity here is manifold.) In any case, I've long wondered about the public's fascination with animal responses to the seeming complete exclusion of plant responses; evidently we torture plants too. That digression aside, the trio's music is certainly evocative, and exemplary of a richly dense interaction that does not eschew dissonance, nor melody, even if the latter can be hidden. Although it takes some effort to disentangle the various things happening throughout this album, Sonic Rivers is well worth it. That it demands engagement from the listener is perhaps its greatest strength, and I'm feeling that my attempt to translate some of that demand into words is falling even more short than usual.
[*] It is probably premature for me to discuss, but while writing this entry, a wind quintet album by Jorrit Dijkstra (together with distinguished performers Phillip Greenlief, Kyle Bruckmann, Frank Gratkowski, and Jon Raskin) appeared on Driff Records (which has a variety of current releases, including more mainstream jazz formats). Music for Reeds and Electronics: Oakland is not only similar in its all-wind lineup, but has a similar locus of electronic use to Sonic Rivers. Moreover, it can be compared to Spectral in its Bay Area orientation (in addition to its procedural focus); I've had the opportunity to listen to most of these performers live, and of course, Ochs & Raskin are members of ROVA, a local institution. In any case, Music for Reeds and Electronics is rather more "composed" (by Dijkstra) than these other albums, although it has various fascinating sequences. I've enjoyed it, even if it seems a bit stiff at times, relatively speaking.
[**] Although each of these performers is widely recorded, hearing them in a fully improvised setting, interacting with at least two other musicians at a time, is not as easy as I would like. My current eschewal of solos & duos might be idiosyncratic, but I'm sure that many listeners will likewise value this opportunity.5 August 2014
As it happens, there were three worthwhile piano trio albums that came to me at about the same time, and so this entry will continue to discuss the other two. It is interesting how, at times, it seems this form is played out, but then suddenly it seems reinvigorated. Perhaps that is as expected. In any case....
Love and Ghosts is the latest release (a double album) from the Farmers by Nature trio. In this case, there is no clear leader, and different performers take the lead at different times — William Parker's solos are probably the most striking here, as it happens, even though Gerald Cleaver is the "administrator" for the group. The two CDs are two live sets from France, and have both the strengths & weaknesses inherent to largely unedited concert tour recordings: They're very engaging & stimulating at times, yielding to other moments where not a lot is happening (or it's repetitive), and the engagement tends to fade a bit (at least for me) with repeated listening. I'm glad these performers decided to release such a live album, even if a few hearings satisfies me. There is an attention to process in that decision, and the cultivation of new artists, that Farmers by Nature, and especially Parker, have come to exemplify. The style itself can be reasonably inferred from other activities of these performers, encompassing both the groove-based style and more intricate interactions.
From England comes A field perpetually at the edge of disorder, a trio album fronted by John Tilbury, but with extensive provocation from Mark Sanders, and especially John Edwards. This is largely stark music, in the mode of e.g. Joëlle Léandre's Live - Trio, a piano trio also featuring Tilbury. It's also a lengthy album, with two extended improvisations, both apparently from the same date at Cafe Oto. This music has a sort of air of world commentary, yet a fragility to it, that could also be compared to the recently-discussed Sens radiants. Somehow A field doesn't seem terribly grounded, despite those evocations. I did find it interesting, though, and would probably feel more strongly about it if quiet music worked better in my life. There's both a worldliness and a feeling of distance to the music, encapsulated technically in the triadic response to dissonance. There is an other-worldly sense of enjoyment, in other words, with all the implications that departure might have — observation of the world without being of it. (Working that stance into a broader dynamic including immanence is what Léandre accomplished so well with her trio.) A field, however, clearly captures a particular milieu with some authority.6 August 2014
Given what I might characterize as the conservatism of the Clean Feed catalog [*], at least relative to some more adventurous labels, Fremdenzimmer has long struck me as a provocative album — although perhaps this was never a good assessment, given its clear references to Scelsi & Sciarrino, i.e. "classical" music that is decades old now. However, Fremdenzimmer, or at least parts of it, is also some of the most successfully innovative "Scelsian" music I've heard, incorporating a kind of heterogenous becoming that Scelsi himself never really cultivated, and so a sequel from the Baloni trio was very welcome. As it turns out, there isn't much of a Scelsian orientation to Belleke (except maybe the first half of track #4, which then leads into 1940s Messiaen harmonies that become destabilized), and in fact the opening (as well as some other portions) can only be described as overtly nostalgic in the Romantic sense. I found it initially disappointing, for that reason, but even part way through the first hearing, started to enjoy the charms of Belleke for themselves. There is still a tackling of 20th century avant garde style, but here configured more around emotional registers. (I do not know the reference of the title. A woman's name?) The website mentions something about Satie, whose influence can be felt at times (e.g. #9 — or, given the string attack, is that China's influence on Satie?), although Baloni is far more colorful: The focus on developing smaller scale relations is retained from Fremdenzimmer, if applied to different affective interfaces, and the result is not nearly as dark (to again quote the website, which actually retains the "dark" label for Belleke) or alien: I might call it elemental, to align with the Scelsi influence, but it operates more in the human domain, although not without reference to objects (e.g. #2). There is also the melodic feel of folk music at times, although it is difficult to place within a trans-Eurasian perspective (part Chinese in #5, for instance). There are a large number of separate pieces (again), and the result is an array of affective gestures, usually with some substantial development, some more improvised, some more composed. Belleke uses more tonal coloring than I would have thought I'd enjoy (although melodies are usually decentered), but the result is somehow a reterritorialization that penetrates elements of older styles & their configuration. It makes for a rather interesting juxtaposition with Fremdenzimmer, and indeed Baloni has managed to surprise me & convince me to think about some musical elements differently. (It's also interesting to note that it's been over two years since Belleke was recorded, not so long after Fremdenzimmer was released. Who knows what's next?) Maybe the Clean Feed writer thinks of the haunting quality as dark, but I would say it's a bright haunting, or at least translucent.
Clean Feed continues to release a wide range of material, and another album from the latest batch held my attention for a while, Balance by the Joe Morris Quartet. This is an older formation to which Morris "returned," with Mat Maneri, Chris Lightcap, and Gerald Cleaver. Although I have not featured Lightcap in this space, Maneri participates in a couple of favorite albums (with Joëlle Léandre & with Kris Davis), and Cleaver appears regularly in a variety of ensembles — in the previous entry with Farmers by Nature, with Samuel Blaser, John Hébert, etc. Morris takes pride in regularly making music that is completely different from his other music, and in that context, Balance represents something of a return, as already noted — a return he describes as creating difference via being a return. (I can personally relate to Morris's comments about feeling some resentment, maybe even fear?, at being told that this quartet defined his sound. That sort of thought usually makes me scramble too.) Various parts of Balance are highly enjoyable, particularly when the entire ensemble is involved, but there are also many smaller scale sections where not a lot happens for a period of time. It's an album that can alternate brilliance with feeling repetitive or unfocused in fairly short order — perhaps that's what makes it balanced. (According to Morris, it is actually inspired by 20th century sculpture, and is the third & last in a series of albums devoted to the visual arts, the second being Camera, discussed in this space some 37 months ago.) Nonetheless, it's well worth hearing.
[*] I don't actually attribute Clean Feed's so-called conservatism to any sort of reactionary element among the label staff at all, but rather to a goal of bringing their audience along in a manner acceptable to that audience. In other words, they're trying to address a conservative audience (by definition; not any more so than any but the most specialized audiences), and spur them toward some newer musical ideas — or at least that's how I view the situation. Moreover, I can't complain, since that approach worked well for me.13 August 2014
Belgian percussionist Teun Verbruggen (b.1975) has been generating some buzz with his recent album Spinning Jenny with his Bureau of Atomic Tourism sextet. This is a lengthy album featuring intricately composed pieces from ensemble members, although none by the leader himself. Together with the release of Spinning Jenny — and from the same recording sessions — is an improvised trio album, The Evil Art Contest. The latter features half of the sextet, probably not coincidentally including the two otherwise most famous performers, Marc Ducret & Nate Wooley. As an improvised album, The Evil Art Contest attracted me a little more readily, but it's also worth considering the albums together. Indeed, I cannot help but think of the classic improvised Baroque prelude as a metaphor for The Evil Art Contest, with the "suite" to come in Spinning Jenny. The eight tracks on The Evil Art Contest regularly create an anticipatory mood, and would otherwise leave one wondering about what comes next, or perhaps even feeling unsatisfied by their mood of incompletion. However, we do learn what comes next with the lengthy Spinning Jenny, where this anticipatory mood is eventually saturated with completion. Although it would surely be a mistake to link the pieces individually, the relationship between these two albums seems relatively clear as a whole. The result is some rather interesting music, in two facets, united by the inclusive & multi-faceted personal style of Verbruggen.1 September 2014
Jeff Shurdut started a new music label, Creative Music for Creative Listening, and has released The Music of Everything as two download-only albums. (These are available, for instance, via Classics Online, along with a couple of earlier albums, including Yad.) The earlier of these albums, recorded on two dates last year at Brooklyn Fire Proof, is on the shorter side, whereas the later one, recorded early this year at Downtown Music Gallery, is of a more typical length, and consists of three tracks. There are thus three live dates represented; the ensemble has substantial overlap, but is not identical between any two dates. Besides Shurdut himself (always on alto), three other musicians are at all three dates: Sana Nagano (violin), Kevin Shea (drummer for e.g. Mostly Other People Do The Killing), and Sean Sonderegger (tenor). Nagano also has a recent trio album, Inside the Rainbow — worth hearing for its mix of avant garde & delicate folk music. Other performers include Harvey Valdes on guitar (whose trio album Tesla Coils I'll be discussing in this space soon), and Landon Knoblock on electronics (whose Stellar Power album on Skirl received some good attention, although its rock idiom doesn't speak to me).
Shurdut's choice of label name appeals to me, as should probably be clear from reading various previous entries: I often consider how an album might fit into my life, or what it might "do" for me. Inspiring creativity in the listener, particularly in asking the listener to creatively interact with the music itself, is a very worthwhile goal, and at least for me, Shurdut regularly succeeds. Given that these are already produced albums, obviously the listener will have no effect on the sounds emitted, and so it's not interactive music in that sense, but the music can & does engage the listener in a process with no firm closure. This is one of the achievements here. Regular readers will know that I have probably not been as generous with download-only albums as perhaps I should. No doubt, I would like a physical release, perhaps for completely anachronistic reasons of my own, but there is also something distinctly provocative about a download-only release of a performance made in a record store. The juxtaposition raises the question of object relations, and my desire for a physical object. (I tell myself this is mainly a matter of habit, so that I can maintain a "to do" stack, browse shelves, etc. I can't resist the idea that it's also about some desire for control [*], even if I don't want it to be that.) We can ask, then, regarding a musical performance, what is the object? This is a fairly simple question to answer, but it does need asking from time to time. A recording already takes us away from the live performance (although some albums are not conceived as live performances, and undergo substantial editing, etc.). Then we have the physical package — which is probably artistic in some sense, perhaps in an innovative way in some cases, but also usually includes some banal aspects such as shrinkwrap — and of course the encoded (represented, engraved, etched) sound. In each of these aspects, there is an opportunity to create an affective tone with more than sound, and that includes in the electronic equipment used, over which the musicians may have little control on the listener end [**]: There is a resulting stance the listener takes toward the music (both physical & psychological), perhaps submerging into habit, perhaps not. I wanted to mention this aspect explicitly, even though it's obvious enough, in order to raise the notion of improvisation across a human-nonhuman media assemblage. This can be invoked concretely by musicians, including a consideration of different listeners at different positions in the assemblage.
So the foregoing is my thought on "Creative Music for Creative Listening" in the broadest sense, incorporating the listener across an assemblage, and at least some strands are taken up in The Music of Everything as a furthering of "cooperative total improvisation." Life as a collective improvisation then surely exceeds whoever is in a space wielding a musical instrument at a particular time. A reframing of such a critical issue raised by these albums, and Shurdut's music more generally, is as that of contemporary subject position. (It's interesting to me that press for Shurdut's music has described it as "visual" or some variant, presumably because of Shurdut's success in visual art. I find his music very aural, but one thing it does certainly have in common with his visual art is this exploration of subject position — an interest that is probably more obvious in the latter.) Using environmental tuning, and incorporating (although not quite literally) various sounds from the urban environment, Shurdut's music is richly contextual. (This is echoed likely in the different characters of these two albums recorded in different spaces, also, although I know nothing of one of the spaces.) There is no abandonment of the subject, however, as not only is his assignment of himself as the creator of this music almost hyperbolic, but more human elements also occur — and in fact some of these melodic elements can continue longer than other sound complexes. There is thus an off-centering of the subject, whether reflected in hearing (with or through) others, or in the backgrounding of human elements. The result is impersonal, however, in that we're never sure if this humanity is ours or Jeff's or someone else's — only that it's there. Likewise, the various individual activity in these relatively large improvising ensembles somehow seems depersonalized without being scripted: Lots of individual activity, but always collective, yielding a spiritual sense. Hence the exploration of subject position (or subjectification) per se, rather than personal connection: The environmental context produces an internal decontextualization in turn, much like we don't really know who the figures are in Shurdut's paintings. Although it includes concrete references, the music becomes an image of itself (and perhaps we can locate the "visual" element here in this reflection, even if it is entirely aural).
Decentering, but not eliminating subjectification processes becomes crucial to engaging the listener's own creativity across the media assemblage. The listener's own thinking can overwhelm the sonic sensations themselves, leading to a variety of tangents & events: This is a clear strength of the recorded medium, because flights of fancy do not prevent one from hearing the music: One can always start again. And indeed, Shurdut's music is very successful in this regard, inducing all manner of tangential thoughts and internal decenterings. Moreover, as I've discussed in the past, the transformation of city noise into a musical tapestry (by means other than sampling, and so doubling the human factor) serves admirably to insulate the listener against that very noise, even as it occurs simultaneously in one's own noisy environment. Shurdut activates the vitality in these otherwise irritating noises, and gives the listener a different perspective. Further regarding the individuality of the two albums, the BFP tracks move much more quickly, with waves of activity: A traffic jam dissipates, or the listener moves elsewhere, creating a general feeling of mobility. These are the denser, more aggressive or experimental tracks, largely on account of that mobility. The DMG tracks, basically a suite of three, have a more balanced & situated character. There are longer lines, and some procedures develop a bit of an ostinato mode. Here we have the classical sense of "the music of everything" — the ideal of the symphony. Instead of Mahler's Alpine peaks, we get traffic & hubbub. The transformation & subjectification are nonetheless of a similar character, even if the humanity is always already present in Shurdut. The DMG tracks, then, present something of a polished result to Shurdut's most recent investigations. The juxtaposition of hubbub with polish should be evocative enough. This is creative music, both inspiring & practical for at least this listener.
[*] With the control exerted over digital devices today, the possibility exists (and is more than virtual in the case of e.g. electronic book rentals) that download-only music will simply disappear from one's device on the whim of some media or government representative — or due to equipment failure. So this desire for control is not entirely about pathological insecurity.
[**] The Apple corporation has made a lot of money innovating in the area of affective physical qualities for electronic devices.9 September 2014
Although it was released in 2013, the album Wry only recently appeared where I could notice it (in DMG's weekly listing). It's an improvised trio recording of Spanish pianist Augustí Fernández (b.1954), Greek-Belgian soprano saxophonist Ilan Manouch (b.1980), and drummer Ivo Sans. Manouch says on his website: "The music is warped, misdirected and perverse and contains no straight lines or clear planes, nor any regulated flows. It oscillates between the opposing incentives of moral reductionism and extrovert cut-up shifts creating a champ d'écoute resembling a porous territory with jagged limits." I hear some straight lines & regulated flows — there are various regimes of stasis via repetition, and some heterophonic unity at other times — but I do agree with the porous territory with jagged limits description: In other words various sonic activities cohere often enough (and using such abstract language might suggest the music is more abstract than it is; it's mostly made of conventional musical notes), but other activities penetrate them and the coherence breaks up in different ways. (The sometimes heterophonic, i.e. everyone playing similar lines, character can be readily compared to Fernández's improvised trio with Joe Morris & Nate Wooley, From the Discrete to the Particular, discussed here in late 2012.) One notable aspect of the sound of this trio is the mechanical-industrial "rattling" largely carried out by the piano, and evocative of the Second Stage trio album Grey Matter: The albums have some similarities of ensemble as well, despite the difference in wind family, although Grey Matter is generally more melodic. Another aspect is the evocation, at other times, of the shakuhachi (or xiao) & gong sound, and its resulting sparseness. The sections I like best are those that are neither sparse nor heterophonic, although the variety is also welcome. Even more welcome would be Manouch further exploring the vision in his quote, because I like the idea.
I also want to mention the recent La Scala album on Ayler, largely because I have enjoyed the previous album featuring the Ceccaldi brothers, Can you smile? with Joëlle Léandre. We don't have Léandre here — instead it's pianist Roberto Negro, who wrote most of the music, and percussionist Adrien Chennebault — but there is again a dash of humor, in this case bathos-tinged, and much more pathos than I'm accustomed to in this space. Most of the music is composed (the improvised tracks come to between 7 & 8 minutes in total), and sounds that way, working through a huge list of references. For instance, there is a slow section in track #3 with a Bach theme in one piano hand and a Beethoven theme in the other; Bartok's lines erupt forcefully in the strings in track #5, to be transformed onto the piano, etc. There are far too many references to list, including many to light popular tunes, even at "inopportune" moments. I think you get the idea. It was fun to hear at least once.10 September 2014
I already mentioned Tesla Coils in the discussion of Jeff Shurdut's The Music of Everything, since both albums include Harvey Valdes on electric guitar. Tesla Coils includes saxophonist Blaise Siwula (b.1950) too, who I also first heard on recordings with Shurdut, and is rounded into a trio by Gian Luigi Diana on electronics. I was not familiar with Diana previously, but the (curiously named) Setola di Maiale label has featured him previously, whereas this is the first time for the other two musicians. (Diana also plays the sitar, among other things, according to his website.) The tracks (all improvised) refer to parts of Tesla coils (no specific reference to the trendy car, I don't believe), and consequently project some of the same mechanical-industrial reverberation as the previous entry (discussing the more rattly Wry), in front of a decentered subject (reminiscent of Shurdut) evoked mainly by Siwula on sax (at times rather jazzy) & sometimes Valdes (who tends to be a bit more impersonal here) on rock guitar. With Tesla Coils, however, electronics are prominent, although not to the point of the piercing resonant suspension of e.g. Anomonous. The technological manipulations yielding to an air of mystery are somewhat reminiscent of The Apophonics On Air, although with more stable roles for the trio members, and a more qualitatively mediated surface. These are the albums that come to mind, sonically in any case, even if Tesla Coils has a different approach to subjectification: The person in the midst of technology, the latter sometimes dominating the space, the former remaining relatively calm with no sign of flight, perhaps actively joining. There are more crossings than such a narrative thread suggests, even if it often seems in force, and even if the music is rarely overwhelmingly complex. The result is both original & personal in its balance, with the opening track (aptly named "Primary") both the longest & most eventful. (The album was apparently available a few months ago, but I only noticed it last month, in the DMG newsletter.)
Siwula also recently released the album Mérida Swings with a band he formed in Mexico, Mérida Encuentro. The group includes three musicians from Mérida, plus Siwula on reeds, although there are never more than three people playing on any one track, and sometimes only two. There are a variety of styles to be heard in this suite, including evocations of Mexican colonialism. Personally, I enjoy the tracks with percussion and more abstract ideas. Mérida Swings shows some experimental inspiration at times, and I can't help but think there are a lot more ideas in Latin America than the few I hear.16 September 2014
Continuing an apparent (although unplanned) recent trend in this space, most recently reflected by Sonic Rivers, is another wind trio, World of Objects. In this case, it is clarinetist & post-production specialist (working for John Zorn in the latter capacity, forming another link with Sonic Rivers) Jeremiah Cymerman who formed the trio with the legendary English saxophonist Evan Parker and the well-traveled Nate Wooley on trumpet. The music was improvised live, and then modified afterward to enhance certain tones & resonances, or to create a specific noise barrier, etc. There is thus a very real sense in which the performance was altered after the fact, but this kind of technique also raises the question of exactly the boundary between alteration & ordinary activities such as mixing & mastering. In either case, there is an act of focusing the ear, if I may summarize this way, and perhaps what makes a recording an "unaltered" performance has never been clear. (Or one might say that it has always been clear that such is impossible.) In any event, the electronic enhancements are striking at times, absent or not noticeable at others, and the success of the album ultimately rests on the earlier live interaction between these talented wind players, each playing different types of instruments (the reeds being cylindrical & conical). Whereas the previous album on Cymerman's 5049 Records, Pale Horse with Christopher Hoffman (also playing cello on Henry Threadgill's most recent album) and Brian Chase (drums), is rather more minimal with its gestures, World of Objects is abuzz with activity throughout. The notes (which mostly discuss the post-production) lead off with an enigmatic quote from T.S. Eliot regarding the title, and indeed Eliot's prescience in this matter should be noted, but "object" ontology & phenomenology are very trendy topics in USA academic philosophy at the moment, reflecting one approach to the post-subjective turn (most commonly called "posthuman" when it continues to orient on subject position). The music, or at least its inspiration, would therefore appear to be very much of our time. Indeed, there is an impersonal quality to the sonic interactions throughout (and in this sense, one might more properly call them "sonic" rather than musical). This emphasis fits with technical explorations by Parker & Wooley, not to mention that these three performers have all worked together at least pairwise on other projects, and so the choice of trio seems particularly apt (and it continues to perform this year). I should note specifically that the post-production is not the source of the object perspective, however, as — if anything — it is more subjective than the original sounds. Of course, these are sounds created by people with analog instruments, so that contradiction can be striking: Just as elsewhere it is people expressing object existence in human language. The sound combinations are sometimes sparser, and can yield a sense of epic grandeur, but at other times reference everyday sonic banalities; there is thus a very wide range of object interaction, and it can shift rapidly. The result continues to be compelling over multiple hearings.
A couple of loosely related recent albums....
Red Hill (on Rare Noise Records) is by a quartet of Jamie Saft (keyboards), Joe Morris (bass), Wadada Leo Smith (trumpet), and Balazs Pandi (drums). This is a lengthy album, and somewhat related to the thread above by the addition of special guest Wadada Leo Smith. Smith starts the proceedings with a piercing blast, and is active throughout, but this is clearly Saft's album. Despite also employing a Fender Rhodes, his piano playing is fairly conventional, by which I mean it uses traditional notes (no "inside" playing) & pianistic figures. Saft has an excellent command of the piano repertory, and many of his interjections are quite interesting in their latent historical commentary. Despite some rock-based ideas, and often dense activity, there is a fairly strong adherence to tradition overall, particularly a traditional sense of harmony.
The Gate, featuring Dan Peck & Tom Blancarte & Brian Osborne (the latter set to participate in Jeff Shurdut's Kitchen Music concert in October) have released a new (LP) album, Stench, adding Nate Wooley & Tim Dahl (on electric bass). The quintet makes for even more "fun" in their exploration of avant garde doom metal and its various low pitches. I continue to find an appeal.29 September 2014
In a recent batch of releases from the prolific FMR Records, the one that caught my eye was Life in a Black Box by the Willi Kellers Quartet, featuring (together with Frank Paul Schubert) half of the Grid Mesh quartet, whose album Live in Madrid I have enjoyed. Together with Kellers & Schubert, Life in a Black Box includes Paul Dunmall (who has a huge discography, including on FMR) & Clayton Thomas (featured in this space with The Ames Room, plus various other German releases), two other prominent musicians. It's a very long album with a lot happening, free blowing (and other playing) reminiscent of the Ornette Coleman standard with two horns, bass & drums. There is a lot of soloing, although with some overlap, producing a fairly conventional album that differs more in detail (e.g. bagpipes) than in approach, at least for most of its length. It's a lot of activity, with some different interaction (more into tonal coloring) only with the bass solo opening Second Box invoking a slow battle with the frenetic style, leaving a residual pointillism that is eventually dominated by a layered atmosphere. With that track, the album does seem contemporary. The final track features quick motion again, but quieter & more fractured, almost "free jazz" as a background. I could simply skip the 30+ minute opening track, frankly: The last half hour is more interesting.19 October 2014
I want to note my enjoyment of the Gordon Beeferman Trio's new album Out in Here. The release on Outnow Recordings was actually this summer, but I couldn't remember where I'd seen the name before when I first saw the announcement. (I hear someone invented online searching to solve problems like that, but what can I say. I thought I did remember.) So I only listened to this rather long piano trio album recently. Where had I heard Beeferman before? With Jeff Arnal, and indeed a comparison with Pail Bug is apt here: Whereas Pail Bug is rather concentrated, Out in Here takes some similar musical influences & priorities and treats them more expansively. The resulting length becomes simultaneously the strength & weakness of the album. Ultimately, it's more "pleasant" (if I can use that term in a quasi-technical sense), and likely to be far more agreeable to a broader audience. I've enjoyed the album, and hope it gets that attention. The comparison does not begin & end there. In fact, Michael Evans (with whom I was not familiar prior to this album) is another student of Milford Graves, and that influence comes through clearly, even if Out in Here provides a slower moving (although not slow by any typical measure) canvas. I've mentioned bassist James Ilgenfritz here in the past (most recently last December, regarding the also-appealing Thank You album with Joe Hertenstein). He has some ear-catching solos, and indeed his playing fits quite nicely into this style. I've remarked in the past how difficult it seems to be to do something really creative with the classic piano trio format at this point in time (and Joëlle Léandre's Trio is the most striking recent release to my ears, although I very much enjoy Kris Davis's Waiting For You To Grow as well), but yet appealing piano trio albums do continue to appear. With Out in Here, we basically get some experimental ideas & genre combinations made to sound almost classical (mediated by a theatrical sense), even if little of what the rhythm team does is actually classical (or classic jazz) & and the entire trio is very much "the rhythm team" at times. One could almost characterize the trio as letting harmony, and in turn melody, emerge from rhythm.3 November 2014
Destination : Void is the new quintet album by trumpeter Peter Evans. This piece is rather more composed than most of what I've been featuring in this space, especially of late, but it's worth mentioning. It seems like a landmark in the development of Evans's personal style, so that is probably reason enough, as he continues to establish himself as one of the leading musicians of his generation within his niche — however we might describe that, and perhaps we might describe it as a matter of influences, which certainly include classic jazz. I also want to note Sam Pluta on live electronics, as he is also developing a personal style in partnership with Evans. The other musicians in the quintet also have some great credits, with Ron Stabinsky on piano probably being the least known, and the most featured on Destination : Void with its precisely angular piano figures. (Tom Blancarte, who has worked with Evans for years, has e.g a long & characteristic solo just before the final flurry; I can't say I ever really notice Jim Black, which might be praise.) It's that precision that creates so much of the interest on the album, but also a precision that marks it so clearly as composed. Consequently, there are some great & original textures here, sometimes repeating a bit too long perhaps, but also some excellent ideas that I welcome coming back in a more improvisatory setting. The piece as a whole has the character of a symphony, complete with slow sections, and was actually "premiered" live a couple of years prior to this studio recording.
In a similar mold, although less to my taste musically, is Tyshawn Sorey's new album, Alloy. I was very critical of Sorey's previous album, Oblique, so feel as though I owe some discussion here. My main criticism of Oblique — what is the point of it? — is not really an issue with Alloy. There is a lot of personal connection here, obvious in the hearing, but it's also an album, like Destination : Void, that is highly composed. Like Evans, Sorey makes no apologies for that, and it'll be interesting to see what he does from here. His technical ability, and now his ability to express more emotional ideas, was never really in doubt. As far as the music on Alloy, I enjoy the more ambiguous & less tonal tracks & sections more (such as the way the opening reconfigures the piano trio, for instance, but that reconfiguration isn't pursued further), but what stands out for me about the album is the unabashed tonality on some tracks, particularly the last (& longest): Straightforward tonal chords dominate with a simple beauty [*], much of the interest found in the way they are arrayed rhythmically in arpeggios (in a generalized sense). It's a union of rhythm & harmonic implication that almost has the character of chimes at times (although track #2 directly evokes Beethoven, so there's a classical edge as well). Clearly this is in the air: I was surprised e.g. by Matthew Shipp playing such minimal tonal figures on his recent album with The Core Trio (as noted here in June). We've also seen renewed interest in Satie in the discography. So I have to view Alloy as part of a general reclamation project for simple triads, albeit here with a seamless rhythmic inflection (as opposed to the hypnotic rhythms, or sliding processes, of e.g. Glass or Reich, even if track #3 has a bit of process orientation, or what some call groove) that reaches down into what I've called the "pyramid" (after Ariyakudi, I should note) of musical organization with rhythm at its base. I'm not sure I can ever embrace that kind of (seeming) naked tonality, but Sorey is well-placed to investigate it. That said, his drumming, particularly in some quieter moments, working so many strands simultaneously, is amazing: It's enough to keep me listening.
[*] It's no secret that I link the hierarchy of Western tonal organization to the hierarchy of Western society. So whereas I have little doubt that Sorey views these chords as beautiful in themselves, and that many listeners will follow suit, there's a certain juxtaposition against oppression that's always implied for me. I also doubt that Sorey would plead ignorance on this point, maybe intending to address it with this exact music, but I don't feel it's actually successful on this point — not yet anyway. In fact, I can link my objection, if you can call it that, precisely to the "in themselves" remark I (seamlessly, perhaps?) threw in there. That little slice of Platonism was a bit of a joke, if you know me.13 November 2014
It's rather different from most items listed or discussed here, so it took me a while to come to this discussion of Phase/transitions by Triple Point. The main difference is that this is an anthology, a 3CD anthology at that, recorded over a number of years. It's questionable whether even the individual CDs form an "album" suitable for hearing in order, although I have generally done exactly that when listening to this music. In that sense, it's almost like an anthology of compositions accumulated over five years, except that the music is totally improvised. So that is the main point of similarity with the music occupying this space, and ultimately there was no better place for me to discuss Phase/transitions. The instrumentation is unusual, although hardly unprecedented: Pauline Oliveros (b.1932) on accordion, Doug Van Nort on electronics, Jonas Braasch on soprano saxophone, and a couple of guests on a few tracks, one of the guests being a machine/AI improviser, and the other connected via the internet. Describing the guests points to some of the distinctive — again, not unprecedented — qualities of Phase/transitions, but perhaps the most pervasive differentiating quality is that much of this music came out of an architecture department.
This is where I need to step back and relate a little about my background. Triple Point was formed at Rensselaer in Troy NY, which is where I received my doctorate, and where I lived for several years. (I should also add that Destination : Void, discussed here last week, was recorded at one of the same facilities in Troy.) The investment in electronic music had only barely started at Rensselaer as I was leaving. I did not follow it, and frankly I would have never guessed that it would result in something that I would independently discover and be discussing as a "favorite." So this was another factor that delayed this writeup, that is, simply my own personal astonishment & reevaluation. (When I was in Troy, I don't think the university even awarded degrees in music, although I might be wrong. I didn't take any courses in the department, although I did meet with the department chair weekly for a couple of years simply to chat about music.) One thing I did notice when I was at Rensselaer, however, was the architecture department experimenting with music: Specifically, they would set up some "environmental" tapes in spaces on campus, usually spaces that did not seem very warm or friendly, and attempt to determine if the music (which was quiet) would affect how people interacted with the space. The reader can find traces of this experience in some of my earlier comments here, as I did also take note of the effects. Anyway, that is the personal backstory.
Pauline Oliveros has been a music pioneer since the 60s, and her Deep Listening approach has been rather influential. One finds other accordionists in the jazz-improvisatory tradition as well. It seems to me that accordion is suggestive of human-technology interaction, because in some sense it's such a crazy contraption, but it also requires a degree of physical intimacy to play, more bodily than a typical keyboard. In any case, Oliveros has also been an electronic music pioneer, and Phase/transitions reflects that impetus not only in musical technology, specifically the complicated devices Doug Van Nort plays, but in the artwork: It was made with a system that uses breath & eye movements to create a 2d visual work, for people without the use of their limbs. (The subject matter is rather stereotypical in that sense, although the wind is especially vivid.) It makes me wonder about similar assistive musical technology, sensitive to nuance, but not requiring a lot of control or stamina. Perhaps that's actually at play here. I was not familiar with Doug Van Nort previously, but of course there are other trios in this space with a member focusing only on electronics; likewise Jonas Braasch, who juxtaposes playing the most traditional instrument here (although one could argue) with being in the architecture department.
None of this would matter much if the music didn't speak to me somehow. Already, in using a speech metaphor, I'm distorting its qualities: The architectural background, the sense of the environment, is always quite tangible. It is not background music, that is, it has foreground qualities and does not call out for other sounds or activity to complete it. However, the interplay between foreground & background is explored & interrogated to a high degree. In short, this is music that questions & blurs any such duality. I believe that readers can immediately appreciate my interest at this point. It's a series of studies on this background-foreground issue, with a very sophisticated sense of background via space, some of the world's most advanced technology, and performers with a heightened sense of listening & nuance. (Although it's the least "spectacular" instrument here, Braasch's saxophone playing contributes immensely to these qualities via his sensitivity to acoustics & control of breath, which are both impressive.) The sense of space itself is transformed via acoustic manipulation, suggesting changing physical containers: Is architecture a background? Not for those who practice it. Here/hear the space is specifically acoustic(ized). The weakness of Phase/transitions is exactly what I noted at the beginning, that it's not really an album, and so not conducive to the sort of uses I typically have for music. However, as anything, that typicality can be challenged, even if in this case, the "challenge" seems to be more a practical limitation. Either way, the strong points of these thirty-nine short- & medium-length pieces make this anthology a must-hear for anyone interested in these issues. That it comes from a place I had thought was irrelevant to my current life only makes the whole experience more jarring, but presumably that is a perspective unique to me.17 November 2014
A quick note on Day in the life of a city, a trio album by Jacek Mazurkiewicz (bass), Rob Brown & Daniel Levin on the Polish Multikulti Project label: Here we have a different, personal recontextualization of city noises. I mention this because using sonic elements from a city environment as material for human musicians to copy & interpret has already been of interest here, such as in projects by Transit, Jeff Shurdut, etc. (It's also been a while since Daniel Levin has released an album.) As opposed to the NYC-centered material, though, Day in the life of a city takes a more immanent perspective on city noises: The noises are not viewed at a distance, shifting as a background, but rather one takes an intimate personal position along with these sounds and follows them into what is, at times, a rather straightforward interval development & fade via (again, human) improvisation. The result means not a lot going on at times, and clearly this isn't as big a city, but the difference in perspective (personal-impersonal might be contrasted here) seems worth noting: Here the city soundscape is not only familiar, but us.19 November 2014
I had been anticipating Flowing Stream appearing from Leo Records (since their releases take months to come to the US), and perhaps that sense of anticipation colors my disappointment with the album. It's not a bad album, but any time Joëlle Léandre releases a trio (or quartet) album, I take notice (since most of her releases are duos), and I've been following Nicole Mitchell somewhat as well: I see now that I had yet to mention any of her albums in this space, and it's true that most are rather more mainstream in their thematic material than I usually mention (underscored by her very mainstream praise in Downbeat), but I have been listening to some more abstract output, particularly her collaborations with Léandre. In any case, a trio with Thomas Buckner & his interesting vocal technique sounded quite promising. However, Buckner's technique ends up being more interesting here than compelling (and in fact, the track I like best is the flute & bass duo!). He seems rather stiff & distant... talks about concerns there wasn't time to rehearse (but dismisses them). The notes also talk about some shamanic content, but frankly, they're going to have to take another try (and try to keep it spontaneous) to make that happen. I'll give a listen, if so. I mean, it sounds like a great idea, but as is, there just isn't much tension (let alone shamanic authenticity specifically).2 December 2014
Rotations, by the double bass quartet Sequoia, is the latest release on Evil Rabbit Records. The latter was co-founded by Meinrad Kneer, one of the bassists in the quartet (that was apparently initiated by Klaus Kürvers), and a musician on the (admired by me) album Colophony, featuring violinist Jon Rose. The latter association caught my attention, and a quartet of bassists sounded like a fine idea. (The other two are Antonio Borghini & Miles Perkin.) Like Colophony, Rotations was recorded in Berlin in 2012, but a month earlier. The album contains a mix of ideas, some more compelling than others, but is well worth hearing as exploration of an acoustic bass quartet. The "acoustic" aspect figures to be significant here, as Kürvers is coming from an architecture background — apparently an emerging theme in this space. Anyway, there are some precise procedural works, designated as collective compositions, and also some more seemingly spontaneous tracks featuring environmental transfiguration, including the opening take on crows, surely the most immediately enjoyable track, and the final track including evocation of fading resonances of traffic sirens. Some of the more drone-focused tracks are a little slow for me, although the musical sound stage spread across the four instruments is part of the intrigue. At times, there is independent interaction, but at times, it's rather coordinated as a giant & unwieldy single instrument. It's somewhat audible in stereo, but the spatial aspect likely comes through much more clearly in person.3 December 2014
This may be overly indulgent, but in the event that readership does not overlap very much, I want to direct readers in this space, briefly, over to today's entry in the medieval remarks: There I discuss the medieval (Ars Antiqua) motet as a machinic assemblage & open system. I trust the relevance is clear.5 December 2014
I have consistently enjoyed Tipple's second album, Live Tipple, which I encountered when exploring Kevin Norton's discography, and so had to listen to their third album, No sugar on anything, released on Frode Gjerstad's own label, Circulasione Totale. It turns out that, although No sugar on anything is the third album to be released, it was actually recorded the day before Live Tipple, in this case in New Jersey. I'm not sure if it was a rehearsal for the Buttonwood concert, or if there was an audience — an audience is not noticeable, at least. The recorded sound itself is much closer & so more intimate on No sugar on anything, and so it becomes easier to distinguish the three performers, especially making David Watson's interventions easier to identify. That kind of intimacy gives the album a strong first impression, and indeed I've enjoyed it, but I don't find my attention held to the end the way it is with the more concentrated & nuanced Live Tipple album. As soon as I noticed that these two albums were recorded on consecutive days, together with the fact that those days' events were released on two different labels in two different years, I knew they would present me with something of an artificial choice: Being presented with similar albums calls out, subconsciously, for a choice between them. So I was prepared to resist such a choice, but ultimately, I'm satisfied with my assessment & choice. No sugar on anything is still worth a listen for another perspective on this ongoing improvising trio, even if it's the less compelling album.9 December 2014
I want to make a few remarks about the most recent batch of Clean Feed releases. It's amazing how prolific they continue to be, for one thing. (And speaking of prolific Portuguese record labels, I expect to hear several recent Creative Sources releases soon as well, but they are slow to come to the US.) Although my priorities have mostly diverged from Clean Feed over the past few years, the label does continue to have interesting releases, and the prolific output assures at least a few intriguing ideas.
Tony Malaby continues to be a Clean Feed mainstay, and I couldn't resist hearing his most recent album, Scorpion Eater. The draw for me is the "Tubacello" concept, a quartet featuring tuba (Dan Peck) & cello (Christopher Hoffman). Additionally, John Hollenbeck is the percussionist, and I don't see him participating in other musicians' projects very often. So it's an intriguing ensemble, and one that fits together rather well. (I've already noted Henry Threadgill adding cello, also Hoffman, to his Zooid ensemble — which already included a tuba — on Tomorrow Sunny / The Revelry, so it's certainly not unprecedented; Threadgill makes things a sextet with two guitarists.) There's a fairly mainstream sound to the album most of the time, whether classic jazz or more recent film-inspired or minimal textures. Of course, there's Malaby's big horn, whether leading or returning. It's an enjoyable, atmospheric album that more than demonstrates the viability of this kind of quartet.
I also couldn't resist hearing the combination of Portuguese guitarist Luís Lopes with the Berlin duo of Robert Landfermann & Christian Lillinger, since their album The Line pulls together a couple of previously separate wings of the Clean Feed catalog. With the Berlin style & guitar, the trio reminds me a bit of Grid Mesh, such as on their Iberian Live in Madrid, although without the polyphonic approach. There's a sort of punkish feel to The Line, alternating oblique material reminiscent of the Berlin minimalist school with more mainstream in-your-face guitar trio theatrics. (That style of alternating certainly seems to be in the air.) The "Lisbon Berlin Trio" brings out some fascinating relations at times, and I wish they'd pursue more of the avant garde angle. I've yet to hear these guys do more than tantalize in that area before moving into something static, although track #3 is an interesting synthesis of the two basic alternating types. I'm guessing they'll play together again.
On both of these albums, there's a tendency to solo or otherwise make sure the listener doesn't have too much to follow at once. Although I can relate to the obvious reasons for doing this, I don't personally find it a very natural way to be in the world. There's a lot going on out there, and that's something I like to hear explored in music. The approach to variety here is to include multiple, sometimes rather different, concepts in an album, but usually in separate tracks. Sometimes the different concepts interact, sometimes not. It becomes almost an "album as anthology" approach. That works for me sometimes, but it's also important to see just how far an idea can go.17 December 2014
What with the prominence of Portuguese labels these days, it seems a little odd to find a Portuguese improvising quartet release on the British FMR Records, but perhaps it's a chance at an expanded audience. It probably is, although the Portuguese releases seem just as well-marketed. Anyway, Clocks and Clouds is apparently something of a debut for both trumpeter Luis Vicente & drummer Marco Franco — here paired with Red Trio members Rodrigo Pinheiro & Hernani Faustino. Clocks and Clouds has indeed attracted broader attention, and both the more classic "free jazz" blowing & drumming, and use of more traditionally situated melodies than typical of Red Trio surely contributes to that. I don't want to overstate the latter, however, because there's still expert atonality & extended technique here, and it's the spaces where these poles mediate that produce the most intriguing interactions. It's a substantial album, with many compelling moments, but some non-compelling periods too where not much is happening — such as dwindling to a single motif being passed around slowly from musician to musician, even if the dwindling process itself had yielded some highlights. I do think this or a similar group has potential, and Clocks and Clouds is well worth hearing as is, even if I appreciate the livelier quartet portions more. Perhaps I should also make a remark on the Popper-Ligeti connection in the title: In Deleuzian terms [*], it would be striated & smooth, and to some degree, the mediation I noted previously can be framed within such a duality. That's not entirely the case, though, nor would one really want it to be, but added precision & imprecision around this contrast might be an interesting direction. Such a prototypical jazz quartet configuration can be defamiliarized this way.
I should probably also mention Extremes, an even longer album, with Evan Parker joining a preexisting duo of Paul Dunmall & Tony Bianco. (I mention it mainly because I've noted so many of the recent Red Toucan albums. I probably wouldn't otherwise, because both Parker & Dunmall are already very well-represented in other commentary.) This is a spirited tenor dialog, with Bianco holding things together on the drums: High-energy free blowing with extended solos, long lines & flights of fancy: Enjoyable, if repetitive after a while.
[*] It might be misleading to claim that Deleuze was more motivated by aesthetics, but Popper certainly was not, and the significant point is that aesthetics & artistic creation interact with other modes of thought. The Deleuzian contrast is thus not about some objective "nature" to be described, but rather ways of relating, and can be more directly productive in art. (This suggests yet another contrast that could be interrogated musically....)30 December 2014
I have a variety of thoughts regarding Spill Plus on Nuscope, so it's difficult to pick a place to start. Perhaps that's an appropriate reaction to something different, and so I think I'll begin with some thoughts regarding James Ilgenfritz, someone who doesn't play on the album, but did write some worthwhile liner notes. Spill Plus is by a piano trio, although the sound isn't much like one might expect from a piano trio. This brings me back to my comments in November regarding Out in Here by the Gordon Beeferman Trio, including Ilgenfritz. (And then there are my remarks on Tyshawn Sorey's Alloy in the next November entry....) For some reason, despite openly wondering if there is anything left to do with a piano trio, I find myself returning to the configuration, and I have to admit that part of my attraction to Spill Plus was its confrontation with this classic format. Joëlle Léandre's Trio is once again a touchstone, and indeed Spill Plus echoes strongly of Feldman as well. Back to Ilgenfritz (who has recently launched his own Infrequent Seams label, by the way): I don't want to outright disagree with what he says about abstraction in the notes, but I do want to consider a rather different perspective on it. Ilgenfritz tells us, basically, that the increased level of abstraction in the album, relative to a more typical free jazz album, lets the objects (that is, the instruments, which include "objects" as preparations) & sounds be themselves. I suggest that what we have here is not more abstraction, but rather less abstraction: The trio strips away many layers of abstraction that have "stuck" to Western music over the centuries, and frees the objects & sounds to be themselves. An abstraction is something that stands for something else (with partial apologies to Bill Dixon), and here we have sounds that don't stand for anything: They are largely freed from our tendency to contextualize them according to musical scales, rhythmic forms, harmonies, etc. The latter are the abstractions. (And we could relate those abstractions to the human vocal apparatus, in many cases, although via many layers of musical system. Banging blunt objects together simply isn't much like the physical process of singing, but our theory treats it that way.) So with apologies to the thoughtful Mr. Ilgenfritz, I want to posit instead that Spill Plus is part of a trend to strip away abstractions. (Why does it seem "intellectual" to eliminate abstractions, when it has seemed "intellectual" to create abstractions? This is because abstractions are insidious, difficult to understand, difficult to navigate, and in turn difficult to eliminate. They have a tendency to return, because we are steeped in them already. So they require vigilance.)
I listed Spill Plus under Damon Smith — and one can certainly question why I list albums under single musicians, since I question it myself — because not only was the album recorded in Oakland when he was living here, but because the preexisting "Spill" duo of Magda Mayas & Tony Buck sounds rather different on their duo albums (of which there are at least three). So this is a somewhat arbitrary choice on my part, but then Smith has already been featured in this space, including for North of Blanco, as part of a trilogy of entries exploring the idea of foreground & background in May 2014. Smith brings, putting it succinctly, more ways to stop the flow of abstraction. I had yet to mention Tony Buck (b.1962) in this space, and he is seemingly always described as being a member of the Australian piano trio The Necks (so I guess I will oblige). Their most recent album, Open, seems to be almost the opposite of Spill Plus, at least when it comes to stopping flows. Open is continuous... constantly changing invocations (opening with a rudra veena type sound, for instance, evoking zheng later, to mention only some "world music" connections) with slow transitions & controlled continuity: Call it new age groove music, being seamless and keeping that mental dance going. Buck can also sound like a mainstream free jazz drummer, such as on Tony-Joe Bucklash (and I am still waiting to hear Skein, put together by Frank Gratkowski on Leo Records, including Buck in its sextet). Mayas appeared in this space (also, probably coincidentally) back in May when I discussed the album Flock by Great Waitress. That album, also with an Australian connection for the Berliner Mayas, features a lot of static continuity. Although Mayas was credited with keeping things moving there, Flock is still nothing like the many stoppages of Spill Plus — other Spill albums, Stockholm Syndrome & Flouresce, have more in common with it, and with The Necks. But one can hear the fascination with time & with unusual sounds... unusual sounds that might become isolated sounds, freed from abstract context. (I am not sure what has prompted this specific Berlin-Australia connection, but I can also mention Australian bassist Clayton Thomas living in Berlin, Jon Rose's Colophony album with Meinrad Kneer, and to make this more incestuous, the duo album Mayas recorded with Chris Abrahams of The Necks, Gardener. For whatever reason, Australians are going to Berlin.)
One thing that kept me a bit ambivalent regarding Spill Plus, at least for my own personal use, is its general level of quiet. It's probably a personal weakness, but as I've mentioned, my environment tends to be rather noisy, and I get frustrated if I can't hear the music. Having gotten to know Spill Plus fairly well over the past month, I now find it appealing in some noisier settings (such as people talking). Its sense of object changes the scene, places different things in relief. Another aspect that gave me mixed feelings is that Spill Plus was recorded back in 2010: The other Smith albums in my favorites are from after he moved to Houston, Flock was also recorded in 2013, and indeed e.g. Stockholm Syndrome was recorded a month after Spill Plus. Had its time already passed? Well, I won't attempt to answer that in any definitive way, other than to note that maybe everything has passed, but yet here we are, and Spill Plus is receiving some attention now. As I discussed in my little Feldman writeup, one of the qualities he developed was to place sounds into different time streams, so that even sequential sounds could seem unrelated. This is what happens in Spill Plus, and indeed the lack of continuity across the various gestures yields the feeling of an immense expanse of time. (Note that it is abstraction from human speech that tells us that sounds in close temporal proximity "should" be related. They may, however, be from completely different objects doing completely different things, oblivious to each other.) Concentration on individual gesture, taking care not to create unintended continuity (and one could mention the "apophonic" concept from On Air here, even if the albums sound nothing alike), requires vigilance & precision, and Smith brings both to a duo who had already expressed many interesting ideas on the nature of musical continuity. The resulting sparseness and separation of layers of gesture create a different feeling for time, and leaves me listening to the world in a different way. (The latter is, I think, very high praise.) We can, perhaps, group Spill Plus with the previous entry's Clocks and Clouds as part of a group of efforts to defamiliarize classic instrument combinations: Spill Plus is much more radical in this regard — I would say truly a piano trio album for 2014, except that it originated in 2010: It is or was already in a different time stream.5 January 2015
It's a duo, and so I wasn't originally intending to make any remarks, but ultimately I'm feeling as though I need to comment on Milford Graves' album Space / Time · Redemption with Bill Laswell: Graves is more featured on track #4, and I enjoyed that, but I simply did not enjoy the first three tracks. Laswell dominates, and I dislike his mimicry of traditional African styles here. (I make no claims about his playing more generally.) This is exactly what gives "new age music" a bad name, and even track #5 gets inflected back into a "pop music" sensibility. My apologies for the negative comment, but I felt it was necessary: Listen to e.g. Alemu Aga instead. Hopefully something else will come out of the 2013 Vision Festival, which featured Graves.11 January 2015
I was excited to see Evan Parker's ElectroAcoustic Septet album, Seven, appear. There was a lot of good press, going back to Victoriaville last year, and including new reviews of the recording. I very much enjoyed it the first time through, so recommend it on that basis. For this space, though, I haven't found it as exciting on subsequent hearings, but as I've tried to relate in the past, whereas repeated hearings are a part of what I'm doing here, they are hardly the be-all & end-all of music. Anyway, it's an intriguing ensemble with the three (4 at times?) winds & three laptops & Okkyung Lee on cello. (The latter is most distinctive, in this setting, when plucking.) For such a large ensemble, and with all that electronic manipulation potential, having too much happening at once seems like a real possibility, but if anything, what keeps Seven from being as compelling after a few hearings is that often there isn't a whole lot happening, and somehow, when there is, it seems very "contained" and undangerous. There are a lot of shifting-repeating figures at times, perhaps including electronic echoes, reminiscent of Braxton's Echo Echo Mirror House Music. (This includes ostinati in the lower registers, opened up by refraining from having a rhythm section, so that's almost an "early music" vibe — maybe I should enjoy that aspect more, but it seems distant.) It seems impossible to know who is doing what with the laptops, although maybe someone else can tell, but that part of the performance is immediately the most striking. I also particularly enjoyed Ned Rothenberg's performance over time. Another recent album that features winds & electronics, including Evan Parker, is World of Objects from Jeremiah Cymerman: It's more intimate & I find it more compelling.12 January 2015
I've already mentioned Skein once here — and these mentions will seem rather foolish if I don't end up finding the album worthwhile , won't they? — and indeed the sextet on Skein includes Tony Buck & Okkyung Lee, both already mentioned in other entries this month. However, the core of Skein appears to be the long-running Kaufmann (b.1962) / Gratkowski / De Joode trio, and that trio's fourth album is Geäder. Geäder ("veins") was released in 2012, but I only noticed it after I had made a note of Skein, when it appeared in DMG's newsletter this past December, for some reason. Anyway, that is the context, and part of why I am not going to try to discuss Geäder in more detail, although I did add it to my favorites. Besides being an album from 2012 (ancient! ), it consists of trio improvisations taken from three different recording sessions: This is not my ideal approach to an album (it was a concern I had about Phase/transitions, for instance), but I certainly cannot complain about the result. Although this trio has apparently played together many times , they don't plan their music in advance, so it manages to have both an intimacy & freshness. And different sessions seem to graft together seamlessly as well. This is basically improvised "chamber music" without a drummer , although both the piano (including inside) & bass contribute various percussive effects. It sounds very European in that regard (with a conversational feel not unlike Polylemma, one of my early favorites in this space), and totally acoustic. Geäder has been consistently appealing; there is a lot that happens over its hour-plus length. It's interesting that something like this has been out there these past few years, while I've listened to these musicians in other projects.
 I see the Leo Records releases online months prior to their arrival in USA. (In this case, I also saw some other favorable comments, so I'm optimistic.) I tried ordering directly from the Leo Records website, but the process comes to a complete halt when I enter my address, so I guess that is impossible. Oh well. Patience. But that is the background.
 Gligg Records is not otherwise available here, and this was the first I'd noticed the label.
 That's kind of a joke.
 Their first album, Kwast, was released in 2004. The others are Unearth (2005) & Palaë (2007). All are on different record labels. (See Achim Kaufmann's web page.)
 Homage to Jimmy Giuffre, or coincidence?20 January 2015
Although I had already mentioned Joe Morris in the context of playing in Daniel Levin's quartet, it was July 2011 when I first made some more specific comments or observations in this space: I said I found his discography dizzying, and didn't know what to make of his output. Three and a half years later, some of it starts to come into focus. Whereas it's clear that Morris likes to contribute to other musicians' projects, particularly on albums by developing players such as Levin, and that he also likes to participate in more impromptu settings with a variety of musicians, such as on Tony-Joe Bucklash, mentioned here earlier this month, it was challenging to sort out what kinds of projects Morris was pursuing for himself, particularly with his stated inclination to make all of his projects sound different. While I don't claim any grand insight on that point, part of his project does come into focus with the trio album Mess Hall, and the rather illuminating discussion that Morris includes in the notes: He calls Mess Hall the final installment of his "Big Loud Electric Guitar Trilogy," following on Sweatshop (1990) & Racket Club (1999). The trilogy is characterized as a recontextualization of the music of Jimi Hendrix, which Morris had (has?) long admired. Sweatshop is a trio with bass, and explores the pentatonic aspects. Racket Club becomes a sextet (without keyboard), and explores ostinato form. Mess Hall is once again a trio — and the constant in these albums, besides Morris, is Jerome Deupree on drums — but this time with keyboard rather than bass, and explores the "sound" of Hendrix, including of course the "electric" angle itself. Whereas pentatonic scales are widespread in world music, and ostinato was one of the common structural techniques of e.g. Franco-Flemish polyphony, it's safe to say that the Hendrix "sound" had fewer precedents. Hence, one might conclude, the extended time it took Morris to create this album, and indeed he does say specifically that it took a while to develop the formal elements to explore the sound-timbre, was necessary. That he did so with electric keyboard (Steve Lantner) — the classic, blues inflected organ trio format, one might note — makes plenty of sense to me. There's a rawness here that takes it away, although not entirely, from conservatory music.
Mess Hall is an enjoyable album, and one can certainly recognize the "sound" involved. (I should add that multiple people have complained about the piercing opening to the final track, Hymn, basically with "Ugh, turn that down!" when in my company. This reaction doesn't seem inauthentic, but I'll refrain from more general comments on the rock anthem genre.) It does run on at times, becoming a bit rambling, but then, that is authentic to style. Formally, the often-pounding drums and rhythms generally fit the historical genre on the micro-level, but don't yield to a blues or rock meter overall. If not for the rambling, it might be characterized as "only the highlights" of a rhythm & harmonic distortion nexus. The shifting distortion provides yet another look at the use of electronics in music, a topic that somehow still seems novel in some discussions. (I should also confess to having gone round & round with this issue myself, only having found considering the result independent of this question to be easier after some time. And by "some time," I might mean a lot of time, because I basically opted out of that discussion decades ago, only to return more recently.) It's safe to say that I was also affected by this "sound" in my youth, and so Morris's exploration touches something, even if there have been many other contextualizations in the interim. I'm not sure what I ever imagined it could be, but electronic manipulation clearly could be & has been more radical than what we hear in Mess Hall. This album is much more aggressive, though, than most of what I discuss here, such as e.g. White Sickness, another exploration of electronics within a different traditional band format. The aggressiveness brings to mind not only the urgent spirit of anti-racism from nearly fifty years ago, but also the kinds of sexism that swirled around it. I believe this last is significant to note (and of course, there have been various intersectional etc. analyses since): It echoes within the "sound," otherwise unexamined here.
Beyond Morris's decision to spend some time playing bass, which very well might have figured into his decision to adopt the bass-less (and also quite classic) organ trio format here, returning to complete this "Big Loud Electric Guitar Trilogy" seems to mark some kind of point of closure in his output. The exploration of texture & timbre, within the context of an exploration of historical electronic sound, seems to have yielded some conclusions. That the scope was somewhat limited only seems to have intensified the concentration, as formal limits can sometimes do. Although Mess Hall was only released in late 2014, it was actually recorded in 2011, a couple of years before last year's Joe Morris Quartet album, Balance. Mess Hall appears to put Balance, which also marked a return for Morris, into perspective, including the title itself. Freed from some of these demons, if indeed he is, what might Morris do next?26 January 2015
To favorite recordings list.
More to come!© 2010-15 Todd M. McComb