ep1str0phy

News from the Bay Area front: I'm debuting a new series in Oakland this week, effectively titled "X v Y"... it occurred to me some time ago that the area was bursting with not only challenging, well-realized original music but also a strong tradition of interpretive/cover performance (I think there's a cottage industry of Bay Area guys doing Monk's music, for example). "X v Y" was set up to allow locals to present original composition alongside the concepts and ideas of renowned masters. The "ideal" is to have one person do one artist a night (ridiculous, since it means one person is effectively arranging three sets--BUT), and I'm kicking things off with a night of Ornette Coleman music. I'll be showcasing (1) my own group Grex (who will, in turn, be interpreting some of Old and New Dreams' more iconic Don Cherryisms), (2) a song band, which examines some of Ornette's songs (i.e., the "Science Fiction" stuff, music he's guested on, etc.) and (3) a quartet that will look at some of Ornette's lesser known melodies. It's not a typical night of this sort, considering we won't really be doing any "hits"--but that music has its place, and plenty have (very effectively and powerfully) reexamined "Congeniality," "Ramblin," "Turnaround," etc. I wanted to showcase the ways in which Ornette's general concepts--even in terms of less familiar melodies--have become so pervasive and adaptable that they don't need the (sort of) crutch of canonization or ear memory to sound resonant and powerful. Anyway, details for those who might be in town: X v Y Pt. 1: Karl Evangelista Plays Ornette Coleman Wednesday, July 25, 8pm @ Swarm Gallery (560 2nd Street, Oakland, CA) www.karlevangelista.com www.grexsounds.com Featuring Jon Arkin (drums), Scott Brown (bass), Jordan Glenn (drums), Jason Hoopes (bass), Robert Lopez (drums), Caitlin Moe (vocals), Zeina Nasr (vocals), Rei Scampavia (keys), Aram Shelton (alto sax)

I'm not sure what it might mean to you, but regardless of whatever approbations may have been issued on the part of the powers that be, I know for certain that your catalog holds a really certain and important place in the hearts and minds of man on the street musicians and critics. I guess history, ultimately, reconfirms the quality that was always there. The early Art Ensemble sides, People In Sorrow, and Nonaah (not exclusively, but among others) are definitive recordings for people in my peer group in the improv world--we talk about this stuff in the same breadth as Bird's Savoy recordings, the Hot Fives and Sevens, Miles on Columbia, Trane on Impulse, Ornette on Atlantic, etc. etc.--it's absolutely defining music for a certain aesthetic and ethos, and I think there's a definitely a synergy with Nessa in there. In other words, and I'm sure I'm just reiterating what others have been saying for decades, but your place in the jazz annals is more than secure.

Interrupting the discussion with tangential on topic discussion... Bennie Maupin's free jazzisms on "Sly" immediately diffuse any fears the "outcat" in me may have that Headhunters was counterrevolutionary music. Which is not to say that this is "part of the revolution" per se, but I do hear it as creatively sophisticated middlebrow music. You can't treat that soprano solo as either a co-optation or misappropriation of late Coltrane--it just sort of is that, recontextualized in sort of an unlikely way. I guess I hadn't really listened to Headhunters in a while, because the whole process was like rediscovering a misremembered movie. The history books or all the "classic of jazz fusion" appellations don't totally square; with some minor adjustments, "Sly" and "Vein Melter" could fit onto the second half of a Mwandishi album. All this goes to show that artistic development isn't all about exploding into the next big concept--it's actually often about incremental development and connecting the dots between plateaus.

I come from a family of generals, judges, lawyers, doctors, and presidential candidates, so picking up music as a thing to do probably does strike some of my relatives as extraordinarily precious. I don't really need to justify this lifestyle to myself, but I've given up trying to justify it to the people around me--I'm sensitive to what they think/feel, but I've found that the people who know and care about me the most have already come to terms with the fact that I'm a musician. That being said, I completely understand how anyone could/would take issue with being categorized as an "artist"; beyond the sheer psychological implications there is a sense that self-categorizing as an artist means that feeling, emotions, and sensitivity take up an extraordinary amount of one's own personal time. Yes--maybe for some, but I've met far too many working musicians to know that it's as much about craft, work, and (in most cases, sadly) money as it is about exploring the self. That doesn't mean that self-involvement and being a musician can't go hand in hand, only that there are a lot of other factors at play. Maybe Herbie is just a sensitive guy who also wants to express himself to others and also wants to turn a buck. Roscoe Mitchell is one of the ultimate examples of someone who rides the artist/worker dichotomy with a vengeance. No one flipped/flips out when AACM musicians make more commercial recordings (see Lester Bowie), in part because doing essentially everything is publicly acknowledged as part of the AACM's postmodern wheelhouse. The interesting thing is that whenever commercial idioms enter into Roscoe's equation they're a piece with the other stuff; their presence is not necessarily a huge (or crass, for that matter) personal or public gesture. I spent enough time with that dude to know that the guy is more about the dichotomy between good music and bad music--making it work--than he is about turning a buck or being a starving genius. The more time passes, the more Roscoe's path seems like the "sane" thing to do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3J6NQnLx3-Y RIP--he had a truly strong, versatile voice. He helped make a lot of great 70's dates great, IMO.

Hancock's actual words, since I'm not sure they've appeared verbatim in this thread. From the liners to The Complete Warner Bros. Recordings: "One thing became apparent to me last year," he explained in a 1974 interview that explained the change in perspective that led to his ultra-funky and enormously successful Headhunters album. "I'd go to friends' homes and see my albums on the shelves with lots of other people's records, and they'd play all the others except mine. My intention at the time was to play music to be listened to with undivided attention; but how many people have the time to approach music that way? Before, I was so interested in spirituality that I didn't recognize that a person puts on a record with his hands and not his spirit." So the emphasis shifted from "heavy musical trips that try to expand people's minds" to "making people feel like getting up in the morning and going to work." I think it's important to parse that Herbie never really rejected the Mwandishi music--I always got the sense, in fact, that there was a lingering affection on the part of the members, Herbie included, for the band and that era--more the principles upon which the music was created. Do you "expand people's minds" or "make people feel like getting up in the morning?" I think both notions are presumptuous to a certain extent, and it's ultimately, at least in this case, just as much a matter of the artist feeling comfortable with what he put into the music is it is a matter of what he knew people would get out of it--i.e., 'I don't really want my music sitting on someone's shelves.'

But Herbie Hancock still makes records. And has a book deal. And can improvise rather than riff. Win, Herbie Hancock. I actually don't mind Rockit at all. Don't really like it, but I've got no problem with Gadget Geeks playing with their new toys, nor with making unabashedly commercial music, not if you're upfront about it and do it like you mean for it to be done. In retrospect it might be Laswell's most successful project, and I don't just mean commercially. The element of bringing together disparate styles in Laswell's other projects (when he is not merely being a 'producer' for others 'styles') often ends at the idea alone. Rock-it actually sounds like it was meant to be. Everyone was in the right place at the right time. Re-Allen Lowe's point about the middle class not being able to produce anything truly innovative, I don't think it's middle class so much as middle age, or post middle age as such. Which innovative musicians (who made it past mid-career) have been able to make music that had a real impact on the music around them, after a certain point in their lives. Beyond just making certain advances or changes within their own personal idioms. After Prime Time Ornette certainly didn't. Herbie Hancock after Rock-it? Laswell? Archie Shepp? Sonny Rollins? Armstrong? Miles Davis perhaps? If you count Last Exit and Massacre as Laswell projects (and the latter has definitely always been a collaboration, to varying degrees, with Fred Frith), then I'd say that those are more successful than any of the grab bag/synthesis projects. Material is no one project, but its best moments (a lot of Memory Serves, that Archie Shepp/Whitney Houston track) have been musically fantastic. Last Exit actually has that sort of vibe--American free jazz guitar pioneer, iconic German enfant terrible, free rock legend/early Prime Time drummer, and a dub/experimental bassist--but it was a longtime touring group and much more cohesive than any of the shorter-term things I can remember. As far as innovative guys having an impact on the music around them at a later stage in life--a lot of the AACM and Euro free improv guys, especially in their older years, have maintained these sort of musical apprenticeships that ensures that their current music has an impact (by virtue of osmosis) on current, "developing" music. Evan Parker is one example, and his work with both younger musicians (Peter Evans and our own Alexander Hawkins come to mind) and more "leftish" improv (his EAI experiments in more recent years, even though he was already sort of doing this with the Music Improvisation Company in the 70's) ensures his continued relevance. Fred Frith is a different example; the changes in his own music may not always been immediately audible, but the man is deep into looking for new things and nurtures this interest, actively, via his teaching at Mills (where I met him) and his very public work with younger generations of composers/improvisers. There's a whole generation of younger/current American improvisers, I think, that bears at least some connection to Fred's work in various fields. Then there are guys like Braxton who tend not to sit with their own idioms very long before drastically mutating them into something else. There's plenty of personal development in Braxton's music, but I know that, at least in terms of the younger musicians he's worked with and the sheer ambition of his trying to produce something completely new every number of months, his music has a continued resonance. I've actually gleaned more off of studying both the 80's quartet and Ghost Trance music than I have looking at the more broadly celebrated 60's/70's music, and Braxton's creative wanderlust makes me think he'll never turn into someone who merely "coasts." Threadgill is similar, Roscoe too (although a lot of his hardcore experimentalism tends to go relatively unnoticed/unrecorded--my judgment is based in main on my time at Mills, where Roscoe seems to write a new, boundary pushing chamber piece on a pretty regular basis). Also, I wouldn't want to disservice a guy like Ornette whose music post-Prime Time may have not had a visceral impact but whose idiom most definitely continues to evolve. The primary reason his latter day music has not had as shattering an impact is because there's nothing to hang the hysteria on--like you said, it's a matter of personal advances or changes, not the invention, wholesale, of a new style. I think that Ornette's incremental evolution in the past ten years or so has been much more interesting than people often give it credit for, and many of these ideas (the reinstitution of a regular harmonic form with measures/beats spontaneously added or removed, the end of the formal "horns play the melody" thing with the melody traded freely between horns and basses, the superimposition of completely contrasting rhythmic feels on top of one another) parallel certain developments in the supposed "cutting edge" of contemporary jazz/improvised music.

ABSOLUTELY. The groove on that tune is so inviting and ecstatic--that band was superheroically soulful. RIP to Levon, whose playing and singing animated and emboldened everything around him.

That would be HUGE.

Cool--maybe overthinking this, but do you mean just a basic root position chord with the 5th omitted (e.g., C-E-Bb) or root/7th/3rd in that order (e.g., C-Bb-E)? I use the latter frequently, but I don't usually comp with 6th string/5th string/4th string combinations. It's not a preference thing so much as a habit--I guess I never really thought thought to do it the other way (for fear of invoking the wrath of bass players/keyboardists). I'll try that next time I'm in a small configuration.

I worked through this with Barry himself. He and Milt sounded great on the companion recording. But we both agreed that the stuff was too fancy to be practical. The best and most useful thing Barry showed me was the 3-note bass string voicings for 4/4 comping. Amazing but I just didn't know to do that. I was comping on the high strings. He was a gentleman and said 'sounds good, but it's a little thin'. He had one study in that book on Rhythm changes that I was all over. It kind of changed my life. Totally tangential, but what exactly were the bass string voicings? Root-3rd-7th stuff? I'm really curious.

Whoa--I have to find this place, if only to terrorize the residents with one too many "taking a historical/referential album cover" pictures.

Yes--The Dark Tree. I haven't read Song of the Unsung yet either, but the caliber of writing and research on The Dark Tree is unbelievable. Considering how little documentation there is of that scene, that book approaches Lewis's AACM tome in terms of depth and how effectively it details the intersection of so many different personalities.

and you, Mr. Phunkey, have so eloquently stated what i so clumsily tried to say. thank you! Speak Like a Child was beautifully arranged by Thad Jones. It is lyrical and beautiful as a composition and unfolds beautifully. That bass flute is worth the price of the ticket. I wonder why Herbie never arranged for a larger ensemble. Maybe he did. I think Herbie's self-editing over time is an important point that seems to have been missed here. It seems like he recognized that his earlier work w/Miles, etc. was almost too freewheeling and wanted to simplify. And he did, beautifully. It takes a lot of discipline to take a great, if verbose, talent and pare down. It's almost painful. But you sort of trust that the ideas will keep coming and you want to focus and be understood, so something like 'minimilization' occurs (shoot me, I'm sounding like a goddamn writer). Beckett did it with words. It's amazing to watch the trajectory from More Kicks than Pricks or Whoroscope to the novels (thick as an Irish wood)to finally Play, Eh, Joe, etc. Truly amazing. It's only when Herbie strapped on that keyboard and did Rockit that he offended me and I turned off. That was some sell-out bullshit. That and hosting 'Rock School' on PBS. Ugh. But he's got a hell of a legacy still. Are we talking more of a compositional/idiomatic simplification or an instrumental simplification? I'm not sure he's gotten less verbose or idea packed in the years after Miles (or even after Mwandishi, when he made a really self-conscious attempt to "connect" with listeners), going by his solo piano work, the duet with Wayne Shorter, or any of his live acoustic jazz after the early 70's (to say nothing of VSOP). Even stuff like Future 2 Future is drawn out in its own way. If you mean, though, that he began to compartmentalize his creative id and got more deliberate about when/where the experimentation occurred, then I can totally see what you mean; Herbie before '74 (or even before the end of the first Headhunters band) can be an adventure to listen to--you don't know which version of him will turn up. The live Mwandishi bootlegs are sort of the zenith of this, much more so than Herbie's work with the Miles band--this music is at times aggressively idea dense and often very drawn out, and it's the only time that Herbie seemed to allow, at length, his various personalities (the funky/commercial Herbie, the various experimental Herbies, the more bop derivative Herbie, the composer with an ear for complex orchestration) to coexist. Later than Mwandishi, even when Herbie's own playing surprises, the context is usually more or less predictable.

Thanks! The crazy thing that got me about the Dark Tree was just how dismissive some of the other UGMAA people were with regard to The Giant Is Awakened--someone in the book calls it something like a "'B' day for those guys"--when it's really the iconic example of that music on record. One imagines (1) that that music must have been ridiculous in a live setting, stretching out for Coltrane lengths of time and (2) that the subtle "corporate" influence on The Giant Is Awakened may have tainted the recording for the movement somewhat. That Nimbus stuff is colorful and very unique--nothing else sounds quite like it--but it's just so much rougher and less to-the-point that the Flying Dutchman side. The Giant Is Awakened is kind of like a New York album in that way--just short, sweet, and tough. And thanks, JLH--I'll buy all three, too!

These threads are such a crazy education. Interestingly (for me, at least), this was one of the first youtube hits for Barry Galbraith: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6I00wCRYTs That hybridzed chord/bassline accompaniment was actually one of the first "jazz things" I learned, since my first teacher took some lessons from Joe Pass (who more or less mastered this sort of contrapuntal guitar playing). The words about accompaniment being a lost art are really pointed, because these skills are more important now than ever. I had a friend chide me for playing chord melody in a free jazz context (not changes--it was a strictly improvised harmony sort of thing), which I'll take in stride--it's not "in the idiom"--but I do wonder why that sort of skill set was never really applied to a lot of styles in the wake of Coltrane. Maybe it's something about the post-McLaughlin/post-Hendrix area and the elevation of "heroic" linear soloing, but it sometimes feels like jazz guitar after 1970 really makes a big deal of avoiding the possibilities of all six strings.

One example--Hall could be a crazy florid comper in tandem with/alternating with piano. Though he's essentially more of a standards/straightahead player than his third stream pedigree suggests, Hall had the sort of rhythmic and harmonic mind that could have pushed into post-Miles territory pretty effectively. I guess that's what Attila Zoller is for, to an extent, but sometimes I find myself looking for that degree of harmonic interactivity on Grant's Blue Note sides--at least something that could counterbalance Larry Young or Herbie in the way that Hall does Evans.

OK, you got me--shit called where shit is laid. I put some Grant on while reading through this thread and came across this: ...and it's pretty solid, interactive organ trio comping. I was remembering, probably a little too tiredly, the frequent occurrence of stuff like this: -which is one of my favorite performances of all time. He does comp on a lot of blues, some slow burners, and the occasional uptempo piece, but I am a little perplexed by the fact that he tends to sit out comping duties on a lot of the more complex standards tunes on his own albums. Yes, you don't need two comping instruments on every single track (especially on stuff like Street of Dreams where you have three of them at the band's disposal), but Grant's comping--propulsive as it is--is nowhere near as coloristically or rhythmically sophisticated as, say, Jim Hall (or Wes, for that matter, who made a similar "commercial" turn later in life).

As per the notion that resorting to chord melody was retrogressive at that time--I agree that there's plenty that's sociopolitical about specific techniques and instrumental lineages, but deciding not to play chords on a chordal instrument strikes me as more of a self-imposed technical limitation rather than an ideological one. Even Hendrix spent some time with octaves.

Lazy's a strong word, but I've listened to at least 70% of Grant's recorded legacy and he really wasn't that versatile a player. His one thing was un-freaking-believable, but nothing could make me believe he could keep up with Raney, Hall, Wes, Benson, etc. chordally. Sonny Sharrock (in the 60's, at least--there's a lot more going on in his 80's work than got documented, I think) wasn't really that versatile either, but that's not really a knock on the handful of things he could do in amazing ways. Like Allen was saying a little ways up the thread--it's not really about genre as much as it is "quality" of the music, if "technique" = "quality" in this particular case.

I get what you're saying, fass, in terms of how static Grant's technique was over an extended period of time. I'm a hardcore Grant fan, although more for the mileage he gets out of economy rather than anything associated with Francis Wolff/jazz image and especially the whole junkie/martyr/icon BS. The "sameness" of Grant's playing over any number of recordings is a double-edged sword; on the one hand it illustrates how a simple but instinctual understanding of jazz harmony can be applied to dozens of musical situations (straight up standards playing via his early Blue Note sides, slowburn/mood music ala Idle Moments and Street of Dreams, blues/gospel harmony w/Feelin' the Spirit, Coltrane-ish modalism/progressivism with Matador and solid, funk with Alive and so on...), on the other it's limited in color and technical scope, if not emotional content. A lot of folks talk about just how much Grant absorbed from Bird, but his playing reads kind of like a reduction of bebop phrasing--there's actually very little chromaticism and not that much rhythmic sophistication, and the the real bebop in there is in the shape/contour of his lines. In terms of Grant "not going far enough"--I always understood Grant's dedication to single line playing as sort of a marker of his own identity, but I can't help but imagine it limited both his professional opportunities and the depth of his music in the long run. I always thought it was interesting how he never really comped on any of his own albums, a fact that casts an intriguing shadow on Grant's several, very sympathetic recorded relationships with top-drawer chordal instrumentalists/compers (Herbie, Larry Young, Bobby Hutcherson, Sonny Clark, Jack McDuff, etc.). In other words, Grant's playing isn't particularly interactive, but it is intensely propulsive--time that sits on or on top of the beat, hard attack, staccato phrasing--which made him an ideal partner for keyboardists/organists who knew how to make their own music, so to speak. At the same time, I get the sense that more demanding company really has to work to integrate him into the ensembles--listen to Herbie's My Point of View or Lee Morgan's Search for the New Land, where Grant will usually show up for a unison line or break and then disappear until/unless there is a guitar solo. The fact that Grant never got into chordal territory is a shame, because he was one of the most adventurous guitar players of his generation, context-wise. Wes's bag was ultimately a blues/hard bop thing, Kenny Burrell was in a similar bracket, guys like Jim Hall were much more harmonically adventurous but not as meaty or intense, and the next "evolution" of the instrument into progressive territories was something else entirely (James "Blood" and Sonny Sharrock in free jazz terms, Larry Coryell and John McLaughlin in rock terms). Maybe it's too late for me to think hard enough about it, but jazz guitar never really had a Herbie or McCoy in the 60's, did it? (i.e., someone who could play mainstream/standards music convincingly and excitingly but also innovate in any number of progressive situations). Sonny Greenwich? Barney Kessel? Attila Zoller?

Go with the Tapscott. Go with the Tapscott. I already own the old Novus CD that pairs it with a Carter/Bradford side, but that issue has been unavailable for ages and I'd easily buy the Tapscott again. If the qualifications for reissue have something to do with historical importance, critical status, originality, and performance quality for the idiom, I'd say that The Giant Is Awakened meets every single criterion--it's maybe the greatest underground LA jazz record ever waxed. Misc. reasons: (1) It's the best documentation of Horace Tapscott's 60's/70's music, even with all the Nimbus sides circulating--there's a degree of ensemble precision, cohesion, and conciseness on the record that exceeds any of the PAPA music or even Tapscott's later small group stuff, The Dark Tree notwithstanding. (2) The Giant Is Awakened hosts one of the darkest, freakiest rhythm section hookups on record. Everything with Tapscott & Everett Brown, Jr. is at least good, but there are moments on The Giant Is Awakened that touch the epic pathos of the Tyner/Garrison/Jones rhythm section. The rhythm section here actually reminds me of, at least in terms of feel, communication, and mobility, any number of rhythm sections that featured Harry Miller and Louis Moholo (specifically the ones with Chris McGregor and Keith Tippett), though the LA guys are heavier and somewhat less ethereal. The general impression is comparable to a number of post-Coltrane ensemble contexts (Pharoah Sanders's 70's bands, Tyner's 70's bands), but freer, less anxiously propulsive (in a decidedly West Coast v. East Coast way), and a little angrier. (3) This is, I believe, Arthur Blythe's first appearance on record, and it's staggering just how fully-realized his playing is at this juncture. It's not quite in the orbit of the Dolphy wheelhouse--it's a somewhat less fluid and darker in tone--but it captures the raspy menace that Dolphy essayed on stuff like "Mendacity" and Out to Lunch and endows it with a sort of barwalking, R&B-ish bite. (4) This is a key album for a specific subset of the LA jazz scene--namely the sort of afrocentric, post-Coltrane jazz with very tangible ties to Black Nationalism--and while it is not necessarily representative of the entirety of that scene or even Tapscott's music in-and-of-itself, it was an early (historical) indicator that some very different stuff was going on out West. I own and have avidly listened to plenty of LA jazz from this period, and nothing else so vividly captures the urgency and energy of LA's gritty underbelly. The seeds of LA alternative hip-hop (in the album's vampy, heavy grooves), its free jazz/creative music scene, modern black LA jazz--it's all there. I could write pages and pages--I'm a strong advocate of Tapscott and especially this one and The Dark Tree.

I say this with a twinkle, but also with complete seriousness - is this continuum something that you young folk now recognize and accept without a whole lot of botheration? World gone right for a change it it is. I don't speak on behalf of young musicians everywhere, but I did ask a drummer friend of mine right in the middle of a rehearsal yesterday--"do you remember the last time you had trouble juggling so many genres?" He replied, plainly, "I don't think I've ever thought of it in that way." All I know is that I have to activate the same nerve centers playing afrobeat that I do playing neo-soul that I do playing JBs type stuff. I don't think of it all as "the same," but the notion of a continuum is very present and real for me.

I've spent plenty of time in the past few years playing Fela Kuti's music, and as someone whose spent twice as much time playing standards and improvised music, I can testify to how much sheer, painful discipline it takes to stick with the chicken picking/R&B riff tradition. I'm squarely of the mind that, at least in terms of the James Brown/Sly/Kuti continuum, the guitar is the most limited instrument in the entire band--not as flexible, by virtue of range and timbre (i.e., you pop out like crazy when you try something weird), as bass, and not as free as the keys or horns. Granted all this, I'm slightly wary of the possibilities of guitar as a soloistic funk instrument--the minute the groove drops out, you have problems, and at least keyboards are by their very nature doggedly contrapuntal. Grant Green solved this problem majestically, if dryly--he just turned the guitar into another horn, rather than a "rhythm section instrument"--but for every Grant there are hundreds of players employing the same baldly worn out Hendrixisms as a way to step "out" of the funk texture. Some guys--like Charlie Hunter--have found a way out of the Hendrix/stay on one chord ghetto, but I completely get what you're saying in terms of wanting to stick to "the prettier stuff." Real, solid funk guitarists possess a heroic amount of self-restraint.

I have a difficult time begrudging Herbie's success, in main because (as was pointed out somewhere up the thread) it seems as if commercial considerations have always been apart of his aesthetic raison d'etre. Someone pointed out not too long ago that he's had at least one major hit every year since the 60's. It seems crazy/difficult to conceptualize, but Herbie's post-Headhunter's career is now nearly three and a half decades long, which greatly outstrips his peak years (let's say roughly '63-'73, which encompasses his joining the Miles band right up to the end of Mwandishi) as an interloper in something resembling "creative"/noncommercial strains of jazz. In view of this, it's easy to frame Herbie has a commercial thinker who just happens to have a functional, sometimes active understanding of both experimental traditions (there are plenty of stories of Mwandishi listening to Stockhausen and late Trane on tour) and innovation (Herbie's championing of Ornette), rather than a once specifically experimental voice who cashed in when the getting was good. For this reason, Herbie's "commercial" music is not nearly as oppressive to me as, say, Bobby Hutcherson's, since it's not as if Bobby's spent much time after the 70's with Joni Mitchell, for example. Perhaps it's my own natural affinity for dross and whatnot, but I'm of the mind that Herbie's playing tends to elevate bleak musical environs (and not the other way around--i.e., it's not often that a crappy band really makes Herbie play worse). Herbie's just like Wayne in that he's this kind of musical Zelig, wandering through the landscape of 20th century music and treating the latter as this vague chunk of non-hierarchical ideas. I genuinely wonder whether Herbie thinks Stockhausen is/would be considered "greater" than Sly, because there's a staggering continuity of energy and "do-it-to-it"ness in the corridor between Mwandishi and Sunlight. It always struck me how deliberate and unagonized Herbie was in the shift from outer space (Mwandishi) back down to earth (Headhunters). Is wanting a bigger audience the same thing as wanting more money? Or, rather, is populism the same thing is crassness? I don't think it's that simple, especially in Herbie's case.