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John Zorn asked writers not to review his performance


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Howard Mandel on John Zorn:

Musicians dread words

John Zorn asked writers not to review his performance opening the season at St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn, though he was pleased we wanted to attend. How can/should an arts journalist comply?

flattered and bemused

The resident blogger is flattered that so many readers stick up for the rights of reviewers to do what they do. He's also amused at one reader's suggestion that John Zorn regards professional opinions so highly he'd prefer to suppress them.

This generated a bit of discussion on a Zorn email list. What do you think? :alien:

Edited by 7/4
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Whoa that's rich.

That "perfume of a critics burning flesh" attitude.

Even the Mandel blog posts direct links to Amazon for us to toss down a list price of $16.98 for Zorn's upcoming "Dreamers" disc (maybe the work no longer deserves to be called an album), so what is the beef about some publicity good or bad.

Next thing ya know food critics will be given a free "Lunch" as long as they don't talk the about the bad fish or being serenaded by Baptista's:

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"Twangy Tones and Vibes in a Fistful of Nostalgia"

By NATE CHINEN

Published: March 3, 2008

John Zorn is capable of a coarse and brazenly puckered timbre on alto saxophone, and he long ago mastered its use as a sort of serrated blade in musical form. On Friday night at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn, the first of two weekend performances there, he practiced this skill for a total of two minutes, maybe three, and the concision was wickedly effective. For the rest of the show, Mr. Zorn sat onstage in a folding chair and conducted his band with basic but emphatic hand gestures. The saxophone sat on the floor beside him, a tantalizing threat.

Mr. Zorn was presiding over the live premiere of “The Dreamers,” a suite of short pieces he conceived for six musicians other than himself. More specifically, his ensemble consisted of the guitarist Marc Ribot, the keyboardist Jamie Saft, the bassist Trevor Dunn and the percussionists Kenny Wollesen, Cyro Baptista and Joey Baron. Last year the same experienced crew recorded an album version of “The Dreamers,” due soon on Mr. Zorn’s Tzadik label. (The concert featured all 11 tracks, in the same running order.)

Though best known for his Jewish-folk-inspired Masada projects and his almost equally prolific output of concert music, Mr. Zorn never abandoned the mishmash strategies of his early work. The general sound of this ensemble was washy and nostalgic, with Mr. Wollesen on vibraphone and Mr. Saft on Fender Rhodes piano and Farfisa organ. Especially with Mr. Ribot taking melodic leads in his twangy, reverb-rich tone, the style was redolent of surf rock, psychedelia and the film scores of Ennio Morricone.

That last reference point, a longtime preoccupation of Mr. Zorn, occasionally registered as a howling presence. A piece called “Anulikwutsayl,” for instance, featured a coolly implacable, pendulum-like electric bass vamp — two notes, a pause, then two more, and back again — along with an overlay of percussive noise and atmospheric effects. Mr. Ribot occupied the foreground with dramatic, spindly lines. The ensemble, goaded on by Mr. Zorn, developed a crescendo around him, swelling and cresting like a wave.

Klezmer rhythms and modes rippled through most of the pieces, including “Toys,” the one on which Mr. Zorn opted to play. But they mingled with other sonic suggestions. “Of Wonder and Certainty” managed to earn its dedication to Lou Reed, while “Raksasa,” with its serpentine bass line and guitar-and-vibes melody, could have passed for a tune by Stereolab. “A Ride on Cottonfair,” a snappy jazz waltz for acoustic piano, bass and drums, with frisky forays into common meter, uncannily evoked the Vince Guaraldi Trio.

The precise dimensions of the pieces weren’t often disturbed by anything as disruptive as an alto saxophone meltdown. Sure, Mr. Ribot soloed often, with heat and imagination — he’s a maestro of the blues-abstracted fever dream — but his exertions rarely had a chain effect within the band. Partly that’s because the obsessively engaged Mr. Zorn, his alto untouched but on hand, was there to ensure that the train stayed securely on its rails.

Edited by Man with the Golden Arm
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Too many writers and critics think of themselves as Clement Greenberg: an equal hand and necessary hand in the creative process: guiding the creative process to their idea of what it should be. In this day of social networking, I don't see much point in critics.

I think you're overstating how much Clement Greenberg forced his hand in artists' careers. That said, he was an extremely generous person and had a rather clear vision of certain types of art and their place in the aesthetic continuum. That comes from a keen eye and careful study. But he'd be the first to admit that his judgements were "taste" before "gospel."

It would be great if more critics had conviction in their own taste and a finely-tuned outsider's perspective of artistic process.

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In this day of social networking, I don't see much point in critics.

I don't agree with that - I still appreciate a well thought-out review, whether it's in print or online.

Same here. It's the not very well thought out reviews that bother me.

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Guest Bill Barton

what's the next step ?

asking the audience members not to listen ? :unsure:

:rofl:

Good point! I've never been a huge fan of Zorn although I like some of the Masada stuff. He doesn't need to ask me not to listen... I'm there already.

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I think we will have to agree to disagree on this point.

Fair enough.

I think Clement Greenberg forced an aesthetic that made it difficult for anyone not adhering to that aesthetic to survive

But I don't think artists who practiced work outside his area of interest died on the vine, exactly, without his written support: Rauschenberg, Johns, Warhol, Serra, Hesse, Reinhardt, Stella...

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All three were interested in readymades, to varying degrees. All three were also dealing with very personal responses to Pollock. Like Steve Lacy, they (and many of their contemporaries) saw Pollock as "a way to the other side."

It's interesting to take someone like Kenneth Noland, whom Greenberg championed, and place him side-by-side with Johns' targets and Stella's stripe paintings and shaped canvases. The tension between recognizable imagery and color-defining-form is pretty fascinating.

And Stella, fwiw, was first influenced by his house-painting jobs in New England, dealing with the patterns of wooden siding in barns and houses. You can see the evolution from his 1958 work up through the Benjamin Moore series, though the copper and aluminum works veered somewhat by being shaped.

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