colinmce

Modern/Avant New Releases: A running thread

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just a question -  and a comment on the current difficulties of improvising - listening to that Laubrock piece from Firehouse - a nice tune called Ubatuba - why do contemporary free improvisers think that increasing speed and quicker, more frequent  punctuations of altissimo squeal and other sonic manipulation involving increased volume indicate and/or mean a build up of ideas and tension? This is the kind of thing that used to drive me crazy about the late Thomas Chapin's soloing; I worked with him a few times, master musician, but every solo built in the same way - more lines, more speed, more honks and split tones and high-note squeals. Felt like I was with JATP.

just wondering, but I think it's a big problem with some players. This, not Sonny Rollins and Trane, is what Tristano should have meant when he described certain players as being 'all emotion, no feeling.'  I think this kind of playing is a trap into which a lot of musicians fall.

What I like about Ayler, in contrast, is that he started at full speed and then just accelerated. That works for me.

 

Perhaps it has to do with their listening to other forms of music, in particular indie rock, punk or the like.

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just a question -  and a comment on the current difficulties of improvising - listening to that Laubrock piece from Firehouse - a nice tune called Ubatuba - why do contemporary free improvisers think that increasing speed and quicker, more frequent  punctuations of altissimo squeal and other sonic manipulation involving increased volume indicate and/or mean a build up of ideas and tension? This is the kind of thing that used to drive me crazy about the late Thomas Chapin's soloing; I worked with him a few times, master musician, but every solo built in the same way - more lines, more speed, more honks and split tones and high-note squeals. Felt like I was with JATP.

just wondering, but I think it's a big problem with some players. This, not Sonny Rollins and Trane, is what Tristano should have meant when he described certain players as being 'all emotion, no feeling.'  I think this kind of playing is a trap into which a lot of musicians fall.

What I like about Ayler, in contrast, is that he started at full speed and then just accelerated. That works for me.

 

Perhaps it has to do with their listening to other forms of music, in particular indie rock, punk or the like.

Allen, I feel like this is a really interesting topic--it engages with a handful of issues that are "macro musical" but also of endemic concern to free jazz in particular. The genetics of free jazz are coded in more traditional mechanics (i.e., rhythm combo instrumentation, the dynamic between improvisation and composition, soloist v. accompanist, etc.), and I feel like the rub with a lot of music that gets lumped into this category concerns the degree to which said music is capable of undermining these more traditional considerations.

I guess this is where EFI comes in, because it seems like the first music to get categorized under this (also) very broad banner seemed to confront these issues head-on. There are things like range, timbre, volume (and even things like directional sound--this is guitar player bullshit, and I'm sure many other kinds of amplified instrumentalists will be able to relate) that will serve to foreground or background certain instruments in a psychological sense, and I'm fascinated by the (even by modern standards) insane technical solutions formulated by the likes of the John Stevens, Derek Bailey, Paul Lytton, Toshinori Kondo, etc. Even guys who don't normally fall under this banner--like Fred Frith, Keith Rowe, or even Syd Barrett (all heroes of mine)--were dealing as far back as the 60's with considerations much more closely aligned with contemporaneous "new music" than American free jazz. I mean, when you get into Topography of the Lungs territory, you're know confronting this brave new world of textural organization--it's not just soloist v. rhythm section anymore.

None of this is to say (and I speak also to my admittedly limited understanding of a lot of post-80's American free jazz and EFI, EAI, etc.) that the free music of an American lineage wasn't confronting these more convoluted problems in the past couple of decades--only that this does not seem to have ever been the foremost concern of free jazz as a loosely conglomerated entity. It's called free jazz--liberty from/of--with all of the positive and negatives that emanate from that continuum. For me (and returning, at last, to Allen's point), the big thing has to do with these "traditional" dynamics of tension and release.

An occasional "point of contention"--and I'm surprised when it is, actually--is the relative merit of Out to Lunch with regard to the rest of Dolphy's discography. I (along with like 99% of the free music-loving population) swing closer to the "it's a masterpiece" line of thinking. The main triumph of that record, AFAIC, is the fact that it takes some of the greatest accompanists in the music (Davis/Williams), mixes them up with some of its preeminent soloists (Dolphy/Hubbard/Hutch), and spends around 40 minutes in this relentless upheaval of foreground/background. For my money, it is the best illustration of an attribute that always made Dolphy stand out from his peers: the solos don't peak.

Listen again to Out to Lunch and try to identify a "best solo"--you might be able to articulate certain moments or episodes, but that record is not a soloist's album. Listen to Dolphy on most of his most extraordinary "soloist" features--from well-known stuff like his "Epistrophy" solo on Last Date and "Mendacity" to just totally obscure material like Mingus's "Hora Decubitus." Dolphy is a master of tension and release, with eminent control of his horn--but he also never goes for the cheap shot when it comes to solo construction.

I feel like all soloists in the jazz tradition must be aware of the anxiety-inducing desire to "tell a story" or "grab the audience," etc., but it's at least arguable that many of the music's great soloists knew how to construct sequences of melody and structure that sound dynamic, developmental, and rovingly complex. This is why we celebrate Rollins or even guys like Clifford Jordan as soloists, but less (classic, Impulse! era) Pharoah--we think of Pharoah as a "total sound" soloist, but I feel like it's more than he's emanating from this continuum of barwalking powerhouses, always building toward these clear (but also somewhat predictable) climaxes. Ayler was a "climaxer," too--but recognize that he doesn't really enter this realm until the marching band music, when it's all about systematic building/release rather than free association per se. Guys like Rollins wouldn't be extraordinary were it not for the fact that they were (and are) fighting these small-scale battles against the tides of musical habit and embodied history.

Keep in mind that this shouldn't serve as condemnation of Laubrock or Chapin, both of whom are surely capable of doing what I say Dolphy does above--but the more vindictive and self-critical musician in me understands soloing of the "slow build, then chaos" sort to be sort of irresponsible in light of all of the really innovative shit we've been exposed to in the last couple of decades. Yes, playing free jazz means dealing with the burden of history, but part of me also feels that this burden engenders responsibility--not going for the easy dynamics, sounds, and structures. Speaking again to Allen's point, when I hear so much music that sounds like this (and I'll freely admit to playing like this on occasion, and it's something that I'll of course always wish to work on), it can feel both lazy and emotionally manipulative.

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agreed, re: "dealing with the burden of history, but part of me also feels that this burden engenders responsibility;" yes,  as Delmore Schwartz said, "in dreams begin responsibility."

as for "fighting these small-scale battles against the tides of musical habit and embodied history." In jazz as in virtually all African American music, the relationship with habit and embodied history is both affectionate and ambivalent, I think. The rest is really the choice of the soloist and/or his accompanists.

And you make complete sense in the rest of your post. The question then becomes whether repetition (of old gestures) is a part of some bigger and referential picture or just unfortunate habit. I do have a sense that a lot of the current-day 'open' players are somewhat artistically schizophrenic; for example, Laubrock (of whom I am not a big fan; I think she has serious rhythmic deficiencies) is much more interesting on her latest recording than that of her work which I have heard in 'live' and open-improvised performance; though I have another theory about this, because this lines up with so much else that seems to be happening. I think the economics of jazz have gotten so bad that musicians - and this includes more inside players - have decided it is too much work to really prepare and organize every performance. Hence what we see are long, constructed, open-ended performances that cannot meet the burden of length and spontaneity. Which leads me to other problems that are beyond the scope of this discussion,

 

Edited by AllenLowe

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The things I've heard Laubrock do don't fit these descriptions at all. 

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WcLagmn.jpg

I bought this album from Ingebrigt Haker Flaten last week when I saw Dave Rempis' Percussion Quartet. I'm listening to it now, and it's simply incredible.

It's pulsing, driving, melodic jazz for 2015, and it's totally captivating and enjoyable.

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Like others, I don't hear that approach with Laubrock at all. 

When reading all of the above, I think mostly of David Murray who has worn out my ear's welcome for a few years now. Certainly much "free jazz" can fall into the trap described so aptly above. 

However I would say that I rarely hear this cheap and easy approach by the musicians I see live quite often. They are very well aware that this approach is of the past, is easy and manipulative. The truly great modern current improvisers rarely if ever build for an applause. 

In fact, I would say a couple of the greatest improvising sets I've seen in recent years elicited nothing but continued awe whether it be during the quieter moments or during the portions where the volume happened to be louder. 

Listen to Dragonfly Breath and hear that the quieter sections are as intense as the louder sections. This recording is a idealization of the best that intense and dynamic free jazz improvisation has to offer. I hear this sort of varied dynamic strength often live.

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I'm another who has always heard Laubrock as a patient constructor of solos who rarely feels the need to go full bore or play 'for effect'. Also, Uba Tuba has Tim Berne who also, as far as I can hear over many hours studio and live listening, doesn't play in the manner characterised by Mr Lowe's post.

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Tim is a great saxophonist and composer; Laubrock is....well, a snoozer, to me. I actually think that, for her, some sort of buildup to something - to anything - would be an improvement.  I have no doubt she can play, as can many others; there is boring, repetitious, lack of connection in her soloing, though it is not the kind of fragmented work that makes some other saxophonists interesting. It is, for me, too public a search for something she needs to do in private, perhaps.

Edited by AllenLowe

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Well, manipulative showboating and general ennui are two completely different improvisers' problems.

As per what Steve said, Murray gets brought up pretty frequently w/regard to overly emotive/overripe soloing, though I'm actually a fan of this approach in context; Murray's soloing is often "aside from the point" in that it's framed by these vaguely neo-classicist arrangements. I see Murray as a pseudo-curator in a way--he has a Zornian knack for assembling these unbelievable bands that he just happens to be shunted into. Dudu Pukwana is a player of much higher repute in improv circles (admittedly, one of my favorite altos) who operates in a similar fashion--the difference is that he manages to deconstruct these sorts of overheated blues inflections into solo constructions that might be considered circuitous or even non-narrative. The overall effect can be pretty shocking:

I love Pukwana's solo (the second horn solo--IIRC, both Tchicai and Pukwana are playing alto on this one) because it's comprised of all of these clipped, decontextualized jump blues and mbaqanga phrases. There's even this gaping hole before the tutti/shout chorus thing. There is no linear objective here--it's just perpetually there--not building, not receding, just there. It's a harsh, bloody version of what Dolphy was doing with these more meticulously constructed, tonally complex solos. This is the reason that, despite the very specific inflections and mannerisms, I could listen to the Blue Notes guys for literally hours at a time.

Contrast this with what we talked about above. I've heard/read Allen rage about a lot of contemporary improvisers, and while I could never speak on his behalf and probably don't understand the full throttle of it, I can get to a lot of what he's saying. Sometimes there's the overripe soloing, but it's framed within these weakly constructed, relentlessly non-dynamic burnout improvs. Murray does this some times--thirty or so minutes of "troughs and valleys," this relentless cycle of peaking and recession. Alternately, you can have a meticulously constructed group sound and arrangement but soloing that lacks dynamic punch or emotional logic.

Sometimes you can have both--hours of unrelieved, relatively static rhythmic section playing with relatively dull free association scattered on top of it. I saw a trio of musicians play Yoshi's a couple of years ago (I'll refrain from naming names, because when it gets this dicey, I'd rather rag on concepts rather than people), and it was actually the most boring free jazz I'd heard up until that point--players of international repute, and undeniably the most uninspired episode in a program rife with local musicians. At one point, Marshall Allen (no stranger to either interesting contexts or emotionally aggressive playing) actually thrust his bell into the piano player's ear and starting exploding--the entire room seemed to go up in flames, and the improvisation transitioned from tortuously dull to positively electric.

I don't think there's anything wrong with playing to a room, engaging with an audience, and playing creative music with a visceral edge. Guys like Dudu did this all the time--and there are folks who are still absent form a lot of the "big" narratives who will not get their say on this account (Rahsaan Roland Kirk, for one). In fact, I think that in our ascent/descent into the realms of art music, we've thrown out a ton of stagecraft babies with the proverbial bathwater--and I'm often left thinking that, if/when we are to "evolve" as an art, why emotional detachment (however it may sound--furious or, well, nonplussed) is suddenly an affirmative quality.

I mean, speaking to what Steve said, guys like Weasel play some of the most legitimately dangerous live improvised music around. Mostly Other People Do the Killing, despite the controversy, understands both the art of inciting furor and stagecraft. Yes, of course--in a music that has had room for Bill Evans as well as, say, Hank Jones, there will always be room for both Vijay Iyer and Alexander Von Schlippenbach--but part of me will always wonder why, in this music that has its foundations in Louis Armstrong and Kid Ory, there is so much of a premium on antiseptic (if virtuosic) music.

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let me also make clear that I am not opposed to EMOTIVE playing; to violent, loud, crazy playing - but rather to the conventional idea of starting slow and quiet and building to screech and roll. To me this misses the point of musical consciousness and of non-narrative narrative.

Edited by AllenLowe

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Could you make a small list of players past and present guilty of starting slow and building to a screech? The worst offenders ...

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Not to bogart this conversation, but some of the guys who might fit this description: the aforementioned David Murray, Pharoah, Frank Wright, Noah Howard, Peter Brotzmann, Willem Breuker, Wayne Shorter circa the Jazz Messengers, Jim Pepper, sometimes Michael Brecker, and Jon Irabagon. I have a few really good friends and playing partners (at least semi-well known) who fall into this category. The thing is, I actually like all of these guys and I'd venture to say that many of the folks on here do, too (I mean, a huge chunk of Ascension and Machine Gun are predicted on this kind of thing)--it really does just come down to context in a lot of circumstances.

On the polar opposite end of the spectrum, Arthur Doyle heats up almost instantly and strays in these ungodly frequencies for like forever. Repent-era Charles Gayle, too. I know Doyle has gotten a ton of flak on these boards, but I actually admire the guy for how much of a diehard he is. In other words, part of me feels like if you're listening to Black Ark for a meticulously constructed Wayne solo--or even something more incendiary, albeit with supreme technical control (ala Roscoe Mitchell)--you're better served just digging into something else.

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Great post above  - nothing wrong with a great organic build of intensity. Works best with me when it seems as if it happens by accident. Happened a few times the other night with Wooley/Lytton et al. 

Loved your comments on Dudu

I'm breaking out the blue notes box soon - initially he is very hard to hear and with some time, I can listen to him forever. For me I can listen to Evan Parker for days and days on end as it is all of a piece. I've always felt he was *the* extended tenor saxophone improviser for me along with Fred Anderson who was a very subtle builder of sound - at least 10 to 15 minutes just getting started yet invigorating the whole way through. Roscoe Mitchell for me is so intense, I'm still only able to listen to fit short bursts of time. 

 

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I do particularly like Wright, Howard, Brotzmann and Sanders. So what is the difference?  I think it's the way they heat it up. It seems much more organic.

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It's the difference in (not between) doing what you think you should do (and/or even doing what you "want" to do) and doing what you need to do.

Wants and needs...First World Differentiation. But we are where we are.

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I just don't follow the link between the energy players who are being mentioned and Laubrock, who doesn't play like that at all. Maybe Allen and epistrophy could reference some recent recordings of Laubrock you have in mind? 

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I want to preface this by saying that (1) I'm multitasking like an idiot and arranging the Star Wars theme for a guitar quartet, so this may come out addled, and (2) I actually have no issue with Laubrock's playing--my sentiments above were largely just addressing what (as Allen notes) seems to be some (possibly vague) causal relationship between the vestiges of jazz showmanship and an undercurrent of predictability in energy saxophone.

I also want to preface these sentiments by saying that I have nothing but respect for Rainey and Laubrock as both improvisers and technicians, and there's a ton of nuance, ebb and flow to the video I link to above. I actually saw this duo at a local series in Oakland not too long ago, and it was quite strong. Also, I have admittedly mixed feelings about dissecting an improvisation as a "finished" work of art, since--while I acknowledge that this is kind of a necessary practice for anyone who improvises these days--too much of this is what led me to work and think in alternate idioms for the bulk of my adult life. Also, I'm too young and fresh to be an expert at this, but I am "in the shit"--so:

That being said, if you identify the aspects of this (live, not for the record) duo performance that stand out as particularly unique or conceptually enticing, you (the universal "you," not David or Allen or anyone in particular) will probably argue for the interstitial material at around 5:00 or the beginning of the second improv. As far as I'm concerned, this is because it disabuses itself of any sort of thanatal urge to "complete" itself--it's exploratory and fundamentally textural in nature, and the sorts of effects that these cats are getting (I'm thinking of the really articulate cymbal work at the beginning of improv #2, paired with the really pithy melodic abstractions--around 12 mins or so) can ride for hours. As a free improviser, this is meat.

You know how you sometimes go to three deep concerts--excellent bills--but the headliner is just in another universe? That's akin to the feeling I get when listening to someone like Fred Frith, Roscoe Mitchell, or Braxton--eminent patience, control, and comprehension of both short game details and long form organization. If you listen to Roscoe's less frequently discussed solo work--like the vaporous and seemingly incessant The Flow of Things, or his actual "solo" records--there's a striking obliviousness to the sort of "overt" signaling you can identify in, say, an Eric Clapton solo. You know when Clapton (even/especially early Clapton--of the still very good Cream vintage) is going for the kill shot. Roscoe may be playing a lot of stuff for a long period of time, but he is 99% of the time absolutely unpredictable--or when he is (like on the epic Ohnedaruth solo on Phase One), it's so immaculately and unconventionally paced that it doesn't matter that you could see the end coming from a mile away.

Contrast this with Laubrock at around 8:30 or around 24 minutes. The build up is very obviously telegraphed. There's a lot of motivic and melodic information flying by really fast, and this type of playing is not easy to do--but it is arguably predictable, and anyone who listens to a ton of this music can detect this phenomenon when it's happening. Keep in mind that the improvs/pieces end not long after the markers I noted--it's just a hair away from "the end is near, guys--big finish!" (I will say that Rainey is obviating this with some really crazy shit in that second example in particular--most guys would probably just go into full barrel Rashied Ali mode at that point--but Rainey is a fucking pro.)

Again, these are just my impressions, and Rainey and Laubrock are top drawer technicians as far as this sort of thing is concerned--so who am I to talk? I will, however, note that sitting through hour after hour after hour of free music that follows parameters of predictability--the same endings, the same interstitial textures, the same cymbal harmonics, the same episodes of altissimo ecstasy--can be absolutely numbing. It's just as whack as listening to lame straightahead jazz, and the music is (arguably) just as conventional. At this point in my life, I'd rather listen to either total chaos or someone who just refuses to play by the basic rules--i.e., masters in this form (like Roscoe, or guys like Weasel, whose music is fucking nuts and very cognizant of the sort of ennui that I mention.)

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I don't think Laubrock works with climaxes in that way. That's why these "climaxes" just fall in the middle. It is not the same to turn this into a question of predictability vs unpredictability. The people you mention repeat themselves a lot, it seems to me. But in any case, the question was not is Laubrock as good as Braxton - though I guess when she plays with him she plays according to his concepts. There are residues of jazz showmanship in improv. I think it's exaggerated to talk up these elements much in IL's various approaches. 

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that above is a good example; though i like her playing at about 9 minutes in particular; but as a fellow saxophonist I find it, honestly, just too easy to do what she does here.

Edited by AllenLowe

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I am not where I can listen to the Braxton right now; sorry. But I am guessing my response will be relative to Anthony's ability as a composer, which brings out qualities in his sidemen - and women's - playing that forces them into a much more compelling context than they might achieve on their own. Same thing, in a different way, that used to happen with Mingus.

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Maybe one thing you were getting at is the extent to which younger musicians work with and think as composers. Not so much motive and opportunity any more perhaps. In that case though there's not a straight comparison between an improv duo and a group realising a score. Improv gigs often do fall short in terms of organisation. Even if musicians mostly now avoid the cliched pattern of intensification and climax, they find it hard to avoid episodic structures and routine transitions (fast-slow, loud-quiet, high-low). People who avoid even that take other risks. So, the role of composition. Then again, The Chicago Tentet reckon their gigs are much better after they abandoned scores. 

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I don't think Laubrock works with climaxes in that way. That's why these "climaxes" just fall in the middle. It is not the same to turn this into a question of predictability vs unpredictability. The people you mention repeat themselves a lot, it seems to me. But in any case, the question was not is Laubrock as good as Braxton - though I guess when she plays with him she plays according to his concepts. There are residues of jazz showmanship in improv. I think it's exaggerated to talk up these elements much in IL's various approaches. 

Actually, I'm saying that she does use climaxes in that way--or at least she did in this video. In the examples I cited, the multiphonics/skronk happen at the literal climax of the piece(s)--they both end shortly thereafter. I agree, though, that it's fruitless to be setting up Laubrock as some sort of straw person to rage against--she's too good of a player doing work that is much too interesting. The issue to me is more the broad strokes, as you mention--the nature of repetition, its place in improvised music, and the role of composition and tradition in offsetting (or possibly reinforcing) predictability.

I agree that Messrs. Frith, Mitchell, and Braxton all repeat themselves a lot, but the nature of this repetition is fluid. To paraphrase Ornette, it's ok to repeat yourself, but you have to mean something different every time. Part of the nature of improvisation in the advent of the AACM and EFI is the organization and (sort of) codification of technical knowledge--there's a little bit of this in Forces in Motion, and it's a little more thorough in the Tri-Axium Writings (I know about this firsthand from Frith and Mitchell because, as I can't seem to shut up about, I studied under both of them). Guys of this caliber are hardly the only purveyors of "good" applied technical knowledge, but the difference I see is a degree of consistency, facility, and surprise in their ability to apply a set of recurrent tools to different contexts.

For example--there's a pretty fixed shape to most versions of Nonaah--it's a loose sonata form that tends to get organized into statement/subdued improvisation/explosive improvisation. The tools that Roscoe has used have surely varied over time, and even the motivic material is different from performance to performance (the infamous solo Nonaah on Nessa doesn't really sound like the Art Ensemble version, and the chamber, guitar, and sax quartets all sound different). I think this is kind of the point. Even though the macro processes are sort of fixed, the actual content is widely variable. When I listen to an iteration of Nonaah, I'm hearing the gradations of difference within the nexus of two entities (i.e., Roscoe and the composition "Nonaah.") In other words, the same information "means" something different every time.

As you note, there's something fundamentally hazardous about improvising in general, and even those who avoid rote forms of "technical application" will have to take other creative risks. I rage against the "aggressive climax" thing discussed above because it's easy and a little manipulative, and this really comes from the part of me who strives for creative spontaneity but sometimes/often succumbs to the lure of easy gestures. This plays into a broader conversation that I've had with a few folks on this board in the past few years, which is something like, "If you can't say it your own way, what is the point of saying it?"

This is most definitely where composition comes in for many folks, and I think this is also what makes a guy like Roscoe tick: the improvisation is predicated on either explicit compositional organization or a compositional sensibility. On an extremist/personal level, I don't think there is any point to composing for an improviser other than to provide information that will help shape or reframe said improviser's playing. Returning to my aimless rant above, this is why I love Out to Lunch so much--it's the only one of Dolphy's recordings to sound like that, and (as such) it's maybe our only window into a very particular aspect of Dolphy's genius. Out There, Last Date, The Illinois stuff, the Five Spot stuff, etc. are all excellent--but on Out to Lunch, Dolphy sounds less like a piquant iconoclast and more like an extraordinary harmonic voice (suddenly) in command of his element.

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Oh sorry if those really are climaxes! I thought it was a continuous piece and I just dipped in at the points you indicated- I didn't have a half-hour to listen through (can't find the 'embarrassed' emoticon but you know which one I mean).

Yes lets set aside Laubrock who across work of hers I have heard is quite evidently trying to avoid (masculine-style?) climax 'jazz'. 

Part of the question is about how people are developing in this (broad) tradition and what are the incentives and opportunities to do so. If we take the net difference between energy players and the much more composition-conscious who have been mentioned (a gap that is not new and has always been there) then the contrast between someone who can turn out an ok or even exciting gig and someone developing the means of doing things and an oeuvre is plainly pretty great. The big names who have been mentioned have stayed in a long time and have held or hold positions as composition instructors, so they have over time developed not only methods but infrastructure to sustain themselves. How much of that is still to come from younger performers? I guess one thing is to cut some slack and take account of what people are trying to do. I do know that a lot of what I hear misses the mark musically and aesthetically. I accept it in a bracketed way and as entirely commendable human endeavour. To my way of thinking there are objective limitations (e.g. economic) which shape these things, as well as (be it said) the limitations or, if we prefer, the specific and very evident problematics, of improvisation as such.

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What I'm confused about in this discussion is that it appears to have developed with very few examples/names of players of the type of playing that Allen Lowe criticized initially.

As far as I read David Murray has been put forward as one example, and defended to a degree, Laubrock initially and subsequently (and equally defended/rebutted) but who else? Brotzmann, Howard, Wright, Sanders and Berne all seem acquitted of the charge. Evan P, Roscoe Mitchell and Braxton I think self-evidently don't play like that

Let's hear who these players that fit the initial observation 

"why do contemporary free improvisers think that increasing speed and quicker, more frequent  punctuations of altissimo squeal and other sonic manipulation involving increased volume indicate and/or mean a build up of ideas and tensions?"

One player that comes to my mind is Ibragon but my experience of his playing is limited and recorded only

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