ep1str0phy

The jazz wars are over. I just always wanted to say that. Like many people here, I play in many "free" situations, many "inside" situations, and, lately, many "inside" situations with "free" players and "free" situations with "inside" players. Whatever- This dude's fighting a straw man. I can guarantee that a large proportion of masters anywhere near the jazz idiom who commonly play in so-called "free" contexts place a premium on mastering some conventional/"traditional" technical practice; I ran into this headfirst when Roscoe Mitchell schooled me on a Villa-Lobos guitar/flute duet (and, even as a largely electric player, I've taken the curriculum of acoustic classical guitar very seriously since...) Additionally, although its likely the case (I couldn't confirm this either way) that "traditional" methods of acoustic manipulation hold no water for a certain segment of the free improv crowd (many EAI, lowercase folks), I do know many musicians operating in this sphere who (1) have forgotten as much "traditional" stuff as they can do now--that is, they learned fundamentals at some point and just decided that it wasn't for them, or (2) operate with equal facility in more conventional realms and electroacoustic contexts. Conventional technique really isn't necessary to get a message across, but it is empirically true that a large body of musicians working in "free" realms do have some concept of traditional discipline that (to whom it may dismay) bows to some form of conventional wisdom. When taking the traditionalism v. progressivism into consideration, these ideas can't be ignored. I, myself, have a bit of a personal problem with creating music under my own heading that follows, wholesale, jazz convention, but that doesn't mean that I don't enjoy music or musicmaking in that mode or that jazz convention can't inform what I do--it's just a choice I made once I sat down and knew that I had things to choose from. I actually think it's pretty lazy, maybe even cowardly, not to consider what the alternative has to offer and what you can learn from being (like it or not) a part of the same world.

re:JS--The one thing that does immediately strike me about Duke's arrangements are the depth of sound they achieve. The bands on Rough 'N Tumble and The Spoiler, especially, sound much larger than they should (or, rather, they achieve a big band punch that integrates nicely with the smaller group sound). The call-and-response on "Baptismal" is just soooooo ballsy. Not spectacular pieces in and of themselves, but the combination of group elements and the arrangement make for amazing middlebrow work.

I like Rough 'N Tumble... haven't listened to it in a while, but as noted above, the playing is strong. Every solo contribution is excellent in the idiom. The power and vitality of the actual band is almost stacked too high against the compositions, which are arranged tastily, if not challengingly. Actually, while I don't think that this imbalance detracts here, it has hampered my enjoyment of some of Turrentine's other Blue Notes--tough playing with some wimpy, wimpy songs.

Man, Alex--you've got your hands in some top flight stuff. If I were in the UK, I'd be there in a heartbeat. Makes me think--I played a very random benefit gig with Eddie Gale last night, and I later wound up in the middle of a conversation between Bobby Hutcherson and Steve Turre (earlier I'd had a sit down with John Handy). Friends of mine were there in the 70's and 80's, when community accessibility was still somewhat of a more present possibility; I can only wonder now what it would be like seeing these guys on a more regular basis. But then you're living that life, in a way--weirdly miraculous, but then I can't imagine a more qualified guy... You know, they'd love you out in the SF Bay; the pay would suck (unless you played Yoshi's), but you'd be treated very caringly. The only gig I've seen with Harris Eisenstadt was, I think, right before he left the West Coast (really not sure about this), but it was one of Paul Rutherford's last shows out here (may be the last?). I don't think I appreciated it enough at the time, even though it blew my mind. I'll see if I can hip some of my UK pals to this...zzz

Yes, of course there is! Hey, I was the only one to mention Doug Watkins, too... if this would be a "who are you're favourite bass players"-thread and not a poll, people would have posted longer lists (I would have, for sure). Oh man--how could I forget these guys? Fred Hopkins, too, beyond a doubt.

Jimmy Garrison, Johnny Dyani, Harry Miller, Barry Guy, Ronnie Boykins, seconded on Mingus, Pettiford, Richard Davis, Peacock...

I actually got a copy of it at Amoeba the other day. It really is a cracking band.

And before this devolves into a conversation on Shepp and, similarly, Braxton, I would like to point out that I do often feel as if Braxton has spent enough time with the standards to get something worthwhile out of them than material to blow all over. In the Tradition gets bashed on a ton, but that version of "Goodbye Porkpie Hat" completely gets it (for me anyway).

All due respect, of course, and enough has been said of Shepp and standards on this board, but that version of "Giant Steps" leaves me way, way cold. It's weird how that tune has become a repertoire piece, considering it seems to have been conceived as sort of a developmental pivot point for (Coltrane) a really specific musical personality with a very distinct arc of development. It's a fun and edifying workout, but sometimes I wonder what the point is --much more so than with, say, "All the Things You Are," which isn't necessarily the easiest set of chord changes but--at least--does not transgress too many vernacular conventions in terms of harmonic conceit (relative to, say, the greater body of Great American Songbook stuff). (I say this with hindsight probably clouding my vision, especially considering the heavy, heavy contemporary academic emphasis on Giant Steps changes and whatnot)... Anyway, my issue being twofold: 1) What the hell? It's a Coltrane tune and he parlayed Giant Steps changes into other things, anyway--why treat it as a final goal when Trane seemed to deal with it as an (important) pit stop (or find your own pit stop...), 2) OK--so you're paying homage to Trane by recording the piece in your "own fashion"--nothing stopping you here--but I'd like to point out that Trane did not, himself, (as far as I know) revisit that composition under the pretense of eschewing the form, playing pitchy, and distorting the piece's rhythmic cohesion... so why not just pay tribute by doing your own thing? Something, like, Four For Trane--which does, in its own way, resolve the rhythmic and (at least) melodic logic of Giant Steps-era Trane with the timbral and harmonic freedom that Shepp has classically excelled at (or Trane seemed to champion in his final years)? Or anything else, really? Anyway, when Trane did anything like this--for example, the Live in Seattle "Body and Soul"--the piece wasn't really the point--or at least it doesn't seem like it was the big thing, since the ensemble wasn't all about performing a tight, clearly stated rendition of the standard in quite the manner it was when Coltrane's Sound was waxed. My principal issue with this sort of thing is that Shepp isn't just choosing a vehicle for performance--he's calling attention to the repertoire by virtue of its inclusion, even while he undermines some of the repertoire's defining/identifying principles. Again, polar opposite of Four for Trane--Shepp is making a statement for certain Trane-originated musical principles often disregarded by the post-Trane wing of the free revolution--key among them clearly-delineated swing time, non-pentatonic harmony, and clear, cleanly played thematic material that is integral to and integrated within--rather than incidental to--the improvisation. At the same time, the pieces are clearly recognizable in a way that conveys thoughtfulness and a familiarity with material: for example, the way in which the arrangement of "Syeeda's Song Flute" circumvents the absence of a piano, so crucial to Trane's music, by layering the horns into dense chords with limited melodic motion--continuing to reference Giant Steps harmony--is genius. It's effect is like the exact midway point between Ellington, Ornette, and '59/'60 Coltrane. (I acknowledge that Roswell Rudd had a lot to do with this, but a lot of Shepp's Rudd-less music has similar merit, so whatever.) But man, that version of "Giant Steps"--ugh...

Oh man--I may have to shell out for "Faith." "The Giant Is Awakened" is one of my all time favorite albums, and Everett Brown Jr. just kills it on that one. On the quintet album, and also Sonny's Dream, he is the epitome of propulsion--the exact middle ground between Rashied Ali and Max Roach. Whatever the case, Brown is a total monster, and any chance to hear him flutter and thrash away within the context of Horace's music is one I would rather not pass up.

Hey--I know (not that well) Zachary Watkins! He's a Mills guys. Completely tangential, but I'm playing in Eddie Gale's group on a bill with Bobby Hutcherson on it next Tuesday. Considering "Destination Out!" was like my bible in college, and that I spent a good two months last year listening to nothing but "Out to Lunch," forgive me while I geek the f*** out.

Well, I wasn't doubting it all... just seems that because a tune bears a reference in its title doesn't necessarily mean it's in any kind an examination of any native elements. I guess Jim Pepper is one of the most on-topic musicians here, though honestly I wouldn't know how close he gets to being authentic... but he's authentic Jim Pepper, always, and that's fine enough for me! I believe that Witchi Tai To is based on a peyote song. I could ask John-Carlos Perea about this, since I know he's done an exhaustive amount of research figuring this stuff out. (Much of the latter's music is also derived from chants/traditional songs. Structurally, there's a lot of improv; I'm talking mostly about melodic/harmonic source material. In addition to playing in jazz ensembles, he does a lot of work playing cedar flute and/or drum in a more traditional context.)

My very good friend John-Carlos Perea has been operating in the sphere of what might be considered Native American/American Indian jazz by virtue of 1) just being American Indian and 2) crafting music that overtly amalgamates traditional idioms and modern jazz concepts: http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=18616 His music takes after Jim Pepper (about whom John-Carlos just finished a mammoth dissertation--don't know when it will be out in the ether) in this way, and like the saxman (I've most often played with John-Carlos in situations where he plays bass), J-C leans toward a modal post-Coltrane bent. I can't speak, in any truly informed manner, of what seems to be a very clear visceral and technical relationship with Coltrane modalism and American Indian musics, but I've spent enough time in/with/around Asian American and American Indian-centric ensembles to know that Coltrane's ideas do resonate with many non-Western cultures. As with anything else, the Asian American diasporic post-jazz scene within which John-Carlos and I, often (but definitely not exclusively), operate has it's own share of venues and "gets." It does feel like it occupies an obscure cultural niche to the extent that it isn't as confontationally weird or image-conscious as the rock/free improv/free thrash scene, not tidy, apolitical, and virtuoso-oriented enough for the mainstream/post-bop jazz scene, and (is) too "inside of" the museum, university, and any variety of ethnically-conscious communities to attract the better part of the young music going public (who maybe comes into it expecting or being apart of the strident self-involvment/individual emphasis of youth culture). The barriers aren't really there by force, but they do seem to be there by some sad default.

Just listened to Nessa's amazing Saga of the Outlaws while cooking dinner, Odyssey of the Oblong Square on the way to and from teaching today. Beautiful stuff bolstered by some very interest rhythm section work. Appropriate in some way, maybe--I was composing at around 4AM this morning and churned out something I dedicated to Steve Reid. There's a fine line between weird, swinging backbeat and all out no wave/disco thrash, but Reid walked it magnificently and its great knowing those lessons are left for us to learn...

Oh man--just listened to Rhythmatism again, and it's a monster. Reid actually makes it OK to turn the beat around--or, rather, when it happens in a way that sounds "unintentional," he straightens up like a pro, with an African level of natural logic. The last time I heard someone futz with rhythms with this strong a brains/balls ratio was listening to Blackwell with Waldron a few days ago. Crazy. And that band is a mother.

I was supposed to play one of these concerts with Eddie and/or Lewis Jordan but was pre-booked elsewhere. Eddie's been pushing this cause and there's a lot of heart behind it; it certainly deserves all the support it can get. One thing I will say is that some of the most health-minded people I've ever met have come out of the Bay Area creative music community. A clear message here--and it extends back to and, somehow, parallels the ethos of healthfulness that Coltrane favored--is that the value of healthcare and taking care of one's health is not an abstract concept--it is and has been a pressing concern among many of my friends in and out of the music community. --and, not to rant--but this isn't an issue of creative types not wiling to take the "straight" job which will get them insured. These are, in many ways, my "folk"--and there are world class musicians out here working 2, 3 jobs to make ends meet, support their families, and continue creating. When you magnify these issues by the sheer difficulty of securing new work these days, how hard it is to obtain suitable work hours that will offer health benefits while retaining the hours necessary for you to continue working in your originally chosen profession (music), the social flimsiness of private contracting and how difficult it is to offer up an accounting system that in anyway makes your myriad private students, night gigs, etc. look good on paper, the bursting-at-the-seams dilution of many urban music scenes, period (compounding the difficulty of obtaining music work in the first place), and also how pre-existing conditions have played a role, for so long, in obtaining insurance (the musicians we know and love so much are often a) old, b) nursing bodies failing due to poor health coverage in the first place, and c) suffering from some sort of psychological issue), you have a recipe for problems. All the more reason the classic virtues of communal action and self-betterment are needed now more than ever, and why endeavors like the one above are so valuable.

Resurrecting this thread for two reasons: (1) I've been threatening to unleash my revision of my Blue Notes thesis for ages, and it's finally happening; planning on having it done within the month. I just re-read/revised the first half, and it's maybe unwieldily large (roughly 100 pgs., leaning heavily on what happens before the "classic" Brotherhood splits), but whatever--sheered too much off of it anyway. (2) Maybe more relevant: completely off my guard, Enja reissued Makaya & the Tsotsis--a 1974 album featuring Heinz Saur, Bob Degen, and Isla Eckinger (alongside Makaya Ntshoko--formerly of the Jazz Epistles--appearing later amidst the Blue Notes arm of the diaspora on the Nick Evans/Radu Malfatti album Nicra--a tiny classic--and on Johnny Dyani's Song for Biko--a bigger classic--and he was of course active elsewhere, albeit extremely elusive and more difficult to pin down, paper trail-wise, than even his Blue Notes compatriots). It sounds, for the life of me, like no other "South African jazz" or improv album I've ever heard, although it merits some mention in the breadth of Elton Dean's modal/scattered rhythm enterprises with Ninesense. Degen, playing in an idiom somewhat closer to Circle-era Corea than the effusiveness of Keith Tippett or Chris McGregor's rolling, clustery abstraction (both of which, I'll admit, I prefer), is the x-factor here; he reins the music into something much more studied, more in the idiom of Coltrane (quartal/quintal harmony accompaniment) or the Blue Note inside-outside school than anything of the dark, modal freedom of Dyani/Abdullah Ibrahim or the Blue Notes's rough-hewn ecstasy. In a way, it sounds like a lost ECM album--beautiful and energetic--at times impressionistically abstract--but often missing that crackling, righteous edge that makes the Ogun catalog so wonderful and idiosyncratic years down the line. I will say that that, had this been a trio album, it would have been insane; Sauer has a chaotic hold on Rahsaan's multi-saxophone concept, and Eckinger has a bold energy and slippery intonation that remind me of Reggie Workman and Dyani. At its best, the band is able to integrate these diverse energies--Degen's icy precision, Sauer's craziness, and Eckinger and Ntshoko's sheer heaviness--into a lucid, weighty art, venting the tension in magnificent spurts of energy while never, ultimately, exploding completely. Which I suppose makes it unique... I'm glad to have heard it, to have a richer picture of one of the South African jazz's more enigmatic and multifaceted performers.

Yes, not to derail, but... Hill is not Monk and in the burly baroque-ness of his lines probably has as much to do with Herbie Nichols or Waldron (maybe more with Waldron?)--but--he does have an almost-Monk-caliber mastery of space and time--not to mention an air of detachment that is deeply, darkly un-Monkian (not to be confused with passivity, btw). Dixon, too, has a preternatural control of space and a similarly detached character. They could have done some wonderful things together. You could go one route and pair for contrast (Hill + Shaw, or--more diabolically--Hill + Hubbard), but Dixon and Hill share an emotional and sensory space that is really singular to me. (I was going to say that they were on the same "page," but I think Mobius Strip makes more sense.)

I think what freaks me out about Reid's playing--and I will have to revisit those classic--and classic is probably the proper term--sessions in order to flesh this out, is that he doesn't sustain the pulse like either a bebop or any iconic free drummer I can think of. On a lot of that stuff he'll accent the downbeat (and maybe the 3) harder than the 2 and the 4 (as per bop convention)--sometimes eliding this inversion of the "natural" syncopation with elements of bop or post-bop vocabulary--sometimes not--but in doing so creating some weird effects: seemingly splitting a fast tempo in half, simulating a highlife rhythm, superimposing sustained, super janky open hi-hat hits over a medium fast or fast tempo (sounding something like a Motown backing track flown in over a Miles Davis record). He kind of sounds like Tony Williams and gets a lot of the basic elements of his sound from that school of thought, but he's clearly running his own show and, because of that, probably gets a way with a hell of a lot more; I think this stuff would be much more liable to "win" you notice from Miles than playing too loud or leaning on the tempo. Kind of reminds me of something Louis Moholo said to me, which was that mbaqanga (South African urban music in mid-late century) didn't have any cymbal work--so when it came time for him to do it, he just went "screw this" and added the cymbals--the ultimate F*** you, of course, being playing almost nothing but cymbals and bass drum on a lot of his classics in the idiom (Dudu Pukwana's In the Townships. I think Steve Reid must have come out of a similar psychology... whether it was frustration with convention, technical limitations, technical virtuosity, a desire to play "like" a different kind of music, whatever--there's a palpable sense that timekeepers like this, who self-consciously tinker with the rote plans of attack, do so because they both can and should. (Which is why, at the end of the day, I'll always have a positive impression of Steve Reid's playing--much more so than an uber-virtuoso who was too scared to perform anything but incremental change... I mean, this is music and not universal health care.)

I haven't listened to it in a while, but I remember for a while thinking that Strange Serenade was one of my favorite Hill discs. I think it circumvents the chastened "Blue Note free" sound that keeps even some of the craziest sessions on that label--with the obvious exceptions of Ornette, Cecil, Cherry, and maybe some McLean--professionally in check. That disc, in a way, amalgamates the powerhouse "free" Hill of the Chained sessions or Compulsion with the grainier, more unstable ESP-disk sound. I'm glad you pointed out, Clifford, that he's using the Bill Dixon rhythm section; Waits and Silva retain that airy, floating quality here, but Hill forces them into a sort of emotional "active" state (approaching some of the general elements of energy music but retaining clarity of line and some degree of harmonic scrutability) . It all sounds kind of like a Dixon-less Bill Dixon session on steroids, in a way.

I'm on the boards so intermittently these days... I always seem to be dreading the RIPs that may or may not be there. Reid's music with the likes of Charles Tyler and Arthur Blythe has occupied many fine hours of mine these past few years--it was nice to see a resurgence, with Four Tet, before the sun set. Reid had a brawny, tight of the groove in even the wooliest of spots--really unique--in certain ways presaging broken beat (exploited, to some extent, in the Four Tet collabs). I'll refrain from words like underrated, master, and lost genius since the frequency with which they're bandied about upon death kind of cheapens both the meaning of those phrases and the genuine, living contributions of the dearly departed in life--but, seriously, I don't think I've ever heard a drummer who sounded quite like Steve Reid, which goes a very, very long way.

On top of what has been mentioned already: Ornette actually appeared on both Haden's The Golden Number and Closeness, playing trumpet on the former and alto on the latter... I believe he appeared on Joe Henry's Scar- On a Rolf Kuhn album called Affairs- On an album by French singer Claude Nougaro (a brief and highly-paid guest spot)- (with the Blackwell/Haden/Izenzon quartet, I believe) on Yoko Ono's Plastic Ono Band album (the one with John)- -an Al Macdowell Time Peace album- -and also on the bewildering Lou Reed The Raven project, on which he essays a finely-hewn solo in the Prime Time mold. Reed spends the remainder of the album bemoaning his decaying testicles.

We take our karaoke very, very seriously. I've seen some crazy stuff go down over one too many coronas and some lumpia shanghai.

Crazy, weird--I just recently got into a Dewey kick and, lo and behold, this thread works its way to the top of the heap... I also just recently got a hold of The Struggle Continues--not what I was expecting at all--was hoping that it would be a well-recorded, at least mildly avant session in a more restrained mode than that of the Impulse! recordings--maybe something like Coincide--but I was pleasantly surprised. It's a lot closer in character to his later 80's/90's albums, following a pretty consistent formula of standard, a couple off-kilter "standards" pieces, a hard blues, one or two "free" pieces... ...what puts this one over is that, for once, the band is recorded terrifically, the pieces are consistently interesting (offered energetic treatments by the ensemble), and the band is top notch. Helias is a pillar of strength in the Charlie Haden mold, but with exceeding technical facility and slightly more rhythmic mobility--not Haden's degree of "soul," but a lot more flash. Charles Eubanks acquits himself well--as well as with Rashied Ali, I think, though he's always struck me as a slightly muddy McCoy Tyner disciple... I think his melodic resolve is his big virture here. And Blackwell is so, so hard in the pocket that it blows my mind--this might be one of my favorite performances of his, facile, effortless, but also extremely punchy and rhythmically insistent, just the right bit of "rush." --Though, I can see on that album why Redman might be considered one of the few "uncapturable" on records--a recording will sound incomparably thin compared to a truly big, live tenor sound. The excellent sonic image of the ECM doesn't blind me to the fact that he probably sounded in a different ballpark in a live setting. As it is, he is very clearly one of the finest melodists the music has ever produced, and his talent for lyricism with even the sparest of harmonic materials has always impressed me. - Count me a fan of Musics, though I think I may like it less now than on first hearing. I think part of the problem that the sound (I have the CD) is so unbelievably thin and lifeless--Dewey's is a sound music and would do best with a big, true sound like the ECM's. I love the opening bossa, but I also think that Dewey's forays into "Giant Steps" territory are a little forced and unnecessary. For all the issue of Redman not being able to play changes, I think he's an excellent ballad player, and he wrests and forgives all the pathos out of "Alone Again (Naturally)." Makes me think of those people who turned into/back into "standards" playing after the revolution ended. I think that Shepp was, secretly, always that way, but maybe lacked at an earlier juncture--maybe still does--the sort of technique necessary to excel in the Parker continuum (a friend played for me I Know About the Life, and it was by far, by far, one of the saddest things I've ever heard.). Dewey I got the sense had something to prove to himself, which is a real shame--reminds me of (I'm paraphrasing) something Leo Smith said, to the effect of "they're" always trying to get you to do something other than what you want to do.

I think at this point it may just be easier to evaluate the avant-garde strain on the merits of lucid and very obvious systems--the same way someone might say person A or B isn't making the changes to a chord sequence of bebop convention--than it is to simply praise or write something off on the basis of it being some unknowable, wonderful or awful thing. Something that I do find at least marginally comforting is that I find that a lot of younger players won't make big technical allowances for free playing these days--but then won't really prejudice those styles, either. A lot of "avant-garde" technique has become a part of the technical repertoire/arsenal--I'm often surprised that this stuff is understood and employed as well as, say, funk ideas or bebop--but, then, not written off mindlessly or easily, either. The bad edge of the sword is that when everything gets reduced technically, you lose a lot of what made that music interesting in the first place...