Larry Kart

I found that Castro CD with Zoot on alto to be disappointing, and I'm a great admirer of Zoot on alto from that period (which admittedly is the only period when he played alto). Don't recall exactly why it fell flat for me, but I think it was that Zoot himself seemed rather unfocused and also was too far back in the mix.

Again, Davis Jr. sounds much the same way on that solo track of Monk pieces on that David Baker-engineered album. EQ-ing fiddling there? Don't recall that Baker was that kind of engineer. Or maybe I don't know what EQ-ing means.

I'm just bugged be the inevitable (but why does it have to be inevitable?) reduction of an obviously transformative experience that involves lucidity, experience, openess to memory as simultaneous past, present, and future. and an obviously personal willingness and ability to FLOW down to a basic ghost story. And I still think the piano was not recorded well. Well, if Mr. Sprey is telling the truth about what Davis Jr. said to him, it was something of a ghost story (or whatever) to Davis Jr. Or at least that's how Davis Jr. processed what he experienced. And if Davis Jr. was in fact (in Sprey's words) "a deeply mystical man," who are we to disparage his mystical bent and characterize whatever the heck happened to him there as nothing more than "a basic ghost story." Also, if there was a mystical aspect to whatever happened or what Davis thought happened, why would that rule out the presence of "lucidity, experience, openess to memory as simultaneous past, present, and future." Geez, the question of sound quality aside, it seems like on this one we've switched our normal positions (mine often being that of the "don't give me any of that touchy-feely crap" rationalist). It's not Davis I don't trust, it's Sprey's presentation of what I guess is how he perceived it. Sprey's one of these uber-high-end audio gadget guys and his background as as a military physicist (I guess that's an accurate description?) is not a secret. None of which disqualifies him as either recordist or producer, I mean, Mapleshade's done some GREAT records, and many of them sound really fine. I just don't know that his interpretation of "mystic" and mine are gonna line up, if you know what I mean. This guy's into fighter planes and speaker spikes and shit like that. I'm not. I'll humbly suggest that a deeply mystical person is probably not gonna be thinking in terms of ghosts and spooky shit. Spirits, vibrational planes, and that, yes. But LORDY LORDY I DONE SEEN A GHOST! No, not that. I got a buddy who was living in DC around the time Sprey was beginning to get rolling (no pun intended) with his label, and I get the impression that he's one of these guys for whom physics and mysticism are equal means to the same end, namely, superior mechanics. That's a ride I ain't gettin' on. And the piano still sounds funny to me. Maybe it was the ghost plasma clogging he mike, you know how that can be. Still, it is indeed a special record. If you can, check out the solo track of two Monk pieces, "Reflections" and "Crepuscule with Nellie," on the excellent 1988 Davis Jr. album "Illumination" (Pony Canyon). Recorded by the estimable David Baker, who AFAIK had no particular quirks as an engineer, the pianist there exhibits just about the same in-your-face touch as he does on the Mapleshade album. Further, he doesn't sound as much that way on the tracks from "Illumination" with Ron Carter and Kenny Washington and altoist Bob Mover. Apparently, when playing solo, Davis Jr. could and did alter his approach to the instrument. Not as much that way, this in-person Monk medley from Davis Jr. does I think literally show how percussive/forceful he could be when he felt like it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lg3lLR3BDZU&list=PLUHjuSN3jKafJwyhd4sNZ-Vex7o5N218H

Lede of a 1986 LA Times review of a Finley performance: "Yams. They're not just for Thanksgiving anymore."

The naked woman in chocolate, allegedly for artistic purposes, was Karen Finley: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karen_Finley

Got that Albany-Marsh album and will check that out, but I have no doubt, based on memories of the Albany recordings I know, that he could play "between the cracks" as much as anyone this side of Bud. Another guy who could at times was Lou Levy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcoVrDUQLxY https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngWuBThP_3A

Second thoughts about Schubert Octet recordings. Today, as fate would have it, I saw at a library sale a copy of the much praised one with Gidon Kremer and friends, which is quite different from the Michael Collins-led one that I already had. The Collins I would characterize as serenade-like, with a dance-like "schwung" and relatively direct (as in, not extravagantly shaded in terms of dynamics and picked-out textural details), and with the clarinet a bit prominent at times, Collins being a clarinetist. The Kremer sounds "conducted," is full of shadings of dynamics and picked-out textural details, but at this point I don't find them extravagant or distortions but revelations (in the ordinary sense of that word) of what's in the score. OTOH, there are times -- say the string tremolos in the Andante molto portion of the last movement -- where the playing is so pianissimo that one wonders whether those figures could be heard in live performance. BTW, I can't be sure, but the Kremer ensemble's recording was made "on tour," which suggests that it might have been recordedin concert. If so, the sonic detail achieved by the players and captured by the mikes is exceptional. One caveat -- the Allegro of the final movement is taken more slowly than usual. I can live with it; others might not be able to.

Here's that "Rhythm-a-ning": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phOe763QsU0 The opening phrase or so of Davis' solo is indeed between-the-cracks par excellence. And his comping behind Rouse is something else too. Think I can see Larry Gales digging what Davis is doing.

Well, if Mr. Sprey is telling the truth about what Davis Jr. said to him, it was something of a ghost story (or whatever) to Davis Jr. Or at least that's how Davis Jr. processed what he experienced. And if Davis Jr. was in fact (in Sprey's words) "a deeply mystical man," who are we to disparage his mystical bent and characterize whatever the heck happened to him there as nothing more than "a basic ghost story." Also, if there was a mystical aspect to whatever happened or what Davis thought happened, why would that rule out the presence of "lucidity, experience, openess to memory as simultaneous past, present, and future." Geez, the question of sound quality aside, it seems like on this one we've switched our normal positions (mine often being that of the "don't give me any of that touchy-feely crap" rationalist).

Pierre Sprey's liner notes (I didn't want to mention Davis' account of Monk's visitation to him the week before the recording, but there it is FWIW): " “Walter Davis, Jr. had been thinking about a solo recording project ever since he left Dizzy Gillespie's group in 1986. There was no question in Walter's mind as to what the album would be. It would be dedicated entirely to the music of his mentor and close friend, Thelonious Monk—a thank-you to the New York bebop giant who had taken Walter, a gifted East Orange, New Jersey teenager, under his wing in 1949. Until the day he died in June, 1990, Walter did things the hard way. The Monk project was no exception. Rather than picking eight or ten comfortable Monk stan­dards and rehearsing them for a few days, he immersed himself in fifty of Monk's toughest compositions for two months, deliberately leaving the choice of which to record until the moment he sat down at the studio Steinway. As though things weren't difficult enough, he limited himself to three minutes pertune, saying, "I just want to get in, say what I have to say, and get out—no endless b.s. solos." A week before the long-planned first recording session, Walter, a deeply mystical man, called me early one morning. Without saying hello, he said with a quiet intensity, "Man, you won't believe what happened to me last night. I sat down to my electric piano and Thelonious came into the room. I played for three hours and never even turned on the piano" For Walter, this was no vision or metaphor. Thelonious Monk really was in his basement practicing room, giving him specific technical lessons on how to play Monk, correcting Walter's tempo on one tune, revamping his chord voicings on another, showing him how to put more "stride" feeling into a third. Still, I didn't fully understand how deeply Walter felt that this recording was to be a dialogue between himself and Monk until we got started. Most of the five days we worked in the studio, it was just Walter at the beautiful old Steinway and me at the tape recorder. But Walter was clearly playing for someone else. Every time he'd pull off a tricky time change or voice a chord in some startling way, he'd shoot a sly look of triumph sideways at the air—the kind of look you see when jazz musicians play to impress each other. At one point, Walter was falling short of the strict standards he had set for himself. The tune was "Gallop's Gallop," intricate and laden with pitfalls. Walter had already tried eight takes, breaking off, deeply dissatisfied and frustrated, in the middle of each one. When I couldn't bear it anymore, I suggested he proceed to another tune, maybe return to this one later. Walter replied instantly, "You don't understand, Pierre. If I don't do the hard ones, Thelonious will be laughing at my ass for the rest of my life." And indeed, on the ninth take, he whipped off a witty and jewel-like rendition—one that, no doubt, earned an approving chuckle from Monk. In those five days of listening to Walter play Monk, I learned more about the inner workings of Monk's music than in my previous thirty years of listening to the original. Yetthis album presents neither a mere skillful imitation nor a Davis-style reinterpretation of Monk (even though Walter could have performed either task had he wanted). Instead, this album is a brilliant illumination of the elements that made Monk unique and unforgettable: the little boy playfulness, the devilish delight in startling harmonic or rhythmic twists, the teasing with slightly changed quotations from familiar standards, the old-time "stride" piano sound in the midst of modern harmonies, and the stark emotion of those angular, unadorned ballad lines. Walter has somehow managed to intensify each of these facets—in a way that sounds just like what Monk would have played had he chosen to let us in on his secrets. Yet he has also fused these elements into concise, polished gems quite different from Monk's own constructions. For sheer playfulness, check out Walter's "Green Chimneys." For ballad lines of austere beauty, listen to what he does with "Ruby, My Dear." In "Criss Cross," Walter dissects Monk's devilish trickiness. "Gallop's Gallop" becomes a swinging vehicle for clarifying the stride roots in Monk's composition. If you want to come to grips with what has been achieved here, compare some of Walter's versions side by side with Monk's. Pick something as overplayed as "'Round Midnight." If you listen first to Monk's solo version (on Blue Note's Genius of Modem Music, Vol. 1), then listen to either of Walter's versions, your immediate reaction will be surprise at how much Walter's improvisation differs without violating any aspect of Monk's spirit. Your second reaction will probably be to put the Monk solo back on the turntable because Walter's clear exposition has suddenly made you aware of the subtleties you missed the first time around. Perhaps the most spontaneous tribute to Walter's otherworldly achievement in these sessions comes from Dwike Mitchell, the pianist in the Mitchell-Ruff duo. Several months after these sessions, I happened to be playing the tapes for Dwike. I had told him nothing about Walter's immersion in the Monk project or about Monk's "visit" to Walter's basement. After two cuts, Dwike stopped the tape and said, "I've been listening to Walter all my life and I know exactly how he plays. What's on this tape is not Walter; it's Monk playing through Walter's hands." Me again:In any case, Dwike Mitchell's "not Walter" did not seem to be to be an insult at all but rather an acknowledgement of something like what I felt when I listened to the album -- that at the least Davis himself found the experience to be profoundly transformative.

From the Monk album: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l20b21GH1Dk

Am making my way through three Walter Davis, Jr. CDs from the late 1980s (Davis passed in 1990 at age 57) that I ran across today -- "In Walked Thelonious" (Mapleshade) from 1987, all Monk pieces, all solo; "Illumination" (Pony Canyon) from 1988 with Bob Mover, Ron Carter, and Kenny Washington; and "Scorpio Rising" (Steeplechase), also from 1988, with Santi Debriano and Ralph Peterson. All terrific, all a welcome but also sad reminder of what an individual, soulful, and growing player Davis was up until his terribly untimely end (of untreated diabetes and high blood pressure). The Monk album is a masterpiece. A close-up, vivid recording in the Mapleshade manner (the sense of fingers on keys is so intense that it feels as though Davis' hands are right there in front of you), fifteen tracks, about 44 minutes in all, range in length from two to five-and-a-half minutes, essentially just statements/re-statements of the pieces, but what deep statements they are! Producer Pierre Sprey writes in the notes that later on he played several tracks for Dwike Mitchell, who said, "I've been listening to Walter all my life, and I know exactly how he plays. What on this tape is not Walter; it's Monk playing through Walter hands." I know, I know -- but that is how it sounds and feels. Again, what I've heard of of the other two albums is excellent, too, but the impact of "In Walked Thelonious" is such that I feel like I need to take a break for a while.

Am enjoying the heck out of this Cubs team -- haven't seen such a roster of young talent since the dawn of the Big Red Machine -- but haven't been to Wrigley in years and remember it as the dump John describes. Agree, too, with his positive view of the current Sox Park; wish we had a good team there. One nice memory of Wrigley was sitting in a front row box seat just to the screen side of the visiting team's on deck circle and watching Stan Musial wait there on one knee. At that age -- maybe 10 or so -- figures like Musial and Ted Williams were deities. @Brad -- No Cubs fan in his right mind (which admittedly excludes a fair number of them) whines about 1969 or talks about the Billy Goat Curse for that matter. One of the best things about the current regime is that it's defused a good deal of that, if only because no member of this team gives a hoot, or even knows, about such nonsense. @Jim -- Absolute measurement or baseball card big, take your pick initially, but it's the former in the finals. P.S. Finding Snider's cap size was easy. Just found a site -- EBay, I think it was -- where one of his old Dodger caps was up for sale; its size was given.

Kyle's head. He supposedly wears a size 7 1/2 hat, which means that the circumference of his head is 23 1/2 inches. Other sources say he wears a size 8 hat, which would be a circumference of 25 inches. Duke Snider's hat size was 7 1/8: http://www.legendaryauctions.com/duke_snider_1957_brooklyn_dodgers_game_used_cap-lot164996.aspx

All through the lineup, and including the manager, this year's Cubs team is about as appealing a bunch as I've ever seen, and I've been a White Sox fan since 1951. I mean that many rookies and other young players, all making major contributions. Also, Kyle Schwarber ( a.k.a. "Baby Babe Ruth") has the biggest head of any ballplayer in capitivity. Only weakness I can see is starting pitching after Arietta and Lester.

I see now that the Octet recording I have is indeed this one by clarinetist Michael Collins and friends: http://www.amazon.com/Schubert-Octet-Shepherd-Rock-Franz/dp/B000VXW4T6/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1444620974&sr=1-1&keywords=schubert+octet+collins

What studios? There is/was some recording activity for orchestral players in London, but not like (I believe) LA or NYC in their heyday. For that you need film or TV or pop music industries. Or advertising jingles. When the jingle industry flourished in Chicago in the '60s and '70s for some reason, lots of jazz players made good/great livings in that line of work because their talents and training gave them the ability to make the seat of the pants adjustments that such gigs often required. BTW, one of the reasons such situations arose so often in the jingle trade is that the guys from the ad agency who were in charge typically knew little or nothing about music and could only say something along the lines of "That's not what I'm thinking of/not what I had in mind" without being able to specify musically what they did want -- this while the guy who wrote the music (e.g., Marty Rubenstein or Dick Marx) tore his hair out. Then someone on the date like Art Hoyle or George Bean or Johnny Frigo or Kenny Soderblom would say, "How about this?" and play something that fit the ad guy's inchoate notion of what he wanted, and the problem would be solved. In a "time is money" setting, Hoyle, Bean, Frigo, Soderblom et al. earned every buck they made. I didn't think they ever played in public, only on recordings. In one interview Marriner says that they began by giving concerts and then began to make recordings, in another that they didn't play "live" for the first two years. But they certainly did give concerts at some point, as well as make numerous recordings.

Listened to something today that tickled me, an old (is there any other kind?) Mastersounds LP “In Concert,” which I picked up in battered form two summers ago at a used book store in Amherst, Ma. Trying to penetrate the surface noise and the moments of sonic overload on Buddy Montgomery's vibes, I found a lot to like, both as a group and individuals, than I vaguely recalled from way back when. Certainly a Milt Jackson man, Buddy swung very hard and had his own lilting melodic sense within that Bags bag; Richie Crabtree was an alert soloist and accompanist, a somewhat inspired by Silver player; Monk’s time was very propulsive; and Benny Barth had his own snap-crackle-pop thing (not unrelated to Roy Haynes', but I suspect that that was just the way Barth played). Above all, the music sounded very fresh to me; these guys enjoyed playing together. So I ordered a Fresh Sounds Mastersounds compilation of this album, their album of Horace Silver tunes, and their "Ballad and Blues."

What studios? There is/was some recording activity for orchestral players in London, but not like (I believe) LA or NYC in their heyday. For that you need film or TV or pop music industries. Or advertising jingles. When the jingle industry flourished in Chicago in the '60s and '70s for some reason, lots of jazz players made good/great livings in that line of work because their talents and training gave them the ability to make the seat of the pants adjustments that such gigs often required. BTW, one of the reasons such situations arose so often in the jingle trade is that the guys from the ad agency who were in charge typically knew little or nothing about music and could only say something along the lines of "That's not what I'm thinking of/not what I had in mind" without being able to specify musically what they did want -- this while the guy who wrote the music (e.g., Marty Rubenstein or Dick Marx) tore his hair out. Then someone on the date like Art Hoyle or George Bean or Johnny Frigo or Kenny Soderblom would say, "How about this?" and play something that fit the ad guy's inchoate notion of what he wanted, and the problem would be solved. In a "time is money" setting, Hoyle, Bean, Frigo, Soderblom et al. earned every buck they made.

Excellent set from Jaimie Branch – trumpet Keefe Jackson – reeds Kent Kessler – bass Steve Hunt – drums It should not be forgotten (and/or it should be shouted from the hills) that Steve Hunt is one terrific drummer. The way he got inside what Branch and Jackson were playing/thinking was hard to believe. Kessler was in fine form, too.

Tonight at Elastic Arts in Chicago: THURSDAY OCTOBER 8 | 9:00 PMBallrogg & Branch/Jackson/Kessler/Hunt $10 A double bill featuring a first time grouping of Chicago regulars, and the Scandinavian powerhouse trio Ballrogg. 9 PM : BALLROGG Klaus Ellerhusen Holm – reeds David Stäckenas – guitar Roger Arntzen – bass 10 PM : BRANCH/JACKSON/KESSLER/HUNT Jaimie Branch – trumpet Keefe Jackson – reeds Kent Kessler – bass Steve Hunt – drums TAGS: Improvised, Improvised Music Series, Jazz, Music 3429 W Diversey #208 Chicago, IL 60647

Damn -- the Schubert Octet recording I have must be mis-filed because I can't find it and don't recall now which one it was. Maybe this one: http://www.amazon.com/Schubert-Octet-Michael-Collins-Friends/dp/B000OY1YQQ/ref=sr_1_2?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1444189877&sr=1-2&keywords=schubert+octet+collins Another one that's received some enthusiastic reviews: http://www.amazon.com/Schubert-Octet-Franz/dp/B000BOWT4K/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1444190184&sr=1-1&keywords=schubert+mullova FWIW, my favorite recording of the Mendelssohn Octet is by ... ASMF: http://www.amazon.com/Mendelssohn-Academy-Martin-Chamber-Ensemble/dp/B0011B5I4K/ref=sr_1_12?ie=UTF8&qid=1444235195&sr=8-12&keywords=mendelssohn+octet+academy Not the only ASMF recording of that work, I believe. This one is from 1989 and is maybe the second or even the third ASMF go at it (some different players involved each time, probably). Main thing, as we all know, is that you've got to use your own ears and make up your own mind.

The Academy of St Martin in the Fields orchestra, from which the chamber ensemble is drawn, was founded back in 1959: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Academy_of_St_Martin_in_the_Fields and made a great many recordings in the Baroque field and of music of the early Classical era. Some of those recordings were good or better for their time, but over the years an air of bland routine-ness settled in with ASMF, not to mention that in Baroque music performance and also of the music of Haydn, Mozart, et al. a good deal has changed stylistically in recent decades, often for the best (see Mom's numerous posts on this topic). Further, you're talking about English musicians, who have a generally deserved reputation for lack of exuberance. Sorry you had an unhappy experience, but I wouldn't generalize that much from it. ASMF blandness is not the norm in that repertoire these days.

"The Three Musketeers" (in the translation that Lowell Blair did for Bantam Books about 25 years ago) -- so far it's like a runaway train, crazy fun.

Fascinating works/ lovely performances: http://www.amazon.com/Sense-Sensibility-Sonatas-Fantasias-Rondo/dp/B00RF2DTIQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1443877092&sr=1-1&keywords=c.p.+e.+bach+challenge Do you know this disc, Moms? http://www.theguardian.com/music/2015/mar/08/cpe-bach-sense-sensibility-sonatas-cecchetti-cd-review-fantasias-rondo http://earlymusicreview.com/c-p-e-bach-sense-and-sensibility-sonatas-fantasias-rondo/