Larry Kart

Get out your pencil: On p. 36 and in two other places, Don Redman's name is spelled "Don Redmon."

Saturday: Can't really do justice to the nice set from Tim Daisy's Vox Arcana (Fred Lonborg-Holm, James Falzone), or even to Mike Reed's' Loose Assembly with Roscoe Mitchell (though I'll try), because the final explosive set from Akira Sakata (with Jeff Parker, Nate McBride, and John Herndon) was such a revelation. Highly touted by some knowledgeable friends, before this Sakata was just a name to me. Taking the comparative route, one friend had likened Sakata to Albert Ayler on alto; in the event I heard as much or more Ornette, or perhaps Ayler's fire coupled to what struck me as an essential happiness/sweetness/cheerfulness. On the other hand, what bursts the comparative bonds, I think, is the uncanny sharpness and detail of Sakata's climbs toward (and into) ecstasy. I emphasize "into," because one does/he does get over the top in ways that seem not easy but almost relaxed (his physical presence FWIW has a no-sweat near-stillness to it, despite the amazing cascades of sound); and then once he's there (i.e. over the top, or what seems to be the top, of the walls of ecstasy) one finds oneself with him on a fairly broad plain, where fire/heat has less to do with the drama/struggle of getting there than with the abundance of needle-sharp events that can take place only in this place at this temperature. The response of Parker, McBride, and Herndon to this grin-inducing firestorm was something else -- bravo! (BTW, lest "grin-inducing," etc. be misunderstood -- by that I'm only trying to record the fact that I was smiling in response and register my resulting thought that the intense vehemence of Sakata's music is a vehemence of realized ardor and its attendant complexities, not of anger or conflict). Of the Mike Reed plus Mitchell set, and it's 40-minute or so piece that involved passages cued by different colored panels wielded by the musicians, the cuing certainly was not a problem for the listener but also (so far as I could tell) not an apprehendable by the listener expressive element. On the other hand, the written and improvised passages were subtle and rich, and there was no waste motion -- so there ya go. Mitchell's stature, as I said of Friday night's performance, almost goes without saying, and one tends (or at least I do) to listen for and through the responses of others. I thought vibist Jason Adasiewicz in particular was in great form -- fittingly more percussive, less-shimmering than his norm -- and in the long piece and in the followup handsome rather Mingus-like ballad by the late Steve McCall (its title keeps slipping my mind), I was reminded for the umpteenth time that Mitchell's ability to at once state and infuse a melody is pretty darn unique. (Yes, I know that "infuse" calls for "with" and a noun, but that will have to do.)

A semi-grumpy report on the first two nights -- semi-grumpy in part because I've got a flare-up of bursitis in one shoulder and can't find a position that isn't uncomfortable; thus one's tolerance for music that is less than absorbing tends to be limited. So (again and throughout IMO) the first three sets on Thursday were almost total duds: 6:00 PM : Liudas Mockunas Quartet (Lithuania) Liudas Mockunas - saxophones Jim Baker - piano Brian Sandstrom - bass Steve Hunt - drums Claudia Cassidy Theater 6:45 PM : Martin Brandlmayr Solo (Austria) Martin Brandlmayr - solo percussion and electronics Preston-Bradley Hall 7:30 PM : David Stackenas Trio (Sweden) Jason Stein - bass clarinet David Stackenas - guitar Josh Abrams - bass Claudia Cassidy Theater Mockunas is just another huffer and puffer; Brandlmayr is a "delicate" twiddler; and Stackenas goes scritchy-scratch, sometimes very fast. 8:15 PM : Gratkowski/Kaufmann/de Joode (Germany) Frank Gratkowski - reeds Achim Kaufmann - piano Wilbert de Joode - bass Preston-Bradley Hall Things began to look up with Gratkowski et al., but that set, relief though it was, had an air of "professional" routines to it, and also was more or less eclipsed for me by the following set by Hans Koch and Chicago friends: 9:00 PM : Hans Koch Quartet (Switzerland) Hans Koch - reeds Fred Lonberg-Holm - cello Brian Labycz - electronics Marc Riordan - drums Claudia Cassidy Theater This was a genuine four-way conversation throughout, with a fine sense of "phrasing" to it -- a discovery of what, for these guys on this night, a phrase was going to be, and then an eager, relaxed, cumulative placement of phrase upon phrase until one had "a piece." Lonberg-Holm's indefatigable nerviness/headiness was crucial (he's never seen a musical "pool" in which he wasn't prepared to jump); Riordan is a very compositional, lucid percussionist; and Labycz is ... "darn cool" are the words that come to mind. Finally, Guus Janssen -- that cross between Conlon Nancarrow and Crazy Otto (with a soupcon of Erroll Garner and Teddy Wilson). I've heard a fair amount on Janssen on record, but the power and dynamic range of his in-person pianism is well beyond what I'd expected. That plus his quite varied, at times almost impossibly "pearly" sense of touch (as in, perhaps, a very large mouthful of pearly teeth -- the grin of an armed-and-dangerous Cheshire Cat). Janssen's disruptions of harmonic and rhythmic expectation are at once quite extreme at times but always tuneful/parsable -- a kind of cheerfully subversive whisking away of older remembered versions of the normal in the name of a new askew normality, which finally feels quite solid because its structures are all tongue in groove. 10:00 PM : Guus Janssen Trio (The Netherlands) Guus Janssen - piano Anton Hatwich - bass Wim Janssen - drums Preston-Bradley Hall Friday: Ernest Khabeer Dawkins' New Horizons Quartet was rather trudging rhythmically, but Dawkins himself was in strong form on tenor. Matthew Shipp's solo set -- a single hour-long improvisation -- struck me as very diffuse for playing of that length. Without doubt, Shipp's head and fingers are full of good stuff, but a lot more shaping would have been welcome. And I've heard that shaping from Shipp before, on record. Finally, Roscoe Mitchell, Dave Rempis, bassist Junius Paul, and drummer Frank Rosaly. One knew what to expect from Mitchell; the question was whether the others would rise to the occasion in terms of intensity and collective music making. They did. A long skirling two-alto-plus-rhythm passage was quite something on the part of all, as was a later one with Mitchell on soprano and IIRC Rempis on alto, then tenor. I thought Rempis, who is "strong like bull" would be "strong like" etc., and he was, but he also was very heady on alto in particular, not drawn overmuch into matching power against power. Paul was supple and alert; and Rosaly, as so often is the case with him, played some stuff that not only sounded right but also new -- as in "I've never heard THAT accent before." My shoulder was killing me by this time, so I left at the last note, but I would like to know what Roscoe thought of this set.

Thanks, guys. That worked.

I've got a Mac with IPhoto and would like to make an image from my IPhoto library (if that's the right term) into my new Profile picture. But when I go to "change picture" on Facebook, the only options I get are the photo that's already my profile photo and another image that I don't want. How do I get the photo I want as my new profile picture into a place where I can choose it? Remember, in this area at least, I'm an idiot.

OMG http://www.blogcdn.com/www.stylelist.com/b...mokey-dress.jpg

There's a wonderful Wilson version of "'Round Midnight" here: http://www.amazon.com/Then-They-Wrote-Wils...2526&sr=1-1 Brighter in tempo than most performances, it makes the piece's Swing Era roots quite clear. On the same fine album, there's a striking reading of Kenton "Artistry In Rhythm."

News flash: LAST MINUTE LINEUP CHANGE FOR Umbrella Music Festival 2009 !! Due to an unexpected injury this past weekend, trumpeter Bobby Bradford is undergoing a minor surgery that will prohibit him from participating in the 2009 Umbrella Music Festival. We wish him a speedy recovery and hope to have him appear in Chicago in the near future. Despite this setback, festival organizers are happy to announce that one of improvised music's greatest innovators will step into the slot. Saxophonist Roscoe Mitchell will perform Friday, November 6th at the Elastic Arts Foundation in an improvised quartet featuring Dave Rempis on saxophones, Junius Paul on bass, and Frank Rosaly on drums. For the Saturday, November 7th performance at The Hideout, Mitchell will be featured with Mike Reed's Loose Assembly. This set will debut new sextet material featuring the band's special guest. You can find all other lineup, schedule, and venue information at www.umbrellamusic.org. We look forward to seeing you all this weekend!!

WTF is that supposed to mean??? Made sense to me -- as in "I'd rather read about it as long as I'm not blind or some sort of notorious celebrity."

It was Jim's mention of "Little Rootie Tootie" that brought all that to the foreground again; that tune and the incredible logical solo that spins out from it always make me go "Aha!"

Funny how it's the unshakeable logic of Monk as a composer (almost always) and improvisor (at his best) that is so striking. For me, it's much less a "how strange" feeling than a "what perfect sense" one -- albeit the resolutions are unexpected until they're experienced. Hope that's not too banal for the room; it's how I've always felt.

Shoot. Hope all goes well for him and that the fest can fill in the big empty spot. I'll pass on any info on the latter if I hear it.

This "Stars Fell On Alabama" is from 1956 (mucho rhythmic/melodic inventiveness, vibrato present but not out of control IMO): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-00CG3YrGuw

Diana Ross as Holiday in the film "Lady Sings the Blues": http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=htt...t%3D20%26um%3D1

Sounds like she's auditioning for a gig at the old Playboy Club.

That's a fascinating statement, if I understand it correctly. Is it that her means are extremely subtle, but that the stories she's telling are a bit passive-aggressive femme fatale-ish, or something like that?

And Lee with Jess on "Sugar": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv9oDdQQoxc...feature=related Very intimate, so to speak. "I get my taffy from 'Sugar'" -- yes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xOv-Xybf7k...feature=related

Guitarist-vocalist is Nathaniel Braddock: http://www.myspace.com/nathanielbraddock A few years ago, he and three other guys performed his four-guitar arrangement of The Rite of Spring.

Just finished it. One little glitch that should be noted -- the references on p. 271 and p. 306 to "legendary" recording engineer "Doug Watkins." Doug Hawkins of WOR Studios is the man they mean; his name appears correctly on p. 221.

Last night caught the debut of my son Jacob's new band 1894 (no nepotism allowed, so I can't comment) and a guitar power trio -- the guitarist-vocalist's name I've forgotten but will find out, bassist Toby Summerfield, and drummer Frank Rosaly). Frank was fantastic -- incredible power and cohesiveness. I was told that the last time these guys had played these pieces was seven months ago; it sounded at times like Frank was playing from a score, albeit one co-written by Rodan and Godzilla.

I've been meaning to ask the same thing.

Will have to finish it some day, but Pee Wee Erwin's autobiography "This Horn For Hire" seemed excellent until the point I was interrupted and began to read something else. Also, here is a piece I wrote about Arthur Rollini's excellent autobiography: [1987] Arthur Rollini’s name does not loom large in the history of jazz, even though he was the younger brother of a major artist (bass saxophonist and mallet percussionist Adrian Rollini) and a member of Benny Goodman’s saxophone section from the inception of Goodman’s band until 1939. But perhaps because of his cog-in-the-wheel status, Rollini has written a very moving autobiography , Thirty Years With the Big Bands --a book that captures the feel of the Swing Era from a sideman’s point of view with an attractive blend of stoicism and wit. Rollini’s tale also is suffused with a casual, peculiarly American grace, as though, like one of Sherwood Anderson’s narrators, the seeming innocence with which he addresses us were essential to his message. Rollini records that any early childhood memory was of “the brass and crystal Ansonia clock on our mantel, which never ceased functioning as long as it was wound every eighth day. It was always wound on time, and its little mercury pendulum kept beating back and forth and intrigued me. I would view it for hours.” Nothing more than nostalgia, one thinks, until, several pages and decade or so further on, Rollini’s father dies and “the only sound in the living room was the little clock on the mantel, which ticked away and gonged softly on the hour and half hour, its little pendulum still beating back and forth in perfect rhythm.” Following in his older brother’s footsteps, Rollini was a professional musician at age seventeen--traveling to London to work with Fred Elizade’s orchestra at the Savoy Hotel, where the Prince of Wales often sat in on drums. (“He was, let us put it this way, not too good,” Rollini says.) Jazz fans will be most interested in Rollini’s account of his time with Benny Goodman, which confirms the widely held belief that Goodman was a difficult man to get along with. “Inconsiderate Benny, the best jazz clarinetist in the world!”--Rollini uses that tag, and variations thereof, time after time, even when a harsher adjective than “inconsiderate” might apply. Rollini and Dick Clark were Goodman’s initial tenor saxophonists, and “even at this stage,” Rollini says, “Benny would look at Dick’s bald head with disdain. He wanted a youthful looking band. ‘Fickle Benny,’ I thought, ‘the best jazz clarinetist in the world!’ Dick was a good player.” Quietly authoritative, Rollini’s tales of the sideman’s happy-sad life have a cumulative power. And two of them, when placed side by side, virtually define the big-band musician’s paradoxical role. In the first, Rollini is playing a dance with Goodman when he meets an old high school friend, one Johnny Baker, who requests that the band play “Always,” on the recording of which Rollini had a solo. At the dance, Rollini deliberately plays “something entirely different from what was on our recording, and after it was over Johnny Baker said to me, ‘What did you change it for?’” Then, in the mid-1940s, when Rollini was an NBC Radio staff musician, he stops in a Manhattan bar after work and notices that “two young men were playing the jukebox and had selected Will Bradley’s ‘Request for a Rhumba,’ which we had recorded in 1941. Finally I stepped off the bar stool and asked, “Boys, why are you playing that record over and over?” One replied, “We like the tenor sax solo.” I felt elated, but did not tell them that it was I who played it.”

A crazy song, introduced a decade earlier by David Allyn with Boyd Raeburn. Dig Russ Freeman's piano here.

Debut tonight at The Empty Bottle of my son's new band, 1894.