Larry Kart

quote name='Mark Stryker' date='Nov 15 2008, 03:45 PM' post='855231'] Larry, I'm surprised that two logical explanations seem to have eluded you as an old newspaper man -- either it was the damn copydesk that screwed it up or carelessness on the writer's part induced by deadline pressures, distractions or the many varieties of gremlins that have a way of getting between your brain and your best-intentioned copy. I'm guessing that Tony meant to write "composed in France" -- a factually accurate statement that makes sense to note in the context because Weill was on the move in those years -- but instead wrote "composed in French" and then never caught the slip, reading over it because we often don't notice our own typos. If that's the case, then 99 out of 100 copy editors would not have questioned the phrasing. Alternatively, Tony may have written something awkwardly (or not) and in making a change, the copy editor condensed it to "written in French" and introduced the problem. Of course, it is possible that Tony meant to write what he did, but we all have brain cramps. No harm, no foul.

Sure to all the above -- but however much the language one speaks, or the language in which your singers are singing (if you're writing for voices), matters, you don't say Wagner or Mahler composed "in German" or Ravel or Offenbach "in French." It's a usage error, not a conceptual thing. Tommasini should have said: "'Maria Galante,' in which Weill sets [or works with] a French text, etc." -- or something of the sort.

Today's NY Times has a review by Anthony Tommasini of Kurt Weill's little-known 1934 musical "Maria Galante," which Tommasini said Weill "composed in French." Well, the libretto is in French (and not even by Weill but by Jacques Deval), but the music was composed in ... music, no?

No, it's all real -- in a studio but with a friendly, well-lubricated audience.

This is the real "Peggy Lee at Basin Street East" show: http://www.peggylee.com/new/0206_basin_cc.html Don't remember the details, but the originally released album was, I think, a blend of some club performances and some studio takes with crowd sounds added, because the some things went awry in the recording process that night. The liner notes to the album linked to above tell the whole story.

I feel the same way about both Wilber and Kenny Davern. There's a certain packaged complacency about the way they use the pieces of the jazz past that attract them. That they're more "professional" players than a lot of revivalists somehow makes it more annoying.

Joe Goldberg's parodies of various jazz critics (especially Whitney Balliett) in a Jazz Review piece was right on target and damn funny. Thought I'd posted it here once but can't find by searching and don't feel like typing it all in again.

OK, Brute, it gets better. A great book, in fact, though it depends on what you're looking for. Only question -- and to my knowledge it's never been resolved -- is how much of it Bechet himself wrote. His editor was poet John Ciardi, and one has heard that Ciardi did a whole lot of work on it. Here's something I wrote about one aspect of the book: It is common for those who can recall their own earliest encounters with jazz to describe what took place then as an act of recognition--or as Bechet rather dramatically put it in his autobiography Treat It Gentle, “[T]hat’s what the music is…a lost thing finding itself.” In Bechet’s account, the advent of jazz is firmly linked to the aftermath of Emancipation: “All those people who had been slaves, they needed the music more than ever now; it was like they were trying to find out in this music what they were supposed to do with this freedom; playing the music and listening to it--waiting for it to express what they needed to learn….” The “lost thing” is said to be “like a man with no place of his own…a stranger right in the place where he was born” who eventually “finds a place, his place”--having been schooled to do so by the music’s journey “all the way up from what it had been in the beginning to the place where it could be itself.” If those remarks have an air of fable to them, they are at the very least a fable that one of jazz’s primal creators chose to entertain. Nor does it seem accidental that one of the music’s key mysteries is touched upon here with such precision. “[P]laying the music and listening to it,” Bechet says, “[the people were] waiting for it to express what they needed to learn.” Where, then, does the tutelage and the consciousness that underlies it reside? In a separate class of courageously individualistic, expressive artists? (Bechet describes his perhaps semi-mythical grandfather Omar in such terms, and he himself would seem to fit the model. ) Yet it is both listeners and players who “needed to learn” and who were, over time, taught. So is the music itself a third place or force? And is it there, or through its agency, that tutelage occurs? For the answer to those last questions, see "Jazz in Search of Itself" (Yale University Press), p. 6.

This girl can play!!! http://www.tinethinghelseth.com/en/ The third movement of the Hummel! And she's so relaxed, no tension in her facial muscles at all. On the other hand, she ain't that pretty.

Just name-calling going on.

The "Texas Moaner"/"Cake Walking Babies" dates from 1924/25, with both Bechet and Armstrong, suggest that Bechet was then further along than Armstrong was rhythmically -- "further along" not because it was a horse race but because they were working along pretty similar lines.

Short CD, even with the bonus tracks, (if that's a problem), but the music is excellent.

In a similar vein, I think, guitarist Jack Wilkins' "Reunion": http://www.jackwilkins.com/recordingsleader/?p=2 (clips there) with the Brecker brothers (Mike only on two tracks), Eddie Gomez, and Jack DeJohnette. Found it used a week or so ago, and somewhat surprisingly to me (not my favorite players by and large), it's just brimful of life. In part that's because it's very well-recorded -- Gomez, for once, doesn't sound like his instrument is made of cardboard, and a very interactive DeJohnette is right there. One of the tracks with Mike and Randy is Horace Silver's "Break City." Mmm.

A guy, I'm pretty sure. Something about the way the legs look and move -- also, the general stance, when you can make that out, is kind of wide from the waist down for a woman -- more like a linebacker or a defensive back.

I know what you're saying, and your point still stands. But I think, to perhaps be tedious about it (and I'm saying this not really to you but -- well, you know), that that's not being fair to Coltrane, who certainly could play (at various points in his career) just as many "notes" (in the between or inside the note Hodges sense) as Hodges did -- and/or enough, in his own way (as in, as many as he needed to), as to be beside the point. Of course, the guy you were talking to wasn't thinking of things that way but kind of in terms of athletics.

MG, or anyone else -- let me recommend (because it touches on all this and is just a great book that probably will enrich your understanding of all sorts of stuff) the late Carl Dahlhaus' "Nineteenth-Century Music" (U. of California Press). There are musical examples and there is technical talk but nothing that will leave you on the outside looking in. Dahlhaus has really smart and, untypically for a heavyweight German musicologist-historian, a man of broad understanding who wrote very clearly (or at least can be translated into clear English) and was not at all snotty.

Well, MG -- and remember I'm not as musically literate as I might wish -- tonal music is for me in one crucial sense a historical thing: music in which an entire language arose and flourished (from roughly Haydn through Brahms, with deviations of course) in which the establishment and ultimate long-range dramatic resolution of tonic-dominant-etc. relationships, all this in living "harmony" (so to speak) with rhythmic, timbral, etc. events, was THE lanauage of Western concert music and then continued to play a strong language-like role in popular music of the so-called "Standards" era, in much jazz, and elsewhere, again with all sorts of variations and deviations. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, tonality as a language (remember I'm talking in historical terms -- I don't think there are any "absolute, for all time" musical languages) was, as they say, "breaking down" in the face of the music of Wagner, Debussy, Schoenberg, et al. (not to lump them all together, but you probably know what I mean -- music of arguably great power was being made essentially or entirely for its own sake in which "the establishment and ultimate long-range dramatic resolution of tonic-dominant-etc. relationships" no longer played as coherent a role, or a crucial role, or even much of a role; and this led to attempts to systemitize, in the case of Schoenberg and his disciples, a new musical language that would be at least as structurally coherent as the language of the Haydn-through-Brahms period. I know -- lots of luck, and we can talk about how that's worked out, but there's little doubt that a good deal of modern music was and continues to be post-tonal along those and other lines (historical awareness virtually demands that it be so, even if one wanted to write music, as some did and still do, that regarded the "language" of tonality, as outlined above, as a permanently renewable musical resource. Meanwhile Part II, there also was a heck of a lot of music around -- particularly in the yeasty U.S.A. -- that was what I'd call pre-tonal (though Allen Lowe above adds an important alternate view). Blues, Gospel, Country stuff, we could go on and on, but the thing about this music was, aside from its intrinsic beauty and vigor, that it was (so I think) pre-tonal in at least two related ways. First, while it was full of events whose language was somewhat akin to that of (or not utterly alien to) "the establishment and ultimate long-range dramatic resolution of tonic-dominant-etc. relationships," it was different in that the "rules" or grammar of those languages were at once looser, more abrupt, and of a different flavor, i.e.playing these musics and listening to them, one moved to different musical-emotional places and in different ways. Second, because these musics were in large part "vernacular," at least for some time, they were historiacally "prior" to the language of tonal Western concert music, and of course the languages of post-tonal Western concert music, even when they were no longer prior to those languages according to the calendar. And now, I think or hope, we're back to Ornette and what I said or speculated about him in that 1974 review. For reasons that had a lot to do with his particular genius as a musician, and his particular place in terms of background and personality, he could do (to borrow the old AACM phrase) "Ancient To the Future" -- in fact, he could hardly, given who he was, do anything other than that. Now I thought then that what was open to Ornette, even inevitable for him, was not as open to others; in that I wouldn't say I was literally wrong, but I underrated or didn't even grasp the language-making drive that was cropping up and was going to crop up all over the map. We can, of course, disagree about the success of any part of that language-making -- in concert muisc, in jazz, in pop, or wherever -- but we are still living in pretty interesting times. Does this help?

So far, this has been terrific. Big, enthusiastic crowds. Concerts even started on time! Missed Saturday night myself but have caught the rest and will be there tonight. EUROPEAN JAZZ MEETS CHICAGO Produced in partnership with The Austrian Consulate General, The Goethe Institut Chicago, The Friends of Goethe, The Italian Cultural Institute of Chicago, The Consulate General of The Netherlands, The Polish Cultural Institute (NYC), The Consulate General of Poland, The Consulate General of Switzerland, and The Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs. Claudia Cassidy Theater 6:00PM | Christian Weber Quartet (Switzerland) Caroline Davis - alto saxophone Jeb Bishop - trombone Christian Weber - bass Tim Daisy - drums Preston Bradley Hall 6:45PM | Elisabeth Harnik Group (Austria) Elisabeth Harnik - piano Taylor Ho Bynum - cornet Jeff Parker - guitar Claudia Cassidy Theater 7:30PM | Mikolaj Trzaska Trio (Poland) Mikolaj Trzaska - reeds Kent Kessler - bass Michael Zerang - drums Preston Bradley Hall 8:15PM | von Schlippenbach/Lovens (Germany) Alexander von Schlippenbach - piano Paul Lovens - drums Claudia Cassidy Theater 9:00PM | ZÜ (Italy) Luca Mai - baritone saxophone Massimo Pupillo - electric bass Jacopo Battaglia - drums Randolph Café 10:00PM | Braam/de Joode/Vatcher (The Netherlands) Michiel Braam - piano Wilbert de Joode - bass Michael Vatcher - drums Thursday, 6 November 2008 The Velvet Lounge 67 E Cermak Rd 312.791.9050 velvetlounge.net $15 cover 2008 UMBRELLA FESTIVAL NIGHT 2 9:00PM | Rempis/Kessler/Vatcher Dave Rempis - saxophones Kent Kessler - bass Michael Vatcher - drums 10:00PM | Josh Berman Quintet Josh Berman - cornet Keefe Jackson - reeds Jason Adasiewicz - vibes Jason Roebke - bass Frank Rosaly - drums 11:00PM | Alexander von Schlippenbach Alexander von Schlippenbach - solo piano Friday, 7 November 2008 Elastic 2830 N Milwaukee Ave 773.772.3616 elasticarts.org $15 requested donation 2008 UMBRELLA FESTIVAL NIGHT 3 9:00PM | Harnik/Bauder/Roebke Elisabeth Harnik - piano Matt Bauder - reeds Jason Roebke - bass 10:00PM | 2008 Featured Artist Pt 1 : John Tchicai Solo John Tchicai - reeds 11:00PM | Bik-Bent-Braam : Chicago Version Michiel Braam - piano Wilbert de Joode - bass Michael Vatcher - drums Jaimie Branch - trumpet James Davis - trumpet Jeb Bishop - trombone Nick Broste - trombone James Falzone - clarinet Jason Stein - bass clarinet Dave McDonnell - alto saxophone Keefe Jackson - tenor saxophone Tim Haldeman - tenor saxophone Dave Rempis - tenor/baritone saxophone Saturday, 8 November 2008 The Hideout 1354 W Wabansia Ave 773.227.4433 hideoutchicago.com $15 cover 2008 UMBRELLA FESTIVAL NIGHT 4 9:00PM | Trzaska/O'Reilly/Weber/Fujiwara Mikolaj Trzaska - reeds Evan O'Reilly - guitar Christian Weber - bass Tomas Fujiwara - drums 10:00PM | 2008 Featured Artist Pt 2 : Tchicai/Drake Duo John Tchicai - reeds Hamid Drake - drums 11:00PM | Douglas Ewart And Inventions Douglas Ewart - reeds Mwata Bowden - reeds Jeff Parker - guitar Darius Savage - bass Dushun Mosley - drums Dee Alexander - vocals Sunday, 9 November 2008 The Hungry Brain 2319 W Belmont 773.935.2118 eiorg.org $15 suggested donation 2008 UMBRELLA FESTIVAL FINAL NIGHT 9:00PM | Baker/Williams/Sandstrom/Hunt Mars Williams - reeds Jim Baker - piano/electronics Brian Sandstrom - guitar/bass Steve Hunt - drums 10:00PM | Taylor Ho Bynum Quintet Taylor Ho Bynum - cornet Matt Bauder - reeds Nicole Mitchell - flutes Evan O'Reilly - guitar Mary Halvorson - guitar Tomas Fujiwara - drums 11:00PM | 2008 Featured Artist Pt 3 : John Tchicai Septet John Tchicai - reeds Nicole Mitchell - flutes Aaron Getsug - baritone saxophone Jaimie Branch - trumpet Mary Halvorson - guitar Josh Abrams - bass Mike Reed - drums

(From the late lamented) Jazz Magazine [1974] (BTW, I no longer believe, or no longer believe that literally, everything I said in this one -- in particular, the business about Coleman's relatively negligible influence. But that's how it seemed to me in '74.) Ornette Coleman -- Live at the Hillcrest Club Ornette Coleman worked with this group (cornetist Don Cherry, drummer Billy Higgins, bassist Charlie Haden, and pianist Paul Bley --the nominal leader, who recorded the group in live performance) for six weeks between his first and second studio recording sessions, sometime between March 1958 and January 1959. The logical question is, how does Coleman sound at this early date, freed from studio pressures and united for the first time with Haden? Well, he sounds great, much more at ease than on his first album, Something Else. And even though, compared to what was to come, there is something of the gawky adolescent to the Coleman we hear on Live at the Hillcrest Club, no other recording of his has a comparable feeling of looseness and spontaneity until the Town Hall Concert album of 1962. And do these tracks tell us something about Coleman that we didn’t know before? I suppose not, but merely because they’re beautiful in themselves and unexpected messages from the past, they do help to explain why the most successful innovator of the sixties (successful in the sense of producing performance after performance that really worked) should in the long run have had such a negligible effect on his contemporaries and successors, compared to the impact of men like John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy. (Very few players showed Coleman’s literal imprint, and if there were others who grasped the principles of his music without wishing to sound like him, they must have decided that these principles coudn’t be applied by them.) It comes down to this -- Coleman is both a pre-tonal and a post-tonal player, and, in a sense (a very fruitful one for him), he reads the history of tonality backwards to its pre-tonal state. What enabled him to do so, in addition to innate genius, was the accident of birth that placed him in a provincial center (Fort Worth, Texas) where Charlie Parker’s latest stretchings of triadic harmony could be heard alongside musics--blues, rhythm and blues, cowboy ballads, and what have you--that were either pre-tonal or so crude in their tonal functions as to be pre-tonal by implication. You can call it naïve or the ultimate sophistication, but sensing the relation between a music in which tonality was on the brink of ceasing to function and musics in which it functioned quite simply or hardly at all, Coleman was able to preserve what for him were the plums of tonality --the emotional colors of triadic harmony, especially the most basic ones (who aside from Monk has made so much of the octave jump?)--without adopting tonic-dominant cadential patterns and phrase structures. This explains why the internal rhythm of Coleman’s solos often has a bouncy, downhome lope to it, a la Swing Era alto saxophonists like Pete Brown and Tab Smith or proto-r&b figure Louis Jordan (even though Coleman will interject phrases of startling asymmetry, and even though that internal rhythm has a floating, precisely controlled relation to the stated beat of the bass and drums). Conversely, the men who were most involved in stretching triadic harmony to its furthest limits to date in jazz, Charlie Parker and Art Tatum, also were the men who carried the subdivision of the beat to its furthest point to date--because such subtleties of accentuation were necessary to throw into relief, and so make articulate, melodic lines whose harmonic implications otherwise might have been inchoate. On “Klactoveedsedstene,” Coleman and Cherry play Parker’s spikey theme with tremendous élan, which should settle any lingering doubts about Coleman’s rhythmic control and confirm that his sometimes radically simple rhythmic choices were real choices and not the results of any instrumental incapacity. The analogous simplifications of his melodic-harmonic universe can be heard best here on “The Blessing,” where he takes a mellow, strongly organized solo highlighted by a subtle sotto voce passage of implied doubletime. Improvisations like this--“Peace” on The Shape of Jazz to Come is another--reveal that however free Coleman is of tonic-dominant functions (in the sense of not needing to touch home base at specific intervals), his music has plenty of cadential possibilities that he can find as emotion dictates. And it is these moments of resolution, which give back to us the most primary pleasures of triadic harmony cleaned of the grime of long use, that ultimately divided Coleman from his contemporaries. However much they might respect a pre-tonal universe and make gestures toward it, they lived in a post-tonal world and could not read the history of tonality as Coleman did. But if his route has turned out not to be one that others could take, perhaps that makes the beauty he has given us all the more treasurable.

Terrific ICP review, Bill. I think that Ayler remark (" bakes apple pies" etc.) was John Litweiler's.

Thanks for this Larry. So was MDs slide to all things electric motivated by necessity rather than artistry. Any further thoughts on this. From this end of history the electric piano here seems very deliberate. I suppose Gerry Mulligan's quartet is the best example of necessity producing a change in artistic direction, there must be others.... IIRC, Chick had told me in a DB interview that took place around the same time as this gig that initially he was drawn to the Fender Rhodes because he could get the same sound every night instead of relying on the quality (or lack of quality) of the piano that happened to be in a particular club, but obviously he become interested in the Fender Rhodes because of what it could do.

Down Beat, Caught in the Act, Autumn 1969, Plugged Nickel Outside of Charlie Parker’s best units, I don’t think there’s ever been a group so at ease at up tempos as Miles Davis’s current quintet. Their relaxation at top speed enables them to move at will from the “hotness” up-tempo playing usually implies to a serene lyricism in the midst of turmoil. This “inside-out” quality arises from the nature of human hearing, since, at a certain point, musical speed becomes slow motion or stillness (in the same way the eye reacts to a stroboscope). Yet the group doesn’t move into circular rhythms whole¬sale. They generally stay right on the edge, and, when the rhythm does seem ready to spin endlessly like a Tibetan prayer wheel, one prodding note from Davis or Shorter is enough to send them hurtling into “our” time world, where speed means forward motion. Recent changes in the group’s personnel and instrumentation have had important effects. Chick Corea is playing electric piano, and while this move may have been prompted by the variable nature of club pianos, Corea has made a virtue of necessity, discovering many useful qualities in the instrument. In backing the horns, its ability to sustain notes and produce a wide range of sonorities frees Holland and DeJohnette from these roles. Corea is now the principal pattern maker in the rhythm section, a task to which Ron Carter and Tony Williams previously had given much attention. As a soloist, Corea has found a biting, nasal quality in the instrument that can be very propulsive. I heard a number of first sets, and each time it seemed that the rhythm section really got together for the night during Corea’s solo on the first tune. As mentioned above, Holland and DeJohnette don’t often set up the stop-and-go interludes of Carter and Williams. Instead, they burn straight ahead, creating a deep, luxurious groove for the soloists. Holland is as fast as anyone on the instrument, but it is the melodic and harmonic quality of his bass lines one re¬members, as cohesive and austere as Lennie Tristano’s. Shorter, in particular, responds to this kind of musical thought, because it so closely resembles his own. At times it seems as if he and Holland could improvise in unison if they wished. Tony Williams had a greater range of timbres and moods under control than DeJohnette does, but the latter is just right for this group. He sounds something like Elvin Jones with a lighter touch, and he really loves to swing in a bashing, exuberant manner. Wayne Shorter’s approach to improvisa¬tion, in which emotion is simultaneously expressed and “discussed” (i.e., spontaneously found motifs are worked out to their farthest implications with an eyes-open, conscious control), has a great appeal for me. The busyness and efficiency of a man at work can have an abstract beauty apart from the task. Of course, Shorter’s playing has more overt emotional qualities of tenderness or passion which can give pleasure to the listener. The problem with such an approach lies in keeping inspiration open and fresh, maintaining a balance between spontaneity and control. Here, Shorter’s recent adoption of the soprano saxophone is interesting. A master craftsman of the tenor, he already has great technical control of the second instrument, and its newness seems to have opened areas of emotion for him on both horns. Often, while Davis solos, one can see Shorter hesitate between the soprano and tenor before deciding which to play. It’s a fruitful kind of indecision. Shorter once referred to his soprano as “the baby”, and I think I know what he meant. About Davis there’s not much new to say, except to note that he is to some degree responsible for every virtue of the group’s members mentioned above, and that he uses all of them to achieve the effects he wants. He is the leader in the best sense of the term. Playing almost constantly at the limit of his great ability, he inspires the others by his example. There is no shucking in this band, and if Davis occasionally is less than serious in his improvising, as he was one night on “Milestones,” mocking the symmetrical grace of his mid-fifties style, one soon realizes that he is serious after all. With this version of the Miles Davis Quintet, one aspect of jazz has been brought to a degree of ripeness that has few parallels in the history of the music. Now let’s hope that Davis and Columbia decide to record the group in person.

From an e-mail a friend sent to me back on Feb. 2, 2007: "Also, the derivatives market will bring down civilization when it collapses. You heard it here first." Too bad he couldn't have been in touch with Paulson and Bernanke.

I thought it was Bob Enevoldsen who "essentially brought the instrument to west coast jazz." Williamson didn't take up the instrument until 1954, according to Feather-Gitler. Enevoldsen had recorded on valve trombone before then. As for Williamson on trumpet, I'll have to listen again (though I can't do that for a while), but I recall some rhythmic stiffness and a rather nanny-goatish tone as being drawbacks. Sadly, Williamson was a bad junkie; he stopped playing in 1968, and I recall a Cadence interview with older brother Claude that referred to Stu essentially living on the streets by the time of his death, in 1991.

Don't have this one, but I have at least five other Ries albums -- two on Criss Cross, an earlier one on Moo (?) with a great Frank Amsallem solo on one track, a duo album with Amsallem, and a classical sax quartet album by the group Prism of which Ries is/was a member. Obviously I'm a fan.