Mark Stryker

Killin' performance. But that's not from the Mike Douglas Show -- the guy at the drums at the start of the clip, presumably making an introduction, looks like the comedian David Steinberg. Here's JB on MD singing the same song in the same year. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7s4bemKEY0&feature=related

A few observations prompted by Koren's list, and in a way I'm thinking about more than just Mozart and the piano concertos. I know many of these performances to be very fine, but I am struck by the fact that nearly all are 40 to 50 years old or more. (I guess the Horowitz is from the mid 80s, and I'm not sure if he's referencing early or late Michelangeli, but we're still talking about one of the Great Men of history.) Maybe Mozart interpretation really did peak at mid century; certainly many of these are timeless recordings. But I also wonder if this list reflects the manifestation of a certain record-collector syndrome, namely that older is better, that only a few masters have a line on Truth and that the first records we really learned, those that made us fall in love with particular pieces in the first place, or those that we acquired when we were coming into our own maturity as listeners, remain unimpeachable -- especially compared to the "drivel" being released today. I know the syndrome because I have to fight it, as I suspect many of us do. There but for the grace of God and all that. I know from my own listening how tempting it can be to dismiss recordings because they differ from the sound in my head that was shaped by the records that first captured my imagination when I was working in a classical record store 25 years ago and methodically learning the standard repertoire. For me personally it's become incredibly important to be an active concertgoer -- I'm blessed that it's my job -- because I like to think it keeps my ears open to alternative interpretations, contemporary performers and a sense of the art as a still-evolving organism. It can be seductive and perhaps dangerous to retreat so deep into your record collection that you forget to come up for air. In that spirit, I would recommend recent recordings of various Mozart concertos by the Norwegian painist Leif Ove Andsnes (9/18; 17/20, EMI); and the Polish-born Piotr Anderszewski (21/24, Virgin). Both have the drama and intensity I require but honor the lyricism too; Andsness is more electric; Anderszewski is smoother but doesn't preen. But have lots of imagination and both conduct from the keyboard. I recently picked up Pierre-Laurent Aimard's recording of 6, 16 and 27 with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe (Warner) but have only listened once so I haven't fully absorbed it, but I was struck by the scrubbed clarity of articulation and sound and the rhythmic zest. Aimard is remarkable in contemporary rep (Boulez, Carter, Messiaen, Ligeti), which has had a strong impact on how he approaches older music. On the other hand, it also sounded a little icy and less variegated than I wanted. I need to spend more time with it before I make up my mind.

That's been my experience, too, darn it. All I can do is point to/enjoy the pianists who bring the music to life for me (e.g, Perlemuter and Rubinstein) and wonder why so many others don't. I'm reminded, too, of a revelatory performance of the Clarinet Concerto with Karl Leister and (to my disbelief) Karajan (on EMI, in a box with other Mozart wind concerti played by BPO principals of the time). Not that there aren't plenty of nice or better recordings of the work, but there was a certain "instantaniety" of rhythm to Leister's phrasing that made this familiar piece seem like I'd never before heard all that was there. It has something to do with the fundamental transparency of the music and the purity of the melodic expression. It looks fairly simple on the page and doesn't require finger-busting technique, but it's tricky to get to the emotional core of the music. Sometimes chefs will say that the hardest thing to do is to perfectly roast a chicken -- not fancy techniques, no fancy sauces, no layers of ingredients. Just pure fundamental technique. Not the most sublime metaphor perhaps, but maybe great Mozart is as elusive as the ideal roast chicken. I stand by the statement that great performances of the Mozart piano concertos are more elusive than great performances of the rest of the standard piano concerto repertoire -- my concert-going and recording-listening experience tells me so (and apparently L.K. too), though I take the point that's it's not a matter of magic or metaphysics but rather savvy musical understanding that leads to the promised land. Also agree on the operatic spirit of the concertos. Still, there's something about the music that makes it more tricky to pull off then other works. Yes, the Serenades and lots of other works were essentially written as "occasional" music -- though I'm often reminded of a phrase that Bernard Holland, late of the Times and in surely one of his better moments, once bestowed on the "Gran Partita" (Serenade No. 10) -- "dinner music for the Gods." (Not looking to re-open old wounds and/or rants viz. Holland, but that's a phrase worth stealing.) For what it's worth, I'd gladly give up all of Mozart's symphonies, piano concertos and sonatas, Violin Concertos and everything else, even the Clarinet Concerto, IF I could take the three Da Ponte operas, "Magic Flute" and the last 10 string quartets.

That's been my experience, too, darn it. All I can do is point to/enjoy the pianists who bring the music to life for me (e.g, Perlemuter and Rubinstein) and wonder why so many others don't. I'm reminded, too, of a revelatory performance of the Clarinet Concerto with Karl Leister and (to my disbelief) Karajan (on EMI, in a box with other Mozart wind concerti played by BPO principals of the time). Not that there aren't plenty of nice or better recordings of the work, but there was a certain "instantaniety" of rhythm to Leister's phrasing that made this familiar piece seem like I'd never before heard all that was there. It has something to do with the fundamental transparency of the music and the purity of the melodic expression. It looks fairly simple on the page and doesn't require finger-busting technique, but it's tricky to get to the emotional core of the music. Sometimes chefs will say that the hardest thing to do is to perfectly roast a chicken -- not fancy techniques, no fancy sauces, no layers of ingredients. Just pure fundamental technique. Not the most sublime metaphor perhaps, but maybe great Mozart is as elusive as the ideal roast chicken.

Generally speaking, I also favor the dramatic and public over the genteel and private in Mozart, but I have a different view of some of the recordings here than others have expressed. In particular, I like Barenboim (both the early recordings on EMI and more so the later ones on Teldec) because I think he captures the theatrical qualities and the wide range of emotions. I think Barenboim's knowledge of the operas from conducting helps bring these qualities out in his piano performances. I would also say that this is rich music that rewards a variety of approaches, and as a veteran of countless live performances of the concertos over the last 18 years, I would add that the difference between satisfying and boring performances is not only an ear for the drama but also a sense of spontaneity (another Barenboim strength for me, though some may find him undisciplined).I know, that feeling of spontaneity is key to performances of just about any music, but Mozart performances especially die if they sound overly mechanical or too smooth and muzak-y. But then, overly mannered or forced emotion in Mozart are sins of another sort, and I've heard plenty of those too. It's always been interesting to me that I've heard far more forgettable performances of the Mozart concertos than any of the other standard repertoire piano concertos, from Beethoven through Rachmaninoff. The balance in Mozart -- between intensity and repose, grace and guts, pulse and relaxation, respect for classical structure but also depth of feeling -- is really hard to get right.

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/05/25/prague-1970-music-in-spring/?smid=tw-nytimesmusic&seid=auto Fascinating confluence of time, place, aesthetics, personalities and politics -- and perhaps a surprising champion of freedom at the end.

http://dothemath.typepad.com/dtm/2011/05/three-hours-with-threadgill.html

Two completely nutty sites that I love: Carla Bley's site is as bonkers as she is (and I say that with much affection): http://www.wattxtrawatt.com/ Bill Carrothers, a fine pianist who relocated some years ago to the Upper Penisula of Michigan: http://www.carrothers.com/ (take a look at the free piano lesson under "I love a piano" -- valuable stuff.

Great quote from Jackie -- I've seen him use the phrase "sugar-free" to describe his sound in other places, but I've never seen the story of Hank playing a B-flat to tune to Jackie's A -- funny stuff. A bit confused about the source of that quote: That's from the liners from a Connoisseur issue of "Let Freedom Ring"?

This issue of "oversupply" is a key point. Many argue that driven by the need to fill out 52-week contracts, large orchestras have been forced into creating far too much product for their markets, and, further, that the inflexible subscription models that have arisen to support those seasons are both a drag on innovation and unsustainable financially. Worth noting here that others will argue that orchestras need to do a better job of marketing to "create the demand."

With assets three times the amount of liabilities. Want the musicians to take a 20% pay cut, and to defund the pension. The financial problems are really complicated. The orchestra has already eaten through the unrestricted portion of its endowment to cover bills and the $140 million that's left in the endowment is all completely restricted by law. It's untouchable, unless a bankruptcy judge would decide they ought be allowed to tap into that money to pay operating costs. (I'm unclear on the specifics of the law and what kind of leeway a judge has on this issue.) The bottom line is that the orchestra has a Herculean cash flow problem, with annual operating expenses of something like $47M and income of $31M. They might be endowment rich but they are cash poor, and even if you started drawing down principal of the endowment to pay operating costs, $140M doesn't go very far when you're cashing out $16M annually. Here's another way to look at it: The orchestra would have to raise an additional $320M for its endowment to generate the $16M needed to cover its gap (figuring a typical 5 percent draw).

Briefly, the new contract did reduce the size and scope of the season and the union has a great deal of say in all of that -- anything relating to wages, work rules, length of season, etc., has to be negotiated. The orchestra went from 52 guaranteed weeks of pay to 40. The musicians are paid a weekly salary. Their work week is defined by an average of 8 "services" (orchestra rehearsals or orchestra concerts). The unique wrinkle in the new contract is the introduction of additional optional pay for optional work that covers a range of community and outreach work including chamber music, teaching, coaching, school concerts. DSO management was able to fold the optional pay into the total $36M deal($34 million for guaranteed orchestra work, plus $2M for the optional work). That's a big deal in the orchestra world, where there's currently a huge fight going on between the musicians' union and managements over contractually redefining musicians' jobs to include more than just traditional orchestra rehearsals and concerts. Historically, if you wanted your musicians to teach or play chamber music or do other kinds of outreach work, you had to pay them extra above their guaranteed salary. But the argument from managements today is that to create more flexible institutions that are better able to meet a community's needs, those 8 services per weeks should be able to be used to cover all kinds of different work, not just traditional orchestra concerts. The concept is called "service conversion" and it's controversial on a variety of levels -- but mostly because it redefines the job of playing in a major orchestra. Worth noting that the DSO's optional work approach doesn't actually change the jobs -- nobody has to participate if they don't want to -- but it does begin to give management more flexibility and the only way to get max amount of money is to participate.

OK, you're crazy. Actually, more seriously, the orchestra recognizes the issues and is instituting a much more expansive menu of concerts in suburban areas to supplement concerts at its traditional home, Orchestra Hall, in downtown Detroit. But you can't abandon the historic hall, truly one of the finest in the country (seriously, its on par with Carnegie and Symphony Hall in Boston.) Very complicated equation with myriad of implications and complications, including the players' contract. But your instincts are right on in that broadening the audience and fund-raising base means going to see people in their own neighborhood and, hopefully, convincing them to come down and hear you in yours and if they don't, well, you're at least serving them in some way.

I don't quite understand why a Wall Street Journal column written seven months ago was posted today as if it was fresh news. Be that as it may, as a culture reporter here (as well as classical and jazz critic), I wrote a zillion stories about the six-month DSO strike, which ended in April. Here's the story about the final settlement some might find interesting: http://www.freep.com/article/20110408/ENT04/110408034/DSO-strike-officially-over-musicians-ratify-pay-cut-contract Also, for what it's worth, yours truly was interviewed on PBS NewsHour about the strike. You can watch it here (click the screen once it loads): http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/entertainment/jan-june11/symphony_04-11.html

Actually, while there's no doubt that the hi-fi and jazz were integral to the Playboy Philosophy in those days, Vickers may well have been hip. According to her Wiki bio, she was the daughter of a jazz musician and late in life apparently recorded an album as a jazz singer in tribute to her parents: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yvette_Vickers

Glenn Gould's 1955 recording of the "Goldberg Variations" is one of a handful of recordings that literally changed my life. Sometimes the fetishization of Gould can be a problem among his champions -- I'm probably guilty myself -- but his recordings of the Bach solo keyboard works are really quite extraordinary -- the incredible clarity of the contrapuntal lines, the electricity of feeling, the personality embedded in the playing and the laser-like purity. After the Goldbergs I'd go for the Italian Concerto and the Partitas. Then there's the two books of the WTC, the French and English Suites, etc.

Cuber's "The Scene is Clean" (Milestone) is a beaut -- he really soars melodically through the largely Latin-grooves. Rewarding album. http://www.amazon.com/Scene-Clean-Ronnie-Cuber/dp/B000000XUA/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1302969475&sr=8-5

http://www.freep.com/article/20110313/ENT04/103130385/1039/ENT04/Pepper-Adams-gets-his-due-2-new-albums Apologies for temporarily hijacking this thread, but I just wanted to point out an interesting multi-disc recording project focused on Pepper Adams' compositions that's being produced by Gary Carner, an Adams champion and in-progress biographer. (His website, pepperadams.com, has lots of great stuff, including a detailed chronology of Adams' life and career.) The link above takes you to a recent review of the first two in the series, which are really nice records and happen to cover four of the compositions on "Ephemera." Now back to your regularly scheduled program ...

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=940DE5DB1238F931A35755C0A96E948260 Stumbled across this review today while looking for something else and was struck by the weird instrumentation -- trumpet, alto, tuba (!) two drummers (!). Did anybody hear this group or know if Hino ever recorded a version of it, perhaps for Japanese issue? I did find this clip on youtube, with Billy Pierce, Howard Johnson, Victor Lewis and Ralph Peterson. Sometimes it sounds kinda hip, other times it's pretty much a mess. But it's unique ... would like to hear other material rather than a standard. I've always really liked Hino's playing -- raw, go-for-broke post-bop. He sounds fantastic on Hal Galper's "Now Hear This" (Enja, 1977), an incendiary quartet album, one of the great under-sung modern-modal-mainstream records. With Cecil McBee and Tony Williams. A taste: It's hard to play trumpet like that ... metal on flesh.

Beautiful clip. Stanley Cowell!! -- extremely underrated pianist, swinging his ass off here, digging in strong with his articulation and keeping the melodic flow fresh and always moving forward and developing. Also nice hat tip with that little chromatic Bud Powell figure that he works with starting in the first A section of his second chorus. Tolliver sounds strong, too, at the nexus of Freddie, Lee and Woody. Not convinced here by Pope's pitch or tone. Max on brushes under the piano creates a hot simmer and I like the way he underscores the tune on the in and out choruses. Thanks for posting.

Came across Milt Jackson's "Born Free" (Limelight) at a used store today but decided not to bite due to price. Now having second thoughts. Anybody heard this session and have a strong opinion on quality relative tp other Jackson LPs as a leader? On a broader note, are there any other of Jackson's Limelight LPs worth seeking out? I don't know these records at all. Here are the details for "Born Free" Jimmy Owens (tp -1/5,9,10) Jimmy Heath (ts -1/5,9,10) Milt Jackson (vib) Cedar Walton (p) Walter Booker (b) Mickey Baker or Otis "Candy" Finch (d) NYC, December 15, 1966 1. 39209 A Time And A Place 2. 39210 We Dwell In Our Heart 3. 39211 Bring It Home 4. 39212 Whalepool 5. 39213 One Step Down 6. 39215 So What 7. 39216 Born Free 8. 39217 Tears Of Joy 9. 39219 Some Kinda Waltz 10. 39220 The Shadow Of Your Smile ** also issued on Limelight LS 86045.

Stumbled across this old thread and thought I'd add to the conversation about Larry Smith, one of our everyday heroes in Detroit, the kind of bebopper that nobody -- and I mean, nobody -- wants to run into at a jam session. Swingers, ballads, blues -- old-school out of Sonny Stitt (and Bird, of course), but so authentic and so deep that when he's on his game everything comes out as Truth. An important early influence on Kenny Garrett and James Carter when they were growing up here -- he got a week on his own at the Village Vanguard in 1997, after working there with Carter. He's pushing 70 now and has dealt with some serious health problems (two strokes), the first in 2003, that forced him to stop playing for years, though he's fought back and the last I saw him, about a year ago I think, he had some great moments (and others where he was still struggling to get it all back together, yet even then you could tell he was close). He was born near Pittsburgh and settled more or less in Detroit around 1966. In 1997 I interviewed him along with a several other local alto players for a a feature. Here are some of the things he said: "The alto is bright and beautiful, and has a voice-like quality compared to the tenor, which is more like down here (gestures with his hands toward his chest). The tenor is an instrument that a lot of musicians b.s. on. They can do a thing called "booting" -- playing one note over and over again. That's why some guys stuck to the tenor, because they could play less and get more from the crowd." "I had an uncle who played Bird's records. He played all kinds of records by different saxophonists, but I always gravitated to Charlie Parker. Even as a little boy, before I could talk, I knew how to pick out Charlie Parker's records. ... You hear a lot of guys just playing a lot of notes, scales. Bird was communicating to his audience, talking to them, telling a story." "The mistakes take you to some beautiful places." "I met Sonny (Stitt) when I was 15. He came to Pittsburgh, to Crawford's Grill No. 2. They'd let me in because it was a restaurant on one side of the bandstand and the bar was on the other side. So he looks down from the bandstand and says, 'Go get your horn.' And I said, 'What?! I just came to hear you.' (Gruffly) I said go get your horn.' So the first tune we played was a blues in B-flat. The second tune was "Cherokee." He had Don Patterson or organ, Paul Wheaton on guitar and Billy James on drums. That was one of the great experiences of my life -- the first time I ever felt like I had played something. It was like Sonny breathed music into me." "No man can play another man's soul."

Wow, that is some story. When you said you decided to expose it, does that mean you wrote about it or simply alerted Stereo Review editors or did you take another tack? I'd be interested in seeing what you wrote if you've still got it in your archives. On a related front, it reminds me of the recent Joyce Hatto scandal -- the British classical pianist whose recordings were found to have been copies of other famous pianists repackaged and released under her own name. http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/joyce-hatto-notes-on-a-scandal-438102.html

First, let me second the recommendation of those 1968 recordings in the strongest terms. Unbelievably great (thanks again, Jim). RE: Jim's question about when Sonny went to India. I've always been struck by the fact that the details of the second sabbatical are much less familiar than the Bridge period. I asked Sonny about this the last time I got a chance to interview him about a year ago. Here's part of that conversation, which ran in the Detroit Free Press, starting with a synoposis of the chronology that I put together from checking various primary and secondary sources, including his own not always reliable memory. It seems those European 1968 recordings, which I believe were done in Sept., were taped after he returned from India but before the really long sabbatical started. (Footnote: An authoritative Rollins biography is a book that desperately needs to be written.) ... but by 1968 he was burned out by the business -- unable to command the money he felt he was worth, unable to secure enough steady work to keep a band together and bamboozled by lawyers for Impulse Records into signing away rights to the score he had written for the film "Alfie." So he quit. In early 1968 he boarded a plane for India, staying four or five months, living on an ashram and studying Indian religion and yoga. When he returned he performed sporadically, and after a trip to California in September 1969, he disappeared for nearly two years, resurfacing at a jazz festival in Norway in June 1971. By October, Down Beat magazine trumpeted, "Exclusive! Sonny Rollins returns." QUESTION: What was the motivation for the second sabbatical? ANSWER: I was really dissatisfied with the music business. I had finished contracts with RCA and Impulse, there wasn't much happening and I was getting interested in self-development, which had started earlier when I went on the bridge. I guess I was trying to find myself. Q: Why India? A: I had been interested in metaphysical organizations and things like Buddhism, yoga and Sufism. I felt like I needed to get more into self-improvement and the greater purposes and meaning of life. I had been investigating yoga since the '50s, so I had been primed to make this voyage. It wasn't something I did as a whim. I had separated from my wife for a while, and the time was right to make that move. Having read quite a bit about yoga and various yoga masters and teachers, I took my horn, a bag or two and booked a flight to Bombay. On the last leg of the flight, I was talking to some Indian people and one fella knew something about ashrams. He suggested this particular place to me just outside of Bombay and this swami, Chinmayamananda. Q: What was a typical day like at the ashram? A: There were yoga students there from Europe and elsewhere and we had our meals and everything. When the swami came there were lectures. We studied the literature texts from the Vedanta. We studied the Upanishads and Yoga Sutras and all of these writings from antiquity. We weren't doing hatha yoga so much -- hatha yoga is the positions. We were mainly studying the texts, and when we didn't have sessions, we'd endlessly discuss things among ourselves. Q: Did you play the saxophone? A: Not really. I did do one solo concert for the people there. Q: When you finally dropped off the scene completely, were you practicing? A: I was definitely practicing, but there was a period when I was living in Brooklyn when I became the ultimate recluse. I didn't go out at all; well, maybe just to buy groceries or something. I think I had something called agoraphobia -- a phobia about going out and being among people. Q: What got you out of that period? A: I don't know. That would be interesting to know -- what happened moment by moment and day by day and how I got out of that. Q: It sounds like depression. A: I'm not sure that's apt. I had visitors coming by my house. Unless maybe I was depressed over the condition of human existence. That sounds like something I'm still depressed about. I was still practicing yoga. I was able to get into these states where I could leave my body; they call it floating. I used to do these practices to find out what was possible in life. Life is not what we see around us. It's something else. This is a screen. Behind the screen there is something else. Q: Did you find what you were searching for? A: I don't want to be so presumptuous as to say that I found it, but I found a great deal of it. It's like my music; I've found something, but there's always more. I'm closer to my self-realization, but with my music I still can't get there as often as I want to. I did find peace. This is really a more recent thing. It isn't something I found in the '70s. This is something where you keep gaining knowledge of different things and they eventually coalesce. ... The swami taught me some things. I couldn't concentrate sometimes because my mind would be flitting from one thing to another. In those days, concentration meant sitting in a lotus position, getting quiet and closing your eyes and contemplating om. He told me, "When you play your music, you're in a deep concentration. That's deep mediation." I realized it's not about sitting down and meditating. It's about trying to reach a deeper place of understanding -- especially playing jazz, because this is a type of music that lends itself to true improvisation. In true improvisation, you go to the subconscious. The process of improvisation is such that you can't think. The music is happening too fast. If you try to think and try to put in something that you practice, it doesn't work. It's a perfect kind of music for a mystical concept.

I've seen McCoy several times but the first was the best -- Jazz Showcase in Nov. 1985, with Louis Hayes and Avery Sharpe. Most memorable tune was the opening "Walk Spirit, Talk Spirit," with a ferocious groove and vamp and McCoy's right hand just roaring over the top of it. The power on that tune is still one of my strongest club memories. A memorable night for another reason too: Woody Shaw was at George's that same week (rhythm section: painist John Campbell, bassist Kelly Sill and drummer Joel Spencer) and they were burning. I heard both on the same night, starting with Shaw ("Moontrane,"Bemsha Swing," "Sweet Love of Mine," and two more that I've now forgotten.) Then a friend and I drove to the Showcase to hear McCoy's second set.