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One of the most mysterious things about the human mind is how it can create and store associations between all sorts of objects and events. They say that the sense of smell is the most powerful in this respect. I can't argue that. Every so often I'll walk by a woman who's wearing the same perfume as my first girlfriend and I'm instantly transported back to that time.For me, it's no surprise that musical associations can be just as powerful. Last night, a small snowstorm rolled through our area, leaving us with just a few inches of very light and crystaline snow. This morning, the sun rose to illuminate that snow, producing millions of little sparkly pinwheels of light. It's one of my absolutely favorite things about winter.
It also makes me thing about Kiss Alive II.
Not long after this record came out, I must have been out tobagoning with my friend Sherry on the giant hill behind her grandmother's house (around the corner from where we lived...us on Preble Avenue/Horseback Road, her on Hilltop Road). That sloped field is the image that often comes to mind when I see snow like this morning's. We must have gone inside later that day and listened to this record. There's no other explanation.
It's kind of funny to have made this connection between such unlike objects. I mean, freshly fallen snow is a beautiful and perfect (excuse me for a minute, I've got to switch to disc two...) construction of nature. Alive II is a big, sloppy & stupid live album. Bad playing, bad sound.
I love every minute of it.
There's this notion in the world of sculpture that the artist is merely freeing the shape locked within the raw source material. This always seemed like a great way to describe the mystery of a particular piece of abstract art. The artist begins with a big chunk of rock and starts to chisel, saw, chip, buff and sweat away at it until..well, the piece is done.But what about music? Does this somewhat artificial construct shed any light on a free-leaning jazz composition?
Think about it for a while.
David S. Ware has just released one giant pile of music. Live In The World is an ambitious 3-CD set of live recordings. The lineup of Matthew Shipp (piano) and William Parker (bass) is complemented by a different drummer on each disc. Disc one, recorded in Chiasso, Switzerland, features Susie Ibarra. Disc two (Terni, Italy): Hamid Drake. Guillermo E. Brown takes the chair on disc three (from Milano, Italy).
Ware has been on the jazz scene for over thirty year and is, to these ears, one of the most powerful and compelling saxophone voices of modern jazz. His sound has the 'air' of Sonny Rollins right alongside the spiritual howl of an Albert Ayler or even the great John Coltrane. While you can definitely hear Ware's reverence for the masters of jazz, he's not content to just revisit and polish the past.
Now, back to the unlocked inner secrets of sculpture. If we think of music as sculpted air (something I've got to admit to thinking about often), the improvised segments of a piece make an attempt (in real time) to construct a 'sound object'. Yes, you're saying...but the sculptor is creating art by subtraction. Fair enough, but: if you think of the initial theme of a tune as the raw material, the improvisation can then mold and chip away at it until it bears very little resemblance to its former self. Through the improvisation, the art moves closer to what it wants to be.
Take Ware's famous deconstruction of "The Way We Were". We all know the curves of that pretty melody...until Matthew Shipp's brutally percussive piano chords signal the beginning of the group's metamorphosis effort. A minute or so later and Ware's horn restates that theme before shifting into pull-the-melody-apart mode. The 'mystery art' that emerges is shattering. The set-closing "Mikuro's Blues" starts off with a quick series of awkward & angular phrases before getting into the main theme of ascending chords, which is then used as a jumping-off point to some muscular sax runs. Only the slinky precision and 'weight' of the rhythm section keeps Ware connected to the earth as his improvisations get to glowin' with intensity.
Disc two burns with like passion right from the start with the adrenaline rush of "Elder's Path". The contrast between the subtle timekeeping of Ibarra vs. the athletic fills of Drake is immediately obvious. What's interesting is that this doesn't necessarily make the music heavier or more intense...but perhaps drives the free play in a different direction. The midset "Sentient Compassion" puts the spotlight on Parker, who turns in an extended bowed bass solo as the band supports him with the tiniest hints of thematic fragments. Aural telepathy is an overused idea in my own reviewer-space but here, it just fits.
The final sculpture of this collection is the four-part "Freedom Suite". Ware seemed to be particularly inspired on that night in Milan as his runs had that careening quality of late-era Coltrane. The uninitiated might at fist hear a man without a plan running around in the wilderness. Give it a little time and the underlying ideas spawning the improvisations will make themselves known. Hey, I used to think that Coltrane had lost his mind on Interstellar Space. No, silly me, he was a genious. This last set contains more 'space' than the others, with ample room for more ambient group improv. Maybe not as intense as the rest of this four-hour marathon, but surely a fitting conclusion.
The fan in me has to admit that I've been cheering for David S. Ware ever since the release of 1998's Go See The World. To some, Ware's vision may indeed sculpt objects with a high "What the...?" factor. For the more adventurous though, it's a big 'ole world out there.
Go ahead, live a little.
During the late 1970's, my hormone-addled adolescent brain held a few things dear: my girlfriend, my Ted Nugent, Black Sabbath and Kiss records and my copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
The funny and/or ironic thing about the Fear and Loathing book is that I had absolutely no experience with the drug thing beyond the pot smoke infusion my clothes would get while attending rock concerts. That didn't seem to matter. I was attracting to Thompson's high-inertia style of storytelling. Way beyond what a 'normal' person would consider out-of-control, our Gonzo journalist had the ability to get right to the essence of a situation while simultaneously blowing it to smithereens.
Fear and Loathing mixed in nicely with the other stuff in my rock stewpot: Rolling Stone and Creem. Looking back, I can see how all of that material pushed me toward writing. There was just so much kinetic energy and passion in what Thompson and Lester Bangs did. I was in awe.
Did it matter that much of the subject matter was twisted through a drug prism? Pterodactyls, blood and a Samoan attorney (from Fear and Loathing), Ed Muskie's "whistlestop" nightmare train during 1972 presidential campaign (Fear and Loathing: On The Campaign Trail), the outlaw misfits (Hell's Angels)...all of these tales crystallized into a funny and frightening view of America's underbelly (or at least the underbelly dragged through Thompson's quivering brain cells.)
Somewhere between those years when this stuff gripped my entire existence, I got lost. College happened (Engineering? What the hell was I thinking? Computers science paid off, but never shook me to the core the way some of those pages did.) Marriage did shake me...for good and for bad.
And then I stumbled across Kerouac's On The Road (this was more like: "On The Road smacked me upside the head") and those dreamy thoughts of being a writer, long gone dormant and covered up under a layer of life dust, made themselves known again. I was compelled to drag out my old copy of Fear and Loathing (with the paper all crinkly because of a 'beer accident' on a camping trip)....and then some Lester Bangs...and then more Hunter (The Great Shark Hunt.) The 'life dust' was blown away, allowing me to write stuff that had been stored up for decades.
I can't say that I owe it all to Hunter S. Thompson, but he was definitely one huge influence on how I view things. That, and he was one cranky bastard.
Their technical info page though, has the following very cool entry:
Imagine that, it's actually possible to create something on a computer without sending money to Redmond. That, is an 'innovative' idea.
Nothing like a little adrenaline-charged, twisty guitar to make the drive to work more exciting (as if the patches of black ice here & there weren't enough.)Adrien Belew's latest solo material will be released in three separate installments throughout 2005. Yummy, it is. There are plenty of great guitar players out there, but there aren't a whole lot who can combine their chops and piles of musical creativity. The thing about Belew is that you can hear his entire musical history in the compositions.
Side One brings tasty bits of pop, rock, funk, art rock and experimental music. Hey, why not?! Adrian has played with a crazy-great cast of musical characters from Frank Zappa to The Talking Heads to King Crimson to Laurie Anderson (one of the few times I've seen somebody play the guitar with a spatula.)
While the songs tend to lean toward a more Crimson-esque sound than, say, Belew's more pop side (like The Bears or his own Mr. Music Head), there are jumpin' tunes that made me bop around in the car seat. Despite the presence of Les Claypool and Tool's Danny Carey on the opening "Ampersand", the song is a rock/pop gem that reminded me of an updated Batman theme. The tune does devolve into some serious noisemaking at the close before the segue into the funkified "Writing On The Wall" (second of three tunes with those heavyweight guests)....making me wonder if Tool fans are left satisfied with this record's sound. The final 'trio track' is "Matchless Man", with Carey switching over to tablas. With Claypool's rubbery bass, the tune sounds like an up date of Three Of A Perfect Pair-era Crimson.
You can just tell that Belew had a lot of fun recording this one. The skronky goodness ooozes outa every track. It would have been interesting to see how Belew interacted with Carey and Claypool during the recording process. There was some obvious musical chemistry there. It's always fascinating to see that kinda stuff in action. I was lucky enough to attend a ProjeKt Two concert several years ago with Trey Gunn on 'touch guitar', Robert Fripp on guitar and Belew on electronic drums. While the personalities could not have been more different (Fripp looking like he'd rather be at home reading some esoteric book, Belew sporting an enormous grin while shooting out crazy sound effects), it was pretty obvious that musically they were of one mind. Some of that was definitely going on here, though I suspect that Carey and Claypool are slightly more, uhmmm, relaxed fellows.
Cripes, I think I'm too cranked up to get any work done now!
Anyhow, this is one cool Dylan record. Recorded with The Band, it's got one of my favorite Dylan tunes: "Forever Young".
Oh, thank gawd!!! Activity at Ft. Meyers. Baseball's opening day is right around the corner.
For those who just can't wait, the first spring training game is Thursday, March 3 vs. the Minnesota Twins.
What I did find though, was Alice Malloy's Theremin Bra.
Some things are just too cool & strange for words.
Gwen Stefani. OK, here's a piggish case of me being won over by old-Hollywood good looks, a cute voice and mile-long legs. The wife didn't approve but then I had to remind her that she didn't think Gavin Rossdale was "too hard to look at". Plus, we happened to listen to her solo CD at some friends' house on Saturday night after a coupla martinis. Fun was had by all.
Southern Rock Tribute. Sure, "Free Bird" is the "Stairway To Heaven" of souther rock. So what? The old southern boys are gettin' old and grizzled, but they can still play with a lotta heart. Gretchen Wilson can really belt it out too. And maybe it's just me, but that Tim McGraw guy has so much less character in his voice than, well...everybody else on stage. Man, I haven't heard "Fooled Around And Fell In Love" in years!
Green Day. So sorry if you can't take the political content. American Idiot kicks serious ass.
Los Lonely boys. How did I not pick up on these guys? Their CD becomes a part of my collection later today.
Black Eyed Peas. Yes, that whole medley thing at the start was sort of a big mess. But it was a big mess in the way that those Parliament/Funkadelic shows were a big mess. Everything louder than everything else. "Let's Get It Started" is serious ear candy earwurm material. Another record I've gotta snag later.
Alicia Keys. Whooee, she can really sing. Still doesn't really do anything for me though...can't quite put my finger on why. Still, there's absolutely no denying the talent there.
Jennifer Lopez/Ricky Ricardo....unlike these two. I sorta wanted to root for them but it's just so obvious that this song was a huge stretch for both of them.
Loretta Lynn/Jack White. My favorite moment of the night. First Loretta bosses Jack around on stage, followed by the hilarious and respectful "yes maam"'s. Then Jack rubs it in the face of the modern country music establishment. My advice: get yourself a copy of Van Lear rose. It's killin'.
Kanye West. I'm embarrassed to say that I've never heard of this guy. Nope, not one little syllable or note. Still, it was refreshing to hear from the part of the hip-hop community not obsessed with chrome wheels and other assorted bling. West, Mavis Staples, Blind Boys of Alabama. Yow, it was inspiring.
Maroon 5. This reminds me of back when I still used to watch the Academy Awards show even though I hadn't gone to a movie in several years. Yep, I've never heard of Maroon 5 either. Best new artist? I guess so...though my choice would have been Los Lonely Boys.
The Janis Joplin Tribute. Wow, Joss Stone was sorta OK...but then Melissa Etheridge came out and fricken tore the roof off the sucker.
The Ray Charles Tribute. Man, I'm all a-teary eyed.
The Tsunami Tribute. Not great, not bad. For some reason, I get nervous watching Brian Wilson sing.
U2. The band people either love or hate. "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" was a moving tribute to Bono's father and one of the best songs from "...Atomic Bomb". Live, it was spectacular.
Usher/James Brown. That Usher guys sure can dance. "Sex Machine" was waaaay too short. A missed opportunity there.
That's it. Nothing earth-shattering this year (is there ever, really?), but it was about as fun as a scripted awards show can be.
Sciatica is not a new genre of electronic music. No, instead, it is a condition where your sciatic nerve makes you wish you lived closer to San Francisco or Brooklyn so that those bridges might be taken advantage of (and I ain't talkin' about the view!)Ah, it wouldn't work anyway. I think there's some sort of aniti-suicide thingy on the Golden Gate. The Brookyln Bridge? I'm not jumpin' in that nasty water, even if it is for the final dive.
So...instead I dug out (gingerly!) a recording that simulates what my sciatic nerve has been doing to me. Does The Laughing Owl simulate those burning pains running down the front of my thighs? We'll see.
Put free jazz drummer Han Bennink together with punk/experimental guitarist Terrie Ex and you just might get a close approximation of nerves gone crazy. Bennink seems to be leading the show here, but Ex does his best to hang in there. There's some serious guitar torture going on here. Bennink seems to play every single part of his kit right down to the hardware. "Free", it is. Looking for a melody? Leave now.
Ouch.
Last Friday, me & the wife attended an Ellis Paul show. Ellis was his usual fantastic self. However, he was nearly overshadowed by his spectacular opening act: We're About 9. This ultra-fun trio (Katie Graybeal/vocals & bass, Pat Klink/vocals & guitars, Brian Gundersdorf/vocals & guitar) sounds like, well, I'm not sure. The Nields would be about the closest to their sound as We're About 9 can produce some otherworldly harmonies. Those harmonies pushed me over the edge a couple of times. There are certain times when I can get overwhelmed by music. During the countryish "Another Love Song", the harmonies coalesced during the chorus and brought tears to my eyes.
We're About 9 finished the show by stepping in front of the monitors to sing a gorgeous acapella piece (and, this being the year 2005, somebody's freakin' cell phone went off!). I tell ya, this extremely talented group deserves to be famous.
I picked up a couple of CDs at the show including Katie Graybeal's solo album and the We're About 9 live record (on which they have the good taste to cover Springsteen's "4th of July, Asbury Park").
Check 'em out. You won't be disappointed.
You wouldn't suppose that most musicians would look favorably upon being compared to an old pile of rocks. How about an old, organized pile of rocks?This isn't some kind of clever reviewer trick. Honestly, it's just a coincidence. While giving I Have The Room Above Her the first listen, I happened to have a nice view out the bedroom window. Through the maples and oaks beside our antique house, an old rock wall can be seen curving up and over the next ridge.
A few moments before focusing my gaze through the rippled glass, I had been trying to pin down what is is that makes Paul Motian unique. A drummer who favors subtlety over bombast, Motian seems to simultaneously construct a pulse and contribute to the melody by employing an endless supply of accents.
Hmmm...nice, but not quite there yet.
Then it hit me. It's not just Motian's technique. It's his entire history as a jazz musician. The more I listen, the more his past reveals itself. This idea resonated with my current interest in the stone walls of New England. Having recently moved to the historic district of a small rural town, I've had an opportunity to observe many walls up close...and to ruminate on their past (and future). Just like a jazz composition is not merely a collection of notes, a stone wall is not just a pile of rocks. That wall outside our window frames what used to be a 'highway', one that originated from what is now the base of our driveway. If you observe the fragments of stone walls laced throughout my little area, the story of the past is revealed.
Does Paul Motian's music in the present reveal anything about his past? Without a doubt. The list of Motian's past cohorts is most impressive: Coleman Hawkins, Lennie Tristano, Thelonius Monk, George Russell, Paul Bley, Keith Jarrett, Carla Bley. Big names all. Add to the list one more giant: Bill Evans. Motian played in the Bill Evans Trio for several years alongside bassist Scott LeFaro. I came to Bill Evans' music not it the 'normal' way (via Miles Davis' Kind of Blue) but through Motian's Bill Evans. A fine record on which long-time partners Bill Frisell and Joe Lovano put a unique spin on the music of Bill Evans.
Though Motian has at times branched out into more "out" music as compared to the Bill Evans Trio, it is his sound on those Evans records that shines through to this day. I Have The Room Above Her again features Frisell and Lovano on a program of mostly Paul Motian composition, plus a pair of covers: a very cool take on Monk's "Dreamland" and the Kern/Hammerstein title track. Several of the tunes, most notably "Osmosis" (parts III and I), "Shadows" and "Harmony", fully illustrate Motian's way of dancing around the composition. It's just amazing what the man can do with a pair of brushes, a snare and a single ride cymbal. On these songs, Lovano tends to follow Motian's lead, adding color on top of accent. Frisell is at his toned-down best, gently grasping clusters of notes into chords. All is not quiet here though. There's some nifty unison play on "Dance" and "The Bag Man" as well as some full-on skronkology on "The Riot Act".
OK, so maybe I think too much. Maybe that stone wall is just a pile of rocks. And maybe I Have The Room Above Her is just another record. I just can't think that way. Music is important and projects itself onto many, many 'unrelated' areas. Spend a little time looking (and listening) and you'll be amazed at what's out there.
Overall, another very successful (if not particularly essoteric) haul:
Queen - Queen. I've never own this record in any form. I do love "Keep Yourself Alive", though. Man, that Freddy Mercury sure could sing.
Mink De Ville - Coup De Grace. Mink De Ville represents another hole in my collection. I remember reading about these records back when they came out but somehow never picked one up.
Mink De Ville - Return To Magenta. I couldn't decide which one, so I got 'em both. Hey, at four bucks a pop why not? Viva le vinyl!.
Steve Miller - Number 5. The Steve Miller Band was huge when I was a kid. Everybody owned Book of Dreams and Fly Like An Eagle. That's all I ever owned. Kinda fun to dig into a famous artist's back catalog. This is a spacey and somewhat bluesy record that's definitely a reflection of its time (released in 1970). Check out the liner dedication:
Mike Bloomfield - Junko Partner. Never been a big fan of the whole "white boy blues" thing, but there's no denying that Bloomfield can play his ass off.
Frank Marino & Mahogony Rush - World Anthem. People used to speak of Frank Marino either with reverence ("...a guitar god...") or disdain ("...Hendrix ripoff"). I never found out. Now I will.
Chick Corea & Gary Burton - In Concert (Zurich, October 28, 1979). This is one of my very favorite live jazz recordings. The tones of Gary Burton's vibes alongside Corea's crystaline piano just can't be beat. I've been scouring the bins for a clean version of this for years. I think I've found it.
Wasn't that exciting?
Wanna hear about how I wasted two hours last night watching the Happy Days reunion special? Neither do I (though I did learn something new: that Mork & Mindy was a Happy Days spinoff. How did I miss that?)
Tonight is a great night for us folk music lovers in the Monadnock region of New Hampshire as Ellis Paul is playing at the Peterborough Players Theatre.Me & the wife are huge fans of Paul. I discoved him several years back on during one of my morning drives. I used to listen to "The Coffeehouse" on Emerson College radio station WERS. One morning they played a spoken word piece from a folk compilation called This Is Boston, Not Austin Part 2.
I was hooked. Though their styles are completely different, I rate Ellis Paul right up there with Greg Brown and Richard Shindell, two other 'kings' of modern folk music.
Ah, and here's a funny story. During my initial listen-to-an-Ellis-CD-once-a-day phase, I asked a good friend of mine (a guy I used to live with and have known since my college years) if he'd ever heard of Paul. Yes, he had. In fact, he used to go to high schol with him. Woa!
If you've never heard him before, the live album is a great place to start. Many of his own syles are represented including the story song, the spoken word riff and guitar instumentals.
Hibbing, Minnestoa gave us Bob Dylan...Presque Isle, Maine gave us Ellis Paul.
Negrophilia? It's a book written by Petrine Archer-Straw about the prevalence of black culture in jazz-age Paris. Mike Ladd uses that topic as a partial point of origin for this most excellent Blue Series release.Ladd and company (Vijay Iyer on piano,organ and synthesizer, Guillermo E. Brown on drums and electronics, Andrew Lamb on winds, Roy Campbell on trumpet and Bruce Grant: tape loops) combine bits of tape and synthesized weirdness with some seriously funked up acoustic music. Ladd's own spoken word and rap vocals occasionally pop in, providing more commentary on the concept. This is some exhilarating stuff:
The opening "Field Work (The Ethnographer's Daughter)" begins with a sample of a country-blues-ish guitar along with some skeletal percussion. This widens out with what I began to think of an an aural model of what jazz-age Paris might have sounded like, with various horn notes coming from near and far, left and right. Then the funk begins as the Campbell's trumpet works hard against a synth-bass groove. "The French Dig Latinos Too" starts with a quick ride cymbal pattern that is soon mirrored by the bassline. At first, the sax and trumpet seem to careen out of this funk. Later on all instruments drop away except for the drums, which are soon joined by the piano, dropping broken shards of chords all over the floor.
Phew! There's almost too much to describe here (maybe like Paris in the 1920's?) A few more attempts:
"Appropriated Metro" almost approaches Photek-like electronica with its skittish opening and Dali-melted, mediated programming. "Nancy & Carl Go Christmas Shopping". Hmmm. I can't explain this, but it reminds me of "Sentimental Walk" from the soundtrack to the movie Diva...except that "Sentimental Walk" is all about romance while this tune is all noir.
I tell ya, if Miles Davis had lived into our current age of digital technology, sampling and mash-ups, he would have made a record just like this one. Coming from the other direction, if Public Enemy had a jazz thing goin' on, they also might have ended up here.
This isn't to say that Mike Ladd's Negrophilia is in any way derivative. It's just that the deep groove and funk of electric-years Miles and the Bomb Squad-like sonic elements resonate here throughout, very much like the far-reaching influence of that collision of cultures in the 20's.
During the mad week approaching Christmas 2004, a padded envelope arrived in the mail. It looked very much like lots of the review material that I receive, except that I didn't recognize the return address.So, I cut open the envelope and out slips American Polka. Old Tunes & New Sounds.
Hmmm....did I order this CD? A fairly strong sense of deja vu was hovering about. Did I read about it somewhere? A magazine? Website? A mailing list? Was there a segment on it on NPR? One 'clue': alongside Polka greats like Frankie Yankovic, American Polka had selections from The Happy Schnapps Combo, Los Lobos and (here's the 'clue')...Elliott Sharp with Guy Klucevsek. The presence of those names, veterans of the downtown New York scene, really made me think that I'd read about this compilation from a post to the John Zorn mailing list.
But still...no recollection of placing an order. After a few days I had to accept the fact that just maybe I'd begun to lose it. Yep, the big slide had officially started. First I'm ordering stuff on the internet (and losing track of that fact), soon to be followed by forgettin' to put my pants on before leaving the house in the morning.
Then, last Friday afternoon, my old friend Greg calls to invite me & the wife down for dinner. In the middle of our conversation he says something like "Hey, how'd you like that polka CD?". Well, for gawd's sake, there's nothing so satisfying as relieving a two-month tip-of-the-tongue experience. Mystery solved. Apparently, Greg and his wife Carleen were doing some music spelunking using the ethnic origins of their relatives as a guide. When they got around to polka music (Greg's side of the family) they thought that this CD would be right up my alley (plus, it was a pretty good bet that I didn't already own it). Right on both counts. More than they knew.
Now, despite the fact that I've known Greg for almost twenty years, one thing he didn't know (until our conversation) is that one of my uncles, Stanley E. Saleski (who passed away in 1993), used to be a polka DJ at radio station WMMW in Meriden, Connecticut. I kid you not. He was even inducted into the International Polka Association Hall of Fame. Uncle Stanley was quite the character. He used to show up at my grandmother's house on Christmas day, tape recorder in hand, to do a live play-by-play of the proceedings. My dad came from a family of twelve kids (six girls, six boys), so there was a lot of comings and goings on that day.
I've got a cassette tape of one of those holidays. There's a funny bit on it that sort of foreshadows my musical/audiophile nerddom: "...and here comes little Mark Saleski...". Uncle Stanley tried to get me to say something but all I wanted to do was play with the tape recorder and eat the microphone (I was not even two years old at the time).
So anyhoo...this here CD is worth definitely worth a listen or two if you've got any interest at all in the polka genre (heck, maybe even if you don't!) There's traditional polka, novelty tunes ("You Can't Teach The Japanese To Polka") and even some Tex-Mex. Good clean fun.
Well, we couldn't make it down to Greg and Carleen's for dinner (the wife was on call over the weekend), but something tells me we'll soon be sharing a few martinis with 'em along with the soothing sounds of Frankie Yankovic, Polkacide and Whoopee John Wilfahrt & His Concertina Band.
