Absence of Moi

I have been on vacation. 

Am gearing up for new expressions...

New points of view.

The one above is under Tumalo Falls in Oregon.

Photo:

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

Planetary Unknown: David S. Ware, Cooper-Moore, William Parker, Muhammad Ali, AUM Fidelity, 2011

It was just about a year ago that David S. Ware was preparing reporters for the upcoming recording that would address the collective anxiety presented by the oncoming year of 2012. His secrecy about the band members with whom he would record did not prevent him from talking about the fact that the album would be totally improvised: an unusual performance ethic for Ware until his return to the stage with a 2009 solo live  performance on saxello, stritch and tenor, which became Saturnian, released by AUM Fidelity in 2010.

The new DSW quartet, Planetary Unknown, is made up of David S. Ware on saxophones, Cooper-Moore on piano, William Parker on bass, and Muhammad Ali, the brother of the late Rashied Ali, on drums. It is the first time this group has played together. The group can tune into the fact that Ware's huge blustery tone has changed since he no longer stands to play. He sits. But, Ware plays the hell out of his saxophones, which include the tenor on the first three cuts, sopranino on the second three and the stritch on the last.  He has honed a focal point with his instrument which, in ways, surpasses the character of his playing in his original longtime quartet with pianist Matthew Shipp, bassist Parker, and drummer Gerald Cleaver. 

Ware’s playing is linear as opposed to broad because his physical space is confined. He is his own center, his own vessel, his own vortex. He vibrates wholly within himself; he challenges the variations he can create climbing up and down the key pads. He plays every note and all the ones in between.  The members of the band respond to that. The music is controlled, inexorably intense and whirls around the configurations that leap from the saxophone.  Several times, the intensity abates and a calm spell is cast through the instruments. That might be interpreted as a discovery in the meditative state where “the intellect cannot go” and peace enters in, especially evident in the longest cut, “Passage Wudang,” and also in“Divination” and “Divination Unfathomable.”

Cooper-Moore’s piano work can run rampant over the entire range of keyboard but always becomes coherent, necessarily, for backing Ware. His solo in “Divination Unfathomable” isolates this range; his solo intro to " Divination" is remarkably melodic. The same is true for Parker. His pizzicato strives for a rhythmic statement which dips in and out of earshot; the resonance of the bass strings, however, never wanes. His arco playing touches dissonance; his final pizzicato solo in the last cut reconfirms his steadfast groundedness.   

Drummer Ali stays in the background; the cymbals hiss steadily and without much differentiation. At times, he skips across the snare.  In “Duality Is One,” a duo with Ware, Ali alternates using his hands and sticks on the snare at the beginning and then maintains cymbal-snare combinations to magnify the extremes of the variations that Ware states on the tenor. In fact, the entire band serves Ware in this way so that he can build his musical line and go from simple to complex without having to rely on himself to re-enter the musical space. 

The cadence and pattern of Ware’s speaking voice comes through more than once in how, on the horns, he repeats the same phrase, restrains himself or presses a split-tone for emphasis.  His arpeggios are concentrated and their richness motivated by the search for the next set of expressions from his internal being.  The last “Ancestry Supramental” is a gloriously rhythmic close, boasting stops and starts that are a complete surprise and which present an everlasting memory that reverberates in the final strike of the cymbal, inseparable from Parker’s last pluck and Ware’s last blurt on a slow downward scale run.

Track Listing: Passage Wudang; Shift; Duality Is One; Divination; Crystal Palace; Divination Unfathomable; Ancestry Supramental.

http://dlf.tv/2011/david-s-ware/#

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

Knives From Heaven, Thirsty Ear, 2011

At the opening of Knives From Heaven, a condensed, high-pitched, seemingly helium-laced, voice announces “Matthew Shipp,” which is followed by an obviously sped-up version of pianist Shipp’s playing the introductory chords of one of his own pieces. An electronic blip is heard and it is more than evident that this album is about sampling and repetition over acoustic improvisation. Then comes the rap, “Half-Amazed,” unfurled by Beans. And there is no going back.

It is always interesting to note that Shipp and William Parker, whose bass playing audibly comes out of the pervasive sound in “Deadpan Stare,” become involved with projects that are ultimately only about electronics when they, themselves, are totally consumed with creative improvised music.  

The music on Knives From Heaven conveys a hip-hop message. Hip-hop has evolved as the new classic popular music. That Shipp and Parker produce sounds engaging enough to Hprizm to incorporate into a highly rhythmic spectrum, which includes ample beat-boxing, compliments the musicians’ open-mindedness in permitting this application of their music.  Sometimes, Shipp’s piano playing, without any adjustment, imitates a digital rendition of itself.  So, in this way, it makes sense that Shipp would decide to dip into an electronic field. The same goes for Parker, who can turn on to and create any rhythmic statement on the planet.

But more than that, a platform for hip-hop that has class in the quality of its sound production is worth pursuing. This album’s intensity does not go over the top; the raps are straightforward; and the music is intelligent, simply being switched off at the end of its forty-three minute run.

Wadada Leo Smith's Golden Quartet: Freedom Summers

Wadada Leo Smith

New York in June

Among the multitude of musical events in New York City at the beginning of the summer was the three-concert Festival of New Trumpet Music (FONT). The second of these concerts was held at (Le) Poisson Rouge, a rock/jazz club located on Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village. The performance was by trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith's Golden Quartet. In its inception, Golden Quartet was comprised of Smith, pianist Anthony Davis, bassist Malachi Favors Magoustous, and drummer Jack DeJohnette.  But within the past year, the quartet has included Angelica Sanchez on piano, John Lindberg on bass and Pheeroan Aklaff on drums. Sanchez is the newest member of the group. Lindberg and Aklaff have been working with Smith for years.

Of Golden Quartet, Smith says:

Golden Quartet is an ensemble of master composers / performers, whose experimental practice utilizes the quartet form, which is the purest foundation of musical expression in jazz /creative music and western music culture. As multi-instrumentalists they are concerned with a practice and research that involves an array of complex systemic forms, where the musical languages of compositional / improvisational / ankhrasmation are merged seamlessly in their interactive development in the quartet and are manifested in the performance dimension as a single music language. Golden Quartet’s music is fiery, explosive, and surges with a positive improvised energy force that’s constructed with polycentric melodic / sonic / rhythm units. The ensemble’s textural and structural materials reveal a musical terrain that is creatively rich and architecturally clear in form. 

The descriptive intentions for Golden Quartet also summarize the entrails of Smith's music. He is aware of and practices the rudiments and subtleties of composition transforming in and out of improvisation. He brings his music to the group, of which he considers himself a part, and then the group collectively reflects the music back on itself, attending to the nature of quality, the ultimate musical conversation and the most intense self-examination during the actual performance. This is a demanding enterprise for musicians, but the result produces crystalline music that is unequaled anywhere.

On June 5, 2011, Golden Quartet performed five parts of Ten Freedom Summers, a work that is comprised of three multi-part collections of "compositions/improvisations." This NYC performance was made possible by Chamber Music America's "Presenting Jazz" Program and the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation. The performance of the entire composition will take three nights, scheduled in October, 2011, at REDCAT Theater in Los Angeles.  

Smith describes his piece more specifically:

Defining moments in the History of the United States of America, Ten Freedom Summers is a large work inspired by the activity of the civil rights movement from 1948, when President Harry S.Truman signs the Executive Order 9981 to Dr. Martin Luther Kings' Memphis speech in 1968. 

Ten Freedom Summers is composed for Golden Quartet and Southwest Chamber Music, an ensemble of nine performers.  Over the years I thought that I would compose a tribute to the civil rights movement, centered in the activities of three decades 1948-1968, much in the same way that August Wilson's plays comment on ten decades of the African-American experience in America, but through musical composition/improvisation.

Golden Quartet's Performance at LPR

Despite technical problems and friction between the guest performers and the management, the impact of the music reached far beyond what was no doubt expected. Smith's performance ethic transcends any troubles. He is serious and steadfast, proceeding with a course of action that shall not be thwarted in any way, shape, or form. His behavior transfers to his group members. They are faithful to his direction, graced with the compassion that puts all doubt and uncertainty to rest.

Smith was a beacon from which everything flowed. Not only did the traditional notated score guide his players, but Smith did as well, signaling with both his instrument, his body and his hand from what point, from what instrument and for how long any one section could begin and end. He pointed with his index finger to communicate an instruction for the music to change; he swiveled his entire body as he played the horn to coral the entire band. He was controlling and letting go of the music at the same time. There was as much group involvement as there were solos, duets and trios. Smith stepped out several times and allowed his music to flow as he listened. The ensemble's diligence applied to playing was palpable; its tenacity fully engaged.

Smith and John Lindberg

Smith opened and closed the doors for improvisation within the music. That is the beauty of how he shapes it. He  imparts to the music his sense of how other musicians can learn new methods of expression; in fact, that is factored into Smith's compositions. As a result, what the trumpet announced thematically or improvisationally, the remaining players absorbed and elaborated on through what they themselves chose to do in response. If the choices of the individual musician did not exactly fit within Smith's notions of how the motion should be going, he would let the musicians know, similarly to the way a conductor leads an orchestra. Smith projected his desires for the ensemble's dynamic gently, succinctly and with a confidence that transmitted his character, which is respectful and peaceful, but totally involved with the presence of the present. 

Angelica Sanchez

Smith's words about Golden Quartet say it all. Nothing can be added except the sound of the music itself. The energy that came across during performance was inescapable and so was the mood and the feeling that reached out to uphold the original impetus for the musical statements. In these five parts of Ten Freedom Summers, the textures that were created defied disintegration. The tension that held the music together was perfectly defined and there was not one iota of extremism that could burst the music apart. The group crafted an intricately woven web of nuance, breath and strength of doing. The trumpet sang songs that elicited grandeur, melancholy, but no defeat. This music told stories, as certainly the entire multi-section work will do. Every phrase, every melody, every bit of cacaphony or set of harmonies will be analogous to reading each word, each sentence, each chapter of an epic book about African-American experience, to which Smith has and will continue to contribute.

The players in Smith's quartet each possessed their own space.  As they claimed it individually though, so their responsibility grew. They were beholden to render the music that Smith had given them to play as a once in a lifetime occurrence. The significance of that responsibility could be seen in their faces, whether any one member of the quartet, including Smith, played alone or in relation to another player.

John Lindberg

In particular, Lindberg held forth on a pizzicato solo where the tightness of the strings invalidated the idea of resonance. On the other hand, when he activated the pedal to give the bass breadth and depth, towards the beginning and at the end of the concert, the bass became another instrument, evoking another realm of sound which enveloped the atmosphere with a wealth of fullness.  As did Aklaff, with a smack on the tom, enter into a rhythmic vein which rarely disappeared, only rose and fell in volume and complexity as the composition demanded. Sanchez's cultivation of how the piano moves through the music both sparkled and was grounded, inseparable from the collaboration that was taking place.

Pheeroan Aklaff

In just one set allowed the quartet, there were two brief breaks in the music, when the audience had no idea what to do. Had it not been for Smith's removing his horn from his mouth, looking out from the music into the space before him and raising his arms as if to say "there it is," the audience would not have responded with applause.

The last piece spoke as if to paint a portrait of hope. In a solo, Smith's trumpet created waves that washed on a sandy shore. The sun rose at dawn. And the power of triumph at that one metaphorical instance blossomed. The emotion evoked was intense as Smith moved the valves on the trumpet quickly, effortlessly, moving from the decorative flair of a trill, to a gripping melodic structure. His trumpet sound vibrated with reverence to his history and the history of his people.  

Some of the unanswered questions that arise within that history were posed throughout the music. One could sense them. One could sense drive, intention, thriving, striving and woundedness as the vitality and temperament of the notes transformed. 

Donning a jacket that acquired a golden tone due to the way in which the stage lights were cast upon him, Smith played as if to pierce the air with dedication, dedication not only to the composition of his music but also to its capacity to communicate. A testimony to engaging the hearts and minds of those who care to listen and, most of all, learn.




All photos copyright 2011 Lyn Horton
Text, except for quotes from Wadada Leo Smith. copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

Wadada Leo Smith's Organic: Heart's Reflections

The jewel case holding the two discs of Heart’s Reflections from Wadada Leo Smith’s Organic sports a simple cover image of alphabet-like curved gold and black lines on white and red fields. On that is superimposed the title of the record.  On the back is a listing of tracks and performers on a deep brown field where a nearly invisible full circle is also inscribed; its diameter is almost the width of the jewel case.

Open up the case and the visual information explodes. On the left is a stunning full frontal photo of Smith playing his trumpet and on the right is poised the first of the discs on which is printed a reproduction of one of Smith’s scores that shows horizontal bands of bright colors through which flows a line signifying changes. The three page bi-folded liner notes themselves exhibit additional portions of Smith scores and a detailed roster of information, spelling out who solos when in each piece and where they are identifiable in the stereo channel field.  Flip the cd holder and the second disc is revealed bearing the same colorful score reproduction. A photo of a golden grass field through which a fence runs appears on the inside back.

Organic has fourteen members, both male and female. The complete sound of the instruments spans a range of extraordinary balance.  No instrument hits a shrieking peak except for the trumpet, and the drums and bass lend heavy weight when called for compositionally. The music, all written by Smith, expands on the nature of contrasts, the necessary intensity of fluidity, melodic coherence, controlled dissonance and the inexorable presence of rhythmic design.  Violin, basses, guitars, piano, reeds, electronics, drums and Smith’s single trumpet comprise an ensemble whose transmission of the composer’s intention “to transform the music” never waivers.

Throughout the performance, a distinct pattern arises of conversation between clear-cut solo and duo presentations over the landscape of the “collective” sound. Smith’s trumpet is both the grounding component and the initiator for improvisation. He sets the standards for, corals the performers within and integrates his own playing throughout the organization of musical evolution.  His trumpet never disappears in the collective; it shines, glorifies joy, conjoins with spirit, and magnifies peace in relation to its creative sources.  He instills the same goals in the rest of the players.  This is reason that the sound unwinds easily without sharp turns or undesirable clusters of sonic disturbance. The motion of the music is biomorphic.  When it has resolved, the sound simply stops. 

The titles of the pieces refer to Smith’s experience: from his practice of the Sufi tradition to his metaphorical appreciation of nature to his nods to writer Toni Morrison, trumpeter Don Cherry, and violinist LeRoy Jenkins from the Association for the Advancement of Creative Music in which Smith used to participate. 

This recording musically describes the layers of life that Smith has further scrutinized, which have everything to do with the present moment as it is guided by feelings, the gift of the breath and how to offer love.

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

Label: Cuneiform Records

Personnel: Wadada Leo Smith: trumpet, electric trumpet; Michael Gregory: electric guitars; Pheeroan akLaff: drums; Brandon Ross: electric guitar; John Lindberg: acoustic bass, electric acoustic bass; Skúli Sverrison: electric bass, six-string bass; Angelica Sanchez: acoustic piano, Wurlitzer electric piano; Josh Gerowitz: electric guitar; Lamar Smith: electric guitar; Stephanie Smith: violin; Casey Anderson: alto saxophone; Casey Butler: tenor saxophone; Mark Trayle: laptop; Charlie Burgin: laptop.

Track Listing: Disc One: Don Cherry's Electric Sonic Garden (For Don Cherry); Heart’s Reflections: The Splendors of Light and Purification (tracks 2-9) (for Shaykh Abu Al-Hasan al-Shadhili): The Dhikr Of Radiant Hearts, Pt. I; The Dhikr Of Radiant Hearts, Pt. II; The Majestic Way; The Shaykh, As Far As Humaythira; Spiritual Wayfarers; Certainty; Ritual Purity And Love, Pt. I; Ritual Purity And Love, Pt. II; Disc Two: Heart’s Reflections: The Splendors of Light and Purification (tracks 1-3) (for Shaykh Abu Al-Hasan al-Shadhili): Silsila; The Well: From Bitter To Fresh Sweet Water, Pt. I; Well: From Bitter To Fresh Sweet Water, Pt. II; Toni Morrison: The Black Hole (Sagittarius A)/Conscience And Epic Memory (For Toni Morrison); Leroy Jenkins's Air Steps (For Leroy Jenkins).

Matthew Shipp: The Art of the Improviser

 

Nothing but smart musicianship is evident in pianist Matthew Shipp’s double disc set, The Art of the Improviser.  Both discs are live-date recordings.  The first, recorded at the Troy, NY, Arts Center in April, 2010, is one continuous set from Shipp’s trio. Michael Bisio plays bass and longtime trio member Whit Dickey, the drums. The second disc is comprised of an equally tight Shipp solo gig at Le Poisson Rouge in NYC two months later.

Turning fifty years old in December of 2010, Shipp reached a milestone in a musician’s career that is commonly noticed, as if age signified creative maturation. Over the years, Shipp’s innate musical intelligence has gone unchanged, but his improvisatory language seems to have acquired more of a nuanced fluidity and engaging character through his discovery of fingering subtleties integrated within an increase in fluctuating rhythms.

A three-pronged organism operates in the first disc, where each musician yields to the other with ease. Identifiably the leader, Shipp tows the thematic ropes for his own tunes as well as for Billy Strayhorn’s “Take the A Train.”  The introductory “The New Fact” reveals Bisio inheriting a trio-built line in a stunning pizzicato solo that induces stone-cold silence from Shipp, Dickey and the audience.  In the next “3 in 1,” after Shipp’s lengthy piano ostinato, Dickey, in his own solo, outdoes his restrained, understated drumming self, with a relentless, downright breath-taking, even-handed face-paced snare-tom-bass drum drive; he treats the cymbals on a par with drums. Shipp’s shining moments on this side are everywhere: his playing glistens like a multitude of stars across the darkest of nights. The most intensity comes mid-album when he does not leave the middle register of the keyboard for nearly sixteen minutes, alighting accentually on a treble or bass note.

Shipp’s solo performance reflects his inexhaustible exploration of timbre and touch. The reverent boldness with which he approaches the keys widens the improvisatory field in between a specific thematic concept and its parenthetic reprise.  As Shipp moves from “4-D” to the concluding “Patmos” without breaking, the repetition of phrases and figures constructs the spatiality of his language. It is a means to render his gestures simultaneously recognizable and brand new. His take on “Fly Me To The Moon” demonstrates a conscious determination to alter perceptions of the familiar. An exquisite balance of straightforward musical design and profound sound generation testifies to the pianist’s God-given genius.

Matthew Shipp, Michael Bisio, Whit Dickey (The Matthew Shipp Trio)

Matthew Shipp (solo piano)

The Art of the Improviser (2 discs)

Thirsty Ear

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

The Holy Grail of Credibility

Writing every day religiously is a pattern of existence that I have not established yet. When I do, the writing will come more easily and I won't have such angst about the process. It has been bad enough submitting my words to the people who write for a living to edit; or thinking anyway after the product is spewed out that I do a pretty good job.

When the subject matter of my words is general rather than zeroed in on a specific record or event, the writing is not so full of uncertainty. That is for the reason that no other person can question it.

But when I do write about recordings and concerts and people, even, then, I go on record with my statements and they are read by those who seek "veritas."

Back in 2004 or so, I had been practicing being a serious scribe about creative improvised music for several years. I had earned the label "critic" from those who did not write about the music I followed. I was looked upon as a vehicle for publicity by those who put on concerts & musicians who wanted me to pay attention to them. As the years went on and I kept writing, it was incumbent on me to let go of the pressure I felt to write anything about music otherwise I could not do it.

Writing an article is like giving birth. And when I am done with one, I feel relief for a day or two and celebrate and then have to think again about what is coming next. In that zone of thinking, I get a lot done. Now that it is spring, I can go outside and fiddle in the garden. I can actually walk a couple of miles like I used to every single day, instead of resorting to riding the stationery bike in the mudroom for fifteen or twenty minutes. I can clean the dust off the furniture that accumulates without my noticing until my thumb prints are visible on the trinkets that decorate the table tops or the light at a certain angle shows the bunnies as I walk by. Or, and this is the most pleasurable I think, I can go to town and walk up and down the main street window shopping. Dreaming.

What creates the angst in me is: Do I assess the music I am writing about in ways that will make sense to the reader? Or that the reader will believe? Do I hear everything? Or do I talk about it well enough that hearing every detail is unnecessary? See, the writing is supposed to point in a certain direction. 

A few years ago, a well-known writer for a well-known online jazz website asked me a question about a record from Europe that he wanted to order, obviously worried that my supportive comments about the record could have been off the mark. My confidence about my words led me to urge him to buy the record. Not long afterwards, he emailed me to say that he had bought the record, listened and said that my observations about the music were "right on." Not only did this give me a pat on the back, but silently I absorbed this reassurance and said to myself: OK, Lyn, keep going.

And even earlier than the above instance, when my writing was infrequent, yet thoughtful, and the number of CDs that appeared in my mailbox did not amount to nearly what comes in now, the president of one of the longest operating creative improvised music recording companies emailed me to say that he truly believed that my reviews had gained "credibility."

The musicians reputed as great music-makers in the world of creative improvised music have never wavered in their belief in what I do. To receive accolades from these musicians gives me more incentive to continue than those I might receive from other jazz critics. I feel more a part of the world of the musicians than that of the jazz writers. Sometimes and sometimes not, in the jazz publication world, I feel like I have to fight to write and have the words be accepted. 

Evolution occurs with the survival of the fittest. Last time I went to the doctor, he said I was doing great. 

So, I say: OK, Lyn, keep going.

Video and text copyright 2011 Lyn Horton