Broken Partials, Matthew Shipp and Joe Morris, Not Two Records, 2011

In the beginning was an African ritual in which the ring shout and the innate rhythm elicited by the stomping of feet represented a cue for a communal gathering of spirits. Throughout history, the purity of the ring shout has changed to evoke and provoke more than was ever intended. A music evolved most often associated with the blues. The blues became “jazz” and “jazz” has so many offshoots that they sometimes have no name except “sound.”  

Broken Partials is a duet between longtime collaborators, pianist Matthew Shipp and bassist Joe Morris.  The recording’s salient focus is how the sound develops from “Broken Partials, One” to “Broken Partials, Eight.” The redundancy of the title describes both the improvised steps that constitute the whole and the infinitely brief hiatuses between and within those steps.

Concision of motion on their instruments clarifies the process that the musicians go through to tell their story, the outcome of which is unknown until the resilient pizzicato on the bass simply ends the recording. The subject of the story that they are both telling is how they play their instruments. Chords counteract sensible sequences of notes that transform from one to another through tremolos, runs, walking lines, arpeggios, ostinatos; snapped, pounded and repeated single notes; and the rare indications of melody.

The tempos may be laid back occasionally but the tempos only become important if it cannot be understood that they are part and parcel of the reason that the music falls into shapes that intersect, run parallel, blend, or split. Tempos and pitch, chord, key, phrase, interaction, separation and understated, underlying rhythm indivisibly define the improvisation. No matter how abstractly the music is explained verbally, words can never equal the abstract beauty of the music as it lends itself to the passing of time.  

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

Awakening, Nicole Mitchell, Delmark, 2011

Touted as the country’s best ‘jazz’ flutist, Nicole Mitchell has really got it going on. In Awakening, she collaborates with her group to give a sprightly, endlessly energetic and sensitive take on her own compositions. She works with Chicago musicians: guitarist Jeff Parker, bassist Harrison Bankhead and drummer Avreeayl Ra.

Mitchell believes in melody, harking back to traditional forms, but she also wants improvisation to infuse her music with freshness. That fact reveals her playfulness and interest in molding mood.

Her fellow players hook right up to her lines. Parker not only strums, but also launches himself into solos that are not foreign appendages to the whole unit’s exploration. He never explodes on his electric guitar; he moves around mellifluously between pizzicatos and chords, a soft, thorough and utter complement to Mitchell’s metallic struts, leaps, flutters, and voice-like 'brrrrrrs' and sirenic 'oooohs.'

Bankhead is a model bassist, holding onto and maximizing harmony with Mitchell's strikingly melodic sequences of high-pitched tones. In fact, the harmonic spaces between the flute, guitar and bass are perfectly poised. After a non-scattered intro, “Journey on a Thread” seems to exemplify the most exploratory of the tracks, highlighted with Bankhead’s popping the strings on his bass in a lengthy well-grounded solo.

“More Than I Can Say” features Parker playing a carefully plotted pizzicato that sets the tide for this slow tempo Latin-inspired piece. Mitchell spins the sound of the flute in the background and Ra interjects rolls on the toms with a persistent cymbal sibilance. Mitchell eventually takes the tune, laden with romanticism, supported in part by the way in which Ra teases the way for Parker’s re-emergence.  Once Parker resumes his fingered line, one can imagine Mitchell listening, off to the side clutching her flute in her arms like a baby until she and Parker come together at the end for the close.

Photo by Lauren Deutsch

Nicole Mitchell married Calvin Gannt in July of 2011. She left Chicago for Long Beach, California. On her September 1, 2011, Facebook page, she wrote this note:

Dear Chicago,

You will always be my home! You've been so generous, so loving, and even kicked my butt when I needed it! I've been squeezed by the heat, the passion and the storms into who I am. You'll always be at my core. I loved being invisible, swallowed up by the crowds full of dreams like myself, and I loved submerging into the sounds of hope and determination that makes Chicago cutting edge. The Iron and concrete, the spirit lake of serenity and aqua blue meditations. The parks and most of all the beautiful people. I've been called away to California. I'm looking forward to more growth and more challenges with my new life. But I hope to always be present and rooted in some way to you, Chi.

Love Nicole

In the title cut of her album, "Awakening," which also concludes the disc, it seems that she projects a feeling through her playing that she is eventually going to broadcast that she will leave her hometown; for at the end of a soft, moderately paced, sometimes melancholy flute song, the flute's sound simply drifts away in a descending slur.

                         

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton


Track listing: Curly Top; Journey on a Thread; Center of the Earth; Snowflakes; Momentum; More Than I Can Say; There; F.O.C.; Awakening.

Out of This World's Distortions, AUM Fidelity, 2011

Farmers By Nature bandleader and drummer Gerald Cleaver wrote the brief liner notes to his group’s record, Out of This World’s Distortions. They begin with this sentence: “Craig, William and I are trying to get to the root of things (no pun intended).”

 

Yet, upon taking another look, one discovers on the album cover itself a photograph of trees and on the inside, underneath the liner notes,  a shadow of the head on a marble statue perhaps of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the wilderness, and, underneath the disc, a panoramic view of tree tops obviously photographed  from the ground.  Roots are implied in these images.  Roots of trees…roots of nature...roots of improvised music…the very origins of growth and development which portend a certain solemn beauty of sound.

The trio of Craig Taborn on piano, William Parker on bass and Cleaver on drums presents a unique statement. The piano gives lightness to the heaviness of Parker and Cleaver’s combined tone that pulls it out of the ground. A strong basis for the music is repetition, no arpeggios and little tendency towards decoration. In other words, this is serious work, as in tilling-the-soil work. 

Delicacy does not escape the stream as is demonstrated in Cleaver’s touch with the mallets to the toms or sticks to the cymbals, and Taborn’s tickling of the treble notes and sturdy phrasing on the piano, or even in Parker’s sure-fingered pizzicato and bowing that draws out a sinewy resilience from the bass strings. The delicacy is not without intention and matches the directness of the rest of the music.

Communicated throughout Out of This World’s Distortions is a sense of onward-ness. There is no stopping the transmission of the straightforward musical message heard in every solo and every thoroughly integrated collaboration among the threesome. The message begins with a quiet celebration of Chicago sax player Fred Anderson, who passed away the day before this album was recorded, and ends with a wave of a march that gradually fades away into the distance in the actual playing, not by means of mastering in the studio.

copyright 2011 Lyn Horton

Track listing: For Fred Anderson; Tait's Traced Traits; Out Of This World's Distortions Grow Aspens And Other Beautiful Things; Sir Snacktray Speaks; Cutting's Gait; Mud, Mapped.

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