I've been thinking about Harry Partch for the past few days. Found this lovely photo this morning, one I'd never before seen. I'd been thinking about sui generis musicians, those who are virtually the sole occupant of their stylistic categories, who though widely revered, have few aesthetic descendants. No one, of course, can be 100% so. Partch had something in common with Lou Harrison, Colin McPhee and of course drew heavily on Southeast Asian and African traditions as well as a smattering of American folk forms and blues. But really, is there anything that sounds remotely like "Delusion of the Fury"? (I don't know--is there?)

His decision, in 1928 iirc, to burn his previous compositional output (he was born in 1901) and to design and construct his own instruments in accord with his own musical conception, of course, went a long way toward this uniqueness. Such a wonderful decision! Should happen more often...Can't help but compare it, in terms of resolution and abandonment of prior "knowledge" to AMM in 1965.

Perhaps as a result of this singular kind of move, you don't hear too much "Partch" in other musicians outside his direct orbit (people like Danlee Mitchell or Dean Drummond which music, in my experience, almost inevitably comes off as a pale imitation. Not bad, but without the pure juiciness of Partch). This might be appropriate though. Someone with a deep appreciation for Partch shouldn't, really, end up producing music that sounds at all like his. They should, though, be as stubborn, expansive and dedicated.

His name doesn't come up as often as it should these days, amongst the eai crowd, doubtless as there's little if any direct connection to post-AMM music, certainly less than the NY School. But Partch and Cage appreciated each other and post-Cageians could learn a thing or two.

Thinking of Partch vis a vis eai, I find myself thinking of Jeph Jerman, realizing I should get around to listening to more of his work. That desert quality....

But any other recommendation in the spirit (somehow) of Partch would be appreciated...

Don't recall if I recounted this before here (I have elsewhere), but the first so-called "loft jazz" event I attended, in May of 1976 at La Mama, though advertised as a Roscoe Mitchell/Malachi Favors duo, turned out to be a Mitchell/Oliver Lake/Phillip Wilson performance, and a memorable one. Mitchell came in first and played about 20 minutes of solo alto. Lake then ambled into the space, took out his curved soprano and joined in for another 15-20 minutes. Then Wilson appeared, set up his drum kit and accompanied the two for another, who knows, half-hour. I had the impression that Mitchell had no idea who, if anyone, would be joining him when he began.

I met Phillip later that year after I'd moved down to NYC and begun working at Environ. He tended to hang out there a good bit and was one of the warmest, most enjoyable people I encountered on the scene. I'd loved his underpinning of Hemphill's band on "The Hard Blues" from "Coon Bid'ness", as well as his work on the recently issued album of Mitchell's, "Old/Quartet". I used to mentally divide musicians into "dry" or "wet" and Wilson was the most liquid of drummers. I think it was a few years later that I realized I'd heard him earlier than I knew at the time: he was drumming with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band when they played Woodstock. In fact, it's a Wilson piece(co-authored with Gene Dinwiddie), "Love March" iirc, that's included on the original recording of the event.

I have a very fond memory of Phillip--I forget the group context but it was at Environ--in the midst of a rather furious solo at a climactic moment, bringing back his right arm to smash at the ride cymbal and stopping about an inch away for just a second or two, then continuing on elsewhere. I don't doubt that it wasn't the first time a drummer had exercised this gambit but it was my first exposure to same. The effect was magical: there was no sound but the sound you expected to hear was nonetheless experienced, if only in your head.

It was fairly obvious that Phillip had substance issues of various kinds. After Environ closed, I saw him around at shows once in a while, generally not looking so well. Still, it was a great shock to learn of the particulars of his violent death in 1992. Very sad. How dispiriting that I'm unable to find even a single photo of him on-line.


Deadline's "Down by Law" (Celluloid, 1985) seems to have been more or less a Wilson project, or as much as such a thing is possible with Laswell in tow. It's essentially an Afro-Beat manqué recording, "updating" the sound with the then-ubiquitous DMX machines, an effect that screams "1985" like no other. Less manqué than it might have been given the presence on three of the six cuts of Manu Dibango. Odd and Laswellian assortment of others including Bernie Worell, Steve Turre, Olu Dara (wielding his great wooden trumpet! Whatever happened to that? Where, for that matter, are all the reed trumpets? Who else aside from Eddie Harris and Rahsaan played them? You'd think they'd be around among all the young eai trumpeters....), Paul Butterfield hisself on harmonica on a track and Jaco on the same cut (I'm pretty sure his only appearance in my collection).

It's dated but kinda fun, The tracks plod a bit--necessarily given the electronic percussion--but they're catchy and funky, none more so than "Makossa Rock", with an insidiously gripping theme and some fine, fine Dara. Laswell produced a tone of things more or less along this line in the 80s; this might be one of the more effective, although in a light manner, the kind of thing you'd be pleasantly surprised to hear at some public function but, upon reflection, wouldn't be so out of place.

Just a bit hard to listen to, thinking about Mr. Wilson and what might have been.

A rare day with no discs waiting around to be heard allows me to delve back into the vinyl, entering the D's.


Malcolm Dalglish/Grey Larsen - Banish Misfortune (June Appal)

Relative to the bulk of my collection, this is an extreme outlier. Not quite sure how I acquired it, in fact, though quite possibly as a gift from my friend Mike Zelie who occasionally plied me with more folk-oriented music (including the first David Grisman album, which also still sounds good). Now, I don't know ass from elbow when it comes to traditional Irish music and, understanding that this is by two young (at the time--1977) Americans, this work still strikes me as really gorgeous, just beautifully rendered tunes.

Dalglish plays hammer dulcimer and sings a little, Larsen wields English Concertina, Anglo Concertina, guitar, flute, tin whistle and recorder. As near as I can tell, they play the pieces straight without pretension (mostly traditional songs here with a few originals) allowing the entirely lovely melodies to speak for themselves; I could listen to the theme from "O'Connell's Lamentation" all day. (Wondering if Klucevsek ever covered any of this material). I think Dalglish, at least, went on to more new-agey fields and I know he scored a Disney animated film.

Not like I don't have enough to keep me occupied but if anyone would care to recommend other things along this line, I'd appreciate it.


I probably first heard Anthony Davis on Leo Smith's "Reflectativity" album on Kabell and shortly thereafter, in the waning days of the loft jazz era ('78-'79), caught him live around town a bunch., sometimes with Chico Freeman's band and one memorable occasion in duo with vibist Jay Hoggard (I think on the same NYU bill as the Jarman/Moye duo). iirc, it was on that date that Davis played several compositions of his, including his beautiful "A Walk through the Shadow", that he'd return to often over the next decade.

Still, "Episteme" came as a shock. I think it had to do somewhat with the sheer precision of the band, that overlay of a classical approach (via minimalism, Lou Harrison, etc.) that you rarely if ever heard among the jazz avant-garde. Plus, short of Don Cherry, you didn't hear allusions to Balinese music very often in the music. And you simply didn't hear these rhythms. Davis struck a balance between genres that was exquisite at the time and hasn't, for my ears, lost more than a pint or two of juice since. This and, even more, the next record to be discussed, established an early high point for Davis, imho, that he never re-attained. Great hearing Reich's violinist of choice, Shem Guibbory here, mixing it up with Davis and George Lewis.

I guess nothing from India Navigation has ever been released on disc? I saw a post somewhere that alleged that when label owner Bob Cummins' died, which he did in 2007, his will stated that all rights would return to the original musicians. Not sure if anything's come of that vis a vis reissuance, In any case, Davis' "Variations in Dream-Time", his finest recording imho, remains generally unavailable and, of course, image-less on-line AFAIK. It's a sextet with Davis, Lewis, Wadud, AkLaff, JD Parran and Rick Rozie, two side long pieces, taking some elements from Episteme (I think there was a string of recordings where he always included "A Walk through the Shadows" in some form), but the rhythms are rawer and more to the fore. And the pieces cohere marvelously, never a dull moment, always rich. To the extent that it's still jazz (arguable) easily one of my top ten jazz albums of the 80s.


The trio with James Newton and Abdul Wadud from 1982 gave some notice as to Davis' inclinations, a fairly dry, neoclassical effort with, on Newton's part, some allusions to shakuhachi. I was wondering if this would open up for me upon re-listen but no, still sounds arid in a similar way that Muhal's excursions into academic areas has always struck me. Very "professional" but anemic.


Though still a fine album, I always pegged "Hemispheres", also recorded in '83, as the beginning of Davis' "slide" toward academe and uptown acceptance. A dance score for the exceedingly athletic Molissa Fenley (I did see this performed once--maybe at BAM?--and she was impressive) and with a cover painting by the sizzling hot art property Francesco Clemente, it was practically begging for crossover status. I sued to think his massive 'fro grew ever more so in inverse proportion to his acceptance by the Lincoln Center crowd, his one overt sign of reluctance.

An expanded Episteme band, with Leo Smith (in great form), Dwight Andrews and vibist David Samuels in tow, they do a rousing version of Davis' "Little Richard's New Wave" and a nice reading of the obligatory "...Shadow" with lovely, drawn-out strings. It's a little too clean though, a bit sandpapered. The rhythms have shifted from Balinese to occasionally clunkier fare; the last piece is an awkward meld of march cadences and attempted funk.


A solo album from 1984. Eh...this is getting difficult. Davis' playing is fine, I guess, but there's a ton of ballast here. [unexpected Erstwhile connection: Earl Howard's "particle W" for piano and tape is played here] Attractive lines then have minutes of filigree appended for no apparent purpose other than to show off his chops. Interesting the distinctions I find myself making in my dotage. I'm pretty sure I'd still derive great enjoyment from hearing, say, Abdullah Ibrahim (better still, Dollar brand) go on one of his inspired rampages, pounding away at the same passage until it was black and blue, largely because of the commitment one senses, the sheer determination to wring out everything he can, plus the South African fundamental that repetition equals importance. I don't get that, at this point, from Davis.

So I'll skip the remaining two LPs, "Undine" and "The Ghost Factory" (the latter I recall already disliking when I first purchased it). Let me know if I'm wrong.

I went to see his opera, "X" at the New York City Opera when it premiered (and have the work on disc). It was a mixed bag, to say the least. Unsurprisingly, the more jazz-based pieces were fine; I think it was a version of the Episteme ensemble in the pit. Or maybe it was that they were fine in relation to the more "classical" writing which was predictably (by this point) tiresome and the vocal stylings, which were harsh and declamatory in the manner of any thousand post-serial contemporary works. Davis was a fine melodist but I get the impression that he was (still is? haven't followed him) overly eager to make an impression on the uptown classical world, the Babbit-ized, Wuorinenian (!) audience who, at least at the time, probably still, viewed downtown with distaste and black people with apprehension unless they come wrapped in NPR gift paper.

Or am I being unfair?

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Addendum: One of the oddities of my LP collection is the presence of only a single Miles Davis album Used to be a couple but somewhere along the line, likely due to an unscrupulous borrowee, I lost my copy of Live at the Plugged Nickel. Still irks me. But as I mentioned some time ago, there were certain musicians in near constant airplay on WKCR, musicians who I didn't feel as obligated to buy their stuff as I did others. Davis was surely one. I remember my friend Corky had, for some reason, a copy of Bitches Brew in '71 or '72, which I listened to at his house and was intrigued by (this is before I heard any jazz, for all intents and purposes) but I guess not enough to pick it up. Within a year or two, I'd heard a ton of Miles on radio, of course largely enjoying it. However, given that by the mid-70s I was thoroughly AACM-ized, I admit to looking askance on "On the Corner" and subsequent funkier offerings (Ahgharta and Pangaea were essentially unavailable stateside, though I loved them when heard on radio). Obviously a mistake, at least to a point (I've still no interest in the 80s material) but I've long since filled out my Miles section with CDs aplenty.

My dad had "Sketches of Spain", which he disliked (didn't swing enough) and which I thought I'd purloined, but apparently not. The sole representative of Mr. Davis is, of all things, "Porgy and Bess", which iirc Linda gave to me long ago. Lovely record! Always meant to listen to more Gil Evans, also only represented by a single LP with me, "Svengali".

Trio Sowari - Shortcut (potlatch)

These fellows (Phil Durrant, Burkhard Beins and Bertrand Denzler) occupy a nice zone within eai, more scratchy than most, more nervous perhaps but never, in my experience, overbearing. They divide things in 13 cuts here, including five brief pieces at the start totaling about 3 1/2 minutes. Beins, the other evening, mentioned something about wanting the disc to unfurl in chapters, beginning with brief flashes, then expanding. Works very well. Hard (for me) to describe without going into more detail than I have tie for. Suffice it to say that Trio Sowari's particular blend is unique, tangy and unfailingly rewarding. Good stuff. potlatch


blanco estira nuestro (+), hermana Helice (Socrates Martinis) (entracte/absurd)

A 45rpm EP, constructed by Martinis, a young fellow I'm otherwise unaware of, using filed recordings and treatments. I know, I know, sounds like more of the same, but it's really good. Not sure of the sources here, but he's apparently done work with far off airplane sounds before and it's possible that resurfaces here. Steady, complex hums and wheezing, very aerated. More violent episodes punctuate parts of the piece ".oeur (S+C)", but generally it cruises along, picking up the odd scrape and enhanced rustle along the way. Nice work. More info here.


Who knew it was already time for an Isolationism revival? Ah, those Dark Ambient days of the early 90s, all threatening, metallic drones, sludgy Laswellian bottom, cavernous echoes, throbbing bass...Well, not much of the latter here, but the general tone brings those times to mind, though perhaps necessarily with less urgency. (btw, remember when AMM was included on that Isolationism double disc put out by Virgin?) The second track here, "Recurring Dream" gets some cool whizzing action going, but overall, the music's occupying a space that I find tough to drum up much interest for. Listeners pining for some 2008 Scorn or Namlook could do worse, though. topheth prophet


Toshiya Tsunoda - The Argyll Recordings (edition.t)

The first release on his own label, this one pretty much defies criticism, but it's....great? Dunno, but I enjoy having it on. Two discs, the first begins with four tracks that alternate between "ground" (presumably some wind, if little else) and grass (mics placed in windswept, tall grass), followed by two done at waterside. I take it Tsunoda employs some degree of manipulation after that fact, but damned if I know what. They're just there, pretty much impermeable to comment. The second disc is split into two equal halves. The first is fantastic, a "wire fence recording", which I gather is just that, in some amount of breeze and other atmospheres; sounds wonderful. The second half is a simple 440hz sine wave; each lasts about 27 minutes. I admit to being baffled as to the opposed parts. I guess one could imagine a kind of diptych where the left half is a rendering of some scene, the right a slab of pure color, though I can't quite understand why one would do so apart from attempting to prove some basic equivalency, kind of a humdrum idea. Anyone who has thoughts on this piece, please advise.

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Tilbury's Cardew biography is finally in hand as of last evening. Only read through the acknowledgment and preface thus far, slavering for the rest. John's very formal in these portions, very much the genteel, polite individual, very much how he is in person. So, now I have my benchmark (*gulp*). Just give me a quarter-century....

On a lighter note, I'm having a ball reading Shalom Auslander's "Foreskin's Lament", a memoir about growing up in an Orthodox Jewish community in the 70s and 80s and subsequent trying to break free. Exceedingly funny and biting.

[photo: Yuko Zama]


Went to Listen Space in Williamsburg on Saturday, a nice, new-looking white room, for three sets of music. First up, Tucker Dulin (trombone) & Barry Weisblat (electronics). I'm partial to Barry's science experiment approach; it rarely gets too dry for me. His manipulation of small fluorescent tubes and (I'm guessing), their barely controllable reaction with the surrounding devices is fascinating on its own, for me. Whether it integrates with a musical cohort can be another matter and here, Dulin's trombone playing didn't do anything for me, a routine selection of extended techniques, often drone-oriented. Overall, not so satisfying except to the extent I concentrated on Barry's activity.

Dave Barnes and Richard Kamerman up next, the most enjoyable, engaging and thoughtful set of the night. Very difficult (for me) to really grasp while in progress, all to their credit. Kamerman takes the interesting tack of powering his equipment via small batteries and, indeed, makes the act of hooking them to his devices part of the performance. One of the things I most enjoyed was his habit of being matter-of-fact in the transparency of what he was doing. When he placed a metal plate on the board he used as a table, intended as a resonating surface for subsequent activity, the thwack of its placement was just as much a part of the sound. Taking more than a cue or two from Taku Unami, he placed one end of a metal rod on a vibrating engine (?) allowing the opposite end to caper over the board or metal, buzzing about under varying degrees of control. Vibrating surfaces of one kind or another made up the bulk of his goings on and provided something of a visual focus, enough so that Barnes' equally interesting noises, generated from a small mixing board, were too easy to lose track of; better to appreciate with eyes closed, probably. Either way, the music was spare and uncompromising, building "meaning" as it progressed, so when they stopped, I oddly had more understanding of the set as an entity than I had while it was occurring, a rare enough experience and a happy one. Good stuff.

Last up was the trio of Mike Bullock (bass, electronics), Jonathan Zorn (computer) and Bonnie Jones (open circuit electronics). I like Bullock's work that I've heard recently; he's a fine listener and an imaginative player. I enjoy Bonnie's work that I've heard, in its unusual combination of subtlety and rawness. But both of them were cast into somewhat hopeless roles due to Zorn's playing. He was apparently using a program called "supercollider" but whatever, there was no excuse for the kind of banal, ray-gun, bloopy sounds it emitted more often than not, making it all but impossible to listen to Bullock and Jones (which I nonetheless attempted to do). Really baffling, the level of insensitivity at play. Several times, they coalesced into very attractive zones, including the last several minutes, only to have Zorn inject some silly sound. (And no, I didn't get the impression that there was some kind of John White inference). Frustrating.

But these days, one outta three ain't bad.

Full, tiring day yesterday.

Went to the Metropolitan with Carol to see the fantastic Giorgio Morandi show. If anything, it's too large as Morandi's silvery, pearly whites and browns, not to mention his exceedingly subtle placement of objects, need to be viewed at leisure. Still, certain paintings stood out and it was enough to try to concentrate on those for a few minutes in the jostling crowd. More than anything, I was wowed by the late watercolors from the early 60s. Just amazing, like miniature Rothko's. Not too much on-line I could locate, but here's another:



Museum- or gallery-going is one of the worst things for my legs. The standing around and slow moving does a number on my lower muscles. But after the Met, we walked through the park and I helped Carol with some food shopping. Then, after we parted, I went and saw "Tell No One" across from Lincoln Center, a decent if slightly slick French thriller.

From there it was out to Issue Project Room in Brooklyn to see Polwechsel. After getting more lost than I've ever been in NYC and wandering around for over an hour (don't ask), my legs were threatening to depart my hips. But I finally got there, still before the show began. It was a short set and, given my state, I wasn't complaining. Three pieces, the first and third improvs, the middle by Martin Brandlmayr. The first two were fairly pointillist, sparse events generally using one extended technique or another, sometimes overly dry for my taste, occasionally coalescing into very beautiful segments. On the final work, they loosened up a bit, playing rather loudly and maybe taking a step toward efi, but I actually preferred this approach. I did find my attention being drawn by the percussionists, Brandlmayr with his absurd level of precision and Beins so imaginative and earthy in sound generation. Overall, OK, had its moments.

Nice to see some faces that I hadn't seen for a while, including Margarida Garcia and Mattin and very nice to meet Esther Venrooy.

Kassel Jaeger - ee[nd] (Mystery Sea)

I'm given to understand that there's no such person as "Kassel Jaeger", that it's a pseudonym of a sound engineer who works at the GRM studios. Whatever. This is a fantastic disc, swimming in lush, creaky, wet, shivery, extraordinarily dense matrices of sound, constructed in broad slabs with little narrative arc, as though sliced from a much larger "loaf". The last track in particular, "infra", is exceptionally strong, a wooly, bracing ride that leaves bruises. Limited to 100 copies at mystery sea


Christopher McFall - This Heat Holds Snow (Mystery Sea)

In several senses, not so dissimilar from the Jaeger, but both subtler and a tad less immediately engaging but probably as ultimately potent. McFall has released several strong discs in recent years and this one fits in well, utilizing field recordings with who-knows-what else, forming bleak, windswept soundscapes that might not immediately wow, but steadily work their way under one's skin. Another very good recording from McFall. Also limited to 100 copies at mystery sea

Michael Rodgers - curtained moon (black petal)

[if an image exists of this release, I canna find it]

From what I've heard of his work in the last couple of years, Rodgers has been moving in an increasingly tonal, "traditional" direction. What's interesting is that this move, obviously, is informed by the more overtly avant music he'd earlier created. That influence is more subtle than it is overt; the casual listener will pick up more Robbie Basho than Rowe but that, of course, is fine. For all that Rodgers allows the street sounds of London to seep in around the edges and sometimes dominate, the music has more affinity with late Fahey than anything else. Rodgers has his own melodic conception though, one that's very enchanting--even sweet--, very personal and altogether very tasty. black petal

Finally, after a number of years waiting to do so, I've seen Bela Tarr's "Sátántangó" (in three Netflix installments, spaced over a month, interrupted by vacation). It was worth the wait.

On a purely formal level, I'm not sure there's a single shot over seven hours I wouldn't be happy to gaze at for seven more. Just one unbelievably rich, gorgeously constructed image after another. Partly the sheer quality of the black and white film, partly his tendency to deal with depth by having everything in focus (allowing the viewer to shift his/her gaze round much as one does in reality), partly his unerring compositional genius, often using symmetrical shots (like the long, straight roads perspectivally attenuating into the distance) as a kind of continuo, a pedal point anchoring the others. Within almost every shot, there are dozens of elements which, themselves, contain tons of fascinating detail and, consequently, imply an enormous history. The town is like a depository of time.

The sound is also incredible; the musical interludes are fine but more the actual groans, shuffles and spatter of the environment.

And, of course, the people. Opaque on the one hand but mostly due to the grime and oppression of centuries, believing to one degree or another in their autonomy, but still essentially pawns. The sheer stolidness, but with a glimmer here and there. The awful, virtually alien Estike.

Amazing film. Jon, I know it's one of your favorites (maybe your #1) and I think I remember you gearing up a while back to watch it through it a sitting. Did that ever happen? I was picking up quite a few in-movie echoes but likely missed some due to the time span over which I watched. I'll certainly be buying the set for myself sometime soon. I can easily imagine viewing it on at least a yearly basis.

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New arrivals:

Michael Rodgers, solo disco on Black Petal
Christopher McFall - This Heat Holds Snow
Kassel Jaeger - [ee[nd]]
Marcel Duchamp - Complete Music (SEM Ensemble)
Roscoe Mitchell - Nonaah
Teiji Ito - Watermill

And three more...


The Epicureans (David Gross/Saxophone, Ricardo Donoso/Drums, Ryan McGuire/Bass) - Introducing the Epicureans (Semata)

Annoying group name (a play on the fine film, The Aristocrats?), seriously irritating track titles ("Scum of the Earth" [what, Zorn circa 1988?] & "Not Produced by John Cale but Don't You Wish It Was" [erm, no]), Not my cuppa, too itchy and scratchy, but it does work well enough on its own terms; it fills the canvas as we used to say in art school, and does so efficiently. At its best when soft, though the trio runs the gamut.


Greg Kelley - Self-Hate Index (Semata)

First solo Kelley in a little while, I think pretty much unmodified (not that it's important but, if so, I've no idea how he does certain things). I'm pretty sure the first track, for instance, was achieved by attaching a contact mic to a horsefly while it was being tortured by a small child. Kelley ranges from delicacy to extreme noise here, as usual my favorites being when the former is more in play. The second track, "These are distractions", is particularly gorgeous as it navigates from abstraction to pure tones. Nice record. semata


Katsura Yamauchi - Houri (Salmo Fishing)

Odd. Yamauchi overdubs himself on sopranino, soprano, alto and baritone saxophones, between two and six reeds per track (18 of them, usually fairly short). It's very tame, kinda like WSQ at its most clean and polite, sometimes referencing Rahsaan, more often having a certain European sound, even particularly a Dutch one, hearkening to Breuker, ICP, etc. Strangely un-Asian except for a cut or two including one ("Chikushi") which seems directly derived from Korean hojok music. The other good cut is an 8-minute improvisation which is a fine confluence of soft sounds, drones and key pops. Overall, though, pleasant but bland. Available from erstdist

Some brief-ish notes...


Joel Stern - objects.masks.props (naturestrip)

Like some Southeast Asian fever dream, Stern's constructions throb, mutate and insinuate themselves under your skin. Wielding a range of sound sources from rabid dogs to accordion to dirt, skirting the ground between noise and melody, he comes up with a really fun recording and a couple of stellar tracks ("Dead Lakes" and the closing "Fortitude End", for me). Different from what I've heard from Stern before (which I've generally liked a bunch) and very enjoyable.


Loren Chasse - the footpath (naturestrip)

Evaluating field recording-based releases is always problematic. For me, it's often a matter of how evocative the sounds are, how they cause the natural sounds to resonate a bit differnetly than I might hear them or how they're placed in relation to one another or within one antoher...gets fuzzy pretty quickly, you see. Chasse's constructions here are fine, though they lacked the kind of magic I've encountered in, say, Tsunoda. Might require closer listening on my part, however, as I get the feeling I may be missing some relationships between the sounds. As is, there's one track I really enjoy (the fourth, possibly titled--hard to say for sure--"What caused my footfall..."). Curious to get others' opinions. naturestrip

And, via Lebanon:



Mawja (Michael Bullock/Mazen Kerbaj/Vic Rawlings) Studio One (Al Maslakh)

A solid, fairly quiet improv session from 2005 with a couple of real outstanding tracks, happily the longest ones, very fine pieces that more than hold their own with the slightest elements. Good job, a nice one to pair with the Feeney/Rawlings disc on Sedimental.


Christine Sehnaoui/Michel Waisvisz - Shortwave (Al Maslakh)

Altoist Sehnaoui join the late Waisvisz (here playing his own invention, "the hands" (sensors attached to his fingers, movement of which activates sounds) for five improvisations from 2006. My first encounter with Sehnaoui and, going from this, like many saxophinists venturing into this field, her music is better the more restrained it is, as in cut two, "Preciously Empty", which, as in the previous disc, is both lengthy (17 min) and true to its title. Nice dronage on the final cut as well. Elsewhere they (well, more Waisvisz than Sehnaoui) get a bit too gurglingly gabby for my taste but given that's likely their aim, they comport themselves rather ably.


Stephane Rives - Much Remains to be Heard (Al Maslakh)

When last heard from in a solo context, Rives was turning his conceptual microscope on small slivers of sound capability within his soprano. Well, he appears to have increased the magnification a hundred fold or so, now concentrating on the molecular level. A single piece (with several substantial silences), Rives begins with very high, sinelike tones, not all that far from a Sachiko performance and gradully fans out into adjacent clusters. There are times when it perhaps falls on the "science experiment" side of things, but then, on a few occasions, you suddenly find yourself amidst great and unusual beauty. Once about midway through, before you know it, there are four or five things occurring in a complex weave. Later, a low throb does odd things to one's ears. Very dense, tough stuff. Again, something I'd love to have heard live, to experience these sounds in a live space, but...Fine work. Rives remains the one saxophonist I'm most interested in hearing these days. al maslakh

5 Modules V - Ryu Hankil/Choi Joonyong/Hong Chulki (Manual)

For the final entry in this generally excellent series, we're presented with three compositions, one from each participant (Ryu/clockworks, Choi/CD player, Hong/turntables). "Musicboxxx" involves all sorts of mechanical rhythms, sounding a bit like the archetypal clock factory at noon, the layers of regularly paced clatter interspersed with enamel-fracturing squeaks. Not what I wuold've expected, but oddly enjoyable. "Pieces" continues this rather surprising rhythmic obsession but in a less regular, monolithic manner, aflutter with beats of various timbres and speeds, none overtly related to one another, before breaking down into a slightly more chaotic mix, still rhythmic but less regular. A silence, further dissolution of pace. A silence, a blip. Nice work. The last track, "Feedback ring for three electric players", contains rhythm as well, though at the onset it's far more subtle and elastic, as swatches of feedback emerge and recede amidst static and clangor. Eventually, the delicate quasi-rhythm of a small, hard object being swirled about in a metallic bowl is heard, soon overcome by feedback drone and a muted alarm clock buzzer. Strong piece, my favorite of the disc.

The above was written before viewing the composition notes (here). Interesting, especially with regard to the second piece and my perception of dissolution. Considering where this series began, with some extremely fine and adventurous music situated at the hyper-spare end of the spectrum, the final installment is surprising but no less fascinating and forward-looking. Recommended!


Lee Hangjun/Hong Chulki - Expanded Celluloid Extended Phonograph (Balloon + Needle)

Two videos by Lee Hangjun with sound by Hong Chulki (turntables) plus an extra live performance.

Both of Lee's videos use a similar format: twinned screens displaying generally abstract imagery (though often infiltrated by footage from various sources) based on film stock that appears to have been treated chemically including, one guesses, by "natural" processes like heat, elemental exposure, maybe biological growth) then reprocessed digitally. The film origin manifests in that upward movement I've mentioned before, something I find a little distracting. The images are usually formally related to each other, at least by a like corroded quality, occasionally more directly via reflected, out-of-phase use of the same image. The overall tone is in the brown/ocher range with flashes of other colors and sometimes opposition of, say, bluish and flame orange aspects of otherwise similar footage (very effective). There's an enormous sense of speed enhanced by Hong's brutalist turntable, especially in the first piece, "The Cracked Share" (think Yoshihide at his most violent); Hong's work is pretty great throughout. The second piece, "Metaphysics of Sound", is somewhat more contemplative, the imagery revolving around film sprocket holes, Hong using actual records as a prime sound source (how old-fashioned! ;-)) and perhaps all the more effective for pulling back a tad.

Do I like it? Well, yes but most often when I'mm able to really immerse myself, something difficult to do via TV screen. Imagining the works performed in a larger room, the images projected on walls (perhaps being run in duplicate so one is surrounded), I think it would be quite the experience. The supplemental track gives hints of just that and, again to the extent you can place yourself in situ, it appears pretty fantastic.

balloon + needle

Both discs available stateside from erstdist

Partially to assuage the distaste of those regular readers towards the Curran and Cuypers pix, but mostly because I'm utterly enjoying wallowing in this. Been listening to The Inexahustible Document several times over the past few days. Always loved it, of course, but wallowing in the sucker is almost too pleasurable.

It appeared about three years after AMM's previous release, "Combine + Laminates" (Treatise '84 being appended for the CD reissue) and was the first recorded example of the trio playing with a guest, Rohan de Saram. Hard to say whether it was de Saram's presence (or simply the fact of four musicians) or a leap in the intervening years (or both), but at least as far as recorded material goes, this was the first time all the dross accumulated from the 70s diaspora (Amalgam and PLO in Rowe's case, Prevost/Gare, Supersession, the Japo release) has been entirely shed. I'd been interested in listening to C+L and Generative Themes how the vestiges of those approaches could still be picked up; not throughout, but often enough. As a complete document, this is the first time in some 15 or more years AMM attained the kind of "heights" they achieved in the late 60s (The Crypt), although oriented in another direction entirely, one much more attuned to contemporary classical (not just due to de Saram). His work here, relatively conservative though it is in terms of technique and an often near-Romantic approach, also seems to free Tilbury to investigate deeper, darker areas. As much as Prevost reins in his jazzier tendency--which he does magnificently here--Rowe's just astonishing in his reticence, really signalling toward later concerns. Great, great stuff.

As relaxing and, consequently, work-inducing as it is out here in Montauk, half of me is missing being in Japan for the Amplify fest which, per reports on IHM and a couple of mails from Keith, seems to have resulted in some rather good music thus far.

Alvin Curran - For Cornelius/Era Ora (New Albion)

I'm not hugely knowledgeable about Curran's oeuvre; I have a few discs and, of course, know his work with MEV but, that said, this is my favorite, especially Side One. Two pieces for piano, the first for Cardew (played here by Ursula Oppens), written immediately after his death in 1981. A central section of whirling, cloudy minimalism recalls Charlemagne Palestine more than Cardew but is still effective. Bracketing it, however, are two stunning...elegies? Somber, graceful, moving music evoking huge loss. It's very "straight", not in essence too different than, say, a Satie Nocturne. I often find myself wondering if I give too much credit for contemporary works like this, whether composing such is "too easy" for anyone worth his/her salt. I don't think so, given the number of quasi-similar, awful, smarmy pieces one stumbles across, but the possibility gnaws at me a bit. (I think about that with Skempton sometimes as well, but usually brush aside such absurd notions!)

"Era Ora", for two pianists (Oppens and Rzewski), is a more frenetic, precise kind of minimalism; it actually sounds at times a little like the strains Jarrett used to get into in his improvisations in the 70s, just continually beating down one area of the keyboard. It closes with another soft, pensive section, a raindrop-y theme, again quite beautiful.

Not sure of its current availability (no images of this LP cover, natch), but well worth hearing.


When I first heard the Willem Breuker Kollektief, the first notes I actually encountered were courtesy of pianist Leo Cuypers, the opening chords to the piece "Ouverture, 'La Plagiata'". I've long felt that, despite Henk de Jonge's steely technical ability, the Kollektief lost a vital component when Cuypers left, a liquidity of style, a kind of eeliness, after which the band was never quite the same (despite some excellent recordings early in de Jonge's tenure). Cuypers was one of those players just dripping with musicality, who never lacked for lyricism no matter how outside he went. My understanding was a drinking problem led to his ouster; hopefully he's doing better these days.

I have three LPs under Cuypers' name (though arguably his best, 'Zeeland Suite', I have on a CD burn;). "Theatre Music" (BVHaast 017), from 1977 features a trio on Side One (with Arjen Gorter and Martin van Duynhoven), Breuker joining the group on the second. Cuypers' compositions are typical from this period, lilting, hyper-melodic riffs that probably owe a bit to Jarrett but, imho, are the equal of the latter's pieces from the mid-70s. "G.L.T." sounds like the best piece Dave Brubeck never wrote. Very pretty recording.

"In Amsterdam" (BVHaast 028) is a pleasant solo recital from 1979, pretty enough at some points to be heard as good mainstream film music. Maybe a smidgen of Abdullah Ibrahim influence in here. Not that it's my favorite area of music by any means these days, but I'd love to hear Cuypers come in and play a local jazz haunt, downtown NYC; he'd probably be quite the sensation...

Neither of the above have ever been issued to disc, to the best of my knowledge (no cover images either), so good luck finding them, but that's not the case with:


Those cover photos always crack me up.

Reissued by Atavistic a few years ago, very enjoyable date, Breuker in excellent form, Bennink in full swing mode and Gorter just so strong. Again, far more imagination and joy--while sticking pretty closely to a melodic jazz form--than heard from any number of far better known players.


Andrew Cyrille/Milford Graves - Dialogue of the Drums (IPS)

Man, can't believe there's no image on-line of this one. Ridiculous. Well, it is something of a rarity, as I understand it. A live recording from 1974, performed at Columbia University, never, I don't think, released on disc. A pretty great show, Cyrille and Graves playing a few dozen instruments including, in the former's case, his own skin. Wonderful call and response with the audience toward the end, vocally and percussively. I think, at the time I first heard this ('75 or so), I might have felt it was "too earthy", the yowls and grunts perhaps making me a bit uncomfortable. It does sometimes verge on the sort of quasi-mystical nonsense you get at your random Viz Fest but somehow, happily, never gets there. I imagine because Cyrille and Graves believed more strongly in the completeness of what they were about than many musicians these days. Just guessing, though. "The soul is the music!"



So, I've made it through the C's in my LP collection. Only took a couple of years...

As of Friday, we'll be in Montauk for a couple of weeks, me writing, reading and relaxing. Not sure if we'll have connectivity; if not, see everyone at the end of the month.

Vacation reading:

Umberto Eco - Turning Back the Clock
Will Self - The Book of Dave

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Damn, just saw that Esther Venrooy and Heleen Van Haegenborgh are going to be performing at Roulette on the 26th, the day I get back. Hope I can make it...

Keith Rowe/Seymour Wright -3D (w.m.o/r)

It's an issue, of course, that arises all the time but for myself a little more so in the past few weeks while I was dealing with the Capece DVDs--the necessary inaccuracy of a given capture of a performance that acknowledges the space within which it occurs. In that, I suppose, the majority of recorded eai discs are essentially live performances and generally of a subtle nature, this problem can be especially thorny. So it was a nice happenstance that I received this set the other day which contains three recordings from different vantage points within the concert space, using different equipment, of an event created by Rowe and Wright in Derby, 2002.

The music itself is pretty fine, Rowe in kind of post-Weather Sky mode. I'm much less familiar with Wright's history but here, he seems to travel between blown and percussive/rubbed sounds on his alto. It would take many more comparative listens to determine what's missing in one version, what's heard in another and, in all honesty, I doubt I'll get to that level of interrogation. There are salient "events" easily picked out of the sea of abstraction and I guess one could isolate them, play them back to back, note the variations, but someone else, not me.

What I can do, however, and am indeed doing as I type this, is play all three simultaneously. It so happens I have three CD-playing devices in my room: the stereo, the PC and the XBox and while the latter two aren't by any means ideal, it's worth a go. I noticed the total time varied somewhat so precise syncing seemed a fool's errand and, besides, I'm not so much interested in that as in constructing a "blurred" performance, so I just began them within 15 or so seconds of each other and am sitting back and enjoying the result. Since my stereo speakers are to the rear and the other two in front of me, I automatically get a spatial effect I don't in routine listening. Plus, it seems the events of the concert are enough out of sync that there's no real echo effect, rather gaps of 30-40 seconds between recognizable episodes. Sounds great, actually! Hard to imagine, now, listening to it otherwise. (Coincidentally, I played Terry Riley's "You're No Good" at Record Club this past week, so I have that quasi-similar experiment kicking around in the noodle as well. I was also reminded of the set Mattin did with Malfatti at Tonic a couple years back where he recorded audience sound, playing it back some minutes later, enough time having elapsed that one's recollection of a given cough or chair squeak was slightly uncertain). Just now, some 23 minutes in, Wright lets loose with four relatively clear honks; they made it from XBox to PC to stereo in about a minute, the way the discs are staggered and did, in fact, sound remarkably different in tone, richness, etc. (allowing, to be sure, for the relative deficiencies of my own playback equipment) When Wright begins (I'm assuming) jangling metal objects against his horn or within its bell, the immersive, shimmering effect is quite ticklish!

In that it's on w.m.o/r, you can readily try this yourself (or not), via free download here. I highly recommend doing so and, if you have the means, experiencing the three discs more or less at once. Very rewarding and refreshing.

Lucio Capece/Sergio Merce – Casa (Organized Music from Thessaloniki)

Over the last few years, Capece has become one of the musicians I most look forward to hearing, largely because of the fact that he seems to approach each project with several specific, wide-ranging and imaginative ideas. There’s always something going on in addition to two or more people simply sitting down and playing, as rewarding as that may be. Lucio was kind enough to recently send me four DVDs of performances in which he was involved over the last year and, while he’d prefer they not be “reviewed”, I’ll just say that each was extremely impressive in a different way and strongly whetted my appetite to hear/see more.

On ‘Casa’, he’s joined by fellow Argentinean Sergio Merce (a new name to me) for two forceful though serene pieces. On the first and longest, “Virar, virar”, Capece plays the sruti box (augmented with an electronic filter), a kind of portable squeezebox which I imagine is capable of a couple of octaves but which he lets abide in a fairly constant drone for the first half of the 30-minute work, what changes occur doing so via the filter. Merce manipulates a “four track portastudio without tape”, sounds generated via direct interaction with the instrument’s surface and use of its equalizers. The reedy sound of the sruti, wonderful in and of itself, acts as an absorbent cushion for all the prickly, clattering and whirring noises created by Merce. Midway through, they very slightly shift gears, Capece, while maintaining the drone, allowing it to mutate and phase in a more agitated manner, Merce at the same time apparently coaxing smoother sounds from his portastudio, resulting in the piece wandering into territory that, had he maintained his genius, Terry Riley might be investigating today. Beautiful work.

The remaining cut is a 7 ½ minute duet for bass clarinet (Capece) and tenor saxophone (Merce). Its structure (it seems to have been “composed”) is simple but very effective: Synchronous held tones, always softly played but not quite edging into full breathiness, held for 15-20 seconds with three or four seconds of silence between. The result has a certain loose regularity of pulse, but each “pool” is varied so one has the sense of experiencing natural phenomena, like a series of strata in limestone. Recalled Roscoe Mitchell’s wonderful “Tnoona” at points. Very moving in its concision and its poetic overtones.

Excellent recording, hear it! organized music from thessaloniki


SLW – SLW (Formed)

A veritable eai super-group with Burkhard Beins, the omnipresent Lucio Capece, Toshi Nakamura and Rhodri Davies (why SLW? No idea.) One improvisation, about 56 minutes. The first couple of times I listened, not too much was really grabbing me. It seemed to fall on the wrong side of that ephemeral line between haphazard and random (the latter being somehow more interesting). Not unlistenable, of course—not likely with these four—but a bit routine, a bit without any reason for being I could grasp. Several listens later, I’m still not entirely sold, though there are certainly parts that cohere beautifully, even if it’s only because of the introduction, for example, of throbbing low tones some 25 minutes in. Sometimes I think such deep pulse are the grooves of eai and feel a bit guilty about readily succumbing to them…From that point until the close, SLW holds my interest but I’ve yet to be as knocked out as I might have hoped. I hold out the sizable possibility that I’m missing something, though. formed


Vorwolf – Snake’s Eye (Formed)

I’m all for percussion duos. Something about the configuration triggers some excitement hairs, more so when it’s obvious we’re not talking battle royale thrash-outs, though the sumo imagery and track titles references gave me pause here. Vorwolf, as one might suspect, comprises Michael Vorfeld and Christian Wolfarth, I believe engaged in an entirely acoustic pursuit on this occasion. Far more rubbing and bowing than tapping, the pair is capable of generating some rich, expansive work as on “Illegal Technique” and several other tracks. It’s one of those recordings where I really feel I’m missing something not being in the performance room, able to move about and bathe in the sounds. I think I might have preferred longer pieces rather than the seven mid-length cuts here but, as is, it’s still solid and enjoyable. formed

Just a brief mention that, a couple weeks back, I happened across a copy of Bernhard Gál's "Installations/Installationen, a catalog of his work covering sound and light installations from the past decade. Fascinating, imaginative pieces for the most part, as near as one can tell without actually experiencing them. There's a CD enclosed with 19 tracks from various set-ups, many of which work just fine as aural art. The above image is from Klangbojen, wherein eight sound/light objects are set afloat in a lake, emitting synthetic and field-recorded sounds as well as light patterns.

Worth looking into if it's in your aesthetic bailiwick. Amazon link to what I imagine is the purely English edition (? different cover than mine, which has the image above).

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Reading:

Rick Moody - Right Livelihoods (just finished--three good novellas)

Natsume Soseki - Kokoro

I go into music/video events with a certain amount of trepidation. For myself, the success rate has been fairly low, generally on the video part as I'm probably far more critical of visual art than of musical and, with regard to video, having seen my share since the art-form blossomed in the early 70s, a large percentage of what I've encountered has struck me as stale, shallow and gimmicky.

Last evening was a happy exception, a performance at Issue Project Room by Brendan Murray, Asher and Richard Garet. The show was presented in two halves, the first three duos by (in music/video order) Murray/Garet, Asher/Garet, Garet/Asher, the latter a sound performance by all three.

While the trio set was fine, a thick matrix of steady state sound ranging from tonal drones to noisier elements, it was the duos that I went home thinking about. I had little idea what to expect from Garet, though what I'd seen of his visual work seemed centered around geometric abstraction in luminous colors. What was presented last night showed a far wider field. The first video stemmed from a 16mm source, which film had been marked and painted in various ways then processed via computer onto a DVD then reprocessed live (if I have this all straight, which I might well not). The images had that "upward" movement betraying its celluloid source, all abstract splotches and lines, the colors varying quite a bit, tending toward combinations that might loosely be described as psychedelic (ie, chartreuse and purple). This isn't my favorite sub-genre of video but by virtue of sitting rather close, the image's large size (projected on a screen some 8 x 12 feet) and the reflection of same off the white walls to either side, I was able to lose myself in it without much difficulty, especially when the video blurred somewhat. I did find that the video overpowered Murray's music which was dark and brooding and likely fine on its own but I had trouble melding it with the images and ended up more watching than listening. (Balancing these senses, I find, can engender some difficulty and, obviously, may be more my problem than that of the performers).

Gears were drastically shifted for the second piece. I've long held the general view that, in music/video works, extreme abstract/concrete poles often serve the form well. That is, the more abstract the music, the more "realist" (in conventional terms) the video, and vice versa. Not always the case by any means (see the glorious Block/Encoder/Gibson DVD recently discussed) but more often than not. Here, the images were from black and white footage shot by Garet from a helicopter over a particularly raw and rugged stretch of glacial territory in Alaska. The camera never caught the horizon line, lending a delicious confusion between the brutal realism of the images and the abstract patterns they'd create; it was almost impossible to get a sense of scale, for instance, due to the fractal nature of the barren cliff-sides. Garet processed this film on the fly, contributing flickers (both "black" and "white", if I'm not mistaken) and a kind of horizontal smearing that evoked Richter. These effects didn't overly distort the image, rather imparting a dreamlike aspect to it, or one of a decaying memory. Beautifully done, in any case. Asher's music was softer, with subdued bell-like tones. As I've said in the past with regard to some of his work, I'm reminded of Eno circa "On Land" once in a while, and was so here, especially given the video. All to his benefit though, as this was richer and deeper. Garet's website, btw, can be found here

Still, it was the final work that really stuck with me. I hadn't heard Garet's music before and you can roughly place it (or at least what was played last night) in an area adjacent to Murray's and Asher's, that is, a rich steady-state zone where sound is constant though fluctuating. He sourced BART subways for one element and you could discern train rumblings in much of the piece; it was excellent work. The video by Asher was a piece from several years prior. It consisted of five or six "scenes", each lasting a few minutes, of an elevated highway shot from a fixed position camera, often on a divider mid-road. The views were beautifully composed, with something of a wide angle, recalling (to me) Rackstraw Downes' painting. They were shot, apparently, at either dusk or dawn in somewhat foggy weather (in b&w), the streets wet, the traffic occasional (It looked like could almost be part of the BQE, though there's never that little amount of traffic). The shots emphasized the wide sweep of the off-ramps and the different levels of the roadbeds. Headlights would appear fuzzily in the distance before arcing by. They had an everyday eeriness and calm beauty that would serve Lynch well, or even Tarr; I could've watched them for hours. Here, to a greater degree than with the prior offerings, the music and film meshed perfectly, each balancing the other, allowing one to experience them as a unity. One of the finest live sets I've encountered recently; love to see/hear on disc.

Thanks, gentlemen.

Went to see Magda Mayas and Andy Moor at Issue Project Room last evening. I'd heard Mayas ins a couple of group contexts, most recently with Michal Renkel in phono_phono, I think, had enjoyed what I could pick out of her playing and knew she was working with Annette Krebs.

She performed on an upright piano that had both faceboards, upper and lower, removed as well as having been prepared in numerous ways (non-electric) and attacked it with various implements, giving a three-level visual sense ranging from standing to sitting to crouching. Moor (of The Ex) played electric guitar.

Much of the music straddled that oft uncomfortable borderline between eai and efi. Moor was often in post-Bailey mode, reminding me once again how tough that area really is and how generally fruitless it turns out for anyone not named Derek Bailey. As is often the case, the more tonally oriented Moor became, the better the music; some musicians simply aren't suited for high levels of abstraction and there's nothing wrong with that. When he reined himself in somewhat, things bubbled along rather well.

Still, it was Mayas' work that stood out and held things together. She seems to be one of those whose touch retains musicality no matter how far afield she roams. IF anything, I wished she stayed with a given approach longer than she often did instead of switching back and forth (see comments on percussionists in the Cooper post below), but she had some stabilizing motifs, small chunks of sound that she'd go back to periodically, forming a nice linkage between sections. Near the beginning they got into a percolating, carbonated groove-let that was giddily enjoyable though when they veered toward the overtly brutal, usually courtesy Moor, the music stumbled. There were some individually striking moments, as when Mayas strummed certain strings and generated a sound astonishingly like a harmonica, which result, when combined with some tangentially bluesy playing from Moor, was eerily evocative.

As the set went on, Moor settled down from his skronkier moments and the last couple of sections grew very ethereal and quite lovely. I'd like to hear more of Mayas on her own (or with a more interesting partner--Krebs would certainly do--but maybe someone like Dorner) but it was fine to hear this much for now.

I haven't read the literature but I'm generally aware that the relationship between the olfactory sense and memory/nostalgia has been established as a phenomenon though whether or not its neurological basis is known, I've no idea. It's uncanny enough how a whiff of something can instantly transport oneself back decades to a specific place and time. I'm wondering if the locales thus visited tend to cluster around one's adolescence; I'm guessing that's the case. With myself, aside from smelleportation, I also experience a somewhat more specific occurrence when listening to the pop or rock that transfixed me as an early teen.

A few years ago, I was up in Poughkeepsie and my Dad mentioned that, while cleaning in the basement, he'd found some old vinyl of mine. I was a little surprised as I thought it'd all been traded in but I guess my brother Glen took a bunch before they disappeared and saved them. There were only a handful, including my Doors collection, which I couldn't quite work up the interest to give a re-listen so declined to take them. But also on hand was Cream's 'Wheels of Fire'. "Hmmm", muses I, "Wonder how this would sound to me today?" I had a soft place for it in my heart as it was the first Double-LP I ever owned, plus I'd liked enough of Bruce's and Baker's subsequent work (hated most of Clapton's) to pique my curiosity.

On the strictly musical front, my relative likes had flip-flopped since first hearing this at about 14. Now, the long, bluesy things sounded half-decent (not compared to their sources, of course, but in and of themselves) whereas much of the shorter, song-oriented material struck me as dated; not all, but most. Overall, it's still rather fun to hear.

However, those shorter songs, "As You Said", "Deserted Cities of the Heart", "White Room", plunged me right back to 1968 to a specific scene: lying on my bed, listening to Cream while immersed in Marvel comics. This is a really common reaction I get with music from this period: Rock music and Marvel. I can't imagine the number of hours I spent in that situation, reading and listening. Not very different from what I do now, to be sure so I'm guessing it has something to do with acquiring certain kinds of knowledge at a certain point in one's development, things that will turn out to be crucial building blocks for future areas of fascination. Comics (we're talking the classic Marvels, Steranko's Nick Fury, Adams' X-Men, Buscema's Avengers and Inhumans, Kirby's Silver Surfer, Barry Smith's Conan, etc.) were my intro to visual art, for better or worse. Things like Cream led to Crimson, Beefheart and on out. My future aesthetic life was in kernel form right then and there, waiting for some heat to pop. Not too surprising that simply hearing some of the same music resonates so much though each time it happens, I get giddy.

PS. Just put on Curlew's 'Live in Berlin' and really can't tolerate it.

Speaking of solo percussion records...not sure how I came across this, maybe picked it up on our first trip to Europe (including Amsterdam) in 1983: Pierre Courbois, 'Independence' on Timeless Records. Again, no cover image I could find.

I'm not real familiar with Courbois otherwise but this one is actually OK if a bit "of its time" with regard to electronics usage. Doesn't have the conceptual rigor of Cooper's work but each piece is a self-contained idea, no flailing. He has a nice sense of musicality, a little Roach-ian. Ultimately forgettable, I guess, but not bad of its type. (!)


Now, you see, there's an album cover. When I pulled this out, I was trying to remember why it was still in my collection. When I purged all the rock, fusion and other stuff back in the mid 70s, I also included a lot of my more mainstream jazz albums, including a bunch of things on Strata East, among them Cowell's Piano Choir and (most unfortunately) several Music Inc. albums. I would've thought "Regeneration" would have been part of that exodus, but no. Playing it, I'm sure its saving grace has to to with an affinity to the kind of music Marion Brown and John Betsch were doing around the same time, albeit with a poppier edge. Brown's on the recording, in fact, along with Ed Blackwell, Billy Higgins, the late John Stubblefield, the fine percussionist Nadi Qamar, Jimmy Heath and Spike's dad, Bill Lee. Interesting mix of African, rural blues, avant jazz and soul-pop, relaxed and enjoyable.

For fun, I googled Psyche Wanzandae, who plays flute and harmonica here. His name always...intrigued me and I don't believe I've ever come across him otherwise. Well, he has a myspace page, laden with Egyptological nonsense.


Really one of the great AACM recordings that rarely gets mentioned, this took place in NYC at the Washington Square Church on May 19, 1970 (released by Muse in 1975), a sextet of Jenkins, Braxton, Leo Smith, Muhal, Richard Davis and Steve McCall. Volume One is a single piece by Jenkins called "Muhal", with a gorgeous theme of long, oddly harmonized tones followed by inspired improv. Very reined in for the most part, great to hear Davis with these guys; his lead-in to the theme is a classic morsel. And that Jenkins lyricism.... (just realized it has to be Muhal playing cello on that theme). Ornette is listed as "recording supervisor".

Vol.2, form the same concert, consists of another album-length piece, "No More White Gloves", apparently another Jenkins piece (listed under his publishing on the disc label--sounds more Muhal-ish). This performance is more raucous in large part, perhaps not quite as strong but still vibrant and rather amazing for 1970; I'm not sure I heard better than this from the same musicians in the last half of the decade.

The covers were painted by one P. Givens, who's also responsible for the fine portrait of Rahsaan on the record I mentioned in the previous post, 'Natural Black Inventions: Root Strata' on Atlantic. Vol 1 is rather attractive, imho. Vol. 2 however, is certifiably in the running for Worst Jazz Album Cover Ever. Enjoy!