I love train rides. I can sit at a train window and watch the passing scenes for hours, whether beautiful landscapes or the backyards of inner cities. The ride from Grand Central to Poughkeepsie is one I've taken countless times but never grow tired of. Did so again on Thursday. From the three or so miles of underground mystery before you emerge at 97th St. (dim lights seen hundreds of feet off into the dark--there's an enormous web of tunnels undergirding the east side of Manhattan) through Spanish Harlem, across the Harlem river into the Bronx (chop shops, banks of weeds, the basaltic rise of the Palisades across the Hudson), the landscape getting "greener" with surprising rapidity as you go through obscure little towns like Philipse Manor, Scarborough--through Sing Sing Prison (largely--totally?--abandoned, the watchtowers and barbed wire still there--for much of my youth I thought references I'd hear in movies and such were about some mythical ur-Prison; didn't know it actually existed!), the trainyards at Croton-on-Hudson, Indian Point nuclear plant, West Point across the river, imposing in a hyper-military way, Bannerman's Castle,


an object of much mystery as a youngster, the massive Storm King Mountain, it's scarred sides the result of its having been used as a "target" of cannons during the Civil War, their manufacture having taken place in Cold Spring across the river, the large number of abandoned factories and other buildings of obscure purpose, their hollow husks weathering along the banks for decades, only gradually falling to construction of fashionable townhouses--it takes a while even this close to NYC, some 40-75 miles, the ruins dotting the shore right up to Poughkeepsie and, I imagine, well beyond.



Beautiful trip, beautiful area. I'll probably do it a few dozen more times before I'm through.

[Edit: Oh yeah, almost forgot. At Thanksgiving dinner, I found out that my aunt Irene, a stunner in her youth (still, actually) dated Harry Belafonte for a year or so, I guess around 1950, shortly before he made it big, but after having shared the stage with Miles, Roach, etc. Coolio.]

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Listened to my two Pierre Droge LPs this morning. I think I came to him in the mid 80s hoping for something along the lines of Bengt Berger, that is, a Northern European making imaginative use of African melodies and structures. Dorge's approach, I think, is more aligning early jazz (20s Ellington, for example) with its African roots. He succeeds on occasion (although coming nowhere near the heights of Berger's "Bitter Funeral Beer") but more often a plodding rhythmic sense drags down the pieces. He does have the great John Tchicai along for the ride as well as Harry Beckett and, on the earlier recording, Dyani (on the latter, an early appearance on record by Hamid Drake) and both albums have their moments, but overall they're somewhat forgettable. Dorge has a unique and beautiful tone on guitar, I'll grant. Picked up a CD later on, Live in Chicago, but lost interest rather quickly. I've no idea what he's up to these days.


This one's an interesting bird, a relatively successful, early-ish (1983) attempt to meld minimalism with a kind of Satie-esque tonality, in some ways not dissimilar to Ron Geesin's Patruns from the mid 70s, though less pyrotechnic. Never got around to investigating any of Duckworth's other music, though; suggestions welcome.

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New listening:

Peter Rehberg - Work for GV (Mego)
Taylor Ho Bynum - Asphalt Flowers Forking Paths (hatology)
Asad Qizilbash - Sarod Recital Live in Peshawar (Sub Rosa)
Group Inerane - Guitars from Agadez (Sublime Frequencies)

The first Mothers album I bought was "Weasels Ripped My Flesh!". The first track on Side 2, iirc, was titled "Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbeque". At the time, I figured it was Zappa's idea of a goofy name, nothing more. A couple years later, I learned otherwise.

In my mental listing of most tragic early deaths in jazz, Dolphy ranks at the top. He wasn't that young (36) when he died, but you get the impression he was poised for incredible things as regards merging several traditions into a new form (jazz, eastern, contemporary classical). Could've ended up in a proto-New Age hodgepodge, who knows? But I'd love to have heard it. Plus, he's the subject of probably my favorite punning sobriquet in jazz: The Ericle of Dolphy.

He's also somewhat unique in having been an integral part of ensembles led by three major forces: Coltrane, Coleman and Mingus. I've asked before if there's anyone else who recorded with all three (leaving aside prominence in the ensemble) and the only other one I'm aware of is Elvin Jones (minimally with Mingus and Ornette). Always a little surprised he never, to the best of my knowledge, played with Cecil.

As with many other "earlier" musicians whose music was often played on KCR, I was laggard in buying albums under Dolphy's name until well into the CD era, owning but two.


(Wonder how many "Great Concerts" Prestige issued over the years...?) 3-records, no liner notes, a date from 1961 with a sterling quintet: Booker Little (another likely in my Top 10, Died Too Young) on trumpet, the still-undersung Mal Waldron on piano, Richard Davis/bass, Ed Blackwell/drums. All longish pieces, some pretty great, especially the closing "Booker's Waltz". Dolphy close to that cusp, occasionally exploding all over the place within a fairly trad structure.

For some reason, I explicitly recall finding a $5 on the sidewalk about a block from the local record store in Poughkeepsie in the early 70s, going in and buying this:


Weird recording, third of three volumes with a Danish pick-up band from 1961. Still fascinating to hear Dolphy at the time, including working through three takes of "In the Blues".

By '72 or '73, I'd read of Van Vliet's admiration for him, though he famously said that, as much as he loved Dolphy, he'd rather hear a goose.

Tough call....

[edit: Just realized that Booker Little had only four months to live at the time of that Dolphy Five Spot date in '61. Died at 23....]

Nikos Veliotis/Anastasis Grivas - Vertical (Low Impedance)

Four drones. Veliotis on cello, Grivas on guitar. Interestingly problematic for me. I like each track--they're not so dissimilar from one another--though if I had to say why, I'd stumble a bit as, listened to non-holistically, I can't define much to pinpoint. They're engaging, but not gripping, really. They're too present to slip into the ambiance, not granular to the extent that you bathe in the sandpaper-y wash. But there's something about them that appeals. Should do a little Veliotis mini-fest, placing this alongside his other work and hear how/if it fits.


Oldman - Two Heads Bis Bis (Low Impedance)

Oldman is Charles Eric Charrier, here abetted on a few tracks by Ronan Benoit (drums), Covalesky (percussion, trumpet), Den Itzamna (samples, guitar) and Didier Richard (drums). How to describe? If the Canterbury scene had a sludge variant...if Laswell had been earthier and better...? Often fascinating, as on "Sunny Afternoon, African Charge" which blends low, booming tones (common here--speaker threatening bass abounds), ethereal plinking as from some huge toy piano and mumbled, male voices. Sometimes reminded me of Benjamin Lew (though darker). Good stuff.

Both recordings available from: low impedance

An excellent musical change of pace last evening as I went to Issue Project Room to hear, not another eai ensemble, but the Wingdale Community Singers, an....avant folk group for lack of a better pigeonhole. Been meaning to hear them for quite a while as one member is my friend Nina Katchadourian (vocals, guitar, accordion, recorder, percussion); finally a convenient, for me, date occurred and there I went. The rest of the group is Hannah Marcus (vocals, guitar, piano, violin), Rick Moody--yes, the writer--(vocals, guitar, piano) and normally David Grubbs, though unfortunately he couldn't make last night's show and was replaced by Randy Polumbo on guitar and dobro. They were augmented for this occasion by bassist Elissa Moser and, on a couple of pieces, cellist Tiana Kennedy.

I guess you could reference The Roches somewhat, given the slightly warped but traditional song forms (almost all slow and moody) and the wry humor that abounded, though the Wingdales verbal sensitivities might be said to lie in more of a post-Laurie Anderson zone with a marked leaning toward country blues. Whatever the case, they're totally enjoyable both musically and lyrically, with a relaxed demeanor, lovely vocal harmonies and a nice habit of being able to generalize from the particular into often very moving songs. One favorite began with wishing that there was a wider ocean available to separate the singer from an ex-lover, moving on to a desire for a planet-wide catastrophe involving the asteroid belt that might do the job and, finally, opting for a situation where there were ten dimensions and "you were in the other six."

It was one of those rare events where I could, without too much trepidation, invite friends and all three, Carol, Anne & her husband Dan, thoroughly enjoyed it.

Fine work; catch 'em if you can.

Rifling through the D's last evening. I could never get very much out of this album despite the personnel, and it's still the case, only managing to play through the first of four sides. Heresy to John Stevens fans, maybe, but it's a seriously limp and vacuous effort. And as much as I love Dyani, free playing isn't his forte imho. Much of the blame sounds to me like it falls on Gjerstad's shoulders; I don't know his work otherwise but here he sounds clueless. Didn't get to it this time around, but my recollection is the same for Courtney Pine on the second disc.

Played Henk de Jonge's trio recording on BVHaast next (not Jumping Shark but the earlier one, apparently no longer available) with Ernst Glerum and...I forget the drummer, Breuker sitting in on some tracks. Totally slick and "professional" so, in that sense, inferior to what Detail was at least attempting yet far more successful on its own merits. But no, not so great.


The audio portion of the evening was saved, happily, by Toumani Diabate's 1986 recording, "Kaira", as lovely and graceful as ever. It's the only record of his I own and I take it he's gone on to bigger (better?) things but I haven't heard. Only 22 when this was recorded; impressive.

Looking ahead, I saw a few items that I know I won't have the gumption to spin: Loek Dikker's (wait for it....) "Waterland Big Band Is Hot!" vol's 1 AND 2 from 1979. I was probably looking around for Breuker-ish stuff at the time but, really, no excuse. Then Nick Didkovsky's Doctor Nerve project, "Armed Observation" and a Dirty Dozen Brass Band record (which is probably not too bad).

Think I'll skip straight to the Dolphy....

Finished the Cardew biography this morning. That Tilbury's done a monumental, magnificent job almost goes without saying. Lucidly written, well-balanced between opinions that are clearly held by the author and a reasonably objective evaluation of reality. He had three enormous advantages of which I'm certainly jealous: having known Cardew intimately for some 22 years, having a subject who kept detailed journals and being an extraordinary musician himself. The extensive journals can once in a while result in possibly more detailed information than most readers will need but are generally used very well.

I've no desire to critically go through the whole thing (I hope someone does though), but one criticism I've heard is on the great number of words spent on the political portion of his life, his last ten or so years and almost half the book. I don't quite understand the complaint; I would think it comes with the territory if you're doing a Cardew bio. While I'm personally not that interested in the ins and outs of British communist factions (Marxist/Leninist vs. Maoist vs Trotskyite, etc.) I do find such goings on fascinating from a more anthropological point of view, as to the psychologies in play among the various actors, especially given their prior artistic activities in the case of Cardew (and, of course, Rowe). Tilbury, to his credit, doesn't shy away from comparing the kinds of psychologies encountered in political extremism (of any stripe, of course, not merely of the left) to those encountered in religious zealots. (And not just extremists, I would add; you saw the same vapid, slack-jawed, "looking for a leader to show them the way" expressions in the adulatory crowds attending McCain or Obama rallies, similar to what you might find at the most bland Lutheran church service). The Tilbury who wrote the biography, while still retaining an obvious strong sympathy for the cause, is skeptical enough to have been branded a heretical revisionist should he have voiced such opinions in the 70s.

Still, he's remarkably even-handed. There may well be matters on which those who were there, like Keith, saw things differently, maybe felt he left out a pertinent detail, overstressed another, but for those of us too young or in the wrong country, it's an invaluable document. Not that it matters, but I do come away feeling a bit sad about the way Cardew spent his final decade, wondering if things would have changed had he lived. Keith seems to have thought there was a chance, Tilbury less so. I'm not even talking about potential music (and I'm more sympathetic to his socialist and workers' songs than many--at least the musical, not lyric, aspect of much of it), more for his happiness as a person. I get the sense--perhaps I'm reading into it too much--that however he outwardly expressed that he was doing what he was "meant" to do, that the artist, the individual intelligence in him was suffering. But who knows, I could be utterly wrong.

In any case, great job, John, thanks so much.

matchless

Turned to my vinyl last night and almost didn't feel like playing this one, a 1980 recording on ECM. But did and found it to hold up much better than I'd've guessed. Not all of it--the aptly, hyper-ECMishly titled "Pastel Morning" is about as weak as one would suspect, but much of the rest is refreshingly gritty. If I recall correctly, this was the first ECM album to feature musicians who'd cut their teeth in the NYC loft scene (Chico Freeman and John Purcell), so it was something of a big deal at the time. I often find DeJohnette-involved productions to be better than I expect for some reason, including the very fine duo with Jarrett, "Ruta & Daitya". But I'm guessing I've just been lucky....

Peter Warren's appearance here prompted some reminiscences about, of all things, Chick Corea. I was quite a big fan early on in my jazz-listening life, having heard all the early ECM things, "Light as a Feather" and his late 60s recordings (Inner Space, Now He Sings, Now He Sobs", "Is", "Sundance"). Then, of course, came the extra-sappy, extraordinarily obnoxious version of Return to Forever (Ok, ok, I liked *gulp* "Hymn to the Seventh Galaxy"--I can barely bring myself to type that--when it appeared, but soon thereafter came to my senses) and things plummeted right off the cliff. Around that time, I became aware of the existence of the slimy belief system known as Scientology and Corea's involvement in same.

One day, when I was in Boston in early '75, I was walking around downtown when I was accosted by a charming young lady who asked if I had a few minutes to take a survey/test thing. Well, she was cute and charming so I said yes and followed her into a fancy, old townhouse in the Back Bay. I took the test (administered by some less winsome person...) and was presented with the results. It was only at that time I was informed that this was on behalf of Scientology. Yecch...Somewhere along the line, I'd made mention of my love for jazz and the woman said, "Oh, you like jazz. Have you ever heard of Chick Corea?" "Yes," I replied, "in fact, his music has gotten drastically worse since his involvement with it." and I left.

I soon divested myself of virtually every LP with Corea's presence, such was the disgust I felt for the, erm, religion. The one exception I can think of is the Circle "Paris Concert" and that only because of Braxton. (I've since gotten late 60s Miles CDs) Most of these, I don't regret a bit--I'm sure some of the 60s sides are OK but I can live without them as well as the first two RTF's, the piano improvisations, etc. I would kinda like to have back the Circle "A.R.C." trio recording, though (with Holland and Altschul), despite the Scientological significance of the title.

The other one I'd like to hear, and the reason for my digression, is Peter Warren's "Bass Is" on Enja:


Dammit for Corea's presence.

Not at all sure if it would hold up or not, but I'd be curious to find out.

Anna Zaradny - Mauve Cycles (Musica Genera)

Just as we've heard certain aesthetics from the 60s--like that of Fluxus--re-mined in recent years, so one occasionally hears echoes of the tape collage work from that period (Koenig, Raaijmakers) resurface in altered form. That's what hit me first on Zaradny's fine new release. Certain colors, those metallic, ringing tones, that immediately hearken back to a specific era, not to mention a vigorous, wavelike structure you normally don't hear in laminal eai (though interpolating sound elements you do). "Mauve 1" generates an enormous head of steam, richly colored and throbbing. It might overstay its welcome a tad (would've worked better as a 15-minute piece instead of 26) but it's a breathtaking ride. The second track, "Mauve 2", is more in a throbbing, minimalist vein, maybe think Radigue. It's OK, something of a relaxant after the earlier work. Worth hearing, certainly. musica genera


College Radio - College Radio (CDR)

Jersey City's own improvisatory noise/guitar duo (Chris Landry & Sean Kiely), teetering between attractively grungy noise and spacier concerns. The referents seem to me to be more post-isolationist rock than AMM and if you like your raunch on the dark side, pieces like VBBBR serve it up well-done and gnarly. They get a bit "lost souls suffering the torments of hell" sometimes, as on the final track, "The Bad Pilgrim Room" (well, I guess so!); curious to hear how they'd sound if they tethered those impulses and just dealt with the sounds they generate, which are often intriguing and harsh. More info here


Chicago Sound Map - Performs Compositions by Olivia Block and Ernst Karel (Kuro Neko)

Don Malone conducts a ten-piece group (reeds, strings, electronics, percussion) in the realization of three ambitious pieces, only partly successful. There's no bigger fan of Block's music out there than myself, but this work, "Stop the Sound of the Big Bell" (a story there?) never attains the cohesion of most of her prior music, the ensemble rambling about in rumbling darkness. The first of two version of Karel's "Heard Laboratories", on the other hand, carries that dark sensation superbly, a tense, tightly wound work, almost filmic, slightly reminiscent of Roscoe Mitchell's "Tnoona" (high praise, from me). The second version never quite attains the same tautness; possibly the extra length works somewhat against it. It's still an attractive work, but lacks the punch of the other. Interesting ensemble, though; hope they stick around. kuro neko


Mitsuhiro Yoshimura/Toshiya Tsunoda/Taku Sugimoto - Santa (presquile records)

Trying to determine exactly why this is so disappointing. I certainly had my hopes up upon seeing the personnel (Yoshimura-microphone, headphone, book/Sugimoto-papers/Tsunoda-buzzer, brass sticks) but the overall effect is one of irritation. The overt reason would be the gnat-like whine (Yoshimura, I take it) that's so up front throughout the hour-long track. It's aggressive in a way that virtually cancels out both the activities of his companions and, more importantly perhaps, any sense of the space in which this was recorded. One doesn't normally associate the term "cloying" with eai, but that's the sense I get here. Performed in the Aoyama Book Center, one can pick up the occasional handling of reading material, but even that has a flattened, airless quality. I leave open the possibility I'm missing something, but this release leaves me unmoved.


Mitsuhiro Yoshimura/Masahika Okura - Trio (presquile records)

The other new release on Presquile Records, despite the title, is a duo between Yoshimura and Okura (alto sax), the third member being the external environment which, true, has more to offer than on the prior recording. Here, Yoshimura reins himself in and balances perfectly well with his partner (leading me to suspect a specific strategy may have been in play on "Santa"). The ultrahigh tones are wisp-like, weaving between the generally soft wafts from Okura, ample air between. Sounds like it would have been a lovely event to have attended. presquile records (not crazy at all about the label's design aesthetic, but....)

My legs and feet are aching but the soul is satisfied after spending the last couple of days museuming and traipsing around Manhattan with Mr. Rowe. On Tuesday, we covered a decent portion of the Met, revisiting the Morandi show (even more beautiful the second time around, enhanced by Keith's commentary), making something of a whirlwind tour through the European galleries, ending up in the modern wing (also stopping in to the hitherto unseen by me contemporary photography rooms (recently installed, I think?), which had several amazing pieces).

Yesterday it was the Whitney, largely for the Eggleston show and the Frick. The former was fantastic, way too much to really absorb, especially as a large proportion of the photos could be lingered upon for quite some time as you discover all sorts of elements and relationships (formal and thematic) that weren't apparent on first glance. I spent the most time with the one pictured above which struck me as particularly AMM-ish in the sense of combining scads of disparate elements from the overtly beautiful (the chrome reflections of the tail lights) to hidden beautiful patterns (the grain in the wood of the pole, the marks on the road surface) to negative shapes (including Rowe-ian cutoffs), to intriguing shadows to societal echoes (the chain, the trash) and more. (Needless to say, it suffers in small-scale reproduction, but still...)

Worth the body pains.

An unusual and satisfying Record Club last evening, in no small part due to my having inveigled Keith into attending.

I had missed last month's affair but brought the same two items I'd planned for that date. One was Duchamp's "Sculture Musicale" as interpreted by John Cage on my recently acquired disc of Duchamp's Complete Musical Works, realized by Petr Kotik and the SEM Ensemble. A lovely piece and, given that Keith was going to be there and that he's a pretty huge Duchamp fan, thought it doubly appropriate. Well, the first person up last evening was Gretchen, a guest of Julia and a curator at MOMA. And she goes and plays a Duchamp piece! Luckily not mine, but another, earlier, Kotik version of Erratam Musical with three vocalists (the rendition on my disc has but one, Joan LaBarbara) Shocking! So there's all this discussion about Duchamp's three musical compositions to which I couldn't respond much without giving away my hand...

Two Duchamp pieces at Record Club in one evening. Whoda thunk?

Keith brought an 1889 wax cylinder recording of Brahms playing piano, an amazing piece where you could just barely make out the occasional keyboard sounds beneath the waves of surface noise, rotating at, what, 90rpm or so? His second selection was Purcell, an excerpt from King Arthur, that sounded eerily Glassian, some 300 year before the fact. Nayland played a snippet of Ellen Fullman (which I, ahem, ID'ed) and closed the evening with a scary and bizarre 1972 song by Buffy Sainte-Marie that bizarrely anticipated everyone from Galas, to Harvey to Morissette.

Interesting to hear Keith, Chris Cochrane and Dan get into specifically musical issues on given pop pieces (mistunings, rhythmic gaffes, etc.) Didn't know Mr. Rowe was such a Steve Cropper fan...

Werner Durand - Remnants from Paradise (absurd)

My previous experience with Durand's music (The Art of Buzzing) showed me a man and his tubes, the more vibratory the better. This set of three pieces, compiled between 2001 and 2005, continues that preoccupation, Durand using pipes of bamboo, metal and PVC, subjecting the resultant drones to electronic enhancements and...it's good fun. The strands are rich and not over-sweet, the taffy-like textures acquiring variations via folding and pressing. Spacey? Yes, but not in a bad way.



Junko/Mattin/Michel Henritzi - Je t'Aime! (absurd)

The first time I listened to this disc, I had lied down and, about halfway through its 30 minutes, fell asleep. I woke up, slightly confused, hearing a rich, complex thrumming and thought, "Hmmm...wonder how it got from where I last remember to here?" Of course, the recording was over and I was listening to the apartment's heating system having kicked in. All well and good. As is, this disc begins with almost seven minutes of near quiet--only an subtle electric hum and faraway train whistles; very nice. Then the guitars and yelling enter. I freely admit to, generally, having difficulty with anguished, screeching vocalizations; said difficulty was manifested here. The guitar textures thicken later on, which helps, but overall I didn't find too much to sink my teeth into. That heating unit, on the other hand.....



Mouths - 3v1/3v2 (absurd)

Two cuts, the first with Jon Mueller (percussion, voice) and Carol Genetti (voice) and it's pretty marvelous. Now here's vocal work I can get behind. Slightly guttural and frayed, fairly deep held tones, one rough pitch, allowing the irregularities to interweave and form multiple patterns. Percussion enters seamlessly, smooth and rumbling, Genetti still there though recessed. It turns harsh, Genetti beginning to ululate; good, tough contrast to the earlier half of the piece, maybe hanging on a tad long. The second track is Mueller with Jim Schoenecker, an exercise in sustained buzzes and, I believe, taped vocals that doesn't have the delineation of detail I wanted to hear. Not bad, though. Good recording overall.


Matthew Sansom/Rhodri Davies - Live Uncut Vol. 1 (a question of re_entry)

Fine, almost Rowe-ian set, electronics and harp, the latter (apparently) often played acoustically, though in rubbing mode. Steady-state, both musicians contributing rich streams that merge here, unravel there. Very...mature in a way, real solid, expansive and investigatory. As with the Durand above, it sort of gets spacey toward the end of the second of two cuts, buts it's an earned spaciness and very satisfying. Seriously good work.

absurd (and aqor_e)

Choi Joonyong/Hong Chulki/Sachiko M./Otomo Yoshihide - Sweet Cuts, Distant Curves (balloon & needle)

Trying to elucidate what makes a release like this one stand somewhat apart from many other worthy recordings might be something of a fool's errand, but one thing that I kept thinking about was how the pitch range used here, high to low and in between, oddly resembled that which one might get from a "standard" quartet, rock or jazz--maybe even a vocal group, with soprano, alto, tenor and baritone. Not that these musicians stay in parts but that there's usually a fullness here that's a bit unusual in these realms. They also mitigate between dronage and short, harsh bursts, finding a juicy middle ground with regard to those choices, a fine balance among brief hums, sharp scratches and gentle pings. The music is "full" as opposed to sparse (again, relatively speaking), with an airiness between sounds more often found in acoustic settings. Whatever, an excellent disc, certainly one to hear. balloon & needle


Jin Sangtae - Extensity of Hard Disk Drive (balloon & needle)

Jin continues a recent interest of his in overt rhythmic elements, mechanical but gritty at the same time, playing amplified hard drives. Though the rhythms are static, the sound envelope around them is by turns billowy, rough, grainy, feedback-laden, making for an intriguing dichotomy for the listener to deal with. Sometimes things become almost primitively tribal, albeit a faux kind of primitivism I associate with bands like Birdsongs of the Mesozoic. It's rocky and disjointed listening, not easy, and though I'm frankly not sure if this particular avenue is going to be one I'm prone to enjoy negotiating in the years to come, I'm glad there's someone out there testing the environs. balloon & needle


Jim McAuley - The Ultimate Frog (Drip Audio)

24 duets (save for the closing piece, a solo dedicated to the late Rod Poole) on two discs featuring guitarist McAuley with the late Leroy Jenkins, either of the Cline brothers and bassist Ken Filiano. The tracks with Jenkins are improvisations, the rest based on structures by McAuley. He's clearly an accomplished player with something of a classical bent; I often heard him as halfway between A. Spencer Barefield and Ralph Towner (cuts like "Five'll Get Ya' Ten" are an excellent evocation of the latter). Though clearly not an area that intrigues me much these days, I could imagine the "me" of the early 80s getting into this and fans of dense, relatively free, melodic improv will find much to enjoy here. Always good to hear more Jenkins. Nate Dorward has a good interview with McAuley at Paris TransAtlantic from a couple years ago. Drip Audio

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A personal aside: Inveterate readers may recall my wonderful trip out west last year to visit my cousin Jana and family. Jana was here last week and I had the pleasure of having a couple of excellent conversations with her. She's an amazing individual, one of the loveliest, brightest people I know. She's also the initiator of a program to teach pre-college students the rudiments of philosophy (I think as early as 12), a great idea she's been promoting for a while. There's a link to her blog at the right. If you've any interest in the area please check it out. My cousin! Whoda thunk?

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