Free to Be... You and Me: Next Generation

A few nights ago, Donovan was in his bed, not going to sleep right away, but singing happily as he often does. Usually his song choices include "London Bridge," "Skip to My Lou" (sometimes with new words) or the blessing he learned at summer camp.

But on this particular night, I heard something way different. He was singing the chorus of a song from Free To Be... You and Me. I don't normally disturb this bedtime ritual, but I went upstairs and asked what he was singing. He was coy as usual. When I mentioned the song "Glad to Have a Friend Like You," he nodded.

"I have that song on a record downstairs."

"I would like to hear it."

It became clear that he learned the song at Waldorf and not from a secret excursion into the record stacks. But gee whiz, it blows the mind to hear your kid singing a song that you've thought you'd turn him on to, some day in the future. Free to Be... You and Me was a big album in our house. Actually, my mother got the book first for me and my sister. Then we used to check the album out of the library all the time. "My Dog is a Plumber" is a simple poem about a serious subject that can really get young minds to think with humor. Rosey Grier's calming philosophy that "It's Alright To Cry" make me do just that in appreciation.

The next morning, as he was having a waffle, I played "Glad to Have a Friend Like You" for Donovan. He seemed quietly entertained. I got choked up because I'm a sap and felt like we were bonding a bit. Pressing my luck I played him "My Dog is a Plumber." (Dick Cavett was the perfect person to read this, by the way.) He was more interested in knowing who the dog was that barked in the background.

I took a chance on thinking that he'd like Carol Channing's recitation of "Housework," with its rapid list of cleaners that keep popping up in the text. He left the room.

Save that for next year.

CD Review - Steve Coleman and Five Elements - The Mancy of Sound

Steve Coleman and Five Elements

The Mancy of Sound

(Pi) http://www.pirecordings.com/

Steve Coleman's Harvest Semblances and Affinities was one of last year's most complex and spellbinding releases, but The Mancy of Sound might be an even stronger set. Once again the alto saxophonist has created compositions with the inspiration of a non-musical sources - in this case, the philosophical system of West Africa's Yoruba, which is represented by a series of dots (in the four-part "Odu Ifa" suite). Two pieces ("Jan. 18" and "Noctiluca (Jan. 11)") are also based on eight lunar phases "as viewed from a specific place at a specific time." The eight musicians in the band frequently sound like they're operating on their own musical plains but the music comes together without sounding crowded or too ambitious.

Drummer Tyshawn Sorey is joined this time by fellow trap player Marcus Gilmore and percussionist Ramon Garcia Perez. The three blend together to the point that it's more of a challenge to try and single out Sorey and Gilmore than to just follow the music. Perez chants on some of the "Odu Ifa" movements, creating overlapping voices and rhythms in "Earth-Idi" and doing what sound like comments on vocalist Jen Shyu's performance "Water-Oyeku."

Shyu continues to evolve as a performer, her voice fully integrated into the blend of horns on an equal level. In the past, she sounded like she was just singing wordless lines, but this time clear English lyrics come to the surface the lunar tracks, including such observations as "Nature calls for progression." The line that closes the album - "None should overflow" - could refer to either the swirl of the music or something nature-based. Either way, it will hopefully inspire Coleman to include a lyric sheet in future releases.

The leader's own performance places his unique alto in the ensemble just as often, if not more, than it does in a solo spotlight. Three minutes into "Jan. 18" he emits some fast, short phrases that are pure Coleman. "Formation 1" and "Formation 2" both jettison the rhythm section for recreations of a piece originally written for saxophone and orchestra. It gets busy once trumpet and trombone (again Jonathan Finlayson and Tim Albright respectively) join him, along with Shyu, but no one ever gets lost.

The Mancy of Sound is one of those albums where the John Coltrane approach to album listening is probably best utilized: focus solely on the saxophone one time, trombone the second, etc. That's not an academic way of listening, but a way to fully appreciate some heavy music.

Big show of October

I found out this week that the Warhol Museum is bringing Starlicker to town. That's the trio of Rob Mazurek, Jason Adasiewicz and John Herndon, all three heavyweights on the Chicago jazz scene. Rob leads a number of groups, including the Exploding Star Orchestra and Chicago Underground Duo. Do a search of Jason's name on this sight and you'll find out all about him. (The New York Times recently wrote about him too.) John also plays in a number of bands, including one called Tortoise.

If this show wasn't cool enough, it's happening the day after my birthday, October 8. And I ran into Ben Opie a few days ago, who told me his new project is debuting ON my birthday. That's going to be a crazy week because I have to go out of town for work on the 5th and 6th.

It'll be worth it since I'm seeing Starlicker.

CD Review: Allen Lowe - Blues and the Empirical Truth

Allen Lowe
Blues and the Empirical Truth
(Music and Arts) http://www.musicandarts.com/

Ah, music critics. Ask them a yes or no question about an album and you'll get an oratory. Ask for a compilation and you might get... a nine-disc anthology.
That's just what Allen Lowe compiled in the recent past. The descriptively-titled American Pop: An Audio History - From Minstrel to Mojo: On Record 1893-1946 contained nine discs. Then he outdid himself with That Devilin' Tune: A Jazz History 1895-1950, which contained a whopping 36 pieces of plastic. And you probably don't believe that much music was even recorded during that period. In addition to compiling the music, Lowe also wrote extensive texts to go along with each of these productions. Some might call it crazy, but it makes Lowe a man after my own heart.

In addition to being an extensive musical commentator ("critic" seems like a limiting word here) Lowe is also a musician himself, another trait to which I can relate and admire. To add a personal note on that subject before I take myself out of this story, I feel a certain a kinship in his alto saxophone playing because his tone reminds me of what I aspired to sound like years ago when I thought I had a future on the horn: a clean tone with raw edges, and a searching quality that's equally ready to blow straight or scream at a moment's notice. (Personally I never got past the aspiration part to the actual execution of such a sound, but that's another story.)

Lowe the musician is gifted on the alto, but also picks up the C-melody and tenor horns, in addition to being extremely fluent on guitar. For his own music project Blues and the Empirical Truth (a witty play on Oliver Nelson's Blues and the Abstract Truth) he has produced no less that three discs of music. One volume lasts 66 minutes while the other two creep close to 80 minutes each. True to his other calling, Lowe offers track by track analysis. Some of this comes in quick phrases or a few sentences. One goes on for a whole paragraph - or is it sentence - which includes a parenthetical statement that on its own could be a short paragraph in itself. The set-up reminds me of philosophy tomes that I read in college. The comparison makes sense since the subject is empirical truth. Besides, music is a more interesting subject that existentialism anyway.

Three discs is a pretty serious listening commitment and speaks to an artist's confidence in his output, but truth be told there's very little filler on this whole set, save for the occasional track that noodles a little with multiple solos happening at once. Lowe is joined by a pretty heavy group of friends including veteran trombonist Roswell Rudd, guitarist Marc Ribot, pianist Matthew Shipp (who also plays Farfisa!) and pianist Lewis Porter, among others. The blues can be a limiting structure, but this is nothing like an attempt to chronicle all the various styles of blues and present them for consumption. Sometimes it feels like a blues set, other times it's a jazz set, and with his references to Richard Hell and the Velvet Underground in his notes, inspirations comes to Lowe from beyond even these immediate sources. Titles like "(Bull Connor Sees) Darkies on the Delta" and "Pauli Murray, at the Back of the Bus, Suddenly Realize She Has the Blues" prove that Lowe also has a handle on the social issues that informed a lot of the music from its earliest days. Out of context - meaning right here - the titles might seem glib, but don't believe it. They come out of empathy or understanding.

More so than my previous description, Lowe's alto playing sounds a bit like Ornette Coleman if the latter had straightened up and flown right. Clear and sometimes plaintive, it also has a combative quality somewhat like Archie Shepp on "Blues and Transfiguration" which has a Mingus mood in the composition. Anyone who can hold his own in a wild exchanges with Rudd really knows his stuff anyway, and "Entrance, No Exit" and the several installments of "Ras Speaks" prove that. They also show Shipp in a very subdued state, holding down chords on an organ with a tone that seems to thin for a heavyweight like him, while the two horns have all the fun. (Although Shipp's volume changes in one gets a little trippy.)

Guitarist Ray Suhy appears frequently throughout the set, with a skillful approach that varies his sound from straight blues to something a little wilder, depending on the setting. Ribot is his usual spiky self, and speaking of that adjective, a gentleman named Spike Sikes also plays alto, which gives Lowe a chance to play his other instruments. His guitar recalls Black Flag's Greg Ginn, a remote comparison true, but both have a tendency to get so manic during a solo that tempo gets overlooked in favor of passion. Maybe it's just my limited blues knowledge showing, but he also plays with the adventurous scope of Zoot Horn Rollo's best moments with Captain Beefheart. (Now there's someone to draft for the next session.)

The only odd element to the whole set is Jake Millet's use of electronic drums. On the first disc, they sound appropriate - sounding like little more than a battered ride cymbal that holds things together. As time goes on, it almost feels like Sunny Murray has dropped by, agreeing not to do his usual thing, but never completely settling into a straight tempo. The decaying sound of the cymbal sounds fun, like a delay pedal was accidentally bumped. But by the last disc, the thin sound has one wondering why a real trap kit wasn't used.

If there's any justice in this world Blues and the Empirical Truth should win an award for its packaging alone. Along with all the music, the three-panel cover includes a booklet not only of Lowe's thoughts (which are equally deep, fiery and humorous), but an introductory essay by Village Voice columnist Francis Davis. Hopefully Lowe doesn't take that as an oversight of the music (like Mingus did when he won Best Liner Notes for Let My Children Hear Music).

But there I go, dropping music trivia like a music scribe who knows too much. This isn't an item designed just for the likes of Lowe and Davis and lower-totem-pole music geek/scribes like me. This is music for people who still get excited about music, and relish the size of packages like this.

CD Review - Aram Bajakian's Kef

Aram Bajakian's Kef

(Tzadik) http://www.tzadik.com/

Without a drummer to anchor the tempo, it can be a bit of a challenge to avoid rushing the beat. Factor in some exotic tempos - like weird combinations of beats that add up to 9/8 or 7/8 - and suddenly a whole lot of thinking is required. Guitarist Aram Bajakian's trio Kef features him on electric and acoustic guitars; Shanir Blumenkranz on acoustic and electric basses, oud and gimbri; and Tom Swafford on violin. Their songs have roots in traditional Armenian music but Bajakian spices it up with some searing modern and post-modern rock, which makes the trio kick out some serious jams. Not once do they fumble through a dizzying melody or rush the tempo.

Bajakian, who just wrapped up a tour in Lou Reed's latest band, boasts a track record that includes work with Can vocalist Malcolm Mooney, Yusef Lateef and Marc Ribot. His tone on the guitar has the similar kind of irrascible twang of Mr. Ribot. After opening with the solo acoustic "Pear Tree," he switches to electric for "Sepastasia" which leaves the gate in a wail of noise that evokes another guitar renegade: Eugene Chadbourne (who, much like Bajakian, has numerous, diverse influences factoring into his work). With a little bit of Hendrix influence weaved in throughout the album, Bajakian does a good job combining rock and world influences.

His bandmates do an admirable job in developing the sound too. Wofford plucks so percussively on "Sumlinian" that he sounds like either a bongo drum or a banjo at first. Blumenkranz usually has the challenging job of riffing behind his bandmates in order to hold things together, though he gets to break away from his role as an anchor.

Among the highlights, "Wroclaw" has a middle section that sounds an awful lot like a Camper Van Beethoven instrumental from their early, East-meets-West days ("Four Year Plan" from the album II & III). The tunes where guitar and violin play the same melody tend to make me restless (bad memories of Mahvishnu). However the line in "Raki" is so rapid and twisty that the strings pull it off sounding more astounding than indulgent. Besides, the track starts off like a Middle Eastern version of Cream's "Swlabr" and has some great power chords between choruses, and a great use of a delay pedal during Bajakian's solo.

It also bears mention that these guys don't feel in any way inhibited by the odd time signatures during their solos. They let 'em rip like it's second nature. Probably because it is.

Here's what I've done for you lately

Playing right now: Starlicker - Double Demon (Delmark)

It's 6:05 a.m., I've got coffee in hand and I could be watching a rerun of Dobie Gillis right now. I actually have something of a soft spot for that show, as much as it seems to rely on a formulaic style of comedy. Bob Denver's role as beatnik pal Maynard is a much better gig that his more famous role as Gilligan.

But anyhow if I'm up this early, I want to use my time more productively and I told myself before I hit the hay last night that I'd post links to recent reviews and things that I've done.

Last week, I went to Club Cafe to check out Wye Oak. Here's a review of that show, done for Blurt. Wye Oak's last album was the first one I'd heard so I was looking forward to Civilian, their newest one. It didn't get into my hands, though, until the day before the show because of my unending desire to have it on vinyl and find it locally instead of ordering it from the label, since the price tag would've taken over the line of dollars that I'm comfortable spending when compared to the price on CD.

The same day that I bought the Wye Oak album, I picked up a copy of Eleanor Friedberger's album, despite already having a download I had to listen to for a review of it that can be found here. Why did I buy it? Two reasons: downloads aren't as much fun and because the cover art reminds me of a Francoise Hardy album, and why wouldn't I want that? Besides, the download didn't have a lyric sheet.

Going back a few weeks, there was the reissue on Drag City of a '70s folkie named Carol Kleyn as well as a rather tepid tribute to Billie Holiday.

There's a new issue of JazzTimes on the streets now, the September issue which has Ella Fitzgerald on the cover. But for anyone who'd like the luxury of clicking a link to go right to the page and read some stuff, here's my page with links to virtually everything I've done for them lately. Everything prior to the current issue, that is. The next time you're out at a place that sells magazines, does me a favor and buy one. I saw it Barnes and Noble on Sunday and, a few weeks ago, at an independent store in Lawrenceville... was it Time Bomb?

Speaking of JazzTimes I get to represent the magazine again this year at the Detroit International Jazz Festival! It's happening Labor Day weekend and while leaving the family for four days is going to be hard, I'm looking forward to seeing and hearing a lot of music. And hopefully blogging. Last time I went, in 2009, I had just bought this laptop and the shlubs at Big Box mislead me on what I could do with it after they set it up for me. Also, they put the wrong power chord in the box with it.

Maybe I'll post new, drunken updates each night from my hotel room. We'll see.

CD Review: Stephan Crump & Steve Lehman - Kaleidescope & Collage

Stephan Crump/Steve Lehman

Kaleidoscope & Collage

(Intakt) http://www.intaktrec.ch/

It's no critical hyperbole to say that Stephan Crump and Steve Lehman should be considered among the ranks of jazz's most exciting musicians. Crump's bass work with Vijay Iyer's trio adds a new depth to the way the bass can operate in the trio setting, going beyond accompaniment while adding some intense foundation work at the same time. Lehman's alto saxophone also cuts a new swath in groups like Fieldwork (which includes Iyer) and his own unit, which recorded one of 2009's most astounding releases Travail, Transformation and Flow.

This meeting of the minds doesn't consist of written works, but it's also more than just two mutually compatible friends blowing freely. Crump and Lehman recorded together five times between February 2008 and December 2009. The fruits of those sessions have been diced up to create the two tracks on Kaleidoscope and Collage. So in a way, it's a combination of spontaneous improvisation and some cut-and-paste composition after the fact.

It's likely that the original sessions would have been pretty interesting on their own, but this presentation keeps things moving forward, keeping some moments quick, letting others draw out a bit and occasionally cutting ideas off mid-thought, leaving you to wonder if your disc player decided to stick.

The 22-minute "Terroir" introduces the duo's individual traits: Crump's rich tone and brawny bowing technique, Lehman's dry, occasionally rough tone, which sounds like it can be especially loud and edgy in person. Like his peer and occasional collaborator Rudresh Mahanthappa, Lehman has the tendency to unleash rapid sheets of complex melodies as if they were major scales. This piece finds Crump locking into riffs several times, albeit ones in odd time signatures. For one of them, he uses the body of his bass percussively, tapping out the beat. This doesn't make the track into groove music, especially since Lehman often charges against the ostinato, playing off of it rather than with it. While things get frenzied at various points, this never turns into a shrieking and slapping improv. The duo also stays on the more pensive side of freedom.

"Voyages" runs a bit shorter, at 16 minutes. It's a little less dynamic but still has many fine moments. It opens with a minute or so of Lehman and Crump making it hard to distinguish who's bowing and who's growling into their horn. Instead of grooves, droning tone poems pop up a couple times, with one sounding like it could break into "In a Silent Way" at any point. When Lehman gently tongues one note over and over, while Crump plucks out a melody, it really does sound like a conversation, in this case one that feels like the opening stages of an argument. Although the edits are fairly easy to discern throughout the album, the cut after this particular moment is particularly prominent since this argumentative exchange suddenly stops and refocuses on Crump, now scraping his bow on the strings as Lehman emits some quick yelps. The end of "Voyages" feels like a written conclusion, which is also understated but feels like a bridge to bigger things. In some ways, it feels disappointing when it fades away, but that's also the sign of a good album. Besides, you must admire to improvisers who have the discipline to keep an album under 40 minutes, when they had twice that much time at their disposal.

CD Review - Bebop Trio

Bebop Trio

(Creative Nation Music) http://www.compro.com/

The name of this trio is fairly deceptive. They aren't blowing traditional versions of "Salt Peanuts" or "Hot House." Nor are they playing irreverant takes on bop standards, as clarinetist Ben Goldberg did with the nearly thrash versions of Bird and Diz on his Junk Genius album. Letteris Kordis (piano), Alec Spiegelman (clarinet) and Thor Thorvaldsson (drums) play something rather deep cut bop compositions - bop might not even be an operative word when discussing Lennie Tristano and Duke Ellington - which they perform them as a whole suite and link together with improvised interludes. I almost used the word "ironic" to describe them, but that doesn't fit.

In addition to Tristano and Ellington, the Trio meditates on Bud Powell's "Celia," Elmo Hope's "Boa," and Herbie Nichols' "Change of Season." In a way it doesn't seem right to merely compare these versions of the tunes to the originals and judge them accordingly. It's clear that Kordis, Spiegelman and Thorvaldsson know the contours of this music. (Spiegelman recalls his college days in the liner notes, when he played Monk themes 10 to 20 times through with Kordis "until we could not play them wrong.") Yet sometimes this conservatory approach to the music seems to work against them, making it sound too studied or wrapped up in technical approach.

"Celia" comes right out of their three-minute "Prelude" and the segue is easy to miss if not paying attention. Thorvaldsson almost plays the tune as straight swing, and his comrades state the melody almost like a canon, suspending chord changes until their halfway through the piece. The arrangement motivated me to investigate Powell's original piece to find out exactly what they're using as a springboard, which goes against what I said earlier but it helped appreciate the group's arrangement. The piece gets a full length reprise at the end of the album, by which time the trio is fired up and cutting loose. However the first version serves as an interesting exposition of what's to come.

Hope's "Boa" has interesting moments, with some deceptive use of the beat, and a section that sounds like the coda of "Round Midnight." This may or may not be an intentional borrow from the standard of this genre, or perhaps Hope actually borrowed the motif from his longtime friend (or vice-versa). Either way, it works. Monk also shows up - in my mind at least - during Tristano's "317 East 32nd" with the way Thorvaldsson plays a beat similar to the way Art Blakey played "Bye-Ya" with the pianist. This track begins with some striking free exploration from the group.

"Change of Season"(by Nichols) is a piece that seems most disconnected from its original source and it's also a bit unsatisfying. Spiegelman, who has an impeccable tone and can shift from a crisp note to a nice growl in a moment, plays the melody with gentleness, but Kordis approaches it with a classical feel during the theme that detracts from the piece, and Thorvaldsson never seems to get a good feel for whether he should add color or play time.

"Postlude" ends the album with 68 seconds of what sounds like toy whistles and clarinet tweets. They're not meant as a wild, noisy conclusion to the set. In fact they sound like they're just off-mike, and are more like a playful wrap-up to a fun performance. This sense of joie de vivre could have been more visible in conjunction with the technical approach throughout the album, but Bebop Trio still has some strong elements going for it. Better to just sit back and listen to the album as a whole than try to figure out where one piece ends and what tune the next improvisation cues in.

Did Video Really Kill the Radio Star?

Playing right now: Fruit Bats - Tripper (Sub Pop)
(Working on a review for Blurt.)

Yesterday I heard a story on the radio about this being MTV's 30th anniversary. I also came across a headline online a few days ago. It's kind of funny because everyone's talking about how much of a cultural impact MTV had in the '80s and now it seems pretty behind the times. Or else it's just another cable station now because they gave up on the regular rotations of music videos a long time ago. Meanwhile the institution of the music video is alive and well. Even artists like the Sun Drops and Katherine Calder have videos for their last albums.

But I'm not here this morning to defend and bury MTV. I'm hear to talk about something else.

At the end of the story on the radio yesterday, NPR faded out by playing - what else - "Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Buggles. This of course was the first video to be played on MTV in 1981. By today's standards, it looks pretty quaint, what with the tween girl listening to a big wooden radio and all sorts of washed out images of the Buggles superimposed over it. And there wasn't anything all that polemic about the song. Really, it was just catchy.

That got me to thinking that when the Buggles wrote the song, they surely didn't know what they were getting into. They couldn't have possibly known about the video craze that was just around the corner. The title might've just been a line they dreamed up, and said, "Hmm, that's clever. Let's write a song around it." Their album also included a very of-its-time noo wave song called "Living in the Plastic Age," which ironically was on WDVE's playlist briefly while "Video" was not. And of course Trevor Horne and Geoffrey Downes, the two Buggles, went on to join Yes for Drama, replacing the big shoes of Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman.

However, they were right on. 30 years later, radio stars are pretty much dead. Not "stars" like Jim Krenn and Randy Baumann, who are a big part of my morning (although not right at this moment) but the medium of radio doesn't break musical acts like it used to. It's been relegated to background music or a motivating factor to get us out of bed in the morning with commentary and songs we know to assure us that things will be okay.

Not only that, video has been killed by the Internet. In a way that's fine with me, because that medium always put the image before the song.

But yesterday I started wondering where we'd be now if "Video Killed the Radio Star" wouldn't have been such a well-crafted song. Or if the MTV programmers thought, "No, that song is, like, too weird. Roll the Mike Nesmith video."

*********

The "I Heart Radio" ad campaign has been going pretty hot and heavy on commercial radio as of late, which to me sounds like an act of desperation. To deal with the exodus of listeners to digital, one-format radio stations, this program has sprouted up allowing you to listen to radio stations around the country (good thing, especially if you're homesick or nostalgic for bygone days [I have no problem with that on a limited basis, and relate to it, in fact.]) or coming soon, the ads say, you can create your own Pandora-like programs with the application. You mean, just like we do with our iPods now? Or just like we do with Pandora, which we do since we gave up on listening to radio in the first place? I don't see the point in creating a program that'll do something that a lot of listeners already do on their own.


-----------------------------------------
In other news, one of the reasons I haven't posted lately is due to the fact that a couple weeks ago, a friend dropped off 50 crates of albums and I'm trying to make my way through them all. Four crates immediately went to the curb due to a high concentration of mold. It's never a good thing when you have to peel covers off of each other. It's even more heartbreaking to find Nina Simone albums on Colpix that are in good shape butin covers that have been eaten away by dampness. I also found doubles of some Barbara Streisand and Englebert Humperdinck among them. (They're at the South Side Goodwill in case you're interested. )

But there are some nice items in there. I'm just trying to figure out what they are, and where to put them so we can walk about the house without obstructing any major paths.

CD Review: Muhal Richard Abrams - SoundDance

Muhal Richard Abrams Duos with Fred Anderson & George Lewis

SoundDance

(Pi) http://www.pirecordings.com/

Muhal Richard Abrams played key roles in the early days of the Chicago's free thinking jazz scene where, among other things, he co-founded the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). His work might not be as well known outside his city as Anthony Braxton or the Art Ensemble of Chicago, but he was recently inducted into the downbeat Hall of Fame and became a National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Master. Plus, he has worked in all sorts of musical formats, so at age 80, calling Abrams a "jazz master" might be something of an understatement.

The two discs in SoundDance bring together two duo performances at AACM Concerts in New York with two of Abrams' Chicago comrades, creating two vastly different and equally challenging performances. "Engrossing" is another word to use when describing them as well.

Abrams teamed up with tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson in October 2009, in what is considered to be one of the saxophonist's final performances before his death. The rapport between them pushes and pulls, never letting either one, or the listener, lapse into anything easy. "Focus, ThruTime...Time" is divided into four tracks, breaking only when the mood shifts. Part 1 contains some fast chases, which leads into some slower, almost call and response sections in Part 2 where both listen attentively to each other, and really lock into an idea around the six minute mark.

What makes the music rewarding is how neither player fits into a certain stylistic box. Anderson is not a reed-biting free blower, nor does he attempt to wrench strong melodic playing into this format. Part 3 starts out sounding like he's borrowing intervals from "Giant Steps" but the overall piece feels even closer to a ballad, thanks to Abrams, who works just as easily in a sensitive mood as he does when makes ominous rumbles at the bottom of the piano.

"SoundDance," the 45-minute performance with George Lewis (trombone, laptop) requires a bit more of an open mind, especially in the early stages where silence is as much a part of the music as the spare, ringing chords that Abrams leaves hanging in the air. It's the kind of trick that makes you crank up the volume knob, only to run back a few moments later to turn it down when Lewis enters with a forthright trombone blast. (This assumes most listeners will check this out via CDs, rather than downloads, in which case, the earbuds should beware.) While listening to Part 1, sirens went down my street, lasting as long as any of Lewis' and Abrams' brief emanations, and fitting in just fine.

Throughout the disc, Lewis confounds the ears by using his laptop to create a third voice in the setting, sometimes sounding like bowed bass noises, other times recreating old school synthisizer bloops. He even sneaks into a mutant blend of drums and tuned bowls. By the final 17-minute section of the piece, he has picked up the plunger mute and the piano rumbles have developed fully. The suspense of the early stages have paid off by developing into something with substantial, sonically and melodically.

It's a challenge to pick up on all of this, but of course Muhal Richard Abrams didn't get to where he is simply paying homage to his role models.

[2014 addendum: I don't know what the keyword is in this review, but this page has become the target of spammers. So comments have been disabled.]

CD Review - Inzinzac

Inzinzac

(High Two) http://www.hightwo.com/

This album has one of the most unsettling cover images to be seen on a jazz album in ages. There's probably a questionable cover from CTI's '70s catalog that compares. Stanley Turrentine's Sugar, with the silhouette of a foot being licked was a bit racy, but it doesn't compare to this: a smaller chimpanzee standing on the chest of a bigger chimp, and choking it. The fact that these monks are apparently man-made sculptures only adds to the uncomfortable quality.

Inzinzac's music also feels a bit unsettling, but this Philadelphia trio are far from being simply a wild, bassless group of improvisers. They definitely let go and run wild in many places throughout their eight-song debut, but they also rock pretty hard within their tightly built compositions.

Guitarist Alban Bailly, a French transplant to the U.S., writes all the tunes and plays with a tone that isn't quite as brittle as Marc Ribot, but still has that sharp, trebly attack. He also sounds like the bass tone on his amp is cranked up to fill in the sound. (At least my speakers said as much.) "71" has a stop-start/staccato feel to it but drummer Eli Litwin gives it a solid beat that keeps it driving. His background in metal is put to good use throughout the album, as he knows when to hold things together and when to let them implode. (He also plays in the improv group Normal Love and he has a solo project called Intensus.) "Chapi Chapo" begins by rocking hard on an art rock riff before it falls into a free break, complete with drum rolls, tenor sax overtones and guitar plinks.

Dan Scofield alternates between soprano and tenor with nearly every track. His smaller horn sounds fairly muscular during an unaccompanied section in "Otis," as well as "Lemurien," where it goes from quiet to loud, finally settling on a theme that sounds like a deranged Irish jig.

Although guitar/saxophone/drums groups can't really be called common, there is often a certain attack that bands with this instrumentation have, with chaos and gruffness being the order of the day. Inzinzac possesses a strong, wild streak but it doesn't take long to realize they have a great deal of clarity in how they present themselves. And once you get past that nasty front cover, this is one of the more impressive debuts of the year.

Up to my ears in crates

On Saturday night around 11 p.m., 50 crates of records showed up at my house. Not mysteriously. Oh no, there was fanfare and anticipation. In fact, I screwed up and was expecting them the night before because I was a knucklehead who didn't read the email correctly until after I had sent my friends home, the ones who said they'd help unload them.

Anyhow, my wife's former boss brought them to me from Buffalo where they used to belong to her uncle. She said I could have them if I paid for the cost of hauling them and if I had at least three able-bodied people to help me unload them.

Before you go pounding on my door or sniffing around the yard, trying to detect what kind of albums there are, I'll tell ya this: there is a lot that I and you can't use. Not only polka albums but regional ones. There's some cache with stuff like that but when you've got all these crates sitting around you, the whole thing gets overwhelming and you just want what you know because I know I'm never going to have the party where I had the opportunity to say, "Hey, I know just what we should listen to," and whip out that polka album.

Although, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure there was a copy of the Jimmy Sturr album they used to advertise on tv in the '70s, which had all the big polka classics, including "No Beer in Heaven," which I would like to hear. Once.

Along with the piles of records, there's something else that's permeating the house: the smell of must. I immediately threw out a crate Saturday night and three more the next night, when I saw records covered in black mold. There's very little reason for Bread or the Lettermen to be in this house anyway, and if they have mold on them - out the window they go. We had a really heavy rain last night too, so they got even soggier than they were when they got here.

There is a lot of classical music in the collection too. I'm hoping to find out if any of that has any resale value or if it's strictly Goodwill bound. Beyond that, there are a few intriguing soundtracks. And quite a bit of Jerry Vale. The Jack Jones album with "Wives and Lovers" on it is there too, but I think I prefer to just randomly hear that tasteless song on WJAS rather than have it in the collection.

The first - and so far only - thing that I pulled from the collection and threw on the turntable was something from my youth: Dino, Desi & Billy's I'm a Fool. This might've been one of those albums that my aunt Mary found for me at the Mary S. Brown church flea market when I was about 6 (along with Question Mark, Sam the Sham, Dave Clark 5, Tom Jones and others that escape me right now). It was my first exposure to the sound of a 12-string guitar, which I loved though at the time I didn't know what it was. I was too young to realize how hokey it was that these kids were singing "Like a Rolling Stone" or "Satisfaction" or that they're attempts at replicating Roger McGuinn was to sound really whiney. But I dug that line about "I can't GET no," and couldn't read the last word in that song title.

The song I really wanted to hear was "The Rebel Kind," which Lee Hazelwood wrote for them. It was really fuzzy and garagey and it's their anthem to being non-conformist. Yeah, right. You're the sons of Dean Martin and Desi Arnez, and Frank Sinatra signed you after hearing you practice at Dean's house, and you're trying to tell me you're rebels? Come onnnnn. Hell, that's probably not even Billy playing that fuzzy guitar. I'll bet it's Al Casey.

CD Review - Jon Lundbom & Big Five Chord - Quavers! Quavers! Quavers! Quavers!

Jon Lundbom & Big Five Chord
Quavers! Quavers! Quavers! Quavers!
(Hot Cup) http://www.hotcuprecords.com/

If the title doesn't offer any indication, Jon Lundbom seems to have picked up on some of the zaniness that is part and parcel with another project by his bandmates. This refers specifically, to saxophonist Jon Irabagon and bassist Moppa Elliot, who play in Mostly Other People Do the Killing. Lundbom and Big Five Chord released the excellent Accomplish Jazz in 2009, framed by the guitarist/leader's strong compositions (along with a Louvin Brothers cover) and country tone, cavorting with some occasionally wild blowing. Quavers! starts on the wild side and stays there, and although it might not be as rewarding immediately as its predecessor, there's still plenty to dig with each listen.

Lundbom's guitar introduces itself by sounding like John McLaughlin under water in the descending riff of "On Jacation." (It's actually the sound of his instrument going through two rotating Leslie speakers.) He continues to play through the descending riff as Irabagon (on alto) and Bryan Murray (tenor saxophone) take turns soloing. It's a nice raunchy sound and it makes his solo a welcome relief from the comping, which gets a little repetitive after awhile. As he did on several songs on his last album, Lundbom ends this and all the album's tunes without repeating the head. It's a good way to make sure you pay attention, and leaves a stronger impression of the soloists.

"The Bravest Little Pilot No. 2" adds electric pianist Matt Kanelos to the soundscape, giving the music some more atmosphere. This time Irabagon pushes the aggression button since he takes great pleasure in returning to one buzzing note on his horn throughout his chopped up solo. In "Faith-Based Initiative" he switches to sopranino, which he plays with astounding speed, collapsing into a pile of wheezing and skronk only after he explores every possible nuance of the little horn. Ironically this tune starts off with a theme closer to swing, thanks to drummer Danny Fischer.

On the subject of unusual horns, Murray is credited with playing the "balto!" (exclamation point included) on "Meat Without Feat." The credits don't offer much insight into exactly what the instrument is, but the instrument that sounds like a tenor in this emits some nice raspy growls, somewhat like vintage Archie Shepp, and it adds to the song's funky vamp and theme of long tones. Ironically, Lundbom's solo doesn't catch fire here because he limits himself to one range of the guitar.

Big Five Chord isn't afraid to go for the throat if the music calls for it, even if it means that Irabagon pulls out the MOPDtK trick of ending a solo by sitting on a "wrong" note and holding it. But this is high energy music, combining somewhat straight ahead foundations with a rock execution, and hopefully Lundbom will start getting more attention for his fresh perspective, both as a writer and player.

(For a review of the last Big Five Chord album, see my entry from March 10, 2010.)

Due to the overwhelming number of spam posts that appear on this page, I'm dismantling the comments section. I don't know what phrase draws so many spammers.

More writing in other places

Yesterday morning, I forgot to include my review of Jackie-O Motherfucker's latest album in my set of recently published pieces. It's here on the Blurt website.

Today, they ran my White Hills album review. After hearing the album, I kind of wish I had checked them out when they came here a month or two ago.

Finally, it is with great pride that I offer you a link to a story called "outstanding " by the editor of Blurt, himself. Yes, I'm talking about my R. Stevie Moore article that I just finished a night or two ago. Or was it the wee hours of the a.m.

Right now I could go for some booze.

Maybe I will.

CD Review: Alexander Tucker - Dorwytch

Alexander Tucker
Dorwytch
(Thrill Jockey) www.thrilljockey.com

With its press release dropping phrases like "chamber pop" and references to Brian Eno, Dorwytch seemed like it was right up my alley, like a possible combination of brainy hooks and maybe something reminiscent of Here Come the Warm Jets. But when the disc started playing, I wondered if I had gotten ahold of the wrong album. "His Arm Has Grown Long" sports a sea of churning cellos, sawing away on one chord, with counter-melodies layered over them. These are definitely rock cellos, and they go for a whole minute before Alexander Tucker's voice enters the picture.

The initial impact requires a shift of gears. This isn't the Ladybug Transistor's chamber pop. In fact, "pop" doesn't really seem like the appropriate descriptor.

Tucker, who has recorded in a tape loop project called Imbogodom, might have more connections with English art rock of the '70s as well as more traditional folk music. He seems adept at disguising instruments in order to make the whole song seem like the object of interest. "Red String" features more of the folk approach, with breaks that could either be more cellos or acoustic guitars. Either way, they're reminiscent of some of the textures on The White Album and they push away any predisposed ideas about this music and lure you into Tucker's strange world.

His tenor voice comes through clearly but often times the lyrics are secondary to the overall flow of the music. The cellos are occasionally plucked for contrast and a couple songs use synths to create a pulse and a bass line. A drone that forms the basis of "Atomized" could either be crickets or an organ. In "Jamie" he challenges listeners to figure out if he's singing a wordless vocal or if the melody comes from some hard-to-decipher instrument, soaring over a lush loop of backwards guitar loops that indeed evokes ambient Eno.

Dorwytch was recorded over three years, which can help to account for the diversity in arrangements. It might also explain the album's weakness: Many of the songs have very similar basic foundations. At least two other tracks follow a riff similar to "His Arm Has Grown Long" which might not be so noticeable if Tucker threw in a chord change here and there. After the success of "Jamie," which climaxes in a mix of feedback and scraping strings, "Craters" uses the same one-note rhythm as a pedal point for a set of piano chords. Initially catchy, it gets to be a little much after 4:39. It closes the album on a somewhat odd note, albeit one that begs reexamination at a later time.

Here's what I've been doing

Yeseterday, I finally finished and submitted an article about R. Stevie Moore to Blurt. It took a little bit of doing because I also spoke to Jon Demiglio, who is making a documentary about Stevie, and who is acting as a de facto tour manager for him. He was a really nice guy and I sincerely hope that he and Stevie (and the band, of course) do well over the course of the tour. I don't think I used any of the same quotes in this article that I did in the one I wrote for City Paper. Stevie's good that way - a lot to say.

Oh, wait. I did re-use the one where he describes himself as looking like "goddam Santa Claus." You can't help but reuse that.

Before I concentrated on that article, I reviewed White Hills' new album H-p1 and revised my story on Trotsky Icepick, both for Blurt. (Both of these pieces have yet to run.) The week prior to that, I was working on a preview of the Ladybug Transistor for City Paper which can be found right here. Scroll to the end of that, and there's a quickie on Bill Callahan too.
Now that those things are all done, I intend to get back on the blog horse and fill up this space with writing. In the meantime, the Love Letters have a show at Arsenal Lanes tonight. And I have to acquire review copies of a few new CDs for Blurt. Gonna start doing that now.

R. Stevie Moore - one week later

Playing right now: Trotsky Icepick - Baby (It's not that I've been playing it continuously since it arrived in the mail. It helps me get moving, so I don't either turn on TV and get pulled away from listening to music and writing, or else get bogged down in the eternal question of what should I listen to.)

A week ago today was the R. Stevie Moore show in Pittsburgh. Half of the previous week was spent transcribing interviews for an article on the Ladybug Transistor for City Paper that will run this coming Wednesday. So when that was finally put to bed, I didn't feel like writing nothing. Plus I think I was fighting some kind of sickness that I hope I'm finally shaking.

So I haven't been able to get to writing about the show until now.

In short - what a performance! What a songwriter! What a ham! (All good things in the Shanley book.)

In long.... the show took place at Modern Formations. Andy Mulkerin said I "hit it out of the park" with my article in City Paper that week. See for yourself. Stevie was such a great interview, and so full of good comments that it was hard to figure out what would make it into the article and what wouldn't.

For as much as he sounded shy about being around adulation, there he was standing in the gallery of ModForm, talking to a few guys between sets. (I think they were Hot Dog Forest who I had missed. Sorry guys.) Unlike a certain other "legendary" musician that I interviewed prior to a performance in town, Stevie at least seemed to remember our conversation and was a personable guy. I gave him a copy of the article and he gave me a copy of his latest CD, Advanced (which you should be able to find on iTunes soon but not right now). Nice fella.

As his band was setting up, he ambled onto the stage, setting up his bass and arranging song lyrics on a music stand. Then he held up two different tops that looked like the kind of scrubs that you might see on a nurse walking down Liberty Avenue near West Penn Hospital. "Which one?" he asked the audience. We picked the one in his left hand. And that point I remembered a comment from our interview, that came out of a discussion of his beard and how he thought he shouldn't talk about his looks. He shifted gears: "I am a fashion plate. It's getting really big. I'm starting to buy real gaudy women's clothing, mainly for stage. Rapper's hoodies, I'm really showing off. Way beyond my means. It's not my style to boast and show off, but I'm so desperate for attention these days."

Then he took a big swig from a wine bottle and one from a seltzer bottle and says, "Thank you for coming to my concert." (It's always so quaint to me when someone refers to a small-venue show as a "concert.")

From the get-go, the band sounded amazing. Stevie played the bass with his thumb the whole time, strumming it, not popping on it. The only other person I've seen do that is the guy who played with Tito Puente in the '80s. The first song wasn't really psychedelic in the traditional sense, but it contained a certain level of psych feeling, and it wrapped up with a great boogie coda. "Pop Music" (which appears on Advanced) had some Brian Wilson high vocals and 7th chords, along with some clipped and extended time signature tricks. Later on in the set, some Byrds influence could be felt. He quipped that "Theorem" was something that "meets fuckin' Timberlake or Bieber." (On Advanced it sounds like something from Forever Changes.) The thing to remember is that even though Moore has some of these cultural touchstones in his music, he wasn't trying to really emulate them. It all sort of flowed from him naturally and helped him make something original.

The band (drums, guitar, guitar/keyboard + him) played five songs and then walked offstage, which puzzled all of us. He came back by himself and played a couple songs on guitar, including one about seafood that ended with a weird tag about Popeye and it was hard to tell if it was spontaneous or part of the song. (I hope the latter.) In all, he played about a dozen songs.

"Carmen Is Coming" was the final song of the night, which sounded like the metal freakout that Stevie mentioned in the interview. It has another mutant proggy blues line and by the end, when the sound refused to die, he wound up lying on the floor because that's where the spirit put him. It was a good way to end the show. (Point of interest - the version of "Carmen" on Advanced sounds less like metal and more like a Captain Beefheart melody played on nylon string guitars.)

In closing, if you have an opportunity to see R. Stevie Moore perform, do it. And buy as much of his music as you can. I bought one more disc on the way out.

Weird Paul played just before Stevie, pouring on a helluva lotta ham: He sang a new some short tunes, some classics and even had his son sing along. Even though he wasn't there. The preprogrammed tracks featured his voice, at which point Paul pointed the mike at the picture of his son.

Jooklo Duo in Pittsburgh

Playing right now: Knives from Heaven (Matt Shipp, Wm Parker, Beans & HPRIZM) (Thirsty Ear)

My R. Stevie Moore article hit the street today. Read it online right here. Then this week, I wrote a Trotsky Icepick article for Blurt, only to find out that the first reunion show is happening as we speak and that the second one is tomorrow. I thought they were playing this weekend, so I don't think the site will post the article in time. Then I discovered that Blurt ran my Kid Congo piece on May 24. Check it out. Finally this morning I gave them two more CD reviews. Oh yeah - I also wrote something about Jeremiah Clark for City Paper, which will run next week.

In between all that, I made it out to a show at Garfield Artworks on Monday night. Manny brings in a lot of avant jazz folks that I've never heard of and don't get a chance to see. So when I saw the flyer for the Jooklo Duo - a man and woman from Italy - I made a mental note to check this show out. I had no idea if they were the free jazz type of improv or noisy electronics kind of improv. Regardless I was going to be there.

The opening act was a local fella who performs under the name Burnout Warcry. He had a table full of instruments: a small keyboard, a chain that looked like line used when fishing; a kazoo, bells, metal plates. He also had a suitcase that he routinely kicked to fill the space that a kick drum would typically handle.

He played for about 20 minutes, all told: one longer piece, one shorter one. And he used all the instruments to fill the space. Sometimes he looked like he wasn't sure what to grab next, or how to continue the sound, but most of the time, he seemed pretty assured. Most people would've thought he was just messing around and that it was pointless, but he kept the sound going. The length of his set was just enough.

Jooklo Duo were actually a trio that night because guitarist Bill Nace had joined Virginia Genta (reeds and things) and David Vanzan (drums) for this tour. Nace's guitar added a level of consistant drone to the set, but it could've come down in the mix a little bit. As the set started, he was bowing the guitar and Vanzan was gentle playing his kit. For the longest time, he didn't pound the drums, which gave the drums a nice muted effect. It helped put the spotlight on Genta, who began by blowing the double-reed horn the zorna, on which she used circular breathing to keep her tone flowing. She picked up the clarinet, but some of the nuances got lost in the swirl of guitar drone (he had it in his lap the whole time) and drums, which by now were getting kind of loud.

When Genta picked up her tenor saxophone and started to blow, I wrote "Oh yeah, now you're talking" in my notebook. The band was now firing on all four cylinders. Her tenor playing was reminiscent of early Gato Barbieri, with a gush of wild overtones. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was coming from her and what was coming from Nace due to the volume and the echo from the room and instruments.

As the set moved on, the sound swelled more and more. Genta pulled out the jew's harp, the one instrument that was hard to hear over everything else. But that boing was in there somewhere. Vanzan, whose past-the-shoulders length hair and full beard, together with his lanky frame made him look like some '70s prog rock dude, whipped out a flute and started playing it into one of the drum mikes without batting an eye. I don't think he looked at his trap kit once while he was playing. Nace creating the sound of a beehive and later a leaky faucet, while Genta moved to melodica, then cowbell and police whistle, to which she added some vocal yells. Then after about 45 minutes, things died down and Vanzan let fly a final thump across his drums. The kind that says "the end," and mean it. I wasn't about to argue.

The Return of Trotsky Icepick

This week I received a package from Vitus Matare, founding member of Trotsky Icepick (also a former member of the Last). He sent me a copy of Baby, the one album by the band that I did not have on vinyl (or CD). After all these years, it still sounds really, really good. It also takes me back to those carefree days when I was 20 and living on my first apartment.
In an email explaining the box, he mentioned that there was a TI facebook paged, which he created in part to promote "the two reunion shows we're doing with the Meat Puppets." What?!?!
He had made some passing wisecrack about a reunion when I first tracked him down on FB, but I thought it was nothing more than that - a joke. Boy, was I wrong. The group is playing June 16 & 17 in or around LA with said Puppets. So I did what any fanboy turned music writer would do: I pitched a story to Blurt, who took me up on it and I interviewed Vitus last night. He's still the same nice guy who put up with my numerous phone calls 20+ years ago. I'm thinking of calling John Talley-Jones too, but I also have to interview R. Stevie Moore sometime today, although he wants me to do it via Skype! I don't have that shit. I'm lucky I can record interviews that are audible.
Which reminds me, I ought to start reading up on him before I have to go to work.... Even though I'm worried this thing won't come off.

Will the funeral be televised? Gil Scott-Heron RIP

Playing right now: Kirk Knuffke & Jesse Stacken - Orange Was the Color (SteepleChase) Last night as I was brushing my teeth, I had WJAS on in the bathroom and the CNN top-of-the--hour news came on. That's not the place you expect to hear this, but the final story was that Gil Scott-Heron died yesterday. "He was best known for his song 'The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.'" I wonder how many insomniac WJAS listeners know the piece, which might actually be considered a poem (and the newscaster might've actually said that. I can't remember). Kudos to that white bread news station for mentioning that. And Gil, may you finally find some peace. Thanks for what you created when you were here, too. You were so gifted and articulate from an early age. In high school, my friend Freya lent me a copy of Small Talk at 125th and Lenox Avenue which had the first version of "Revolution," accompanied only by conga drums. He was 20 goddam years old and already extremely deep and moving. Last year the New Yorker ran a great and rather lengthy piece on him. He was either on the mend from a crack addiction or still dealing with it, and his mind was still sharp and focused. Many people have riffed on the "revolution will not be televised" idea since then, saying that of course it will be televised because of the way mass media works these days. There will be extensive coverage and the history will be written before it happens. But the thing to remember is something that I saw Gil say on a PBS special about 20 years ago: What he meant was that the revolution was going to start "up here" [pointing to his head], which I take to mean you have to start with an idea and that the coverage is all secondary to that. Speaking of people who are still pretty sharp, Lee "Scratch" Perry has a new album out and here is my review of it from Blurt. I also reviewed the new album by Helado Negro right here.