CD Review: Darius Jones - Legend of e'Boi (The Hypervigilant Eye)

Darius Jones

Legend of e'Boi (The Hypervigilant Eye)

(AUM Fidelity) dariusjones.bandcamp.com/album/legend-of-eboi-the-hypervigilant-eye

Legend of e'Boi (The Hypervigilant Eye) represents the seventh chapter in alto saxophonist Darius Jones's Man'ish Boy epic, which began with an album of that name in 2009. (The series will include two more chapters/albums.) The music is inspired by and deals with Black mental health and healing from personal trauma. The booklet with the disc features short essays and poems that deal with the issue. Jones also highlights two organizations dealing with mental health services for musicians and trauma-informed care for queer communities of color: Backline and NYC Affirmative Psychotherapy, respectively. 

While the more intense versions of free jazz (Pharoah Sanders, Albert Ayler) often scare listeners away due to the high intensity levels of the playing, it has always hit my ears as something transcendent, or, if not that, a music that attempts to mow down all forms of adversity in the way in order to help musicians and listeners reach that level of peace that comes after. Legend of e'Boi feels like that type of an album. "No More My Lord," based on a recording Alan Lomax made of singing prison workers, has that kind of feeling. Bassist Chris Lightcap creates a heavy, almost overdriven drone with the bow, allowing Jones to take a spiritual melody and use it as a gateway to some unhinged blowing. Even as he starts a fire, he creates something that feels beautiful.

"Affirmation Needed" climaxes with some altissimo squeals and upper register filigrees, but long before Jones gets to that, the body of his solo unleashes a rapid line of notes that he tongues most of the time, rather than slurring them together. The approach gives it a tough edge and drummer Gerald Cleaver, the third member of the group, seems to spur the saxophonist, motivating him to come to a boil and hold some lines with serious vibrato.

Jones proves himself equally as capable with a ballad as with the wilder moments. "We Inside Now" (a companion piece to the shape-shifting "We Outside") is stark and slow with Cleaver and Lightcap keeping the accompaniment to a bare minimum of quarter notes, while the saxophone lines also move slowly, in a combination of grace and an undercurrent of melancholy. 

It might come as a surprise that the closing track, titled "Motherfuckin [sic] Roosevelt" does not close the album out with some more free blowing. Named for the uncle that gave Jones his first saxophone, the track begins with some beefy lines from the leader, moving into a bass solo full of heavy plucking by Lightcap.

The history of jazz has been informed by a wealth of social issues that have affected artists personally, to an extent that the music serves as a strong document of that aspect of this country's history. When it comes the mental health and wellness, as well as the topic of sexuality, those ideas often get overlooked or swept under the jazz carpet. Legend of e'Boi takes a subtle approach to this subject matter but that results in a strong set that is hard to ignore. Jones's work just keeps getting stronger with each release.

Note: "We Outside" and "Motherfuckin Roosevelt" do not appear on the vinyl edition but the package includes a download card with all six tracks.

CD/LP Review: Ingebrigt Håker Flaten (Exit) Knarr - Breezy

Ingebrigt Håker Flaten (Exit) Knarr

Breezy

(Sonic Transmissions) ingebrigtflaten.bandcamp.com/album/breezy

Bassist Ingebrigt Håker Flaten has declared, "Free the jazz," a turn of phrase so appropriate, it's surprising no one else has used it yet. The members of Flaten's (Exit) Knarr group have taken his rallying cry seriously. In the track "Free The Jazz" the bassist anchors a choppy groove while alto saxophonist Mette Rasmussen erupts in a series of joyful honks and wails. The other members of the sextet hold down the fort while tenor saxophonist Karl Hjalmar Nyberg answers Rasmussen's call with a steady low note. Rasmussen's pitch goes higher and higher as if to test the limits of her alto's range. Her sense of discovery feels infectious.

Like a good deal of Breezy, the music combines free moments without completely forsaking a steady background, stirring up the excitement in the process. Flaten and guitarist  Jonathan F. Horne play a staccato vamp throughout "Dylar," giving the rest of the band the leeway to take off.  Horne gets manic in "Ability" as the horns (which include trumpeter Erik Kimestad Pedersen) play a five-note line behind them and Nyberg eventually begins to joust with the guitarist.

On the other end, "Hilma" begins with tranquil synth wooshes (courtesy of guest Joakim Rainer Petersen). Trumpet calls float down the hillside, answered in a canon by the saxophones. When everything seems to be heading in a Eno-esque direction, the group shifts into a jagged line in which everyone moves together. 

Flaten gives himself one moment to solo in the opening of "Breezy," a piece dedicated to the late trumpeter jaimie branch. Because of its subject matter, Pedersen's trumpet becomes the most prominent voice as the piece continues with a blue theme, almost reminiscent of a Mingus line. With everyone joining in (including Petersen) things skillfully avoid getting busy before they fade naturally into alto wails and synth noise.

Born in Norway, Ingebrigt Håker Flaten has recorded extensively in a variety of projects - appearing on 200 albums, including the bands Atomic and the Thing, as well as many Ken Vandermark bands. (Exit) Knarr came together initially as a one-off commission for the 2021 Vossa Jazz Festival, releasing an album under the bassist's name which now serves as the group's moniker.  With his rep as a prolific sideman set, it's high time to catch up on his skills as a leader and composer.

Pitt Jazz Concert Report

What a week, eh? There is a lot to unpack from the turn of events that occurred on Tuesday and I'm not about to dig into here. I have my opinions on it and felt like slugging at least one person this week ("felt" is different than actually doing it, remember) and don't want to get into a debate about it. Wherever you are and whoever you are, I hope you're doing okay, all things considered. 

I sat down at the laptop this morning, thinking about an album that I wanted to write about, only to remember I never offered a dispatch on last week's Pitt Jazz Concert. So despite that fact that it happened a week ago, it felt like a quickie was in order. 

Chad Taylor, the new head of Jazz Studies at Pitt, understands that Pittsburgh likes its hard bop and isn't too certain about new things, so he programmed an evening that combined the best of both worlds, never playing it too safe or taking it too out. While the more adventurous moments provided the highlights and gave the ensemble the chance to really click, the standards portion also provided a pretty good time.

The evening honored local jazz godfather and drummer Roger Humphries and Philadelphia-born, internationally known bassist Reggie Workman. Along with those musicians, the ensemble included Taylor  (who alternated drum duties with Humphries), Pitt's Dr. Aaron J. Johnson (trombone, conch shells), Sumi Tonooka (piano), Jeff Parker (guitar), Brian Settles (tenor saxophone), Ingrid Jensen (trumpet), Immanuel Wilkins (alto saxophone) and Jessica Boykin Settles (vocals). My far away picture up above features Settles, Parker, Jensen, Workman and Wilkins.

Pitt's Bellefield Hall has a spacious auditorium with nearly 700 seats. Not quite the fancy space of the Jazz Concert's old home down the street, the Carnegie Music Hall, it also doesn't quite have the sound system to accommodate a group like this. The horns and Parker's guitar cut through, but the rhythm section sounded as if they were quite jelling at all times, which seemed less a symptom of the performance and more of the room.

Workman's compositions factored heavily into the two sets and they provided moments when the group really clicked. "Shades of Angola," which started set number two, caught the band in full gear. Taylor kicked it off with an unaccompanied solo, followed by Workman bowing beneath the bridge before kicking into a boppish vamp. Parker's bright tone and Tonooka's two-handed chords kept things exciting. 

His "Conversations" was a highlight in the first set, with Johnson blowing conch shells and Jensen delivering a sprite tone that evoked Out To Lunch-era Freddie Hubbard to these ears. 

With Humphries behind the drum kit and Jessica Boykin Settles on the mic, the first set included a version of Bobby Timmons' "Moanin'," with the lyrics Jon Hendricks penned for his version with Lambert, Hendricks and Ross. She paid tribute to vocalist Shirley Horn with "Here's to Life" but the ballad seemed like it could have been a chorus or two shorter. In the second set, she returned to the stage for a bold version of "Strange Fruit." "What a Little Moonlight Can Do," gave Parker and Wilkins (whose sense of invention was on display all night every time he soloed) some good space and might have been better with the sugary audience participation portion.

"Blues March" might be one of those songs that has become an easy blowing vehicle at jam sessions, but with Humphries leading the march, it served as a fitting way to close the evening, as well as a way to honor Benny Golson, who composed it and recently passed away.

In closing, there is the subject of etiquette. From my perch in the balcony, I didn't notice anyone leaving mid-performance, but friends sitting below said that some of the older patrons didn't have the patience to wait until intermission or the end of the night to leave. While I understand that, after 54 years, some people might expect to hear nothing more adventurous than "Killer Joe" and "Blue Bossa," it would be nice if people opened their minds a little to explore new ideas. After all, the music wasn't foisting Cecil Taylor-style attacks on them.

Closer to my seats, the couple in front of me seemed to be having a deep conversation throughout the evening. That is, they were when they weren't whipping out their devices and watching Pitt get clobbered in a football game. Once again, your reporter's pal on the floor also saw the same lack of social graces going on there. What's next - yelling during "Strange Fruit" if the team makes an interception? I know it was a rough game, but just because technology allows you to explore two Pitt events at once, it doesn't mean you should.

We've all seen or heard stories about the chatty person in the back of the jazz club during the set. DON'T BECOME THAT PERSON. (Please repeat the message to your friends.) 

Jeff Parker - Master Guitarist

Photo by Jeff Newberry

 

The last time I met up with Jeff Parker was 2017, when he came to town with Tortoise, the long-standing Chicago group that had the corner on the term "post-rock," due to their vast, swirling sound. After their soundcheck, Parker and I settled into the group's tour bus for a Before & After listening test and talk for JazzTimes magazine. 

Towards the end of meeting, he casually described himself as a "frustrated bebop guitar," which at the time seemed like a modest, somewhat self-deprecating comment that hinted that some deeper style lurked underneath his own work. The former quality comes to mind because Parker has chops to spare, straddling a strong melodic sense with a knack for effects that expand his sound. But a listen to his work with the New Breed (New Breed, Suite for Max Brown) travels to places far beyond the realm of bebop.

One interesting quality to both albums is the way Parker combines elements that shift around the beat but still work. In addition to jazz and modern rock, he also has an affinity for beat making and loops, as a fan of artists like the late J Dilla. The beat that opens "Executive Life" on The New Breed has a hiccup to it but it still keeps the flow going. "Build a Nest," which kicks of Max Brown, has vocals from his daughter Ruby, also feels a little off-center but in a way that adds to the music. 

Along with those album, the prolific guitarist also released For Folks in 2021, a solo recital that includes lyrical versions of the standard "My Ideal" and Thelonious Monk's deep cut waltz "Ugly Beauty" along with original works. The double LP Mondays at the Enfield Tennis Academy (Eremite, 2022) consists of four side long improvisations in a quartet with drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Anna Butterss and saxophonist Josh Johnson. Sometimes spare, sometimes repetitive thanks to loops, the mood often creates a trance. 

In thinking about all of these releases and the variety between them, it becomes clear that Parker ought to bring an exciting element to Saturday's Pitt Jazz Concert, which is helmed by his longtime friend drummer Chad Taylor at the University of Pittsburgh (click here to read my talk with Taylor).

Parker and I caught up last week by phone. Still a resident of Los Angeles, he was working in New Orleans at the time.

What's happening in New Orleans?

There was a Tortoise show a couple days ago. I also had a trio gig with bassist James Singleton and Quin Kirchner, the drummer from Chicago. Then I'm playing a duo gig tonight. Kind of a duo show, with a singer named Gabrielle Cavassa. Joshua Redman is going to play a few tunes with us too.

Kind of all over the place!

The way I like it.

The last time you and I talked, about five years ago, when you were here with Tortoise. One of the things you said at the end was you described yourself as a "frustrated bebop guitar player." It's funny because I was listening to Suite for Max Brown and didn't get a sense of that. But I'm just wondering, with albums like that and all that you do, is there a string connecting it to bebop?

Yeah, of course. I mean, I find that whole era of music inspiring. The ideas that those guys were dealing with were so advanced. It was progressive. That's the thing that I really get from it. Not just tangibly what's happening in the music, but what's behind it, in terms of dealing with ideas. And they're advanced. And moving the music forward. I call myself a frustrated bebop player because that music is difficult to play. Well you know, man, what's the point of me presenting myself as an artist, as someone who is in this revisionist role? I'm trying to make my own music. I mean, I'm not like a bebop guitar player. I'm a musician. I'm a composer. I think compositionally. If you analyze some of my music, you can definitely hear that in the harmony and maybe in some of the counterpoint stuff. But I'm not trying to play music that somebody was making 80, 90 years ago at this point.

It's interesting when you think about that music too because back when Charlie Parker or Fats Navarro were playing, it was a risk to play that. But they were playing what they feel. Listening again to the Suite for Max Brown, how much of that was creating in the studio vs. live playing?

Most of it. Almost all of it. Part of it was by the time and also out of necessity. Because just scheduling couldn't work out. So I would have musicians come by my place here and there, and they recorded what they can. The way I even deal with the New Breed music, that's what it is: me, stitching together musical ideas to make it into a tapestry. Conceptually, that's what it is. It's me dealing with samples and beats. My interest is in production, using the studio to make this kind of work that's based more in sonics and how it captures and exploits that space. 

When you're putting stuff together do you have a pretty good idea of what you want, going in, or do you give yourself a clean slate and see where it goes?

Definitely the latter. It's very experimental. A lot of times I might just have an idea that's more of a blueprint and the music might come out of something I want to experiment with, in a general sense. Then the music comes out of that, as opposed to the other way around. 

That can keep it exciting too. It's a discovery for the listener, but you get to be the listener as it takes shape too. How much of a chance do you get to play that stuff live? When the albums came out, did you get to perform those tracks?

Yeah. We toured. That album came out right before lockdown. Luckily we were able to get in about a week or 10 days worth of touring. And when we were touring, the country was closing up behind us. That tour was the last thing a lot of people saw before we were locked down for a year and a half.

We played it some, and still do. The New Breed band played at the Chicago Jazz Festival in late August. And we've been doing sporadic things. We played the Wexler Center in Columbus. We played a show at the University of Iowa.

When we play it live, it's different. That's one of the things I deal with. I'll have us improvising to music that I've recorded, that's on a grid. The improvising makes it sound more organic. When we perform it live, rather than play to a grid, I'll have whoever is in the drum chair triggering drum samples, so they can improvise with the samples material. Whereas in the studio, it's opposite way.

That's what I was wondering: how do you approach it live - recreating it vs. expanding on it.

At the end of the day. it is improvised music. It's an improvised process. that's what I'm doing. You know, most composition - I probably speak for most musicians in all kinds of music - comes from improvising. Wherever musical ideas come from. The composer sits down at their chosen instrument and they start to experiment with ideas until they come up with something that's tangible enough to work its way into being documented. New Breed records are for sure, that's what's behind them. When we play it live, I try to keep that spirit - that, as musicians, we can express ourselves within this constructed framework. 

Another thing I just listened to was the Monday Nights at the Enfield Tennis Academy. How does that group compare to the New Breed?

It's pretty different. But similar, you know? Because I had a residency with that group on most Mondays for a few years, until people got crazy busy. Now we hardly play at all. But for a while we started out just playing standards. Then we settled into this way of improvising. After we'd been playing almost every week for a few years, the improvising was very deliberate. It involved us introducing new ideas and sticking with them. Over a long period of time, these improvisations would develop. 

I was just talking to someone about this yesterday. It's not random. We're improvising but it's very deliberate in what we're doing. I can tie it directly with my other work. It's based in stagnant movement like looped drums and stagnant activity. Then, kind of using that concept to improvise with. And it's deliberate. It took us [time in] developing this musical relationship. We never talk about it. But it's an area that everyone in the band was interested in exploring.  

You mean, the loops are steady and you use that as a foundation to improvise off of that?

Yeah. Off of the idea. It doesn't have to be like that. We don't talk about it. But you can tell by what everybody is, how we're communicating with one another, that's the thing that everyone is thinking about. 

A couple things stuck out to me. It shows that you don't have to play a lot to be effective. Sometimes the bass and the drums might be kind of spare but it works. It's what the situation calls for. 

Yeah. Exactly.

The other thing is, with the loops going, it creates kind of a trance that carries it too. Personally, sometimes the loops can be a bit too much, but after awhile when you get used to  them, you realize it's not about what you think. Just let it take you somewhere.

That's what it's like to make beats. That's where a lot of the concept came from. I don't know if you heard the first New Breed album. That one came more directly out of my making beats - me being inspired by [J] Dilla and DJ Premiere, Pete Rock and my heroes [like] Mad Lib. My heroes in hip hop, producers and experimenting in that medium. And adding that to whatever musical ideas I was having. 

When you're making beats - dealing with samples and then the production mode - you just listen to a loop. Man, you can listen to it for hours. You're tweaking it and making little changes. You get into this zone. It's very solitary and it's very much about the way music sounds. You get into this repetition thing. It's a unique way to compose music. A lot of the New Breed music, and you know, the way we do the improvising with the ETA quartet ... and my solo guitar stuff. It's all very much based in, I don't know. trying to invite people into my world. And have them feel what that feels like. Get into the space of this music, which puts you in this meditative space. 

Any thing you wanted to talk about? New releases?

I have a new album coming out on International Anthem/Nonesuch of the ETA quartet. They just announced it. The release date is November 22. It's called The Way Out of Easy. It's that ETA quartet, another live recording. I think it was January 2, 2023. It's a double album, four long tunes. There's one composition that I wrote, the rest are improvisations. 

In addition to the concert on Saturday, Nov. 2 at Bellefield Hall, the afternoon will feature three free seminars. 1 p.m. - trumpeter Ingrid Jensen; 2 pm. - bassist Reggie Workman; 3 p.m. - Chad Taylor. These seminars take place in the Frick Fine Arts Building, 650 Schenley Drive.
At 3 p.m. tenor saxophonist Brian Settles and vocalist Jessica Boykin-Settles will be at the Afro-American Music Institute, 7131 Hamilton Ave., Homewood.

The concert takes place at 8 p.m. $20.

Chad Taylor & the 54th Pitt Jazz Seminar & Concert

The Pitt Jazz Seminar and Concert is synonymous with the turning of the leaves. Created by the late Dr. Nathan Davis in 1970, the annual event brought seasoned jazz musicians to town for a series of free seminars, culminating in a concert that harkened back to the days of blowing sessions, where everyone took part. 

When Geri Allen and, later, Nicole Mitchell succeeded Davis, things began to evolve, pushing the music out of its hard bop comfort zone. Mitchell's 2019 concert ruffled some feathers but last year's event, under the direction of Dr. Aaron Johnson, got things back on track.

The 54th annual event will honor bassist Reggie Workman and hometown drummer Roger Humphries. It coincides with the recent arrival of drummer Chad Taylor, who now serves as Director of Jazz Studies at Pitt. Taylor's musical c.v., is vast and fascinating. He and Rob Mazurek have helmed various Chicago Underground units (often Duos, with some Trios in there too). He has also played with Fred Anderson, Marc Ribot and James Brandon Lewis, to name just a few. As a leader, Taylor also released several albums, one of which - The Daily Biological  - was this writer's favorite album of 2020. 

Taylor and I caught up last week, right as he was boarding a train on the way to a rehearsal, and we discussed Pitt, music and teaching. (A link to info on the concert appears at the bottom of this entry.)

Mike: Are you in town now? Are you hopping between cities? 

Chad: Yeah, I'm doing a lot of back and forth. Right now, I'm on my way to New York for a rehearsal. But thing will get more settled in Pittsburgh next semester. I bought a house near the South Side slopes. I'm getting that all set up now. I'm excited.
One of the things going on is that I got this fellowship, the Pew Fellowship. One of the stipulations is you have to be a residence in Philly. So I can't sell my house in Philly until that fellowship is over. So that's why I have been doing a lot of back and forth. It's a two-year fellowship.
So right now I see myself as living in Pittsburgh and I'm also living in Philly. I'm sort of living in two cities at the same time!

Is this typical for a jazz educator these days - bouncing around between cities anywhere?

For a lot of people. One thing that has changed about the position at Pittsburgh, is that, until I came along, the position was being Director of Jazz Studies. Now the position is Artistic Director of Jazz Studies, which means I don't have all the day-to-day administrative stuff, the committee meetings and other things that a director would normally have. And I can concentrate more on the shape of the program and the direction the program is going in. That differs from what Nicole [Mitchell] and Geri [Allen] were doing.

Is Aaron Johnson handling some of that day to day stuff?

He is. He's also the Chair of the Music Department. But in addition, we're getting ready to hire somebody next year who going to have a role....Did you know Michael Heller?

Yeah. Did he write the book about the loft scene [Loft Jazz: Improvising New York in the 1970s]?

Exactly. He's left and went to Brandeis. So we're getting ready to take his place. And the person who gets that position is going to have more role of being administrative stuff and being on committee meetings.

How did [your appointment at Pitt] come about? Did Pitt come to you, or did you hear about it and jump at the opportunity?

Well, I knew about the position. I knew when Nikki left that the position was going to open up and I let Nikki know that I was interested in doing that position. I had been looking for an academic position for quite awhile now. Maybe seven or eight years. 

I started working with Nicole in 1997, when I moved back from New York. So we have some history. She told me that she thought I'd be great for the position. And that's when I started pursuing it.
There was some back and forth. It took about two years. I did a residency that NIcole helped set up. I had a chance to work with the students and i had a chance to do some teaching and really have some insight into the program. Then I applied for the position. And it worked out. 
I'm excited about being at Pitt. And I'm excited about the direction that I want to take the program. 

In jazz academia, things are getting smaller and smaller... I really think jazz is getting bigger. It's just how we're looking at it. Because it's not just a genre of music. It's a process. It's a way of people coming together and taking these different elements of music and  putting them in a new way to create something different.

Pittsburgh is known for its past contributions to jazz. But when it comes to modern music that pushes the edge, the kind of stuff that you often play, that doesn't get talked about a lot. As you're getting set up, how do you approach that?

That's a good question. That's one thing I'm super excited about. First off, Pittsburgh is a hard bop town. You got Art Blakey, Stanley Turrentine, Ahmad Jamal, all these great musicians. That's what I grew up playing. I grew up in Chicago. I grew up playing organ jazz and hard bop. One of the first bands I was in, I was playing with .... you know, back then Rob Mazurek [Taylor's long-standing partner in the Chicago Underground Duo] was a hard bop trumpet player. He had a band with Eric Alexander. Those were some of the first gigs I did. I love that music. I grew up with that music and that music is still very much a part of me. I still do gigs like that.

I also, as you know, do a lot of progressive music, creative music as well. I love doing that, Now one of my goals with this position is to embrace all of jazz, the whole shebang. One of the ways I'm going to do that is by having musicians who have all these broad range of styles that they can play. 

If you look at the programming this year, you have someone like [bassist] Reggie Workman. He has the hard bop credentials. If anybody has hard bop credentials, it's Reggie Workman. He played with Art Blakey for years. But he also played with Coltrane and he also has his own music which has more open structures and is more adventurous. He's somebody that can go between both those worlds.

 
So can somebody like [alto saxophonist] Immanuel Wilkins. Which I didn't even realize until recently. I did a gig with him a couple years ago in Philadelphia with [tenor saxophonist] Odean Pope, just the three of us. We didn't play any compositions. We didn't rehearse. We just played for two hours straight, improvised music. I was just so blown away with what Immanuel -  and Odean - were doing.  Immanuel, I think he's 26, 27. He really knows the history of the music. He can play hard bop but he also has his own thing. 

Someone like [guitarist] Jeff Parker is someone else who can go between both those worlds. Sumi [Tonooka, piano], who I've known for a while now, also goes between places. But she's done a lot of work as a composer, working with string ensembles, orchestras. And really an incredible pianist who I think is going to bring a lot to this ensemble.

The whole idea with having people who love jazz and are able to go between these different areas. Because one thing I see that's happening in jazz academia, things are getting smaller and smaller. Less people are applying. Less people are interested in becoming a jazz musician. Jazz record sales are declining. It's always, 'Okay, jazz music is getting smaller.' I really think jazz is getting bigger. It's just how we're looking at it. Because it's not just a genre of music. It's a process. It's a way of people coming together and taking these different elements of music and  putting them in a new way to create something different. When you look at jazz like that, it keeps getting bigger and bigger. 

So my idea is really to expand this idea of what jazz is. And basically have people understand that jazz is for everybody. So when people say to me they don't like jazz, I always get confused. What do you mean you don't like jazz? What is jazz to you? Usually what I find out is that they have a really narrow idea of what jazz music really is.

I hear jazz in everything. You think about it like this, Mike. The drum set was an invention that was made in America to play jazz music. So if you hear a drum set in any sort of music, you are hearing something that was created for jazz. There's a connection there. I hear jazz in all sorts of things. I don't see it as something that's old fashioned. I think it's really relevant today. One thing I have in an agenda at Pitt is to really broaden the idea of what jazz is. 

It's true. When you're talking artistically it's branching out into so many styles, whether your're talking abouit Robert Glasper or Tim Berne, there's something going on there. 

And it's for all generations. It's not for old people, it's just your grandparents' music. It's not noise or this hipster thing. It's a whole spectrum. It's for everybody. 

Now we've just got to get more people to listen and pay attention.

Exactly! And not be afraid of it. You know what's interesting is, I went to Salvador, in Bahia, Brazil, a couple years ago. I was at a nightclub. In this club, they had a DJ spinning all this great Brazilian music. And everybody was dancing. You had grandmothers dancing with their grandchildren - in the nightclub! You had all ages. It wasn't like a big pickup scene, though I'm sure there's some of that. The point is that, they were playing this music and you had people that were five years old and people that were eighty years old. They were all getting down, dancing, appreciating it. And jazz has that potential too. It should be like that. It's for everybody. 

What is like teaching jazz in 2024?

People want to know how it relates to them. They don't want to have it be just a historical perspective, like this is something that happened a long time ago, and this is just a history course. They want to know, how does jazz relate to me now? 

The course that I'm teaching is one that Nicole Mitchell was teaching before. It's called Creative Arts Ensemble. For this class, it's a multi-disciplinarian class, meaning, it's open to all the arts - dancers, people into theater, people into photography, people in visual arts. We talk about ways of collaborating, different artistic practices, as well as collaborating as a class. It's been a lot of fun to teach. Something about Pitt - the number one elective course at Pitt is Jazz History. 

I took that class when Nathan Davis was there.

Oh! I think it has to do with the fact that Nathan had built this thing up. I taught the class when I was in my residency. Some people think it's an easy A, which it shouldn't be. I don't think it is. I think that once they get there, they realize, "Oh, I'm going to have to learn something." But I bring that up to say there is so much amazing talent at Pitt. In this class I'm teaching now, it's not a big course. It's small.. We have a couple students who are political science majors and they're incredible musicians, incredible vocalists. You see that in the big band too. You have all these non-music majors who are incredibly talented.

The challenge though, is the undergraduate program needs some work. We don't have many people who are majoring in jazz in the undergraduate program. So that's one of my goals - to create demand for people to become a jazz major.

The graduate program is going strong. There's a lot of history there. Geri and Nicole both focused on that. But we are at a point now where, in order to make the program relevant, we have to have demand for the undergraduate jazz program. That's one of the biggest challenges I have, and Pitt has. Because right now, the students who want to major in jazz, aren't going to Pitt. They're going to Duquesne. 

Maybe your name can draw some of the more adventurous types.

What's great about Pitt is it's a huge school that has all these different schools within the school. They're all willing and able to collaborate. You have this incredible amount of resources. One of the ways I plan on drawing more students into the undergraduate program is to create avenues for them to combine jazz with other arts - not even other arts -  with other fields that they could be interested in. So in other words to have - I don't know what you would call it - like a jazz major/minor kind of thing. You could major in jazz but also have access to these other areas, and maybe have a dual degree.

Are you thinking of combining it with marketing or media?

Absolutely. There are a lot of areas that could be explored in creating some really innovative types of programs. And I get the feeling the school is open to that. The other thing is we have an amazing [recording] studio. It needs a little bit of work but we're getting it in shape. We can offer students access to the studio and also courses in learning how to use the studio as a part of their degree.  

What's great is I got the dean to put a significant amount of money every year into the studio, keeping it up to date and for hiring people to work in the studio. That's something that can really be used as an incentive to pull in more students. 

With all the groups that you're involved in, are you going to try and present some of your bands while you're here?

Yeah, one thing that's great about my academic program is that I can focus on my own bands. I don't have to rely on being a sideman and doing all this touring for income. I'd like to have my ensemble play at Pitt, maybe not necessarily on campus but you know, doing gigs at Con Alma or other venues. 

Anything else that you wanted to mention?

I think we touched on a lot. I'll be interested to see how the Pitt concert is received. We're going to be doing some weird stuff. I shouldn't say "weird," but we are going to be doing some adventurous things. Overall, we'll be playing standards as well. We're going to be mixing them in. So we're going to be bringing both of those flows together. We'll see what happens. 

Taylor, with James Brandon Lewis, at Club Café, March 2023

A complete schedule of events can be found here. 

CD Review: Lina Allemano's Ohrenschmaus - Flip Side

Lina Allemano's Ohrenschmaus

Flip Side

(Lumo Records) Bandcamp link

Andrea Parkins joins the trio of Lina Allemano (trumpet), Dan Peter Sundland (electric bass) and Michael Griener (drums) on three of the seven tracks of Flip Side. Her accordion, electronics and "objects" add to the quick free romps, which all riff on the album title and explore different textures in their movements. "Sidetrack" is the longest, at nine minutes, beginning softly with scrapes and drones that could be emanating from any of the players. Initially, no one rises to the forefront; making the track serve as a prologue to what will follow. Things starts to coalesce in the final minutes. Allemano moans a note that sounds straight out of  Miles Davis' '70s wah wah (though she uses no pedals). Then the track mysteriously fades. 

"Sideswipe," three tracks later, picks up where the previous quartet session left off. This time, Parkins' accordion is more prominent, doing a wild dance with the trumpet. By the time the group gets to "Sidespin," Parkins is most prominent, using her accordion like an organ. This final blast barely lasts four minutes, but none of that time is wasted.

The remaining trio tracks find Ohrenschmaus ("ear candy") also vary widely. Sundland's slapped bass in "Signal" sounds like a funk groove that has won't hold together, thanks to Griener's clackety percussion. Allemano seizes the setting for some dirty growls. "Heartstrings" slowly takes shape with some moody mute blowing but "Stricken" is the album's centerpiece. Here, Sundland and Griener play slow and minimally, like a funeral march, while Allemano plays a melancholy line first with a Harmon mute than open. The mood is so spare, it could fall apart instantly, but it moves on with Sundland bowing and plucking. The results sound both dramatic and full.

"The Line," the final trio track before "Sidespin" alternates melodies played by trumpet and bass, with a series of outbursts full of press rolls, bass thumps and eventually some high whoops from the trumpet.

Allemano and her comrades have many moods, but all of them have a fun sense of adventure at the core. 

CD Review: Jason Stein - Anchors

Jason Stein

Anchors

(TAO Forms) www.aumfidelity.com/collections/tao-forms

The history of jazz music is filled with numerous stories of musicians dealing with various ailments. Many, of course, were a bit self-induced but a lifestyle of playing clubs and traveling extensively can take a physical toll on anyone. So too can mastering an instrument. Trumpeter Steph Richards suffered from potential focal dystonia, a neurological condition that causes muscles to freeze, making it impossible to play. She eventually overcame the condition by altering her technique on her instrument.

Though the liner notes to Anchors don't specifically his condition, bass clarinetist Jason Stein suffered from a similar physical ailment that impacted his playing. Having studied with percussionist Milford Graves, who saw a deep connection between music and good health, Stein worked to heal himself. Cold-water plunges and breathwork were part of the process, along with myofascial trigger point therapy, which helped him locate the source of an injury. 

The music on Anchors is inspired by Stein's healing journey, with titles like "Cold Water," "Holding Breath" and "Crystalline" coming from different aspects of it. Although the bass clarinetist has recorded a few albums in recent years in a trio with bassist Damon Smith and drummer Adam Shead (adding pianist Marilyn Crispell for this year's spi-ralling horn), this is his first session as a leader in six years. This corner of his output has ranged from blends of steady rhythm sections and adventurous flights on his horn to solo recitals that probe the more guttural extremes of the instrument (In Exchange for a Process, Leo). Anchors brings the varied approaches together.

The album features bassist Joshua Abrams, of Natural Information Society, and drummer Gerald Cleaver, whose list of collaborators includes Nels Cline, Matthew Shipp and fellow drummer Devin Gray. Boon, a one-named multidisciplinary artist and songwriter from Chicago, produced the album, penned the liner notes and plays acoustic guitar on the opening and closing title tracks. 

"Anchors I" and "Anchors II" are gentle pieces with the bass clarinet echoing the guitar's sparse, single-note lines in the first and playing in unison in the latter. "Holding Breath" gives the trio the chance to move at their own pace, building from free understated movement into a steady groove where the rhythm section keeps the momentum going while Stein stretches out. For the first three and half minutes of "An Origin," Stein intones a single low note as bass and drums flex beneath him. When this shapes into more of a structure, he solos in a manner that feels Monk-like, taking simple phrases that he shapes and reshapes repeatedly. 

The album also incorporates wild blowing in with more subdued moments. "Cold Water" evokes feelings of a plunge into that object, leading to a thoughtful conclusion that grasps the healing power that can be found in it. "Boon" by contrasts, comes off like a free ballad, while "Crystalline" is driven by Abrams' arco work and Cleaver's cymbal rolls, tempting Stein to dabble just a bit in his horn's upper register.

Like any good concept album, the ideas behind the music bring greater understanding to the work while the performance simultaneously stands on its own, even without the details of the notes on hand. It might necessitate a close listen to appreciate the trio's (or duo's) work but that's always a crucial element with this music. 

For Tito, Sergio and Mr. Jones

When I first starting dreaming about starting a band as a young kid, the instrument that I wanted to play was guitar. My dad's upright bass was cool, my brothers' brass instruments also had some charm, but that guitar seemed to offer more options. It could wail just as easily as it could coo. It rocked.

One of the first guitarists that I looked up to was Tito Jackson of the Jackson Five. Not only could he play (or so it seemed), he could move around while he did it. As a kindergarten kid, with limited access to what was happening musically in the early '70s, Tito was all I needed to see to seal the deal. Plus, he had the same first name as Tito Puente, the great Latin jazz bandleader, whose Greatest Hits album I got for my birthday around the same time.

The above photo comes from the inner sleeve of Get It Together, the J5's 1973 album. The outer cover had the initials GIT die-cut, so you could see the picture of the band underneath. That red Gibson ES 345 just looked so cool in Tito's hands. During "Hum Along and Dance," the brothers yell, "Play it, Tito," which cues a wild guitar solo that channels the outer space velocity of both Jimi Hendrix and Funkadelic's Eddie Hazel. It might be the work of an anonymous session guy, but if that IS Tito, he was a monster on the guitar. The truth might not be ever found without extensive research, so out of respect to Tito and my youthful mind, I'm just going to assume it was him. 

My friend Eric, who lived up the street from me up until halfway through First Grade, and I used to listen to this album a lot, as well as the Jackson 5 records that I peeled off the back of Alpha-Bits cereal boxes. That was the way I first got to hear "I Want You Back," "ABC," "Goin' Back to Indiana" and "Sugar Daddy." (The record of "Maybe Tomorrow" eluded me, but I never liked that song as much when I finally heard it.) 

In our naïve minds, the Jacksons all played their own instruments. This idea was probably fueled by photo we saw of them once picking up instruments in the studio, a realization I had when I came across the photo again more recently. Clearly Tito and Jermaine handled guitar and bass. Somehow, we thought Jackie handled keyboards and Marlon played congas. That left Michael on.... drums? Why not? Micky Dolenz "played" them in the Monkees and he sang lead most of the time. No reason Michael couldn't do it either. 

I still have that same copy of Get It Together, a birthday present from my great aunts, which, if I got it for my sixth birthday, means it had only been out for a month. Initially, I probably wished it had some of the hits, but that didn't stop me from playing it. Now, it stands as an overlooked part of the band's career, heading in a solid funk direction. "Hum Along and Dance" is a great dance number with two heavy grooves in it, begging to be sampled. (One of the brothers is way off in the harmony parts, but that's a small price to pay.) Ironically, that song was originally done by the Temptations, clearly as a filler song with not much too it. That J5 really fleshed it out. 

When Michael Jackson went on to superstardom, Tito kind of faded into the background. Next thing you knew - as a friend pointed recently to me - Eddie Murphy made him a punchline during his Raw comedy hit, which really zapped Tito's cred. I never gave up on him. While I never had a chance to hear his solo album from a few years ago, it was cool to see him reviewed in downbeat, doing something new that wasn't aimed at cashing in on the family legacy. RIP, Tito.

Around the same time that I was about to discover the Jackson 5, there was a triumvirate of musicians that my dad turned me on to: Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass, the 5th Dimension and Sergio Mendes and Brasil 66. I couldn't get enough of them. Too young to read, I knew each one by the album cover and I could figure out side one from side two by the shapes of the words on the labels.

In the case of Sergio's Equinox album (above), Pop had it as a pre-recorded cassette and when I was good enough to be granted access to his tape stash (which also included 5th Dimension's Greatest Hits), Equinox was usually one of the first ones I'd grab. Years later, I picked up a cheap vinyl copy and, even as a 19-year old punk kid, it still conveyed breezy magic. Bossa nova arrangements of songs like "Night and Day" and "Watch What Happens" got stuck in my brain and likely created a standard for what was possible with music. The Portuguese-language songs like "Triste" and "Gente" were also really catchy too, cuing me into different countries and languages out there. The group's version of Little Anthony's "Goin' Out of My Head" is from a different album (their debut) but Lani Hall's heartbroken delivery set the standard for how I thought that song should sound. It sounded really dramatic.

In the early 2000s. I was working as Arts Editor at a short-lived alt-weekly paper called Pulp. One day my phone rang and after I picked up, I heard an accented-voice say, "Hello, Mike? This is Sergio Mendes." It wasn't completely out of the blue. He was slated to perform at the Manchester Craftsmen's Guild and I had informed the venue that I wanted to preview the show. But hearing the voice of the legendary guy saying my name gave me a thrill. I had to call my dad and let him know. The interview took place about a week later and I saw the show, which was a little on the Vegas slick side. A few years later, Sergio's career received another major boost, when he collaborated with the Black Eyed Peas. 

But for me, it's those early albums that still retain the magic. Thanks for everything, Sergio.

I've included the cover of The Fool On the Hill not only as an homage to Sergio, who passed on September 5, and to my dad (whose been gone almost 10 years, and who owned that album), but also to recall a joke that my sister Claire and I had about the cover shot. Sergio looks happy as a clam in the photo while everyone else look sad or dead serious. Karen Phillips, on the right, looks especially pissed off. Why? Claire and I always thought they were mad that they didn't get to sit in the chair.

In closing I must pay tribute to James Earl Jones, who also left us recently. Mister Jones had one of the most distinctive voices in movie and television of course. Darth Vader is all well and good, but my first exposure to him came with a record that I bought from the Arrow Book Club, the program through Scholastic Books where we were album to order books and occasional records through school. Jones read the adaptation of John Henry that Ezra Jack Keats published. I didn't buy the book at that time, so I only had that deep voice to take me into the story. 

To say that he brought things to life was an understatement. Of all the records to lose while growing up, this was one of them. But I can still hear the opening lines: "A hush settled over the hills. The sky swirled soundlessly around the moon." He was so dynamic, yet warm. Years later, when I volunteered to read to my son's class, I ordered that book so I could channel Mr. Jones as I read it. I probably didn't come close to his delivery, but I did pay homage. 

Thanks, Mr. Jones. 

CD Review: Miles Okazaki - Miniature America

Miles Okazaki

Miniature America

(Cygnus) cygnusrecordings.bandcamp.com

"In the context of the road trip, it seems that Miniature America could be a roadside attraction, just beyond that hill in the distance. It's announced on a billboard that promises something you've never seen before, a one-of-a-kind curiosity." 

These words come from Miles Okazaki's liner notes to his newest album, a thought that adds a cinematic element to the 22 tracks. If the music herein was a roadside attraction, the experience might play tricks on the mind, blurring the line between reality and bleary-eyed hallucinations that come after long hours on the interstate. The brief tracks (11 of them don't even last two minutes) exit as quickly as they enter, making them feel like fleeting dreams, or something seen from the corner of the eye.

Okazaki has assembled a group of seven musicians and three vocalists to help create this exquisite work. The instrumentation includes no bass, drums or any type of percussion. Along with Okazaki's guitars come three saxophones (Caroline Davis, Anna Webber, Jon Irabagon), trombone (Jacob Garchik), vibraphone (Patricia Brennan) and piano (Matt Mitchell). The voices of Fay Victor, Jen Shyu and Ganavya do everything from create angelic choirs to repeat selected lines of poetry or excerpted phrases from Immanuel Kant. The latter occurs in "The Cocktail Party" which evokes its name as Mitchell plays the album's languid theme while disembodied voices chatter in the background. Or maybe the foreground.

The brevity of the pieces works in their favor since they provide passing glimpses into varied and detailed scenes. "Chutes and Ladders" presents 61 seconds of group improv, most of it bathed in reverb. In "Deep River" Victor savors one line of poetry while Okazaki flows around her. The combination of guitar, vibes and piano in "Follow That Car" has a fine layer of distortion floating on top of it, which isn't easy to detect at first. 

When things go on longer, the album feels like a suite that's reaching a finale. "In The Fullness of Time" lasts over six minutes, as Ganavya takes liberties with the melody that first entered in "The Cocktail Party" while Irabagon plays wildly off in the distance. A few tracks earlier, all three of the vocalists turned that same melody into a hymn in "The Firmament."

Throughout the album, Okazaki acts more like a bandleader committed to the sound of the group rather than acting as a major soloist, though his rapid picking does get ample room in tracks like "The Funicular" and "Zodiacal Sign." Along with his standard electric and acoustic guitars, he utilizes a quarter-tone and fretless guitars to toy with the sound through channel-crossing slides and plinks.

When the album concludes, the voices of everyone involved repeat more final lines of poems, and what could be unsettling actually comes off sounding warm and a tad humorous. And it feels like the parting words of those unusual roadside folks - who might not be there if you turn around to look back at them.

LP Review: Harold Land - The Fox

Harold Land

The Fox

(Contemporary/Craft) craftrecordings.com/products/the-fox-contemporary-records-acoustic-sounds-series-180g-lp

The Acoustic Sounds vinyl reissue of Harold Land's The Fox fulfills an important task not only because it shines a bright, crisp light on a great album but also because it helps to elevate the profile of three criminally overlooked jazz musicians. 

First on that list is, of course, tenor saxophonist Harold Land. Even during his fruitful years, albums like Harold In the Land of Jazz and West Coast Blues seemed to lament how recognition and great attention seemed to evade the man who once played in a band that was poised (legitimately) to be the one of the most revered acts in jazz - the Clifford Brown-Max Roach Quintet. Land left the group to take care of his family, and Sonny Rollins held the tenor chair until Brown and Richie Powell died in a car accident. While some of Land's later recordings helped elevate his name, he still could use more props.

Trumpeter Dupree Bolton, Land's foil on The Fox, also had the cards stacked against him. Leonard Feather's liner notes of this album emphasized the mysterious background of the gifted trumpet player by citing a quote that Bolton gave to a downbeat editor about running away from home at the age of 14. (He offered no other information about himself.) In 2009, a somewhat lackluster collection of performances offered some background in the notes about Bolton's life, much of which was spent behind bars. The info could be found in my writeup at this link. Suffice to say, Bolton's incredible technique and improvisation ideas were inversely related to his personal life. More on that in a minute.

Finally, there's pianist Elmo Hope. The one time close associate of Thelonious Monk, who was judicious in his choice of piano playing friends, Hope died in 1967 at age 43, leaving behind too few recordings of some really advanced compositions. He also recorded a few blowing sessions that featured John Coltrane on his way up, thereby capturing both players in their young and ambitious phase. The Fox was recorded in 1959, when Hope was living on the West Coast, and he wrote four of the six tracks, so this album really does him right. 

Bassist Herbie Lewis and drummer Frank Butler complete the lineup. Not to downplay their efforts but both were pretty well-documented players throughout their lives. And they also elevate the music here. 

The quintet barrels out of the gate immediately in the Land-penned title track. In some ways, it's built like a standard bop theme that's played at a rapid tempo. But on closer examination, the harmonic direction sounds like Ornette Coleman's version of bebop. You're expecting a return to the A part after Land tears it up for a few bars. But no, the theme is over and Land has jumped into the solo. 

While some greenhorns have trouble maintaining a bebop tempo, the tune seems to have trouble keeping up with the band; they play like they want to break away. Land has to blow a long note in his second chorus to catch his breath. Bolton matches his speed and ingenuity. Following the Hope ballad "Mirror-Hand Rose" they bring the energy back up with another tune by the pianist, "One Second, Please." 

The pianist gets the first solo on his "Sims A-Plenty" which goes to great lengths in support of the staying power of his work. Delivered with a catchy shout from the horns at the start and finish, this one should be a hard bop standard. "Little Chris" also proves that the right combination of West Coast players could write and blow with as much fire as their East Coast cousins.

It might come as a surprise that when Contemporary Records released The Fox, it was already a reissue. The small Hi-Fi Jazz imprint released the first edition in 1960, a full nine years before Lester Koenig had the smarts to give this ace session a second chance. This new edition might not have the Saul White painting of the original, but the cover profile of Land is enough to capture the gravity of the music in these grooves, and invites everyone to reexamine this overlooked classic. As far as the reissue goes, the pressing captures the fire of the quintet. Among other things, it can make a listener lament that Dupree Bolton - who sounds somewhere between the groundbreaking of Dizzy Gillespie and the forward vision of Booker Little - had so few chances to pursue his muse.

CD Reviews: Luke Stewart Silt Trio - Unknown Rivers / Kim Cass - Levs

Pi Recordings recently released two albums under the leadership of two different bassists. Both meet the level of expectation and adventure that usually come from this cutting edge imprint and neither one sounds a bit like the other.

Luke Stewart Silt Trio

Unknown Rivers

(Pi Recordings) pirecordings.com/albums/unknown-rivers/

Luke Stewart might be the kind of player that would be considered a bassist's bassist. A member of Irreversible Entanglements and a regular presenter of jazz concerts in the D.C. area, he has also performed with a wealth of musicians such as David Murray, Wadada Leo Smith and jaimie branch. As a leader, he knows how to not only sustain a groove but to build on it without letting the direction get lost.

Unknown Rivers presents him in two trios. Both feature tenor saxophonist Brian Settles. The first four tracks have Trae Crudup on drums while the remaining three come from a live set with Chad Taylor behind the kit. Both lineups have plenty going for them, and hearing them back-to-back makes this a strong album.

"Seek Whence" opens the set with a melody that recalls the jagged, clipped theme of Thelonious Monk's "Evidence," with a harmonic framework that puts the focus on the 7/4 groove (with a measure of 4/4 tacked on to the end to keep the listener's attention). "Baba Doo Way" also has an infectious melody based on the phrasing of the title, which Steward and Settles play in unison before going off. Crudup sets up some free rolls and cymbal splashes in "You See?," which motivates his comrades to explore the free possibilities of the mood. Stewart slides up and down the neck and Crudup keeps a low level fire going, eventually inspiring Settles to move from a more subdued stayed into more ecstatic mood. "The Slip" has another vamp in 7/4, with a groove that would still make a great sample. 

The three tracks with Chad Taylor come from a live performance which flows together like an multi-section suite. It begins with the energy at a high level, thanks to a two-minute drum showcase at the start of "Amilcar" before Stewart digs into a rich descending bass line. The nearly 13-minute "Dudu" is something of an epic within itself, starting with a bowed bass line and featuring a pensive tenor line that flows through. 

The sparks created by the performances on Unknown Rivers make it the kind of album that feels very of-the-moment, yet this music also has a very timeless energy that recalls classic artists who straddled vamps and pure freedom. 

Kim Cass

Levs

(Pi Recordings) pirecordings.com/albums/levs/

By contrast Kim Cass' Levs fits in the Pi discography with other demanding albums that fly past the ears so quickly that it can be a challenge to untangle what is going on. The bassist has appeared on a few albums that fit that description, including two by pianist Matt Mitchell (A Pouting Grimace and Phalanx Ambassadors), drummer Kate Gentile's Find Letter X and Snark Horse (the group helmed by Mitchell and Gentile) on their six-disc album. 

The pianist returns the favor, playing through Levs, along with drummer Tyshawn Sorey. Most of the 13 tracks also include Laura Cocks (flutes) and Adam Dotson (euphonium), though both function mainly as coloring to the sound, rather than soloists. Sometimes they blend so well with Mitchell's Prophet-6, that a unique, different sound is created; at other times they sound like a vintage mellotron. 

Cass composes in relatively short segments. All but one of the tracks last barely more than three minutes, and nearly all of them end suddenly, some with no fanfare after the final chord, others sounding like the tape was cut. Within the confines of each piece, plenty happens, though. Mitchell and Cass play some thoughtful parallel lines in "Gs." "Time" starts with a press roll that launches Mitchell into something that starts off like twisted piano boogie, which flow without a break for two minutes until that quick cut-off arrives. Even when things seem to be moving rapidly, with Sorey jousting in a three-way match with piano and bass, tracks like "Slag" and "Rumple" have stops in the composition, which offers a sense of clarity to the performance. 

The entire album could be considered a showcase for Cass' technique but certain moments stand out in relief. At the end of the droning "Fog Face," he seems to deftly incorporate the entire range of his instrument in a mere 20 seconds. "Ripley" is built on a bass harmonic that is one of the few moments on the album that feels like a ballad. "Body" also beings with a thoughtful bass solo, with flutes and euphonium girding it. If you're not expecting the stone cold cut at the end, you might think your sound system has malfunctioned.

"Trench" ends the album like an epic, albeit a dark one. Cass has saved the longest piece (six minutes) for his final statement. After spinning so many twisted lines earlier, Mitchell sticks to minor chords. Eventually the bass starts walking underneath while Cocks and Dotson float on the surface and Sorey skitters around. After an intentional lack of climaxes, "Trench" is built on trick endings. It also might be the darkest piece of instrumental music Pi has released since that first Starebaby album. But that isn't a criticism.

Talkin' Velvet Monkeys On Another Blog

Velvet Monkeys. Back: Elaine Barnes.
Front: Charles Steck, Don Fleming, Jay "The Rummager" Spiegel

In addition to this space, I contribute about once a month (or two) to my friend Will Simmons' blog The Gullible Ear. The idea behind each entry requires the writer to pick one song and discuss it. Usually they subjects are off the beaten track but even the popular ones are not the ones that you've read about endlessly. In the past I expounded about songs by the 5th Dimension, Little Richard and Herbie Mann, digging into what they really mean to me, as well as unsung bands like Boston's Christmas.

Early this month, I chose "World Of," a song by the Velvet Monkeys, the early '80s DC quasi-garage pop band that included Don Fleming and Jay Spiegel (both later of B.A.L.L. and Gumball and charter members of Half Japanese). The band's Future album has just been remastered for its 40th anniversary and is available on Bandcamp as Future 20/40. 

When I bought the album, I didn't download all the bonus tracks at first because I was on deadline. Nor did I notice the plethora of photos that came along with them, including radio playlists, in all their typewritten glory. There were also a bunch of promo photos of the band. One of the least flattering ones appeared on the back of a Velvet Monkeys compilation that Shimmy-Disc released in 1989. I figured it was time to spotlight how fetching this band, so here we have two photos of them.  

The blog post can be found here. 

The album itself can be found here. I suggest checking out both. 

 

LP Review: Pernice Brothers - Who Will You Believe

Pernice Brothers

Who Will You Believe

(New West) NewWestRecords.com

During frequent listens to Pernice Brothers albums like Yours, Mine and Ours, Discover a Lovelier You and Goodbye, Killer, it sometimes feels as if Joe Pernice is rewriting the same couple songs with different lyrics. But it doesn't matter because they sound like some of the greatest songs ever written. If Pernice - the main driver behind the band that includes just one of siblings - isn't coming up with heart-rendering chord progressions built in layers, he's crooning over them in a voice that could be alternately soothing, weary or hopeful, often reaching into an upper register for the right amount of pathos. 

Pernice has always been a master at delivering sharp imagery in a line or two. To list just a few personal favorites: "Won't you come away with me and begin some thing we can't understand"; "If I was the only one and you were the last alive/ would we sit there like the amateurs and watch our days go by/ waiting for the universe to die"; "Scratched your farewell couplet in my window frost." Then there's his skill at merging high brow and low brow, as in the song about being obsessed with someone reading both Ford Maddox Ford and Jacqueline Susann. (I believe the latter inspired a song of mine, at least as a starting point.)

In an interview included with the live Nobody's Watching CD, the singer confesses a fondness for the Best of Bread 8-track tape that belonged to his mom. Part of me nearly died, wondering how this literate tunesmith took inspiration from David Gates' limpid music. Then I heard a few of Bread's hits again. While I'm still not fond of "Baby I'm-A Want You" or "It Don't Matter to Me," the power of their pop structures and the falsetto middle eights can't be denied.

Who Will You Believe includes a song that checks off all the boxes required for a strong country song about good loving that has died. For starters, it's called "I Don't Need That Anymore." He doesn't have to elaborate on what "that," is, because the rest of the song spells it out. Playing Dolly to his Porter is no less than Neko Case, who brightens up the second verse. There are plenty of ways to say it's over, but among the images used here, the best might be "I don't feel the pull of sirens singing anymore." Nashville needs that song.

The only thing absent from the track is a third verse, in which Pernice and Case could have harmonized together. Sure, that might override the point of the song but it could have driven it home, musically. That missing lyrical element also affects songs during the first half of the album. A number of them throw out a few good lines but their storylines get blunted by refrains that pop up too frequently. None are bad songs, but it feels like they could have done more.

"December In Our Eyes" really nails the '70s soft rock arrangement, with electric piano, congas and mellow trumpet. Here, Pernice's storytelling skills get a workout, but the song's instrumental coda, complete with strings, could have faded sooner. On the other hand, the six-string solo in "Hey, Guitar" threatens to turn the scene into Mott the Hoople's "Rock and Roll Queen," a touchstone that feels accurate what with the song's trick ending, which evokes Mott's early album studio tricks.

Seven different guitarists are credited on the album, including Pernice and brother Bob, though personnel is listed collectively. When our hero goes it alone with just his acoustic guitar on the last three tracks, at least at the start of each one, these songs have the most dramatic impact. "Ordinary Goldmine" follows "I Don't Need That Anymore" and feels like it picks up where the other left off.

"The Purple Rain" could be another break-up song but sources have indicated it might be for friends that have passed. In keeping with the feeling, strings and a brass ensemble ease into the arrangement before a literal choir chimes in for the final chorus. Rather than rise to a dramatic crescendo, however, the song doesn't overplay the feeling and ends calmly. If "The Purple Rain" is about friends that have gone, it might be the most poignant song of Pernice's career. If not, it still hits hard. 

Between both of those tracks, "How Will We Sleep" includes another telling line: "Growing old seemed like death to me when I was young/ Now I want to grow old/ And I want to belong." Playing indie music isn't just for kids, as well all know. But composing it, and ruminating about the passage of time can be a challenge. As Who Will You Believe fades, it's clear that Pernice has a handle on both. 

A Talk With Micky Dolenz

Monkees enthusiasts can likely recall a scene from the episode of the show called "The Monstrous Monkee Mash." While Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork are searching for Davy Jones in a haunted house, Peter disappears. The realization inspires Mike and Micky to break the fourth wall, yelling at the camera in unison, "HE'S GONE!" (It was a recurring joke on the show.)

"Maybe we make it a duet," Micky asks Mike. "If you leave, I'll be a single."

Without missing a beat, Mike imitates the opening thump of their theme song, and Micky sings in a mock-hysterical voice, "Here I come/walking down the street/I get the funniest looks from/ all the people I meet/ Hey, hey, I'm a Monkee!" 

The sequence of that hilarious scene probably unfolds quicker than it takes to read about it. But it's become strangely true. With the passing of Mike Nesmith in late December 2021, Micky Dolenz is now the last surviving member of  the Monkees. (Davy died in 2012; Peter in 2019.) What started as a television show that brought the zeitgeist of  A Hard Day's Night into the living rooms of Middle America became much more than that. Some top shelf composers and the Wrecking Crew session players of Los Angeles helped to launch these four disparate lads into pop stardom. (They proved they could play the instruments and take control of the studio process along the way, but that's another story.) Most of the band's biggest singles had Micky Dolenz singing lead. And damn, could that kid sing! 

At 79, he shows no sign of slowing down. Though he could rest on some extremely catchy laurels, Dolenz has continued to be a productive performer with a scope that goes beyond his heyday. 

Before his guitar-slinging pal passed away, Micky recorded Dolenz Sings Nesmith, an homage to his longtime pal which took some deep cut Monkees tunes as well as some of his solo material and, with the help of Christian Nesmith (Mike's son), helped to reimagine them in some bold new arrangements. (Incidentally, the original inspiration for the album came from Nilsson Sings Newman, in which singer Harry paid tribute songwriting singer pal Randy.)

Earlier this year, Micky - who had previously done a full-length salute to Carole King -  paid tribute again, this time to a band that took some jangly inspiration from him years before. Dolenz Sings REM might only be an EP, but it proves that Micky still pays attention to the modern cats. There's something exhilarating about hearing him sing "Radio Free Europe." Even those of us who might not be too keen on the original "Shiny Happy People" can be won over by his version (thanks in part to the soaring back-up singing of Micky's sister Coco.) With a front cover shot depicting our hero in a car in front of Wuxtry Records (the Athens, GA record store where REM members Michael Stipe and Peter Buck first met), it betrays a genuine love and hat tip to the band. (Hopefully a sequel will follow someday.) 

Throughout all of these modern projects, one fact becomes clear: Micky still has a strong set of pipes. When he comes to South Park Amphitheatre this Friday, August 2, the performance has been titled "Micky Dolenz: Songs and Stories." No mere nostalgia trip for the almost octogenarian, he calls the evening "a flat-out rock concert." 

Micky and I spoke by phone for 20 minutes about a week ago. For a fellow of his stature and a fellow of my Monkees devotion, that time is a mere drop in the bucket, but any time with this charming guy is worth it. Plus having spoken with each Monkee except Davy Jones, the opportunity was not something I wanted to miss. 

When we finally got past some phone issues, I wanted to avoid the tired stories that we all know and kept it to a few leading questions. Micky proved himself to be plenty loquacious, sharp as a tack and a bit humble to boot. He started off talking about his connection to Pittsburgh from the start of his performance career. 

Micky: Before we start, I’ve got a little bit of trivia for you. 

Lay it on me.  

Guess where the first public performance I ever had was as a singer. And I was also playing guitar. It was in 1955. I was 10 or 11 years old. It was my first performance onstage in front on an audience singing a song and playing a guitar.

I think I remember you telling this once at a concert. 

Uh oh!

Was it at Kennywood Park?

Yes it was!

Did it involve an elephant?

I was on a promo press junket for this series that I was doing called Circus Boy. I had a pet elephant called Bimbo. We came out, cross country by train because, obviously, they couldn’t put the elephant on a plane! That was my pet elephant in the show, We were on a press junket doing personal appearances: Kennywood Park; in Chicago there was something, I think the Pump Room. In New York, Grand Central Station. And then in New York, up onstage with the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall.
But that was my first performance. And I have it on tape! I came out with a little local three-piece band and sang a few songs. Then the elephant came out and did a bunch of tricks with the elephant’s trainer, of course. Basically, in my first performance as a professional, I opened for an elephant! I love telling that story.
I love Pittsburgh. I think it’s so beautiful. All those beautiful houses overlooking the rivers. Fantastic!

I also have little bit of Pittsburgh trivia related to you. My uncle used to be in radio here and he went out to California in the '60s and became a bit-part actor and was on two episodes of

The Monkees.

Wow! What was his name?

Rege Cordic. He was the Town Cryer in [the episode] A Fairy Tale and the doctor in the Christmas episode.

[Sounding genuinely excited] Wow, how cool! Is he still with us?

No, he passed about 20 years ago. But he had a really rich baritone voice. And that actually leads into what I wanted to ask you too. How do you preserve your vocal pipes after all these years?

Funny you should bring that up. I’ll tell you what I’ve done it over the years. But first I have to tell you, I had a bit of laryngitis for four months. I still have a little bit of a croak, nothing as bad as it was. But I had to cancel a couple of shows, it got so bad. We tried to figure out what it was. My EMT specializes in voice. It’s been a real challenge for me. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know why. It just hit me. I couldn’t talk, I certainly couldn’t sing. For months it’s been going on. I just saw him again yesterday and it was a lot better. I was focusing on the shows this weekend. And it’s going to be fine. They figured it out and it’s gotten incredibly better.
I’ve been asked this question a few times. You know your vocal chords are muscles, right? So if you think of it almost like a sport. In my case, my mother and father were both singers, actors and performers. So part of it is inherited. Part of it is the luck of the draw, inheriting the right musculatures, as we call it. Then of course there’s the training. If they hadn’t been in the business, I might never have utilized my voice. But they were, so over the years, as a child I learned to sing very young. My mom taught my sister and I how to sing. How to sing harmonies. And then, it’s a little bit nature and a little bit nature.
During the Monkees, boy, I was singing a lot. I never had a coach. But I had people, and a bit of advice here and there. I got very, very lucky after the Monkees. Well - luck or design. I never ended up going through that period, post-Monkees, in the '70s and '80s, going around to sing in smoky, dingy nightclubs with no monitors. That wiped out a lot of people, as you can imagine.

I moved to England and I didn’t sing a note, hardly, for 10 to 12 years. I was directing and producing television and movies. I went through, again, a bit of the luck of the draw. It was by design. I wanted to be a director at the time, after the Monkees. So I missed that 10 or 15 years where all of my contemporaries were singing in smoky [bars]. It was horrible in clubs, in concert, everywhere. We didn’t have monitors. Not in those early, early days. You were singing over the band. and you only heard yourself bouncing off the back wall. So it was brutal on people’s voices. It also kind of saved my tubes, as it were, for 10 or 12 years. 

The biggest thing that happened, I would say – I don’t know how much you want me to go into this – was when I got a Broadway musical. It was Aida, the Elton John/Tim Rice musical. I was going to do it on the national tour and then on Broadway for about a year. And my manager said, “You should really take some vocal lessons.” And I said, “What are you talking about? I’ve been singing for 30 years!” And she said, “Trust me. Eight shows a week on Broadway, doing those kind of songs.” I said alright. And I’m so glad I did. 

It wasn’t about learning to sing, or reading music. It was about breathing. It had to do with how you save your vocal chords by breathing, and breathing exercises. And by warming up. That’s the next thing. I warm up before a show. I warm up before a tour. I warm up every day, doing exercises. Like you would for a sport. You wouldn’t go out and play Wimbledon without having warmed up or played a game in weeks.

Anyhow, sorry to ramble on.

That’s okay. The only other person I’ve asked about their voice is Johnny Mathis. And you gave a much more nuanced answer than him.

Johnny Mathis, one of my favorites, ever. He’s the first album I ever bought as a kid. I told him that when I met him.

I don’t know if this is totally accurate but I read that before the Monkees, you had considered going to college for architecture.

I did go. Oh yeah. I was in college, studying to be an architect. I had a couple of semesters under my belt. I was doing little day jobs, because I had done that series [Circus Boy], in the summer, on school break. Mainly just to make money. And I would get little bit parts. There was a show called Mr. Novak. Peyton Place. You know, guest star things.
My plan was to be an architect. And if I couldn’t make it as an architect, I could fall back on show business! I’m serious. 

I was in school when the Monkees audition came along. Obviously I took a couple of days, I went to the audition, then there were mini-auditions. I would just take off a day here and there to do the auditions. When my agent said, “You’ve got the pilot,"  I didn’t even quit school because I knew - back then to this day - most pilots don’t sell. I didn’t even quit school. I took a week off to film the pilot and then I went back to school! Then when we got the order for the first 26, that’s when I quit school.

Do you ever get existential and think about where we’d all be if you’d blown off that audition?

Oh boy. [Laughs] A lot. Or if they had chosen not to cast me. But I wouldn’t have blown off the audition. Not blown it off, my agent would have said you’ve got an audition for a pilot. I was up for three different pilots that year, all music shows. Because [music] was in the air. Yeah, I often wonder, or if they had chosen to go with someone else. Which would’ve happened, of course.

At what point did you realize, wow this thing is really freaking huge?

Yesterday! (Laughs) No, it constantly amazes me. A number of times in my life, like when I came back from England. It happened to be around the time of the MTV thing [in 1986, when the station reran the original episodes, eventually leading to a reunion tour]. That was a huge surprise.
No, I remember specifically when that [first] happened. It was in December of ’66. The show went on the air in September. We were in production, 24-7: filming the show eight to ten hours a day. Then, since I was doing most of the lead singing on the songs, I would have to go into the studio until midnight and record [songs]. Back then, of course, without social media and all that other stuff, you really didn’t get a sense of anything. There weren’t fans. There wasn’t paparazzi. There wasn’t anything like that. Because they couldn’t find you if they wanted to, people would try but…
So that Christmas came along and we got a hiatus from filming the show. I was planning to go up to the family home up in San Jose for Christmas. So I made my Christmas shopping list and I jumped into my car and I drove to the neighborhood mall. I was born and raised in LA, so I drove to neighborhood mail.
I just got out of my car to go in and get all my Christmas presents for the family. So I go through the big glass doors at the mall. All of a sudden a bunch people start running at me. I thought it was a fire. So I’m holding the doors opening going, “Don’t run! Don’t run! Don’t panic. Walk carefully!” And then all of a sudden, I realize, “Shit, they’re running at me!” And I was pissed off because I couldn’t do my shopping. I had to send one of the roadies to do my friggin’ shopping!
And that’s when I went, “Oh shit, something’s going on here.”

It looks like I’m at the 20-minute point with you and that’s my limit.

Only because there’s another [interview call] coming up. Do you want to ask about the show? 

Yes. I want to ask about the set list for the show. What can we expect?

What you can expect is of course, all the big Monkee hits. That goes without saying. I always do them in their entirety because I know a lot of people and a lot of the fans there may not be familiar with all the other Monkees stuff, I know that they want those big hits. So I made a vow years ago that I would make sure that everybody got those hits. But then I discovered over the years of playing, as long as they know they’re going to get the hits, you can go off and do different things. You can do deep album cuts, which I have, or you can even do non-Monkees material because they know they’re going to get those hits.

In this latest iteration, it again still all the big hits, with a nice seven-piece band. Then not long ago, I started telling stories. I would ask the audience, do you want to hear stories. And they were like, “YEAH!” So I start telling stories about the day and about the Monkees and about my experiences and specifically about people I knew. Like specifically, I tell a story about Stephen Stills. I’m not going to tell the story now because you have to come to the show! (Laughs) And then sing a particular song. I tell a story about Jimi Hendrix opening for the Monkees. A lot of people don’t know that. Then I sing an appropriate song. And other examples: I tell about meeting the Beatles and going to Abbey Road Studios when they were recording Sgt. Pepper. And I sing a song. I remember them recording when I was there. And people seem to love it.

I’m really looking forward to it.

I hope you can come.

 
Oh, hell yeah, man! Me and some friends of mine from work are already looking forward to it.

Friday, August 2. 7:30 pm. South Park Amphitheater, 100 Farmshow Rd., South Park Twp, PA 15129