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.