Pitt Jazz Seminar Concert 2025

One thing I didn't clarify in my preview post about the Pitt Jazz Seminar Concert was the one person who was not part of the performance that night - Chad Taylor, the head of Jazz Studies at Pitt and the person who put the event together. Considering the event was titled Percussion Discussion, with that instrument featured prominently, and that one of Taylor's former teachers (Joe Chambers) was a featured guest that evening, it was a bit of a surprise. (Though the internet indicates that he was just returning from a European tour with James Brandon Lewis a few days earlier.) Taylor was on hand to help emcee the event, but that was it. One can't help but admire someone who prefers to put the spotlight on other people during an event like this. 

Sasha Berliner

The first half of the show feature two separate sets. Vibraphonist Sasha Berliner started the night with a solo performance on her instrument, where she created and played along with some loops. She covered some wide ground, beginning with György Ligeti's "Musica Ricercata #7" and a version of "My Funny Valentine" that was long and dreamy and nothing like the chestnut that has been done umpteen times. When she set up some low bass loops and started playing with four mallets, it was a exciting surprise to hear the voicings that came up on top of the foundation. It was even cooler when it turned out to be Thelonious Monk's "Light Blue," which is a challenge to pull off in any context, especially as a solo. In lesser hands, it can feel lugubrious but Berliner gave it some spark.

One personal frustration throughout the evening stemmed from the on-the-fly stage direction. Over 55 years, there has always been a little of that (announcers mispronouncing artists' names or admitting "I've never heard of this guy") and there was a little of that going on. The evening's official host, Mike Canton (host of The Soul Show on WZUM-The Jazz Channel) provided a warm welcome and introduced the acts, but he could've provided more details on how the order of the show would proceed. He had introduced Berliner quickly, when she seemed to need a moment to set up shop. He also talked up the tap dancing that would be part of the Joel Ross Trio's set, but never introduced dancer Melissa Almaguer by name. 

Tap has been highlighted in previous seminar concerts as well as concerts staged by the Kente Arts Alliance. The late Jack DeJohnette also performed in an evening with Savion Glover in 2016 at the Manchester Craftsmen's Guild. So it's not unusual to see it here in town. Yet the Ross trio's flowing sound didn't seem like the best pairing with Almaguer. The group and the dancer are clearly inventive artists, but it took a while for both parties to sound like interaction was happening. This could have been due in part to a mix that didn't carry the dancer's work up to our seats.  

Left to right: Aaron J. Johnson, Reggie Watkins, trombones
Yoko Suzuki, Ben Opie, Kenny Powell: saxophones (seated). Erik Lawrence, alto, flute.
Bobby Sanabria, drums. Howie Alexander, piano. Lee Smith, bass.
Warren Smith, tympani. Joe Chambers, vibes.

The second half of the show saluted the percussion ensemble M'Boom with a band that featured the last living members of that group, rounded out by Bobby Sanabria on drums and a crew of local musicians filling out the horn section. The ensemble came out of the gate blazing, starting with Bobby Hutcherson's "Pomponio." Joe Chambers and horn section leader Erik Lawrence (on alto) both took fiery solos that hinted at the excitment that was coming. 

They continued saluting the late vibraphonist Hutcherson by following with his "Ballade Die Ravel," which Chambers arranged. Sanabria had already started to kick some serious ass in the previous tune. During this one, he dextrously played congas and cymbals, in addition to traps and became one of the rhythm section's driving forces.

Pittsburgh pianist Howie Alexander was a last minute addition to the band, filling in for Aaron Graves, who was listed in the program. Chambers seemed to fascinated with our hometown whiz, giving him multiple solo space, on which he delivered. It was as much of surprise to Alexander as to everyone else, but his solo on Duke Ellington's "Midnight Sun" put his authority on full display. Vocalist Mavis SWAN Poole joined the group for a few songs, including the Max Roach/Abbey Lincoln piece "Mendacity," another song that has not lost is relevance in current times.

Mavis SWAN Poole

Chambers, Warren Smith (who spent most of the set behind four tympani) and Sanabria all began patting their chests towards the end of the set, setting a pulse that most of the band picked up on. After they made their way to center stage, they eventually headed back to their respective spots and things shifted into a big roar from the wealth of percussion instruments. Smith never got much in the way of space to stretch out but he made his presence known. And at 92, we're lucky that he made the trip. He and Chambers were bestowed with Lifetime Achievement Awards during the performance too.

Although the performance lasted over two hours (including intermission) it felt like it wrapped up a little too suddenly. The marimba towards the front of the stage was never used. (For a moment, we were hoping that Ross and Berliner might come out onstage to join in for a closing tune.) Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. 

The evening program even offered some "Save the Date" info for next year's seminar and concert - The Jazz Organ Summit, November 1-8, 2026. You've been reminded.

Did You Catch the New Album by Benefits?

Benefits

Burnout

(Adversarial Patterns) benefitspgh.bandcamp.com/album/burnout

One thing that might not have gotten proper attention at the Monongahela Pop Festival* was the release of Burnout, by the local group that answers to the name of Benefits. It's been released on vinyl in a very limited edition on the band's imprint Adversarial Patterns and can also be heard on the Bandcamp link above.

The band sent me a download of the album several months ago, which I burned to CD and played often in the car. When the Harry Von Zells played with them back in 2019, the quintet played a sharp set of arranged, brainy pop songs. Burnout takes things in a completely different direction. It includes layers of vocals coming at all angles, in an almost rock opera sense, while style maintaining the catchy framework.

But you ain't heard nothing until you listen to the record with the lyric sheet in hand. Burnout is probably the only album where the lyric sheet has FOOTNOTES. A total of 30 notes for eight songs, some of them resembling mini-essays that add context to what is being sung. Most of the songs were written during and immediately following the pandemic. The mood is very dystopian but there are also moments of levity, like a reference to Pittsburgh's late Northway Mall, or "You Know the Place," in which vocalist Mike Baltzer adopts the role of a lounge singer/host, signing off cryptically. After reading through them while listening, it was clear that the band's cover choice at the Monongahela Pop Festival (the Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter") was not simply a take on a classic song - it was chosen for the lyrical matter.

At the same time, the music on Burnout remains extremely catchy. Opener "How Am I Doing Now" has a chorus that's hard to shake. Chelsey Engel's high harmonies and counter vocals add to the power of the sound. The overall feeling of the album recalls the early work of Dead Kennedys in the way Benefits seems to blend such dark subject matter and cool tunes, with plenty of side notes to make sure you don't miss the point.

Of course it should be pointed out that Benefits sounds nothing like the mutant surf rock/hardcore sound of the DKs. The message is the common thread. So maybe Baltzer's lyrics are more of a distant relative to Bertolt Brecht or Kurt Weill. The eight songs barely last a half hour but they're dense enough to make a complete listening. 

Benefits plays this Friday at Poetry Lounge, 313 North Ave., Millvale. The evening's bill also includes Stars of Disaster and Dumplings. Stars of Disaster released the album Love Won't Save You a few years ago, which needs to be heard by more people, especially fans of the dB's or Big Star. Dumplings don't have any records out (yet) but I hear they're in the works. Check them all out. 

*Most folks who know me personally know about the Monongahela Pop Festival. But for those who don't, it was a two-night event at Government Center that included four bands each night. Benefits played on Saturday, October 4 with the Harry Von Zells (my band), Bat Radar and a reunited lineup of the Frampton Brothers. The night before, Greg Hoy & the Boys (Hoy being a Pittsburgh ex-pat, like many of the Framptons) headlined a show that also included the Garment District, the Denalis and Pink Gin Marimbas (I play drums in the latter band). Both nights were big successes, with Night 2 selling out. 

The festival is one of the reasons why this blog went silent for a couple months too. But it also helped regenerate me, as the Dromfest '25.

Preview of the 55th Annual Pitt Jazz Seminar & Concert

2025 marks the 55th year that the University of Pittsburgh has hosted a weeklong series of seminars on jazz music, its players and the industry, culminating in a concert of internationally recognized jazz musicians gathering onstage. The template for the concert has shifted since the late Dr. Nathan Davis started it during his years at Pitt (1969-2013), bringing in a number of heavyweight friends (which included Art Blakey, Donald Byrd and Johnny Griffin at one time or another) for a program that harkened back to the large ensemble Jazz at the Philharmonic template of getting everyone onstage to play together. The work of his successors on at least one occasional drew ire from attendees who expected the events to remain the same. (See here for reports on years past.) But Chad Taylor, the Director of Jazz Studies, has put together a unique program this season, which has been called "Percussion Discussion" that can bring in everyone. 

The Pitt Jazz Ensemble kicked off
 Jazz Week this past Monday with a lunchtime
set in the William Pitt Union.

The same year that Davis launched what would become the annual Seminar/Concert event, Max Roach joined forces with several other jazz percussionists in New York to create the band M'Boom. Two of the surviving members of the group, Joe Chambers and Warren Smith, will be in Pittsburgh to talk about their work and to perform.

Joe Chambers (above) has an astouding discography as both a leader and sideman. He appeared on numerous albums in the late '60s, supporting players such as vibist Bobby Hutcherson, pianists Andrew Hill and Chick Corea and trumpeter Freddie Hubbard. He recorded with Miles Davis during the In Silent Way sessions, which weren't released until the complete sessions appeared in 2001. His work on the 26-minute "Ghetto Walk" had an understated swing to it that sustained the lengthy track and predicted Davis' future work.

In addition to playing drums, Chambers is also skilled on vibraphone and piano. His 2016 album Landscapes put all of his talents together: he played drums and overdubbed vibes as the lead instrument, as well as extra percussion and solo piano, each on one track respectively.

M'Boom impressively made their instrument sound melodic and delicate. One of my favorite moments came on their 1992 Live at S.O.B.'s  album where Chambers' vibes accompanied the late Roy Brooks, who played "Body and Soul" on the saw. (This might be a good topic to bring up during the discussion "Cross Rhythms: the Life and Musicality of Joe Chambers" which Taylor will host on Thursday, November 6 in Room 205 at Bellefield Hall, 3 p.m. 

If Joe Chambers' c.v. seems impression, 92-year old Warren Smith (above) is a national treasure, with forays into all styles of music. The drummer worked as a leader and a session player, showing up in places as unlikely as the first Pearls Before Swine album on ESP-Disk', at a time when he was also playing with Sam Rivers, Nina Simone and Janis Joplin. On the aforementioned M'Boom album, Smith played the melody to Thelonious Monk's "Blue Monk" on tympani, with a skill that made it more than a novelty.

Along with M'Boom, Smith also created the Composers Workshop Ensemble. Old News Borrowed Blues, a 2009 CD on the independent Engine label, featured Smith with 14 other musicians, playing original works with the fire and passion akin to the Sun Ra Arkestra. He also was a member of the late tenor saxophonist David S. Ware's final quartet. Friday, November 7, Pitt's Aaron J. Johnson will host a seminar "Warren Smith: A Life in Music" at 3 p.m. in the same room as above in Bellefield Hall.

Saturday's seminars kick off with a presentation with a vibraphonist who has quickly risen up as one of jazz's most significant performers on the instrument. Sasha Berliner (above) is only 27 years old and has already released three albums as a leader, including this year's Fantȏme. She has also worked as a supporting member in bassist Ben William's group Between Church and State. 

Berliner brings a significant voice to the seminar and concert, with an astute grasp on the music's history while still creating work that is modern with her own voice. Earlier this year, she told JazzTimes, “I think there are some people who are in fear of the origins and traditions of jazz going obsolete. And I think that it’s not a zero-sum game. It’s not like because modern jazz exists, that stuff goes away.” Her "Speaking With Mallets" talk happens on Saturday, November 8 in Bellefield Hall Auditorium at 2 p.m. 

No talk about the evolution of jazz rhythm would be complete without a discussion of the Afro-Cuban hybrids that lay at the base of the music. Bobby Sanabria (above), a South Bronx native who has played and written extensively on the topic, will host Afro-Cuban Workshop on Saturday at 3 p.m. in Bellefied Auditorium. Sanabria has played with virtually all the heavy hitters in that musical genre (Tito Puente, Dizzy Gillespie, Mongo Santamaria) as well as working with Joe Chambers and equally unique artists like Henry Threadgill. 

Everything comes together on Saturday, November 8 at 8 p.m. for the Pitt Jazz Concert, which salutes the music of M'Boom with a cast of national musicians (and tap dancers) and local players filling out the band's horn section. A detailed list of all the musicians and ticket info can be found here. There are also a few talks that I didn't mention, and a screening of a documentary about Art Blakey, so check that link. 

The Opie Meets the Weasel

It was over three decades ago that Weasel Walter came roaring into town with the Flying Luttenbachers, sharing the stage with the Water Shed 5tet (who might have just been "Water Shed" at that time) at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern. Done up in black and white face paint, Mr. Walter was an astounding drummer, leading a lineup of the band (which included trombonist Jeb Bishop, who was on bass guitar that night) through a set that combined smart jazz and hardcore. It wasn't Naked City-style hardcore either (i.e. 45-second blasts of complex passages and pure chaos). They were tunes played a hyper speed that veered into freedom and snapped back just as easily.

Last Wednesday, Walter returned to town, this time playing with one-time Water Shed saxophonist Ben Opie, both together onstage at the same time. This meeting of the minds revealed how ompatible and complementary they could be when working together. 

Weasel utlizied a mutant kit of drums that seemed to have a floor tom in the place of a typical kick drum, with roto toms, snare, a variety of cymbals (some chipped, some not) and other devices. He was in motion constantly, rolling over the kit, moving percussives off and on the drums heads and cymbal stands, or slowing down and reducing his work to loud pounds as the moment required.

Opie brought along his tenor, alto and soprano saxophones, along with the bass clarinet. Each one produced a different mood. Tenor came first, blasting out of the gate, proclaiming this is what energy music sounds like. His soprano featured some strained, gruff emanations, the result of vocalizing through the horn while blowing, making the most un-sopranolike tones. Bass clarinet cued in some more reflective moments in the roughly 45-minute set, while the alto portion was full of enthusiasm, and this writer's favorite part of it.

The evening began with a solo performance by Joey Molinaro, who calls himself a heavy metal violinst. Metal wasn't what came to my mind that night, but his free-flowing set was imaginative, utilizng long, bowed tones and melodies with a minimum of scraping or sawing (actually none of that, if memory serves). He accompanied himself by stomping tempos on a wooden crate set in front of him, which added to the dymanics of it. Molinaro is also an author who had has written a few books, which he had that night as well. 

CD Short Take: Hayoung Lyou- The Myth of Katabasis

There are a few albums that have been sitting on or around my desk that I've been meaning to write about here. Some are close to 12 months old. But I still feel like writing a few words about them in hopes that it might motivate someone to check them out. This is one of them.

Hayoung Lyou

The Myth of Katabasis

(Endectomorph) hayounglyou.bandcamp.com/album/the-myth-of-katabasis

The New York-based label Endectomorph was the brainchild of saxophonist Kevin Sun, who began releasing music on the imprint 10 years ago. The Myth of Katabasis is the second album by Korean-born/New York-based pianist Hayoung Lyou, whose music feel equally familiar and engaging while delivering it with a style that feels rather original and intriguing. 

The album's title comes from classical mythology, referring to a trip to the underworld. In some ways, it is a concept album, using the mythological term as a metophor for the challenges we face each day, But the album's running order doesn't exactly stick to the theme in a linear way. The nine original compositions include three numbered solo improvisations titled "Descent," which appear in reverse chronological order and are spread out through the album. "Ascension," the finale of the suite, appears following part two.  At the same time, each individual track stands on its own without the need to source the thematic inspiration.

For most of the album, Lyou is joined by bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Steven Crammer. They play very active roles in the shape of the music, which often seems to blur the lines between written and improvised passages. Morgan often moves with the pianist, such as when he utilzes the upper register of his instrument to echo what she plays in her uppermost range of hers at the start of "Negotiation." On the other hand, Crammer often takes liberties with the placement of his snare hits, preferring to add tension rather than settle easily into a form. It helps the deepen the scope of a piece like "Windup" which feels like a small suite in itself. A few minutes into it, a quasi-ragtime interlude breaks into the moody piece, and Lyou redirects things towards a passage with the melodic qualities of a lost ballad.

"Introducing the Hero" and the three "Descent" pieces feature Lyou playing solo. "Descent I" closes the album and lasts longer than the other two combined, with single note lines in the left hand transferring the right hand and accelerating and developing into a richly detailed meditation that never flags in the drama or focus.

With any luck, Hayoung Lyou might have recorded a new album since this one was originally released. And hopefully she'll use a brighter color of ink for text if it appears on a dark background on the CD cover.

On the Town, Checking out the Kyle Sowashes, Juanita & Juan and their friends

Last week, the rock and the roll - or permutations thereof - were happening on back-to-back nights, and I made it out to both.

The Kyle Sowashes hail from Columbus, Ohio, fronted by the band's namesake (that's him in the two photos below). In some ways they're keeping an Ohio tradition alive by cranking out anthemic power chord music with a lyrical sensibility that is both reflective and humorous at the same time. It reminds me the things I like about bygone bands like Great Plains, who managed to filter a post-punk literate sensibility with a straightforward rock delivery. 

I can also see why Kyle Sowash and Karl Hendricks appreciated each other - their lyrical matter is drawn from a similar observance of people and things around them. Yet while Hendricks often took a literary angle with his songwriting, Sowash is content to turn what feels like regular conversations into song lyrics. Hence he comes with titles like "I'm Sorry, But We've Done Everything We Can At this Point" and "It Really Doesn't Matter What You Think," both of which kick off the latest Kyle Sowashes' album Start Making Sense, which has a cover that either tips the hat or thumbs its nose at the source material. 

The KSs shared a bill at the Spirit Lodge with locals Red Star Sky and the Zells, getting the Coveted Second Slot on the bill, which is nice for a Thursday night show. Red Star Sky has moved away a bit from the alt-country sound that could be felt in their early shows, to a bigger, dramatic sound that relies heavily on frontman Corey Layman's guitar work, which is now has a strong foil in Pittsburgh veteran guitarist Alexei Plotnicov.

If the Kyle Sowashes take a light-hearted approach to the lyrics, their focus on the music is anything but light. "I Guess I'm Still Weird About It" launched the set with stop-start pair of ringing chords and from there, the energy never ceased. The band segued the early part of the the set together, an admirable task, still leaving room for intros and wisecracks. The Zells proved a good followup to Kyle and the gang, with their own batch of catchy indie pop, bolstered by a three-guitar attack that never got heavy and a set that, as always with them, drew on songs by several members of the band. 

*

On Friday night, Juanita and Juan set up shop at the Government Center, The name comes from the third verse of Eno's "Baby's On Fire" and also from the Hispanic origins of the two performers, punk rock legends known as Alice Bag and Kid Congo Powers. Their previous work with the Bags and the Cramps, respectively, leaned more towards punk rock and psychobilly. But Juanita and Juan came off more like a lounge act, in the best way. Alice's keyboards had kind of smooth feel and her partner in crime had a drum machine setting the tempos. Their casual conversation onstage with the audience drew on the wild adventures of their youth. 

That same sense of the past crept into songs like "The Prez," Kid Congo's hilarious and charming tale of being the West Coast president of the Ramones fan club; and "DBWMGWD," Alice's reflection of being saved from the perils of adolescence by a certain British performer. (The initial abbreviate "David Bowie Was My Gateway Drug.") 

Before and after the show, both of them mingled with the audience of long time fans, posing for photos, signing books (like mine!) and generally carrying on that same spirit of enthusiasm that inspired them back in the early Hollywood days. On my way out, I tapped Kid Congo and told him that, back in high school when I was listening to the Cramps, I never would have guessed that he was such a ham. And we laughed.

Special mention should also go to openers Clickbait, who got the evening started with some taut, groovy punk rock that reminded me of bands like Gang of Four, ESG and PiL. Vocalist Sandra Yau was a strong presence onstage, banging on a cymbal to kick off "For Sale," singing through an old telephone for a few songs and crashing the hand-held cymbals on a few songs. I tried to get a good shot of her with the cymbals but she was too fast for me.

Bassist Jen Lemasters really held the sound down with some steady, groovy bass lines. Guitarist Ralph Darden (aka DJ Major Taylor) was a fill-in for their regular guitarist but his sharp, biting string work sounded like he'd been with the band since the beginning. Just to prove this is a small world, the guitarist listed online as mthe regular string slasher of the band, Kelsey Henke, not only used to live in Pittsburgh, but worked at the same place I did for a few years. Funny how these things work. 

Dromfest '25 - More Photos and a Few Words

Back over Labor Day weekend, I drove up to Catskill, New York for Dromfest '25, a three-day festival of indie rock music from past and present. A full account of the weekend appears on The Big Takeover's website, which can be found here. The whole event was revelatory for me and I encourage you to check out my dispatch for details. 

Rather than retreading that article, I thought it would be cool to post some of the many photos that I took that weekend, excluding ones that already appear on the BT site. So these are some of the folks I saw. Hopefully the photos taken in the Avalon Lounge aren't too dark for details.

It took two photos to get an accurate shot of Sunburned Hand of the Man's personnel. (The drummer in the far left is Chris Corsano, free jazz extraordinaire.)

At events like Dromfest, it's always a good idea to check out bands that you don't know, in addition to your faves that you came to see. Case in point: the band $500, seen here. They blew me away and I'm glad I didn't miss them.

Guitarist Chris Brokaw (far right) was one of the busiest people at Dromfest. He played solo on opening night, accompanied Beth Kaplan, sat in with Yo La Tengo and, in this photo above, he played with the group Lupo Cita'.

Note to self, pick up any New Radiant Storm King release you see because they, too, were awesome.  

Going a little out of order here. Thalia Zedek has a way of pulling you in with her mid-tempo music, and awesome guitar work. From Sunday afternoon.

Mark Robinson, once and forever of Unrest and Teen Beat Records, played non-stop for about 45 minutes, seguing one tune into another for a 52-song medley (that is, if he stuck to his setlist).

Before Robinson, Fly Ashtray kicked off Sunday afternoon with their wry, brainy pop tunes, in their first set outside of the New York/Brooklyn area in the 21st century.

Sue Harshe, of Scrawl, looked so happy during her band's set, a feeling that pervaded the whole room.

Back to Saturday afternoon, it was so great to see Beth Kaplan, founding member of Salem 66, performing again.

Rebecca Gates, once of the Spinanes, played a beautiful solo set on Sunday.

Note: There should be a photo here of the great Phantom Tollbooth, but I was so enamoured with them that I didn't take any photos, just some so-so videos. 

Will the guys is Cathedral Ceilings be bothered by my continual comparisons to Hüsker Dü? Hopefully not because their speed, clarity and hooks had me by the ear from the minute they started. 

This photo of Al Crisafulli also appeared on The Big Takeover site, but it's worth repeating. Al is the guy who put Dromfest together, and despite being busy the whole weekend, he still had plenty of time to mingle and chat with everyone there and to make sure everyone had a good time. Kudos to him and his crew of helpers. See you next year.

Destroyer Returned to Pittsburgh and Left Me Charmed and a Bit Puzzled

While watching Dan Bejar prowl the stage during Destroyer's Pittsburgh show on October 7, a big part of his appeal finally occurred to me: I like Destroyer because I can't figure out what the hell Bejar is trying to be with the band. Is he a modern day lounge singer? Is he an old-school indie rocker who likes esoteric arrangements where trumpets and synths can comingle with standard rock instruments? Is he some sort of folk singer trying to find the best way to present his lyrical outlook? 

No answers really came that night at Mr. Small's, but it was the act of exploring those questions that made the songs even more appealing. This is a guy who opened his most recent album, the hilariously red-herring Dan's Boogie, with the lyrics, "Your entrance was its own Red Scare/ You quote unquote the French au pair/ where did you invent this learned behaviour?" This only surfaces after 65 seconds of synth strings and flanged piano that sound overmodulated and loud. Bejar, on the other hand is a study in restraint.

The last time Bejar came to town in 2016, Destroyer was just him and an acoustic guitar. Two weeks ago, he had a full band with two guitars, keyboards, bass, drums and trumpet/keyboards. His songs often feel both deceptively simple, based on a few chords, and complex at the same time, due to shifts in dynamics and mood. Surprisingly, Bejar relied on a notebook of lyrics during songs like "Hydroplaining Off the Edge of the World," which has at least five detailed "verses" that would be hard for anyone to commit to memory. 

The band brought the songs to life with the precision of a machine, even if the tempo often seemed to be settled too comfortably in the mid-level for the first part of the set. Bejar's high, reedy voice constrasted with his shaggy long hair and full salt-and-pepper facial hair. If the characters he portrayed in his songs might be on the roguish side, Bejar the performer seems positively charming. 
 

Jennifer Castle, who opened the show singing her own songs with only her acoustic guitar and occasional harmonica backing her, joined Destroyer for a few songs later in the set, one of which might have been "Bologna," a torch song from Dan's Boogie sung by Simone Schmidt.  

A week after the show, I ran into a high school friend who I had seen briefly at the Destroyer show. He said Bejar's music reminded him of the first two Roxy Music albums, a comparison I can see. 

As I was preparing to write this post, I pulled up a preview I had written on Bejar nine years ago to preview that show (which I recall was pretty packed). Roxy was mentioned in that article, in connection to Destroyer's Kaputt album, which hinted at the former band's Avalan. The article began with Bejar aligning himself with the late singer-songwriter Scott Walker too. “I’ll spend my life trying to get around [his] records," he said. "Even when I’m not listening to it, I’ll find myself just thinking about it, being in the middle of a conversation with someone about groceries and I’ll be like, ‘What about that song?’”

Kind of the same way I feel about Destroyer albums. If you'll excuse me, I might have to pull out Poison Season.

PS About a year before the previous Destroyer show, Bejar's mug was plastered across two pages of JazzTimes magazine in an article about rock musicians drawing from jazz in their own work. The article opened with a quote from our hero on jazz influencing Kaputt, cited from a different article. During our interview, I asked if he knew about his inclusion in the article. "Nooo.... was it a mistake?" he asked. At the 2016 show, I gave him my copy of that JazzTimes issue. 

Artifacts, Live at the Manchester Craftsmen's Guild

 

Photo by Liina Raud

Last Thursday, the Manchester Craftsmen's Guild presented a performance that swung a bit to the left of the nearly 40-year old musical institution's usual programming. Artifacts, the trio of Nicole Mitchell (flute), Tomeka Reid (cello) and Mike Reed (drums), was on tour and needed a spot to play. Mitchell, who ran Pitt's Jazz Studies program from 2019 to 2022, reached out to MCG Jazz executive producer Marty Ashby, who welcomed the trio to the space. Although all three musicians have played in situations where the music moves in an outward direction, their sound combined a sense of adventure with a hard-swinging mood.

Reid avoided the bow in the early part of the set and plucked her instrument like a bass. It set up a vamp in some of the tunes, like "Pleasure Palace" to which Mitchell added a throaty solo. One of the microphones on the flute ran the instrument through a set of effects which often gave it a theremin-style sound, which Reed and Reid abetted during "Giddy Giddy" with stops that alternated on every two and three beats. Reed got some drones going on his drum heads in "Torps," with his cymbals eventually blending into long tones from his bandmates before things broke into a solid 4/4 backdrop for the flute and cello. 

Throughout their set, the rapport between all three players was clearly on display, with an ability to move from jerky stop-start parts to a steady groove in a new, untitled piece. In Mitchell piece "B.K.,"  the composer's flute and electronics were really lifted by the drums and cello, raising the excitement of the set. 

MCG doesn't allow photography during the performances, but my friend Wayne was quick to snap the above photo at the end of the set when Artifacts posed for another photographer. I was too busy hoping to br a fanboy with Reed, expressing my fondness for his Flesh and Bone album, which can be found here. (Read it and find a copy of it, pronto.) Reid's 3+ 3 album from last year was also a great find. And of course, Mitchell's discography continues to grow as we speak. 

Hopefully these three won't be strangers in the Steel City. When Mitchell gave the city a shout as things were setting up, the response indicated we were glad to see her again.

A Return, and a Report of Roger Clark Miller's Return to Town

Two months is a long time, even for me, to let things go dormant. Things got precariously close to abandonment of the blog. But only because there were writing assignments for other places going on, in addition to family stuff (cleaning out a house, getting a kid off to college, albeit one in the same city as me). Plus travels to an amazing music festival.

So maybe it's time to catch on things. In reverse order...

Roger Clark Miller, once and forever the guitarist of Mission of Burma, was in town last Saturday (October 18) at Government Center. In a matter of speaking, this is probably the re-scheduled visit for him, since he was slated to play here in early 2020, right as the world was starting to shut down. He and I did a phone interview at that time, but, going back through my folders, I don't know if I even got as far as transcribing it. 

One thing I do remember from that conversation is how he mentioned in passing that Mission of Burma was broken up at that point. No one had really come out from the band and said it yet. In fact, I think that an online article appeared a few months later talking about it, and how the band was so much the sum of its parts that no one was going to do an interview just about that topic without the other two (or three) members. Suffice to say, in talking to Roger, it seemed like nothing bad had happened. The group simply felt they had done what they set out to do and everyone was ready to move on.

Last week, Miller, as the photos show, set up onstage with a battery of equipment: a guitar, two lap steel guitars (though his albums credit him with three, this was all I could see), a pedalboard and a few other pedals to boot. This looping-and-playing-along-with-it thing was something that he has been doing since the late 1980s with his Maximum Electric Piano. Twice I saw him generating percussion parts by putting a brick or comb on the piano strings and looping that, before playing a "bass" line that also got looped, topped off by a melody and vocals. 

Last week, it was all instrumental, with music inspired by his Dream Interpretation projects. The music ranged from raucous and noisy to steady and controlled, almost reaching a bit of either surf tone or noirish twang in a piece like "Russian Spy Cannisters" which appears on his latest album Curiousity for Solo Electric Guitar Ensemble. (The word "ensemble" refers to the way he can create the swell of a full band with the equipment at hand.)

Throughout the set, Miller kept looking back at the music stand to his left, which made it seem like each piece had a score which he was following. To add to that, the music itself flowed as pieces, not merely looped riffs that he jammed on until he switched to another. When he switched from his six-string to run a slide up one of the lap steels, it all connected to the dynamic and structure. These were extensive ideas that took time to unfold. The most notable example of this came in the final performance of the night, "Curiosity On Mars," a five-part piece inspired by the shapes of rocks and mineral caught in photographs by the Mars Rover. It was wild listening to him play and envisioning the way the photos shaped the sound. 

Back at the end of August, I drove up to Catskill, New York for Dromfest '25. Miller kicked off the event and he was the one act I missed, due to my late arrival. (Goddam that New York State Thruway.) I bought the Curiousity CD that night and was glad that he came to Pittsburgh. He's still creating new, bold music with the same level of commitment he had four decades ago.

The evening began with two local acts adding to the edgy, experimental mood of the night. Satryr/Elfheim was a solid guitar player whose left-hand vibrato made his songs stand out. His technical problems almost derailed the focus of the set at first, but when he got into it, he sounded solid. Full disclosure, Business Jazz features one of my bandmates, guitarist Erik Cirelli, with Chris Cannon, a longtime fixture of the local scene, dating back to his time in bands like the Johnsons (Big Band) and Raw Blow. Their set was a swirling mass of sampled lectures, bossa nova samples and a little bit of skronk. 

CD Review: Joe Morris/Elliot Sharp, Wolf Eyes x Anthony Braxton

 
Two new releases from ESP-Disk' present two different kinds of collaborations. One is a first-time meeting of minds, the second a follow-up on a combination that shows the players from vastly different backgrounds coming together to blend cohesively.

Joe Morris/Elliot Sharp

Realism

(ESP-Disk') joemorriselliottsharp.bandcamp.com/album/realism

Putting two free-thinking guitarists together in a studio can present a risk. Things could get cluttered quickly, with scads of ideas shooting out at once. But Joe Morris and Elliot Sharp both play with intense focus to the extent that, even if things seem to go off the rails, they always have control and vision to know where things will proceed in tandem. 

The incredible thing about Realism is the way both players seem to maintain a deep concentration on the sounds they produce while using their playing to complement and respond. Each guitarist is panned hard to their own speaker (Morris on the left, Sharp on the right). Sharp creates sustained electric washes that flow around Morris's plucking in "Shapes Maintained," never getting in his way. When Morris utilizes effects, his attack seems to move backwards, with Sharp becoming the player who works without sustain. Both of them plink away in "Neither Odd Nor Even" each in a different register with a different approach. Sharp's harmonics add a rich texture and later in the piece this sound takes on the guise of an organ.

The metallic clatter at the start of "Light Asking" evokes the idea of Morris and Sharp literally building something. Morris ends up exploring the harmonic universe with a fast array of technique that may or may not be picking or hammering but sounds beautiful, regardless. This track ends with Sharp sounding like a blend of claves and dead wax record static. Even a track title "Soft Version" manages to combine a plucked melody that is soft while the dialogue still manages to keep it rough around the edges.  

There are moments on Realism where it's easy to imagine Morris and Sharp exchanging glances of excitment about what they are creating. Yet it's just as easy to imagine each player looking down at the strings, lost in thought. Figuring out when those moment are provides the rewards of the listening experience.

Wolf Eyes x Anthony Braxton

(ESP-Disk') wolfeyesxanthonybraxton.bandcamp.com/album/live-at-pioneer-works-26-october-2023

It's hard to believe that 20 years have passed since multi-reedist/composer Anthony Braxton first collaborated with noise musicians Wolf Eyes at Victoriaville, the results of which appeared on the album Black Vomit. That pairing said a lot about the wide-ranging sonic perspective of Braxton, who had seen the group a year prior in Sweden and liked them so much he bought every release on their merch table. The onstage meeting of the minds felt brutal and might not have gone too far beyond the scope of mutual appreciation. But hearing Braxton yell excitedly onstage brought back memories of his early days in Circle performances and proved he was having a good time.

Wolf Eyes x Anthony Braxton feels less like an odd pairing (though "pairing" isn't a truly appropriate description since Wolf Eyes is a duo of Johnny Olson and Nate Young) and more like a meeting of the minds where the various contributions come together in a cohesive manner. It consists of two tracks, "Side A" and "Side 1," which last 20 and 16 minutes respectively.

Things begin with electronic drones fading up and down as Braxton blows a quick sopranino fanfare before switching to alto. Electro static drops in occasionally as the saxophone lines get more aggressive. Braxton never sticks with one horn for very long but the quick changes complement the way the soundscape frequently morphs behind him. The  performers are all have a good sense of how to use open space to their advantage before submitting to a haphazard pulse and extra layers of electric waves.

The opening moments of "Side 1" (the second track) include a whoop, presumably from an audience member at Pioneer Works in Red Hook, New Jersey where the performance occurred in 2023. It's tempting to conclude that the listener might be reacting to the force of the sub-bass tones coming from the stage. They sound as if they could rattle one's sternum in real life. But it's likely the person whooping was excited to hear Braxton approach the mighyt bass sax again, which delivers nearly four minutes of aggressive honks (longer than usual) before he moves to the sopranino. 

Those low electronic bass notes never really go away but they do create a rather enthralling blend of sounds that often have a choral feel behind Braxton. Olson or Young's array of sounds include something that could very well be Braxton sampled and manipulated to complement the maestro. Or it could be Olson's pipes (the credits don't specify what kind of pipes) or even Young's harmonica doing the work. 

Whatever adds to this swell of sound is not the main thing. The final result, a real confluence of sound that feels like a difference type of Ghost Trance music, brings these two no longer disparate forces together in a wild manner that fits with the ESP tradition. 

How I Saw Ozzy, Almost Got Mugged and Wound Up in Homewood With My Dad

For years, I lied about the first "real" rock concert that I attended. I told everyone it was the Pretenders in the fall of 1981 at the Stanley Theater, when they were touring in support of Pretenders II. I did see that show, but it wasn't the first. My first rock concert occurred in the same venue just a few months earlier - Ozzy Osbourne, on his Blizzard of Oz tour, with Randy Rhoads on guitar.

In the summer of 1981, I had just finished 8th grade, getting ready to move on to high school at Taylor Allderdice. Though I had darkened the door of Jim's Records in Bloomfield, it would be another six months before I dove headfirst into punk rock and all its byproducts. At that point, I was still heavily into '60s music, having just discovered Moby Grape, Spirit and Iron Butterfly around that time. For radio, I was devoted to WDVE-FM 102.5, which at that time was all about the AOR (Album Oriented Rock) format. Fine with me. I was into all that stuff and I showed my devotion with a DVE jersey. 

When it was suggested on-air that people going to the Three Rivers Regatta should wear their DVE shirts, you can bet I was willing to do it. Strolling through Point State Park that weekend, I was approached by DJ Marsy McFerrin. "Would you like two tickets to see Ozzy Osbourne," she asked, not really caring that I looked like a kid. Sure, why not, I thought. I liked Sabbath when I was younger, since the first five albums were in the house. Sounds like a cool idea.

For some reason, my parents didn't object. I invited my best buddy Gene, who was still going by his first name of Garlyn, to come along with me. He probably knew Sabbath but might not have heard "Crazy Train," the only solo Oz song I knew, to be honest. But he was up for it. We had been comedy partners in crime all through 8th grade, cracking each other up with little provocation, often at the worst times. 

When we got to the Stanley, a crowd was swarming around front doors and sidewalk. Maybe it was sold out, I'm not sure. But some dude asked us for tickets and Gene, thinking he worked there, wanted me to give them to him. Luckily I didn't. Though for some time after that, I thought we could have made a fast couple of bucks and spend the rest of the evening getting hopped up on Little Debbie's and root beer. 

The opening act was Def Leppard, who had only released On Through the Night at that point. They were cool but to this this 13-year old, they were soooooooo loud. I screamed at Gene and couldn't hear myself. Oh my God, am I going to go deaf? My dad will kill me! After a few minutes, my ears had adjusted and the overwhelming swell of noise felt cool. 

Now, two 13-year olds probably think they can blend in easily in a place like this and I just wanted to look cool and fit in. So when the crowd started chanting "Ozz-ZEE! Ozz-ZEE!" between sets, I wanted to kill Gene when that goofball started chanting, "Harri-ETT! Harri-ETT!" Apparently, he associated the name more with Ricky Nelson's dad than heavy metal. Rather progressive for a young African-American kid, in retrospect. But I had to make him stop. Kudos to him for not caring. Shame on me for worrying too much. 

Then Ozzy came on, with a roar of guitar that felt even louder than Def Leppard. The man, the myth, the legend. "Are yooooo high?! I said, are yooooooooooo high?! Well, SO AM I!" That actually came a few songs into the set, which I believe also included "Mr. Crowley." My memories are kind of fuzzy about details. What I recall is that after about five, maybe six songs, Gene looked at me and said, "I'm going to go. I'm bored." 

But, but, but.... I mean, I wasn't totally wrapped up in the show but I didn't want to leave. Yet, I couldn't stand the idea of being there alone. Or of Gene getting home by himself. So we left. Had I know that Randy Rhoads would die in a plane crash less than a year later, maybe I'd've hung out. But no one can predict that. 

I called my dad, who said he pick us up. We agreed to meet down the street and around the corner from the Stanley in the doorway of the building where I had once taken piano lessons. It was an easy meeting place but the thing is, the block of Liberty Avenue between locations was full-on red light district in 1981, despite the fact that Lomakin's Music Store was sandwiched in between a couple peep show theaters. The site of two dorky kids, one white and one black, standing on a street corner, must have looked suspicious to the regular denizens of the area. Maybe we looked like runaways, in good clothes. 

One guy took advantage of the situation. He came up and asked us for money, either a quarter or a dollar. We demurred. "I asked nicely," he said. We declined again. "I said," he did a high kick in front of us, "I asked nicely." Looking at the ground, neither of us were giving in. "I SAID," another high kick, "I ASKED NICELY." With that, one of us gave him some change and he was on his way. And we sunk into the corner of the doorway. 

My dad thought nothing of giving Gene a ride to Homewood, where he lived. Me, the naive kid, wondered if that was a good idea for a white guy and his son to be driving into a predominantly black neighborhood. "Don't worry, I'll tell the guys to leave you alone," Gene said, cracking up as he assured me I really had nothing to worry about. 

When we got to his house, I walked Gene up to the porch and got to meet his mom, who I had only talked to quickly on the phone before she handed it over to her son for one of our marathon calls. (It's not just teenage girls who tied up the line back then.) She was sweet and thanked me for getting him home. I'm glad I did get to meet her that night because later that fall, the family moved to Baltimore. Though Gene and I keep in touch now, I've only seem him once since then, and his mom passed away not too long after my mom did. 

This entry was not really about Ozzy Osbourne, but it was about how his visit to Pittsburgh made a bunch of events transpire. I didn't mention being there for years because seeing Ozzy just seemed a little... uncool for awhile. Until you're talking to a Randy Rhoads fan, or an Ozzy fan. Then it has its charm.  I've listened to Master of Reality and some of Volume 4 since getting the news that Ozzy has left us. While I could expound about those records, many already have. But few have had the concert journey that I had with him. 

Thanks, Ozzy. 

 

Salute to My Mother

I don't know if I've ever gone this long without doing a blog post. This is the kind of gap that makes you think, "Looks like that blog isn't coming back." But the past couple months had a lot of writing going on in other places, which left little brain space for here. Though I often had germs of ideas for quick album write-ups, I have been psyching myself out when I realized the albums were six months old, and came out in 2024. 

For anyone who isn't familiar with my latest journalistic escapades, here is the lowdown and some links:

For the first time in seven years, my byline appeared in Pittsburgh City Paper in May. It only ran on their website, but I wrote a preview feature on James Brandon Lewis' show in the Jazz Poetry Month event at City of Asylum. 

Then, a dream came true and I got to interview Beth Kaplan and Judy Grunwald from Salem 66 about the band's history and the compilation of their music that just came out. It marked my writing debut for The Big Takeover. 

Before I even pitched The Big Takeover on that story, I talked to them about a story on Fly Ashtray, a long-standing New York which was once on Shimmy-Disc and continues to make music over 40 years after they got together. It was such a detailed piece, it ran in two parts. 

Part One is here. 

Part Two is here. 

Somewhere in there, I managed to find time to interview Marc Ribot for JazzTimes. 

Then my son graduated high school. 

Then, my mom died. It's hard typing that. Not because I'm a complete mess now that she's gone. It's just a big thing to throw at people. And, I think, I'm doing okay. My mom had dementia for several years and while the changes in her were hard to see, she kept plowing on, like the force of nature that she was. The longer she stayed around, the more I tried to adapt to her world. She remembered me and my four siblings and our spouses, but the day-to-day stuff slipped away. She went peacefully, drifting off in the house I grew up in, and where she wanted to be.  

One thing about my mom that came up during the viewing, talking to longtime friends and relatives, is how she could be a catalyst for things to happen. I always viewed her more as someone who was a little underconfident, and saw a big gap between her and other people. But that wasn't always the case. For one thing, she talked two members of the Four Freshman into coming to a party at her house, after seeing them perform. They didn't stay too long, and years later, Mom said she wondered if the guys thought they were going to get some action and, when that didn't happen, they split. But that doesn't matter - she got welcomed them to her house - the house where she lived with her parents, by the way.

In going through papers at the house last week, we came across an envelope with two letters from composer/bandleader Neal Hefti. If his name doesn't ring a bell, just think of the themes to Batman and The Odd Couple. That's his work. 

Mom told me the story when I was a kid about how she wanted my dad's group to play the Hefti song "Falling In Love All Over Again," for what I think was a fashion show at our church. They couldn't find charts for the tune so somehow, she got Hefti's number and called him. "May I please speak to Neal Hefti," she asked. "SPEAKING," the voice on the other end replied. Maybe she called a hotel room when he was in Pittsburgh for a gig. Or maybe my uncle (her brother) got her the number. Regardless, she called ("the bold thing," to borrow a phrase of hers) and he sent her the music - two different versions of it, as you'll see below. 

Unfortunately, the sheet music that Hefti enclosed is long gone, which is too bad because the song is a beautiful ballad. Phil Woods recorded it on his album Woodlore (Prestige), which I got for my birthday from the folks when I was high school. To this day, that's the only version of the tune I've heard as well. 

But the story doesn't end there. Five years later, she received another letter from him. (By then, I guess they were old pals since he addresses her as "Martha," rather than "Mrs. Shanley.") I'm pretty sure my mom's letter was related to the purchase of the Count Basie album Basie Plays Hefti, which she and/or my dad picked up around that time. 

I love the sincerity in Hefti's tone: he's grateful that my dad was still playing his tune, which he'd like to hear someday, and hopefully he'd also meet my mom someday. Not for any reason other than the fact that he appreciated her enthusiasm for the music. She was like that. It was all about sharing. And her energy was contagious.