CD Reviews: Vijay Iyer & Mike Ladd, Myra Melford

First of all, I didn't watch the Grammys. And I don't care. Well, I suppose that's not true because I read about them the next day, and listened to the reports on WDVE on their morning show. The idea of having Robin Thicke play with Chicago just seemed asinine. And pointless. I mean, why? Did I read correctly that Peter Cetera was with Chicago? If so wasn't that news enough for a washed-up band? I thought Cetera refused to even speak about them 10-15 years ago.

The only good that came from that pairing was that it inspired 'DVE DJ Val Porter to do her excellent fake trumpet noise over the air on Monday morning. She does it well. If you ever meet her, politely ask her to do it.

I've decided to go take some albums from a few months ago and write about them now, not exactly as full blown reviews but capsules. These are things that I liked and meant to write about at the time, yet I never placed them in a publication, but liked them enough that, even though there have probably been beaucoup write-ups of them already, they were worthy of one more. I'm also hoping that this might get me back in the saddle and write about newer things more consistently.

Vijay Iyer & Mike Ladd
Holding It Down: The Veteran's Dreams Project
(Pi Recordings) www.pirecordings.com

This album came out right around the time that Vijay Iyer received his MacArthur Fellowship (known as the "Genius Grant"). It marks the third album in which the pianist has collaborated with poet Mike Ladd, after In What Language? (2004) and Still Life with Commentator (2007). While I still haven't heard the former, I really wasn't feeling it for Still Life. It seemed too bogged down in its "message" about the 24-hour news culture, how we really don't communicate, etc. There were also too many references to pop culture products used in an attempt to make points.

Holding It Down is a whole different ballgame, taking a concept that could really go south but coming up with something that can get listeners to think long and hard about its topic. Iyer and Ladd collaborated with veterans of color who were served in Iraq and Afghanistan, interviewing them and getting them to talk about their dreams. Potentially it could have wound up as one of those projects which is noble (since it gives voice to people we don't hear about) but not much beyond that. Instead the words really get to heart of the way these vets feel - what they felt while serving and how that shapes the way they try to make it through day-to-day civilian life.

"Capacity," which consists partially of Ladd interviewing Lynn Hill (who serves as one of the key voices on the disc) drives home this point. Hill, who piloted drones over Afghanistan, casually talks about "trying to deal with the guilt of what I did that day; and hoping that when I put the car in drive that it didn't feel like a joystick that I had been flying all day...when I was in bed, the last thing I would think about was the families of these other people, and how they look like me." When you hear about raw emotion like that, how such an experience can keep someone from doing an everyday thing like driving a car, it makes the whole concept of flag-waving and we'll-show-them armed force aggression seem appalling.

Holding It Down is not a brutal album that requires great stamina to hear in its entirety. (Within that same track, Hill even laughs casually as she compares herself to Linus from Peanuts, who is followed by a dark cloud.) Iyer plays with a group of equally creative musicians - guitarist Liberty Ellman, cellist Okkyung Lee and drummer Kassa Overall. He also gets a few chances to flex his improvisational skills in addition to setting the ambiance. Ladd adds some synthesizer and delivers lyrics, as do Maurice Decauf (another veteran, as well as a poet), Pamela Z and Thiefs' Guillermo E. Brown. Together they've created an important album that should remind people, once the wars are over, another part of the hard work really starts: making sure our vets get the support they need to feel normal again. (Considering last night's State of the Union address touched on this, it's good to be reminded of this album again.)

Myra Melford
Life Carries Me This Way
(Firehouse 12) firehouse12records.com

I always try to live with an album for a while before writing about it. Sometimes the most striking parts of the music don't come out until the fourth or fifth listen, or during one of those times when you're listening with headphones on, giving it your complete attention. Sometimes the packaging needs to be experienced along with the music inside.

For Life Carries Me This Way, pianist Myra Melford received a series of drawings and paintings by artist Don Reich to use as inspiration. For her first ever solo disc, she came up with 11 pieces, each titled for a different Reich work. Each piece is recreated in the accompanying CD booklet. It allows listeners to look at each painting and find the musical connection between the late artist's work (he died in 2010 before the recording was made). Some patterns can be found. The brief "Barcelona" is similar to the opening of "Sagrada Familia" which follows it. The first moves quickly, like a series of falling water droplets, and the second starts at the bottom of the piano that way. But the odd angles of "Piano Music" may or may not be linked to the Cecil Taylor-esque attack Melford displays in that piece.

Melford uses three words to compare his approach to her muse's: lyricism, abstraction and rhythmic mobility. All three can be felt in the music. She can begin in a calm mood, ushering in listeners and then stopping with a gentle jolt. The theme of  "Attic" begins and ends with both hands moving together in staccato lines, but adds some invigorating chord changes when it moves beyond that. "Curtain" is marked by slow waves of chords that move in a steady rhythm up the piano. In last 45 seconds, the volume must be cranked to reveal that Melford is not actually sitting silently but continuing the flow on the very highest keys.

Although this is her first solo piano disc, my first exposure to Melford was a solo piece on a Live at the Knitting Factory compilation in the early '90s. When a trio album was released a short time later, it was interesting how the same piece, "Some Kind of Blues," maintained the same shape, with bass and drums coming in at just the right spots to boost it. This is worth mentioning because Melford always plays with a sure sense of direction and that is true here as well, from the sweetness of "Park Mechanics" to the almost lonely feeling in "Moonless Night."    

And about Jazz Connect...

In addition to the blog entry on CP's website, the Local Notes column in today's issue was penned by me, reporting on Pittsburgh's representation at the Jazz Connect Conference. Here it is.

The thing about jazz, especially in this city, is it seems so stuck in the era prior to 1970. If you want to quibble about it, you could probably take it back a few years earlier, to when Miles Davis started spacing out on Filles de Kilamanjaro or prior to Ornette Coleman's arrival in New York. You get the idea, the time was jazz was a steady 4/4 tempo with discernable themes, a few solos, traded 4's and then out.

And that music is good. Great, in some cases. Earth shattering. But that's not all there is. It's like saying you like guitar music and citing the Beatles as the be-all and end all. A performance of Beatles music will probably be more successful than a performance by the band Hospitality, but that doesn't mean we should overlook Hospitality and stick with the Fab Four.

I'm going way off subject here to build up to some things that I heard at the Jazz Connect conference last week. In a panel called "Jazz in the Future Tense: Looking Into the Fractured Crystal Ball," James Donio of the Music Business Association cited a report on  jazz albums sales from 2013*. The best selling artist was Michael Buble, who - I shouldn't need to say - isn't really a jazz musician. The panel also included Kristen Thomson from the Future of Music Coalition (and former member of Tsunami and a driving force behind Simple Machines records).

To make sure that the discussion wouldn't digress into dry stats and projections, guitarist Vernon Reid and pianist Jason Moran were also on the panel. So while Donio talked about strategies that jazz musicians could use to reach a wider audience - which included the idea of recording songs that were familiar to more listeners - Reid and Moran stressed the necessity for musicians to have their own unique voice and to put that out there. One great moment came when Moran recalled, as a 20-year-old, asking his piano teacher Jaki Byard when he should make a demo. "Why do you want to cut a demo, you don't have anything to say," was the response he got. While Moran got signed to Blue Note two years later, he says he came to the label knowing he should not take the opportunity lightly.

I felt like running up to Reid after the discussion and saying, "Thank you," because I grow so weary of people with a limited idea of what jazz is and what it should be. Plus Donio's comments flew in the face of what Mark Ruffin of Sirius/XM said earlier that morning in a panel radio programming: a female jazz vocalist is not doing herself any favors by recording "Good Morning Heartache." "I already have Billie Holiday singing that, I don't need to hear you do it."

It's good to know that there are some people who realize that it's important to shake up the status quo every so often. People tend to forget that it wasn't an easy life for the people who are now revered as gods of the music like Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor. And John Coltrane. Plus Ornette and Cecil are highly regarded by some, but not to the extent that they should be.

(*I left my scoop pad at home, which is why I don't have a lot of specifics from last week. Stay tuned for more.)

Winter JazzFest reflections

It's been a few days since Winter JazzFest wrapped up and I returned to Pittsburgh. I did get to see a lot of acts but of course there's always the feeling that I should have tried to see a few more. After all, it's rare that I ever have that many performers at the same time that I can see. (For a working diary of who I saw, check out City Paper's FFW blog here.)

But then again, Saturday night it was raining pretty steadily in Manhattan and the walk from Subculture to Judson Church and back made my feet start to hurt. By the end of the evening, I was really exhausted too, to the point where I was starting to nod off during the sets of people that I really like.

Now I'm waiting for the renewed enthusiasm for my writing work to kick in. It hasn't quite happened yet, but that might just be last night's nightcap talking right now.

Dispatch from New York

First off, the bad news. During the keynote address today at the Jazz Connect Conference, I saw a Facebook post from Matthew Shipp saying that trumpeter Roy Campbell has died. I remember hearing Roy's album New Kingdom when I did a jazz show at WPTS, and I knew he was a master. That album was a great blend of music with a grounded rhythm section and wild solos. Beautiful stuff. Then a few years later, I saw him perform with Nu Band, living up to all the expectations. Rest is peace, Roy. We'll miss you.

If that wasn't enough, I just read that Amiri Baraka died too. He was quite the polarizing fellow (I have a Sunny Murray album where he reads a poem that makes to not-so-flattering references to Jewish people) but he was a bold poet nonetheless.

Now the good news. First day of the Jazz Connect Conference was a good time! Pittsburgh was well represented here by members of the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust and Manchester Craftsmen's Guild. Marty from MCG raised some thought-provoking comments regarding how to archive and care for performances that have been documented by an institution like his. The question got my brain going.

Janis Burley Wilson from the Trust spoke too, as part of the keynote address, talking about how she's assembled the Pittsburgh Jazz Festival that's been happening downtown. She was one of five panelists who spoke about their work. That panel was unfortunately marred by the sound of a fire alarm that went off during the presentation. It kind of freaked everyone out though most of us didn't care enough to leave the building.

Tomorrow and Saturday are the big music days, but I still caught some good stuff tonight. La Poisson Rouge had a show with the Wallace Roney big band playing some unreleased Wayne Shorter songs. The band had at least 20 people from what I could see, and at first it almost sounded more like a Gil Evans work than something by Wayne Shorter, dense and swirling, with strings and reeds (flutes, oboe, bassoon) playing different things than the brass. But it was still a good time. When they reached the fourth and final piece, things were a little more in the 4/4 realm.

I walked a few blocks to the Cornelia Street Cafe, picking up a large coffee on the way, which gave me the first major happy buzz of the day. CSC had the Claudia Quintet, a band whose CD I've listened to once and have been trying to get back to ever since. They're lead by drummer John Hollenbeck and it's hard to pin them down. The first tune, "September 18: Lemons" reminded me a helluva lot of a Bobby Previte song I love called "1958." The rhythm was different but the chord changes seems very close. "September 29, 1936" relied heavily on some pre-recorded speech that Hollenbeck imitated on his drums, before the whole band came in. The tune bugged me too much when I played the first time, and I had to skip over the repetition. Now I think I'm ready to give it another try.

Then I took the train back to Williamsburg, where I am now, falling asleep at the laptop.

New York, Here I Come. In a few hours.

Playing right now: Cecil Taylor Ensemble - Always a Pleasure

The cold isn't getting me down. It better not keep my plane down, either. The test I had to take at work happened yesterday, so I'll be leaving the building at 1:00 today, which leaves plenty of time to get ready for the trip to the airport. No more brain crippled with anxiety. My folks called last night too, saying that they'd take me to the airport. So far things are going smoothly. Now I just need to make sure that I know where to go for Jazz Connect tomorrow morning, meaning getting to the Hilton in Manhattan on time. I hope typing this doesn't jinx it.

If anyone reading this is going to be at the Jazz Connect Conference or any of the shows that are part of Winter Jazzfest in NY, drop me a line. I'll be around. Although tonight I won't get into town until around 7:30 (God willing and the plane don't stall), and I'll be hanging around with sisters Claire and Heather in Williamsburg instead of looking for music.

I should really do some packing.

The Opposite of Doldrums, Sort Of

Day Four of the New Year and here I am. I'm trying to make this a year where there's more focus and more productivity on my part. Those sound like buzz words or something that's heard in a conference room, but it applies to my situation. It's like this: I'd always rather be writing, but there's always something else that seems like it should be done first - dishes, laundry, trying to organize that pile of albums in the other room, deciding what should be sold and what should just go to Goodwill. Then all of a sudden time has slipped away and it's time to go to work. Or bed.

Right now my brain is being crippled with anxiety because on Wednesday, I'm flying to New York for the Jazz Connect Conference and Winter Jazz Fest. It's not flying or the events themselves that have me freaked out. There's a test going on at work that day that I need to finish quickly so that I can get out to the airport on time to catch my flight. And I don't know how smoothly the timing is going to go. If I think about it too much, I'm just going to stare out the window and start at the screen, running in circles in my head.

Back in the fall when I went to Detroit, I came to the realization that going to one jazz festival every other year just wasn't cutting it. Five years ago, I was a newbie there and was welcomed by everyone. Last fall, on my third trip, I felt like "that guy from Pittsburgh" (if I got even that) who just hangs around when he can, and isn't always sure what's going on. I'm hoping to get around a little more, maybe find a story idea or two and get a better profile. Plus I'm covering Jazz Connect for City Paper since there are a few local folks who are going to be there.

Now that all the year end stuff is over, it's time to focus on moving forward. Oh damn - that reminds me: I have two reviews due on Monday morning. That's usually a day off from work but not this week, since I'll be off at the end of the week. See - there it goes again.

And Then There's Nellie McKay

And how could I forget to mention Nellie McKay's excellent show last week at the Warhol? I was high on that show all weekend. I suppose getting sick erased it from my brain, along with the cool chat that Nellie and I had at the end of the night. (I was the last person in line at the meet and greet table, so I had her and her mother all to myself.)

Well, if you want to know what I thought of the actual show, here's my report.

Incidentally, it was announced at that show, and released earlier in the week in the paper, that Neutral Milk Hotel is coming here in March.

New article and a big time critic's poll

I was polled as part of the 2013 NPR Music Jazz Critic's Poll. Read about it here.

Also, Blurt posted my article about Dot Wiggin from the Shaggs. Here it is. 

Beyond that, I was sidelined with the flu, or something like it, earlier this week so there's not much else I have creatively. But this is something to chew on.

Remembering Bobby Jackson

The first year I attended the Detroit Jazz Festival, I really felt like the new kid on the block and tried to get to know as many people as possible. The first morning there, I went on a chartered tour of the Motown Museum, the actual "Home of the Hits" building on West Grand Blvd. One of my fellow travelers was a guy with his wife and young son, who seemed to know a lot about music history, not only at Motown, but with an all-encompassing knowledge. And he wasn't high-and-mighty about it either. He was very enthusiastic about sharing his knowledge with people. That guy's name was Bobby Jackson, and it turns out, he didn't live too far from me. He lived in Cleveland.

Last night I was perusing Facebook and saw a link to a JazzTimes obit on guitarist Jim Hall. When I clicked on that link and started reading it, my eyes caught another link in the corner about "Veteran Jazz Broadcaster Bobby Jackson dies."

No, I thought. It can't be him. That guy is too full of life to die.

And as you can probably guess by now, it was him.

More than the passing of Jim Hall, more than the passing of Pittsburgh trombonist bandleader Jack Purcell, Bobby's death shook me. He was too young. Too influential. 57 is too young to go. His son is now only 10-years old.

That's about all I can say about it. My coping mechanism is to remember the good things about a person and to how many people he touched. So if you haven't seen the article or didn't know who he was until now, please read this. If nothing else, it shows how much he did and how he took that knowledge of music and put it to good use, sharing it with as many people as he could.

Rest in peace, Bobby.

CD Review: Mascott - Cost/Amount

Mascott

Cost/Amount

(Kiam) www.kiamrecords.com

Another one that's been sitting around for a couple months, waiting for attention...

In the early days of this blog, I wrote a very effusive post about Mascott's Dreamer's Book album which you can find here. In case you don't follow that link (which you should, as a buildup for what follows), suffice to say I loved that album. Unfortunately I never got around to getting that album's followup, but now there's finally a chance to hear what Mascott (which is essentially Kendall Jane Meade with friends) is up to.

Cost/Amount has just four songs, all of which are much more stripped down sonically than the rich layers of guitars and keyboards that Meade constructed all those years ago. But they also offer perfect examples of pop songs that can be brainy and even fairly accessible at the same time. The title track offers a fresh take on broken relationships, tallying up a series of numbers over a bright, chugging guitar riff: "There's 52 weeks in a year, that's 52 Saturdays/ I've seen 52 sadder ways to spend the night alone," she begins, eventually giving four-figure numbers and a clever, somewhat economic assessment of love before the song ends too soon at just over two minutes.

The sweet "Our Life" is tailor made to be a hit, full of ringing acoustic guitars and high register "ooh"s in the chorus. With its recurring reference to Pink Floyd's most famous album in the chorus, it goes a little deeper to set up the hopeful flip side to the previous song. "By the Book" recalls earlier Mascott recordings, since it's built around an electric piano riff and features Meade singing in a lower register.

Kirsty MacColl wrote "They Don't Know" and Tracey Ullmann had a hit with a version that took inspiration from '60s girl groups, with chiming keyboards and layers of vocal harmonies. Hearing it stripped down to just Meade and a few casually strummed guitar is a bit of a shock on first blush. But it leaves all the important elements intact: the strong melody and the power of love in the face of discouragement. 

All told, Cost/Amount wraps up in less than 12 minutes, which feels far too soon and might be a reason to buy it as a download rather than a physical copy. It needs to be heard, though, and hopefully this is just an appetizer for a longer work that Meade has up her sleeve.

CD Review: Matthew Shipp - Piano Sutras

Matthew Shipp
Piano Sutras
(Thirsty Ear) www.thirstyear.com

Piano Sutras came out over two months ago, and the desire to write about it has been in the back of my mind the whole time. Part of the reason it's taken me awhile to sit down and write is the trouble finding the words to describe why I like it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Matthew Shipp's piano playing, in recent years especially, always flows with a sure sense of direction, especially his solo performances (of which Piano Sutras is one). The opening title track unfolds with a series of cascading lines that feel contemplative but clear in their execution. "Space Bubble" begins with a series of short lines (or broken chords) that hang in the air, creating suspense for what will follow, and he develops pensive lines that do not disappoint.

Even in the pieces with blasts of thunderous low notes with a sustain pedal ("Uncreated Light"), they aren't the whole thought but authoritative blasts that lead to quiet lines. There is more low end rumbling than Shipp has done on recent albums and he uses it as strong punctuation here and in "Angelic Brain Cell." In "The Indivisible," he left hand stays at the bottom of the keyboard, emphasizing and echoing the melody in the right hand.

On Shipp's Piano Vortex album, one track featured a brief quote from John Coltrane's "Giant Steps." On the current album, Trane's classic gets a whole track, sort of. He plays the melody, slowly almost like a ballad, and stops. It comes off more like an interlude between tracks. Later, he also offers a brief take on Wayne Shorter's "Nefertiti," which the saxophonist infamously played with Miles Davis in a recording where the horns just repeated the melody while the rhythm section got more obtuse. Shipp reshapes the theme, almost giving it some funky syncopation, keeping it to just over two minutes in length.

The piano pedals can be heard during a couple of songs on the album, getting held and released. Some might consider this a technical defect, but with Shipp's approach to the keyboard (using the whole range of it, in all forms of consonance and dissonance, light and darkness), it reminds these ears of being able to hear the pads of Sonny Rollins' tenor sax opening and closing on his albums. It's a sign of quality.

Delicious Pastries, Triggers and the aura of the Harlan Twins

Totally blanked on more interesting stuff than the previous post.....

Last Friday, Brillobox was sold out when I got there, as I had predicted. The Harlan Twins, Delicious Pastries and Triggers were playing for Triggers' EP release. Luckily, I ran into a friend visiting from out-of-town who talked me into coming in to the downstairs bar with him for a round or two and to hang out. By the time I had sucked down my drink and bumped into people while getting out of the way for  people who were bumping into other people, I had gotten a text from James of the Harlan Twins, that yes, they were probably letting more people in. Delicious Pastries were onstage at that time too.

So up the stairs I sped, and managed to get in with no problem. I missed the Harlan Twins, who had played first, but caught a fair amount of the DPs. I really enjoy those guys. They write great songs, play them with a lot of energy and give off a warm, inclusive vibe. They also remind me (forgive me if I've said it before) of Olivia Tremor Control, playing a slightly scrappy but well executed version of psychedelic pop. Like OTC, they have a lot of people onstage, but unlike OTC they don't sound quite as much like they're could careen out of control at any minute.

I forgot that I had seen Triggers before, probably on a bill with the Harlan Twins and definitely at Brillobox. They have a guitar-bass-keys-drums lineup with a couple of them trading off on singing. They played their new EP all the way through and since it was only $5, I knew I HAD to get it (though I've yet to play it, I will soon). They put a lot of thought into their arrangements and they're writing. Fleshing out a simple riff can work in songwriting, but these guys take it to another level and they play as a unit, not just as four guys playing at the same time. I was getting tired before they were done, so I bought a CD from a woman who seemed like the parents of one of the band members (how cool is that, keeping the folks out past 1 a.m.?) and cut out before the end of the set. Can't wait to play it.

The whole evening left me in a good mood.

Progress Report

The new issue of Blurt arrived in the mail yesterday. I only have one thing in it, but that's cool because it's the Robert Wyatt Q&A that I did. A longer version will eventually go up online, but in the meantime, hopefully people will buy this hard copy. People my age who still like the tactile experience of holding a print magazine, thumbing through it and getting distracted by one page on the way to another - that's who I'm talking about. Find out more about it here.

I had a few overdue reviews to Blurt that I finally filed on Monday. Actually on Sunday night. Typically I sleep on them, do a final read in the morning, tweek 'em and shoot 'em off. This time, I wanted them in the editor's hands right away. Not sure if they're up yet because I'm typing from a computer that has trouble navigating the Blurt website. My review of  the Saint Rich album should be up there, though. Hopefully the Dot Wiggin article will be up soon too. I got that done last week. Now I'm just waiting to see if I have any upcoming review assignments elsewhere, or if I'm going to get to interview Nellie McKay before she comes to town in a couple weeks.

It'd be great if I could get up early on Thanksgiving and do some writing. We'll see if that'll happen.

Sebadoh and CACAW, caught live

Last Friday's Sebadoh show at Club Cafe sold out. I don't know if I can take any responsibility for that, but it was sold out the day that my City Paper article hit the street. So maybe.

Waiting outside for my friend Megan to show up, I could hear openers Octa#Grape rocking out inside. The bass lines reminded me of Sebadoh, with those thunderous, low end double stops anchoring the music. When I got inside, I understood why: Jake Loewenstein from Sebadoh was the man thundering away on the bass. The band played a brand of knotty, twisted indie rock that had a little bit of math and a lot of punk rock fueling them. There was some Sonic Youth-style breaks thrown in. Meanwhile guitarist/main singer Glen Galloway played a Silvertone guitar with no strap, holding it close to his chin, which reminds both of Gerry Marsden (of British Invasion footnote Gerry & the Pacemakers) and Don Cab/Storm & Stress guitarist Ian Williams (who, by sheer coincidence, I ran into earlier in the week since he is back in Pittsburgh temporarily).

Anyhow, it turns out Galloway and one other member (I forget which one) used to play in '90s indie rock band Truman's Water, who I saw on at least one occasion. Octa#grape put on a solid show, sweating profusely and churning out a heavy set that showed their own thing on.

While they were playing, Lou Barlow was in the back of the room working the merchandise table. It was a noble deed because he was likely deluged by gushing fans ready to pump his arm (myself included). For their new songs on his, Barlow played a four-string tenor guitar, which explains the unique sound of the band. One thing that the new album, Defend Yourself, reminded me was that Sebadoh rarely goes for the simple power chord approach in their songs, where guitar and bass copy each other. The guitar fleshes out the bass, which often doubles as a rhythm guitar when Loewenstein hits those double stops. And if they end up doing the post-hardcore attack in a song, it's usually one of Loewenstein's songs, which avoids going for the simple approach anyway.

This show (last Friday, Nov. 15) was the last night of their tour and the band - filled out by drummer Bob D'Amico - was cohesive and comfortable onstage. Barlow admitted his childhood love of Fred Rogers, wondering if he ever visited Club Cafe back when it was a jazz club. (He probably didn't because that was back in late '80s/early '90s.) Later he started singing jingles from '70s commercials for baby dolls (Baby Alive, Rub-a-dub Dolly). He also drew snickers from some audience members when he admitted that he was flying back home the next morning because "I love my children more [than Pittsburgh]." Screw all the hipsters who can't relate.

But on to the music. The set drew heavily from their previous work, with about half of Defend Yourself showing up in between. I opted to sit at the bar, where my view was obstructed, save for the heads of the singers. But the sound was really good and they were full of energy. Early on they seemed to be getting used to the sound but after awhile they ready to take up a notch, or three. It would have been cool to hear "The Freed Pig" or my favorite Loewenstein song from the new album, "Can't Depend," but there was plenty to sink the teeth into.

*************************************************

Something told me to take my earplugs with me to Thunderbird Cafe on Sunday and I was glad I did. CACAW was playing that night, a New York trio lead by keyboardist Landon Knoblock, with alto saxophonist Oscar Noriega (also a member of Tim Berne's Snake Oil) and drummer Jeff Davis. 

Knoblock has a plethora of keyboards, including some sort of electric piano, synth and some bass keyboard that was so loud that I was sure would vibrate my glass off of the table. Their music falls somewhere between solid post-rock, prog and free jazz. (Disclaimer - I feel a little funny rattling off that lingo-istic description, despite its accuracy.) 

Knoblock seems interested in ridding his instruments of their bad rep (cheesiness, for-fusion-only) and this band does a good job of that. The music pulls you in with a steady melody or groove, stretches it till if falls apart, then picks it back up again to close it out. On their Stellar Power CD, Noreiga's alto seems to be kind of restrained for the much of it. But he was on fire the other night, squealing and wailing as things picked up. (And he was still audible through the p.a. over that din of keys.) Davis did a lot to push the music too, with only a snare, floor tom, kick drums and various cymbals and things. 

I was really tempted to buy the vinyl version of the album, even though I already have the CD of it, so taken was I with the music. But it worked out because I just discovered that their label, Skirl, recently released another album by Endangered Blood, a band that also features Noreiga, as well as Chris Speed, Trevor Dunn and Jim Black. Their last album was one of my favorites of that year.

For a quick snippet of what the band is about, according to Knoblock, check this out. 

Pitt Jazz Seminar Concert - a week later

It's been over a week since the 43rd Pitt Jazz Seminar Concert, but no one else that I've seen has printed a review. So it's still worth bringing up the concert. Besides, moments from that night are still stuck in my head.

The banner on the back of the stage called the evening "A Tribute to Nathan Davis." This founder of the concert was lauded numerous times throughout the evening, not the least of which was a short film chronicling his career in Paris and the work he did to keep this seminar and concert going each year once he came to the University of Pittsburgh. The man himself, though, was nowhere to be found in the Carnegie Music Hall that night. Which felt odd.

When the music finally started nearly after the film, pianist Geri Allen (soon to be Davis' successor at Pitt and organizer of the seminar this year) announced that the band would begin the evening with one of Davis' compositions, "If." After years of seminar concerts that began with uptempo hardbop classics like "Killer Joe," things started with a low-down swampy groove that was closer to Bitches Brew. Bassist Kenny Davis played a spare double-stop riff with the two drummers building on the groove together. Kassa Overall played on the toms while Jeff "Tain" Watts stayed on the snare side of his kit. With Allen on Fender Rhodes, all the evening needed was a bass clarinet and would've sounded like the classic Miles album. Instead there was Vincent Chandler - doing some rapid lines, all tongued - and vocalist Carmen Lundy - who would sing later but worked her voice like another instrument here, in a manner that worked. Even when the band broke into a steady 4/4 funk groove, it was clear that even though they were playing Davis' music, the Seminar had a new leader at the controls.

Jazz Seminar concerts typically had break-out groups following the first tune, with a ballad medley with various players each getting a solo song. Aside from tap percussionist Brinae Ali, who didn't come out until the second set, everyone stayed onstage the whole time (this is one of the first times I remember seeing chairs for all the musicians). Ernie Watts got a solo spot in "Invitation" where his unaccompanied intro and outro had fast lines (like Eddie Van Halen's "Eruption" transposed to tenor) and some upper register squeaks that could've come from an Albert Ayler solo. They nevertheless drew cheers from the crowd. Next, trumpeter Marcus Belgrave sat down center stage for a rich version of "Violets for Your Furs," which epitomized the overused description lyrical. The trumpeter moved slowly but played with the strength of a young player, tempered of course by the lyrical wisdom of a veteran.

Lundy sang two songs, neither of them standards, that weren't identified by name. The first began with her conducting the ensemble, who built up a wave of wildness before the tune kicked in. The second had a spoken word section that worked. Ravi Coltrane finally got a solo spot, with his rendition of Monk's "Epistrophy." It was similar to the version he recorded on Changing Times a few years ago, taking the A part of the song in a slightly non-4/4 time signature and going straight in the bridge. It seemed to confuse bassist Davis and drummer Overall during the head but they eventually locked in for his solo. (More often than not, Overall and Watts didn't play together for most of the evening.)

One of the reasons I was hoping to see a review of the concert was that in years past, the music typically veered towards the familiar. Granted, it was usually quality blowing, with a bit of showboating mixed in from some flashy soloists, but you always knew where you were. Plus, the set of tunes would be announced before they began. That wasn't the case on this night and further, the first tune of the second set didn't go into the theme until Watts opened up with some heavy rolls. It was easy to wonder what the traditionalists thought of the new format. Coltrane got complex, playing over a funky riff and then heading into double-time, while Allen's solo had some impressive voicings in the chords.

Ali came out and tapped on a square of wood that was miked to capture all the nuances of her shoes. She had an amazing feel for tempo, keeping it steady with Overall's brush work, in what sounded "Lover Man." Brecker also got a spotlight tune, playing his own "There's a Mingus A Monk Us," an idea of what would've happened if Charles Mingus and Thelonious Monk had collaborated. He recorded the song in the '80s, which makes it a relative newbie in this case. Guitarist Russell Malone, who worked as support player through most of the evening, got a chance to stretch out with a fluid show piece during the second set too.

The evening closed with another Nathan Davis tune, "I Want to Be Free." Kenny Davis lead the proceedings again, soloing over funk before shaping things into a 4/4 groove with blues changes. Belgrave let fly with some serious blowing, Lundy freestyled a couple choruses impressively and Watts testified again in the upper register. The whole evening ran late, but no one was complaining. It seemed like the audience for the most part was happy to see what the future of the Seminar sounded like.

CD Review: Tim Berne's Snakeoil - Shadow Man

Tim Berne's Snakeoil
Shadow Man
(ECM) www.ecmrecords.com


If Snakeoil, Tim Berne's 2012 debut for ECM, allowed label head Manfred Eicher and the alto saxophonist to reach a mutual agreement on how to combine the label's sound and the artist's rugged approach, #Shadow Man# puts the reins back in Berne's hand. This is classic Berne: jagged compositions with independent lines moving simultaneously, solos that shriek and continue while the foundation changes behind them (always evoking a soliloquy delivered along onstage as the set is shifted behind the speaker), passages that evoke beauty even when they feel ominous, and, as always, tight group interaction.

The writing can remind longtime Berne fans of other melodies from previous albums, but the difference comes in the direction the Snakeoil quartet takes them. Pianist Matt Mitchell has a strong presence, doing as much as Berne to frame the pieces. His challenging album of etudes, Fiction, makes more sense as a warmup exercise after hearing the rolling, fast piano opening to "Socket." Like the previous album, Shadow Man opens not with Berne, but with Mitchell giving a long exposition of phrases that hang in the air during "Son Of Not So Sure," before the structure slowly reveals itself.

Oscar Noriega's bass clarinet sounds great in this setting, stepping up in "Socket" and "Static" with only Mitchell to accompany him. In the latter, he really rises to a fevered pitch, while the former has him working through Mitchell's combination of stabbing chords and what sounds like chopped-up Bach phrases. Noriega also plays b-flat clarinet on the album as well.

Drummer Ches Smith creates an instant party whenever he turns up, but he adds even further to music by playing vibes on a few tunes. On "Son of Not So Sure," he sounds like he's distorting the instrument and getting a sustained tremolo out of it. "Cornered (Duck)" prove just how much this instrument can do to give Berne some extra edge. Further, there's rarely been a drummer on ECM that has bashed away like Smith does on "Socket."

Berne usually sticks with his own compositions or perhaps those of his bandmates. But Shadow Man includes a reading of Paul Motian's "Psalm." It's a short track among a sea of fairly long ones ("OC/DC" lasts 23 worthwhile minutes) and reveals both the saxophonist's reflective side in performance and a nod to his predecessors.

My Lou Reed Story

Sometime around 1983 or 1984, the National Record Mart in Pittsburgh's Oakland neighborhood (which houses the University of Pittsburgh, Carnegie Mellon University, Carlow College and was the inspiration for the setting of Michael Chabon's Mysteries of Pittsburgh) hosted a few in-store autograph appearances by musicians who were performing later that night. When X came to town, I took the bus to Oakland after school (I was still in high school at the time) armed with their first four albums and had them sign them. They were gracious and when I audaciously joked with John Doe to sign Wild Gift to "Darby Crash II," he responded by saying, "You've got a lot to live up to," and did it anyway.

Some time after that, Lou Reed came to town on tour for the New Sensations tour and did an in-store there. I came armed with two Velvets albums and two solo albums. When my turn came I handed him the stack and he asked, "What's your name?" I told him and he signed VU and Nico (with the banana peeled) "TO MIKE - Best Lou Reed."

"So, do you ever talk to John Cale anymore," asked our intrepid teenager.

"No," he shot back, scaring the bejesus out of me and making me realize how dumb a question it was.

As I trembled in my sneakers, his autograph reduced to a scribble on Metal Machine Music and Berlin, looking more like "Lou Lil" on both. After doing the same to my copy of White Light/White Heat - second or third generation, without the skull in the lower left corner (this comes into play in a minute; trust me) - he looked up.

"You know, there's a picture hidden on here. If you hold it under a light, you can see a skull right here," he said, pointing to the lower RIGHT corner.

"Uh-huh," I said, wanting to correct him, but fearing that he might jump up and grab me by my denim jacket and head-butt me or something. I probably ended with some big compliment, knowing that I had better get going before I got kicked out. Years later I heard that some people asked him to autograph skateboards and  a tennis shoe (the latter which was filled with autographs of other musicians) and he said, "I can't do that." Maybe I got off easy.

I also heard that when he came to town in 1990 for some show at Metropol that promoted Songs for Drella, he insisted that a couple he just met be allowed into the VIP room because "they're really sweet." Not a word you'd expect Lou to throw at anyone, let alone new friends.

A few years prior to the NRM experience, I bought my first Velvet Underground record: a budget compilation that MGM compiled from the first three albums. For a time, the chorus of "Sunday Morning" really sent me, when I heard Lou cooing the line, "Watch out/ the world's behind you." It sounded so innocent, yet truthful, the sweetness beneath all that piss and vinegar that I would meet head on a few years later. It was the summer before I started high school and I probably tried to attach some deeper meaning to it.

It doesn't seem possible that Lou Reed could die. But he has. He'd probably get annoyed with all the posthumous praise - especially everyone who thinks it's okay to say "he took one last walk on the wild side" - so I'll just act like he's still here.

Randy Weston in Pittsburgh

Watching Randy Weston play last night, it was easy to feel like the audience had a direct connection to the masters of this music. The pianist talked about his journeys to Africa, where he insisted on each stop that he meet the oldest musicians that we around. "Because, if you go to Africa to see what it's like now, what's the point," he said. By doing that, it clued him in to the origins of all music, which has been passed on from generation to generation, up until now.

But on my end, his attack at the piano sounded at times like his late friend, Thelonious Monk. And it's different than seeing a good pianist who's listened to a lot of Monk albums and digested them and been shaped by them. Not to discount anyone who does that, but Weston was there, hanging out with Monk in New York learning directly from him. So when he played "A Ballad for T" as an homage to him, complete with some allusions to "Ruby My Dear," you could sense the direct line. It was one of the many moments last night at the New Hazlett Theater that felt pretty heavy.

Weston came with his African Rhythm Quartet - bassist Alex Blake, alto saxophonist TK Blue, trombonist Robert Trowers and percussionist Neil Clark. The sound mix was a bit of an issue early on. Clark had trouble hearing the piano, which could have been a little louder in the main mix too. But the group was still tight. Blake sat down during the whole set, leaning his bass towards him, and strumming it much of the time like it was a bass guitar, getting a series of double-stops going. He probably had all four strings ringing a lot too. Clark's performance alone provided enough to visual qualities to the show. He had three conga drums, a few splash cymbals (that he most often played with his hands), one other type of drum and a battery of percussion. Blue and Trowers were both great soloists too. The saxophonist playing with a bright, tart tone that went into a soulful high wail during "African Sunrise" after stirring the crowd up with a circular breathing riff that built in suspense. Trowers was great a helping the mood shift in dynamics when he had to follow Blue or Weston. The Weston classic "Hi Fly" was played like a ballad and Trowers got plenty of space to make it move.

Then there was the pianist himself, still a tall drink of water at 6'9" (according to his book). He knees practically came up to the same level as the keyboard when he was sitting down. He is one of those rare pianists who can hit a chord a certain way and fill the room with a musical authority. The electricity was present. During his "Hi Fly" solo, the guys in the band stood at the opposite edge, watching the pianist intently.

Weston introduced all of the songs, and despite the potential to let the stories go on and get in a dialogue with the audience, he kept things concise. As he said to both me and the interviewer in the Post-Gazette, "The music is the star, not Randy Weston."

...

This was the first week back to work after a two-week staycation. Although I wish I would've been more visible here during that time, and I wish I also would've spent more time doing yard work, it was a pretty busy time on the writing front. I interviewed Randy Weston, Jake Loewenstein (of Sebadoh), Geri Allen and Robert Wyatt during that time (although the last two were done via email). Next week I'm scheduled to interview Ravi Coltrane and Dot Wiggin (of the Shaggs) on Monday. And I just realized - right as I typed - that I have band practice immediately following the interview with Dot. Oh well, that's life as a freelancer I guess.

The Coltrane interview might be published here. Wiggin is for Blurt. And the Randy Weston and Geri Allen chats are in the current issue of Pittsburgh City Paper. Go here and you can find both under the music column. Oh yeah, New York free jazz player Daniel Carter is coming to the Thunderbird next Wednesday. I have to check that out. Hope I can. I mean, the Bloomfield Halloween Parade is happening that night too. I'd feel like a bad parent if I didn't take the kid there. Unless it's pouring down rain, of course.

CD Reviews: Albert Ayler, Paul Bley & Burton Greene Trio on ESP

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the infamous ESP label. They've been rereleasing more of their historical catalog, two of which are here, along with a new release. Find more info on all of them at www.espdisk.com.

Albert Ayler 

Live on the Riviera

Less than five months after this performance at the Maeght Foundation, tenor saxophonist Albert Ayler was found dead in the East River. A year earlier, he recorded Music Is the Healing Force of the Universe, arguably the most misguided of all of his attempts at more accessible music. (More tracks from the same session came out later on The Last Album.) 

This performance, from July of that year, included some pieces from both albums, though Ayler was working with a trio format similar to his earliest 1960s days.  Allen Blairman (drums) and Steve Tintweiss (bass) might not exactly be Sunny Murray and Gary Peacock, but they support the saxophonist with great understanding and empathy. After umpteen live Ayler recordings where Michel Sampson's out of tune violin saws away at the music and spoils it (see the Revenant Holy Ghost box set for many details), it's refreshing to hear Ayler in an uncluttered setting. 

His girlfriend Mary Maria (Parks) is a steady presence here too, singing on a few tracks and blowing soprano sax with the group. Her performances are an acquired taste, especially in the pieces where she sounds like she's off-mike. The spoken word passages in "Music Is the Healing Force" recall the sincere but somewhat awkward messages of the era. Ayler's duet with her on "Heart Love" sounds like something out of an experimental musical and works for that reason. But her faux-calypso delivery on "Island Harvest," complete with the ad nauseum repetition of the chorus, can be avoided. Her rabid soprano blowing on "Oh! Love of Life" sounds closer to Captain Beefheart than her man.

Ayler's performance finds him at an interesting crossroads. Tracks like "Birth of Mirth," which included overdubbed bagpipes in the studio, captures him in his wailing glory on the tenor. But the later tracks, including his famous "Ghosts" which gets applause when the theme kicks in, sound much more grounded, as if he's trying to draw on his gutbucket blues side for solo ideas. 

Tintweiss provides some enthusiastic and vivid liner notes that recall the concert and the one that followed. Apparently keyboardist Call Cobbs was supposed to be with the band and didn't make it until the next show. The bassist also seems to make reference to the infamous hidden track on Holy Ghost where Parks tried to get the band's flight bumped up, claiming an Ed Sullivan Show appearance. 

Paul Bley

Closer

It doesn't seem like Closer has been out of print since ESP revamped itself in the '00s. So this copy is not much of a surprise, but it should be mandatory listening. Accompanied by Steve Swallow (bass) and Barry Altschul (drums), Bley - a unique pianist if there ever was one - explores the equally idiosyncratic works of his then-wife Carla Bley, along with one tune each by Ornette Coleman ("Crossroads"), future wife Annette Peacock ("Cartoon") and the pianist himself ("Figfoot"). In an unusual nod to brevity (or maybe it was hope for radio airplay; who knows) all of the 10 tracks clock in under three-and-a-half minutes. No time is wasted on these strong performances. A mandatory piece of the ESP canon.

Burton Greene Trio

On Tour

Pianist Greene's second album from ESP is the type that should be heard on disc instead of on a scratchy used copy you might find online somewhere. These live performances weren't recorded very loudly and there are a lot of sections where the music could get lost in sea of surface noise. The opening "Bloom in the Commune" includes three minutes that almost digress into John Cage silence. What's actually happening is the pianist is working the inside of his instrument, which isn't clear unless the volume is cranked up. (Greene is credited with "piano harp" in addition to plain old "piano.") Steve Tintweiss is the bassist here who's strong solo in "Ascent" also requires some volume tweaks. 

These four tracks come from the New York State College Tour from April 1966, which featured Sun Ra's Arkestra (yielding ESP's Nothing Is album, and a more recent two-disc set of an entire evening), Giuseppi Logan, Patty Waters (her College Tour album) and Ran Blake. While Greene's self-titled ESP debut benefited from the addition of Marion Brown's tart alto, this trio produced an impressible and rather varied set. After the rollicking freedom of the first two songs mentioned above, "Tree Theme" maintains a steady pulse as Greene and Tintweiss solo simultaneously.  Eventually the piece moves into a free section that reveals how these players can be delicate when they desired. "Transcendence" runs from pensive to thunderous with some more soft harp plinks from the leader.