Thoughts on RePunk 3 - Belated but true

Playing right now: Tim Berne - Five Year Plan (which I won in an auction last week, for a decent price!)

It's been over a week since RePunk 3 happened, but it was followed by a week of interviews for an article, the ensuing task of transcribing, some actual job application work, the current part time work and the heat in general. So today is really the first day that I've had a chance to write about it.

The origins of RePunk go back a decade, which, much to my surprise, I didn't blog about at the time. Of course I was even less diligent about this blog than I am now. But back in 2006, my brother John - who had been in the first punk band in Pittsburgh (the Shut Ins) - and Stephanie Vargo (of the Deliberate Strangers) contacted a bunch of people he knew from the late '70s/early '80s music scene, and talked about having a get-together in Pittsburgh. This was about a year before Facebook was the monolith it would become, so emails and discussion groups were the way to connect back then.

The idea took off, and a two-day event was staged. The first night was at the Quiet Storm coffeehouse, where people could eat, and people got up and played. The evening highlight was my brother, the man once known as Johnny Angola, tearing through a choice set of covers like "TV Eye," backed by members of the Five. But there was also poetry, free improvisation and... me, accompanying John's one-time roommate and musical adviser to me, Michael Butscher. The following day, a cookout happened at South Park, with more music and a screening of Debt Begins at 20, a film that captured those early days of the music scene through a combination of live footage and semi-scripted drama.

A low-key RePunk 2 was held a few years later, but #3 was organized by someone who has been in attendance at a lot of shows over the years but was never in a band and hadn't been to either of the previous RePunks and thought there should be another. (I'll omit her name from her only because she didn't want it mentioned in other media outlets, so I'm following suit.)

At first it seemed like pipe dreaming, but things really took off on a grand scale this year, with a whole weekend full of events. It included: dinner at Zarra's, the site formerly known as the Electric Banana; an exhibition at the Irma Freeman Center full of pictures, flyers and zines from years gone by;  an afternoon cookout/show in Schenley Park; an evening show at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern; and a screening of Debt and a plethora of videos of bands from way back when.

Personally the biggest part of it for me was the reunion of Bone of Contention, the first band I ever played it, and one that dates back 30 years to an inauspicious debut at the Banana (although it was a BIG DEAL for me, the kid who had wanted to be in a band of any sort since grade school). The group drifted apart 21 years ago, when my two bandmates both got pregnant within a few months of each other. I've secretly hoped for about the last six years (when our debut album was 20 years old), that we would reunite someday. When it was first brought up, a few of the players seemed lukewarm, at best, on the idea. So I didn't get my hopes up.

But Barb, our drummer, was involved in early conversations about RePunk and must have mentioned having us possibly play at it. When that got around to the guy who was helping to organize the shows, I decided to step up to the plate and poll everyone. Barb and guitarist Lila - who were in the band the whole time, along with me - both lived in Pittsburgh. But guitarist Sean and his successor Bart were both out of town, though they're still in touch with us. I figured if I asked both, I'd be sure to get at least one of them to do it. Turns out, they were both up for it.

Not only was my dream coming true, my dream to be Moby Grape - a band with three guitarists and five people who all wrote and sang - was sort of coming true.

Before our first practice I did have a rather involved anxiety dream with a few "chapters" in it. The one that is easiest to explain  involves my counting off Deep Purple's "Child In Time," which I was supposed to sing. As the intro started, I realized that I couldn't do any of the high-pitched shrieking that Ian Gillan does in the original. By then, it was too late, though. I WAS TRAPPED!

In reality, nothing like that happened. We got in several practices, even doing two a week, just like the old days! Bart was in town a few weeks prior for one of them. he night before the show, we had one with me, him and Lila (Barb was out of town). it caused me to miss the art show, but hey, duty called. Sean - who can pick up everything with just a cursory listen - got into town Saturday afternoon and met us onstage ready to rock. As usual, he didn't disappoint.

We were preceded by Buster B., a wild singer who was once in a band with my brother (at the time that Johnny was playing the bass that I now own!), as well as the Shakes, one of the best bands of the early days. I felt so lucky to be playing with them because their hopped up edgy pop went well with us. I caught them at RePunk 1, but they didn't an even fuller set this time.

Of course there were some hurdles along the way to the stage, much like the anxiety dream: running home to get another mike stand and a keyboard for the Shakes, which I luckily found out they needed as I ran to my car; the original drum kit that was mediocre which may or may be replaced but we weren't sure at first (it was); feeling rushed to get onstage to make sure we didn't have to cut anything from our set; choosing my introduction words carefully only to turn around and realize Lila was counting off the first song before I had a chance to introduce ourselves.At one point I read the set list wrong too.

Did I mention that I had consistently been drinking cold brewed coffee all day, which might've added to the intensity?

But once we hit - it was wild. It was loud, frenzied and pretty cohesive all at the same time. One thing about this band, in retrospect I feel like we always had a good idea of what to do and where we were, musically. There were never any second thoughts, at least onstage. No looks of "where are we?" Some of the set was a bit of a blur because it takes a while for me to get situated into a set, getting my ears adjusted to the stage volume, not to mention the feeling of being onstage with these people for the first time in over two decades, more than 25 years in the case of Sean.

I fully expected to go through a little bit of post-gig letdown the next day. All that work and anxiety, all for 40 minutes - and then it was over. There was a little of that, but not as much as I thought. Plus I had the videos of bands to check out at Filmmakers on Sunday afternoon. It was good, but loooooooooooong - two hours, in fact. I guess I noticed that because I was hoping to see more footage of Buster and brother John live with Gates of Wrath. Oh well, good times nonetheless. But I had to split before Debt started. 

Thanks to all who had a hand in this.

And I'm hoping that the Bone, as we call ourselves, we reunite again for my 50th birthday. The die has been cast.

Addendum - Since this post originally went up and I saw Stephanie's comment (which resulted in a revision), my mind went back to a particular moment at the cookout. Stephanie and her husband Tom Moran were doing songs, and she introduced one that she used to sing with "Scratchy," aka Erin Hutter, who passed away in October 2014. Hearing the song, and their whole set, took me back to the early days of the Deliberate Strangers. It was so great seeing a guy who I revered as a teenager now playing this new thing - and with Stephanie's and Erin's vocals, they were doing this music the right way - feeling, respect and knowledge of tradition, as well as their own stamp.

Then sometime last week - maybe even a day or two after RePunk for all I can remember - Erin came to me in a dream. Nothing elaborate, more like a quick greeting you might give to someone you see in passing. But she looked happy. The Irish fellow in me can't help but think there's a deeper meaning in there.

CD Review: Charlie Parker - Unheard Bird: The Unissued Takes

Charlie Parker
Unheard Bird: The Unissued Takes
(Verve/UMe) www.VerveMusicGroup.com

During his lifetime, Charlie Parker didn't release all that many alternate takes of his music. The concept of presenting both masters and alternates came about with the advent of long playing records, which happened in the years right around his passing. (This isn't definite evidence, but Blue Note's release of three takes of Bud Powell's "Un Poco Loco" on one album likely gave credibility to the concept).

One thing that can be said about Parker and alternate takes, though: No musician warrants the intrigue and excitement for alternate takes the way Parker does. The one exception here might be John Coltrane, but what I'm about to say applies to him as as well. Having digested all the groundbreaking master takes by the alto saxophonist, what fan wouldn't want to go back and hear how they took shape? While Parker is deserving of accolades like genius, he was still a human being. Therein lies the appeal - hearing the process such a mortal uses to take notes and sculpt them into astounding works that continue to captivate listeners over a half century later.

This Verve collection presents a treasure trove of unreleased takes - some incomplete, some complete - recorded over the course of Parker's time working with Norman Granz's labels Clef and Mercury, 1949-1952.  (Granz didn't launch Verve until after the saxophonist's death). They encompass a wide range of settings, from Machito's Latin orchestra, several small group dates (including the one with Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk), the "South of the Border" groups and a big band set. To offer a full picture of each tune, the released master is also included.

Casual jazz fans might fan a set like this a bit tedious. Indeed, it opens with five tracks of Machito's ensemble roaring through "Okiedoke," in which Bird doesn't emerge for the first 60-90 seconds. "Blues (Fast)," from a 1950 quartet session with Buddy Rich (drums), Ray Brown (bass) and Hank Jones (piano) goes through seven tracks (some blown takes are banded together) including the master. But this track in particular provides key elements to the value of the whole set. The "theme" begins as a tossed off lick that bears a trace of Thelonious Monk's approach to syncopation. By the master, Bird has developed it into a mature opening statement.

And then, there are the solos

Parker had expressed the desire in later years to look beyond the bebop structures, and who knows where his muse would have taken him. But while he walked the earth, the saxophonist worked within a limited harmonic framework of blues, ballads and "I Got Rhythm" changes, working creatively within them. In doing so, he had his trademark licks which have become ingrained in saxophonists who have studied him. This set reveals how he worked over a tune, making sure that, if he was going to use some challenging group of notes, that it made harmonic sense. It wasn't merely for show. One amusing aside in that regard comes during "Mohawk" from the Gillespie/Monk session. Realizing the take has broken down, Parker emits one of his familiar bluesy lines, with the thickness of the reed clearly audible, revealing how easy it was for him to just toss off such a tough line.

A 1949 session brings out numerous version of tracks that were mislabeled as "Segment," "Passport" and "Diverse" upon their initial releases. Using the correct labeling that came in the 1988 Complete Charlie Parker on Verve 10-disc set, Unheard Bird follows the "Tune X, "Tune Y" and "Tune Z" terminology. Listening to these in a row, one is hard pressed to wonder what make takes break down, or why one was chosen or another as the master. (With "Okiedoke" the decision is clear, as the master begins with more of a charge than what preceded it.) Parker sounds inspired throughout these takes. Perhaps a little unsure of exactly which path to follow in his, but he always plays with focus. Substandard Bird still trumps most of his followers' best days.

Unheard Bird doesn't yield many new bold revelations, although it might finally put the 1950 session with Gillespie and Monk in a slightly better light. This set, which yielded five originals and a version of "My Melancholy Baby," has been dismissed as a disappointing reunion of the three cornerstones of bebop (along with bassist Curley Russell and drummer Buddy Rich). It sounds fine if it's viewed more along the lines of a pick-up session or informal jam session. Parker comes up with some challenging melodies to play over blues changes and everyone digs in. Rich's bombast sounds like a plea for attention (the same goes for his playing on the "Blues [Fast]" session), but it's manageable. Fanatics might like to know there were no additional takes of the workout "Leap Frog," to go with the previously released 11 takes. Likewise, the "South of the Border" sessions don't include any more takes of "La Cucaracha," a novelty yes, but a personal favorite.

Additionally, fans of between-song banter, who love hearing Bird's voice, will enjoy the brief highlights, including one where guests in the studio are admonished by the leader and by Granz for getting too loud. (Mentioning track names will spoil the surprise.) Phil Schaap, the world's foremost expert on Charlie Parker, provides all the necessary insight to accompany listening. He describes obtaining these tracks from the estate of the late Norman Granz and where they fit in the big Bird picture.

This set might be more of a boon to hardcore fans and scholars, but it does do more to show the human side of Charlie Parker, whose work ethic and vision helped to generate someone who is often reduced to a series of myths and legends. Perhaps that's a 21st-century way of looking at things, but if it provides a greater understanding of this complex man, I think he'd appreciate it.

CD Review: The Monkees - Good Times!

The Monkees
Good Times!
(Rhino) www.rhino.com

Side Two of More of the Monkees, the band's sophomore release, was dicey territory for me as a kid. The incredibly catchy "Look Our (Here Comes Tomorrow)" was spoiled by the line "Mary, out what a sweet girl/ Lips like.... strawberry pie." (Years later, I don't see any problem, but at the time it was mush. I think I might've misheard it as "looks like strawberry pie.") "Laugh" was also an atrocity, for reasons to numerous too mention. My young ears probably took the "ha-ha-ha" backing vocals too personally.

But I had to take action against "The Day We Fall In Love," the strings-and-12-string-guitar/spoken word piece that Davy Jones recited dramatically. (His Manchester accent turned it into "The Day We Fool en Luff," but I'm sure the teenyboppers swooned anyway.) Even though no one else would probably see my copy of the record, I had to post a warning about this piece of mush.

With pencil in hand, I crossed the song out (not very effectively) and wrote "Boo" next to it.

Regardless of who was writing their songs back in the '60s, be it a member of the band or one of the crack songwriting teams which they employed, the Monkees were likely to move back and forth between direct and elusive. There might have been a deeper meaning to "The Porpoise Song" but it didn't matter because it sounded so beautifully lush. To prove that I'm not going to trash all of Davy's songs (the above offenders all featured him), his "When Love Comes Knockin' (At Your Door)" is direct and irresistible, all in less than two minutes.

So when surviving members Michael Nesmith, Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork get together for a new album, and they go back to original Monkess formula of employing other songwriters for material - AND the list of composers includes Andy Patridge (XTC), Rivers Cuomo (Weezer), Ben Gibbard (Death Cab For Cutie), Adam Schlesinger (Fountains of Wayne), the expectations are high. The band's previous reunion album Just Us, was admirable because they handled all the instruments, but the songwriting was lacking. Maybe their musical offsprings can bring something to the Monkee table.

And they do, without a doubt. The songs are filled with major/minor hooks, 7th chords played on twangy 12-string guitars, layers of harmonies. They leave me swooning like a Davy fan hearing "The Day We Fall In Love." The lads sound strong too, including Tork, whose battle with throat cancer has dropped his voice down a little lower, giving it more rugged quality that still befits the music.

But the lyrics threaten to derail some of these tracks. "I'll bring the chips and the dips and the root beer/ even though dark purple rainclouds are near...." "She makes me laugh/ she makes me smile/ And I could hang out with her all day and night/ she makes me laugh/ she makes me cry/ and I would like to be with her for awhile."

Typing them out, maybe they aren't quite as awful as they were on first blush. But the first line comes for the pen of Mr. Partridge - you know, the guy who wrote "Senses Working Over Time" and numerous others. The second comes from Mr. Cuomo. I think I was writing lyrics on that level when I was a tween, and didn't really know how to write songs.

Having said all that, this is the strongest album produced under the band's name since Head, what I consider to be their last consistent album. They made a bold move by taking a backing track of a song Harry Nilsson gave them in 1968 and fleshing it out, leaving the composer's voice in for a duet with Dolenz. Now the title track, it doesn't have any Nat "King" Cole/Natalie Cole qualities to it, nor any of the bad elements of the Beatles' post-mortem work with John Lennon tracks. "Good Times" might be a little basic in the lyric department, but Dolenz still has the pipes to kick some excitement into it.

In order to keep the deceased Davy Jones in the fold, the group dusted off Neil Diamond's "Love to Love." The song, touted by Rhino as unreleased, actually appeared on 1996's Missing Links Volume 3. But this version adds more backing vocals (by all three surviving band members) which gives it some more weight. It serves as a fitting homage to the late Monkee.

Nesmith, true to his own Monkees material, must have called dibs on the more elusive songs. Gibbard's "Me and Magdalena" has both a beautiful country/folk quality and some of the stronger lyrics, which go beyond the usual love song territory. The big surprise, not just for Nesmith but the whole album, comes with the song that doesn't seem to be pushed by the label as much as the others. "Birth of an Accidental Hipster" is credited to Paul Weller and Noel Gallagher (!), and is filled with psychedelic phase shifting, traded vocals between Nesmith and Dolenz and a three-note recurring interlude which, if it wasn't inspired by Pink Floyd's "Matilda Mother," is an insane coincidence.

Tork states in his liner notes that he wrote "Little Girl" for Davy, envisioning it as a good followup to "I Wanna Be Free." It's a catchy song, but couplets like "Little girl, don't you hang around/Stand up, we'll go town/go for a ride/ I'll be your guide," sink it. Better is his version of Carole King's "Wasn't Born to Follow." Already recorded by everyone from the Byrds to Dusty Springfield, the song gets new life from Tork's resonant voice, which adds more depth to the message behind the song.

The final verdict - anyone who has ever loved the Monkees needs this album. Sure, it's flawed but there's plenty of qualities that make up for it. The fact that they had the wherewithal to enlist their progeny to work with them speaks legions for Micky, Mike and Peter. Let's hope they do it again.

Speaking of which, in looking up Adam Schlesinger (who not only wrote but also produced and played a lot of the backing tracks), I discovered he's only about three weeks younger than me. So if the band is looking for other songwriters to work with, people of a similar, refined age - or if they just want to bust one writer's chops and ask what he can do - you know where to find me.

CD Reviews: Jon Lundbom's Big Five Chord - Three EPs

Jon Lundbom & Big Five Chord

Make The Magic Happen

Bring Their 'A' Game

Play All the Notes

(Hot Cup) www.jonlundbom.com

Jon Lundbom doesn't stop, churning out a new release practically every year. And why should he, since the 13-year old Big Five Chord, which has maintained a steady lineup within that whole time, continues to do exciting things with the guitarist's sometimes audacious compositions. Along with Lundbom, the group features Moppa Elliot (bass), Jon Irabagon (alto saxophone), Balto Exclamationpoint (the nomme de squonk of Bryan Murray, explanation forthcoming) (tenor, prepared tenor and balto! saxophones) and Dan Monaghan (drums).

So far this year, the quintet has released three EPs, which each have three tracks - two Lundbom pieces and one Ornette Coleman tune. One more EP will be released in September. Each is currently available digitally from Lundbom's website, or they can be pre-ordered and bundled in either a digital pack or in a physical pack, which comes in a boxed set. If the idea of four EPs rather than a disc or two seems frivolous, keep in mind that this is almost a two-hour set that works well in succinct blasts. The format also allows the chance to hear Big Five Chord explore their different moods. 

Make the Magic Happen reveals the band's sly qualities. In this case, putting a classic bebop element right under the listener's nose where the connection could be missed. The rhythm section in "Ain't Cha" sounds like understated funk (which it is) but Elliot's vamp comes from the intro to "All the Things You Are" that is virtually connected to the song, thanks to Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. In front of them, the saxes lead together and Lundbom comps and adds countermelody. Then Mr. Exclamationpoint (Murray, that is) steps up with his balto! saxophone, an alto fashioned with a baritone mouthpiece. The horn set-up lets certain notes through cleanly, while others overload, and our hero exploits them for all their worth. Lundbom follows with a distorted solo that builds in intensity, while bass and drums still play it cool for the most part.

In "La Bomb," things stay a little more subdued at first, with Lundbom playing pensively in the low range. This time the wild saxophone noise comes from Irabagon, whose alto always sounds ready to twist a note into a growl or evoke guitar distortion.

"Law Years," the album's Ornette offering, consists of a series of phrases that always seem to flow randomly over a rubato pulse, not catching up until the final message. Jazz punks Universal Congress Of once played a rip-roaring version of this. BFC puts a different spin on it, with Elliot taking a long, meaningful solo before Exclamationpoint stirs up a fuss. This time he blows a prepared tenor saxophone, fashioned with a thundertube which is connected to a drum head and 17" spring at the other end. Much like the balto!, this contraption can "play normal" sometimes, while certain notes can send it into vibrational overdrive. It sounds like a shtick, but it makes a great solo. Once it's done, BFC continues a tradition held on their previous records and on the other two tracks: they simply stop without playing the theme once more.

Compared to "Law Years," Irabagon and Murray/Exclamationpoint sound like Lee Konitz and Warne Marsh on "Wrapped," which opens Bring Their 'A' Game. Bass and drums speed up and slow down behind a long, flowing saxophone melody. After a clean "B" section, Lundbom takes over with a bright, but edgy solo, marked by sharp accents. The two saxophonists return, taking turns soloing, not so much trading as egging each other on, with no respect for barlines. That pesky rhythm section starts toying with tempo again as well.

Lundbom plays chicken scratch beautifully, just off-mike, in the opening of "Worth" while the saxes play a raunchy, long-toned theme with a sensual edge. Irabagon's solo features a segment where he holds one note and slowly raises the pitch, bending it upwards like a snake charmer. He also produces some delightful flutter tongue blasts and vicious slap-tonguing before returning to the note-bending act. The echo on Lundbom's guitar makes him sound like the ghost of Jim Hall dropping by for a look-see and getting puzzled. Monaghan's brushes work especially well here, alternately swinging the beat and going up against it.

Coleman's "WRU" closes this set. (For those who never heard the explanation of that album's initial-based titles, this one is short for "Wit and its Relation to the Unconscious.") Again the saxes have that clean sound, playing in unison on the theme. Murray (I'm going to use his real name from here on out; I can't take the pseudonym) plays a solo on tenor. No gimmicks or effects, just solid blowing that gets unhinged at the right time. Lundbom jumps in for another lean, taut solo, with the horns piggybacking on his lines.

The title Play All the Notes might imply busy music in which all the notes come in a flurry. Turns out there's no prepared saxophone noise or chaos, though it's not exactly straightahead either. The quintet does sound focused, getting down to business right away. The 10-minute "Comedy Gold" bypasses a theme and focuses mainly on solo exchanges between Murray and Irabagon. They start off individually, each one gradually getting further off the ground, Murray creating melodic thoughts faster than his hands choose to execute them (intentionally, it seems), and Irabagon eventually flying over the rhythm section and alternating between crisp and rugged tones. The rhythm section lingers, playing a 5/4 pattern to keep things in check.

"Period" evokes the knotty writing of Tim Berne, with counterpoint between the tenor and alto, and an uneven number of notes at end of a bar line. But the rhythm section sounds more languid than a Berne group. Elliot's roaming bass line sounds like a counter solo beneath Lundbom's own picking, which continually returns to the opening riff, making this the closest to a track where the theme is restated. "Humpty Dumpty," which the Coleman quartet recorded on This Is Our Music, serves as the album's closing statement, with guitar and alto solos and the usual sudden ending.

Although the discs are technically released by Hot Cup, Elliot's label, the best place to find them  - and any BFC releases you might have missed - is Lundbom's personal page, as the imprint's webpage is in bad need of an update.

CD Reviews: Brooklyn Blowhards, Michael Bisio & Kirk Knuffke, Brian Groder Trio

"So little music, never enough time," I told myself a few days ago, while rooting around in search of a particular CD and finding two more that I wanted to play immediately. That thought epitomizes the past weekend in Pittsburgh. The Bad Plus played in town Friday night, at the family-friendly outdoor area South Park Amphitheater. (I interviewed BP's Dave King here, also.) Friday and Saturday, the Deutschtown Music Festival presents a total of 180 bands in the neighborhood for which it is named. (See the previous post for a re-cap.)

This particular entry was started about three times this weekend, with the days and times in the last 'graph rewritten about three times. Several thoughts were discarded since I elaborated on them in the Deutschtown post. Now I'll get back to the opening sentence. Since it relates to new releases, I have decided to group some recent CDs together because they have a thread that runs from the first to the second, and another one going from second to third. 

Brooklyn Blowhards

s/t

(little(i)music) www.littleimusic.com

Jeff Lederer dreamed up a crazy idea for the group Brooklyn Blowhards, that ultimately sounds pretty profound: Put compositions by Albert Ayler side-by-side with traditional sea shanties. To render them appropriately, get a few horns (Lederer on tenor and soprano saxophone, Petr Cancura on tenor, Kirk Knuffke on cornet and slide trumpet, Bryan Drye on trombone), an accordionist (Art Bailey) and three drummers (Matt Wilson, Allison Miller, Stephen Larosa) who play an array of concert percussion, ship bells, chum buckets (the world needs more of those) and chains. 

Without a bass to ground the music, the group comes off like a rollicking marching band, or a more original redesign of groups like Slavic Soul Party who bring traditional folk music into the 21st century with all the original parts intact. In fact, if this octet weren't already a group of busy creative improvisers and composers on their own, they could probably make a killing by playing this music at hipster weddings all over Brooklyn. 

Ayler's "Bells" launches the album with a jolly mood, but his material is drawn largely from the Love Cry album, which included several direct, folk-like melodies. "Island Harvest," not on that album but performed live at the time, originally featured vocalist Mary Maria reciting some childlike philosophy between choruses almost like a calypso singer. Mary Larose, who sings on five tracks, fills that role here, making the best of a rather sophomoric work. She also sings on a version of "Shenandoah." Guitarist Gary Lucas (the one-time bandmate of Captain Beefheart) brings his resonator guitar to three tracks, adding to the party atmosphere. Even when things get more pensive, the percussionists maintain that festive mood, with double snare drums and thundering bass drums driving the mood.

The true test of Lederer's concept comes when traditional shanties like "Santy Anno" and "Black Ball Line" sounds like they could have come from Ayler's Live In Greenwich Village album, and when his work evokes images of seafaring gents (and dames, for that matter) hoisting the main sails. The distance between these musics suddenly doesn't sound so distant.

Michael Bisio & Kirk Knuffke

Row for William O.
(Relative Pitch) www.relativepitchrecords.com

Cornetist Knuffke, one of the Blowhards, has played with bassist Michael Bisio before. Last year, he appeared on the bassist's excellent Accortet album on Relative Pitch. On Row for William O., they're on their own, conversing in a few compositions by Bisio, an improvisation and a piece by the album's namesake, the clarinetist who has composed several modern classical compositions, following a stint with Dave Brubeck in the 1940s.

Pre-conceptions about a person connected to classical music and Brubeck fly out the window with the stop-start melody of his "Drago," which opens the album. The title track starts with a written structure that eventually leads to an unaccompanied bass solo which reminds these ears that, as much as I enjoy Bisio with pianist Matthew Shipp, a greater appreciation of his technique and writing comes across when he steps away from the individualistic pianist.

The music is grounded, not free and wild, but that nevertheless generates close listening. Sometimes Knuffke and Bisio play in an in-between place which doesn't feel like the bass is echoing the cornet. But they're not really playing on parallel plains either. "Oh See O.C." presumably, is inspired by Ornette Coleman, and this melody, with its high leaps for Knuffke in the beginning, but Bisio reshapes the scenery as they proceed, starting with a chase, scuffling up close together, then moving slower. "December," the one piece credited to both players could have been a spontaneous invention, or a starting point that they created together. It works so well among the other pieces that it's hard to uncover its origins.

Brian Groder Trio
R Train on the D Line
(Latham) www.briangroder.com

Trumpet-led trios can be a challenge, in terms of maintaining dynamics and momentum, but Brian Groder has proven his skill with this set-up. Reflexology (2014) was a solid album of original compositons with Michael Bisio and drummer Jay Rosen helping Groder keep things going. It was one of many albums that would have been written about here if there would have allowed.

Groder (who also plays flugelhorn) often has Bisio playing the compositions in unison or harmony with him on R Train on the D Line, the second all-original set from the trio. This arrangement occurs in both "Retooled Logic" and "Drawing in to Pull Away," with different results surrounding the music. In the former, Bisio bows a long solo, before Groder returns to go on a fast, free run and things wrap up. Rosen begins "Drawing" with solo using mallets all over his kit, building in dynamics until his comrades introduce the angular melody. Rosen also punctuates the songs with bells and cymbals, creating more excitement. In "Asterix" bass and drums go wild while Groder holds things together.

The trio is adept at this type of Ornette-ish chordless music (one track has a line that inspired me to compare it to "Peace" in my notes), but they also sound stunning when they strike a calmer pose. Long brass tones and bowed bass make "Isolating the Why" a penetrating statement, and one of the shortest tracks on the album, which leads me to believe it was written-through with no improvisation. Later in the set "Whispered Sigh" delivers a mood of tranquility.

Although Bisio played with both Groder and Knuffke, these brass players each have an approach that's hard to be pin down technically and impossible to really compare to one another. Both favor a rugged tone, but that's really where it ends. Better to just revel in the strength of their ideas at the moment.

There you have it: three album, all connected in some ways, but all very different.

Deutschtown - Bar fights, tiny venues and Happy Ending featuring Weird Paul

I started an entry reviewing three CDs, and went back to it about three times without finishing it. But before that actually gets completed, a report from one corner of the Deutschtown Music Festival seems to be in order.

For the fourth year in a row the event took place in the area of the North Side known, at least at one time, as Deutschtown. 180 bands played between Friday and Saturday, on 28 stages, some outside on the street, some in the park, most in bars spread out all over this place.

This is the story of one of those bands. My band, the Love Letters. I'll start at the end, which came happily, lest anyone think I'm just complaining about stuff. And it didn't come in the wee hours of the morning either. More like 1:00 am, but by that time all the equipment had been returned to the practice space, so all the work was done and it was time for fun.

The thing about an event like this is, how are you supposed to see all those bands? I mean obviously, you can't see 180, but... let's quarter that. 45 bands....still.... The ideal situation for a band playing this event is finding a new audience, the people who stay behind after their fave's/friend's set, hear your music and think, "Wow, who ARE these folks?"

When we played last year,  Jenn Jannon-Fischer of the Park Plan and a few other local bands caught us, and introduced herself to me a couple months later by mentioning our set. That was a cool moment in part because she - and her bandmates - are really great people, and we've shared bills since then. But up until then, I wouldn't have known and just figured that no one who had been there for the previous band (a crowd that made it hard to move around), stayed around. Which is sort of understandable, because there's so much to see.

Last night, we were at a joint called the Double R Cafe, which is located on East Street, a one-way street which runs parallel to I-279. We thought there was a back door that we'd be able to access when we loaded in. Not only was there no back door, there wasn't much space between the bar and the wall to maneuver equipment along patrons as we tried to load in. The "stage" was actually a room in the back where speakers were set up pointing out towards the bar. As we attempted to load in - squeezing stuff in before the next band went on, people were shoving past us to get outside to break up a fight which had spilled from Double R into the alley next to it.

The band before us, There You Are, was a guitar/drums duo. They cranked up a good noise that reminded me a few of the raw guitar/drums groups that were big over the last 15 years, but my bandmate Mike kept poking holes in my theory. They were tight and threw themselves into the music. They seemed to have a bit of a crowd, including a dude in his 50s, wearing wraparound shades and sitting at the bar playing air drums. We are NOT going to go over well with this crowd, I thought.

Don't count your chickens before they're hatched.

We got set up in just about the amount of time suggested (15 minutes), and we were ready to roll. By then a few friends had shown up, the kind of folks that put you in a good mood and inspire you to put everything into it. The guitarist from There You Are said he was deaf after their set, and by the second song of ours, I was too. There were no monitors so singing on key was a guessing game. In a way, though, it was just like playing at home in the basement. Though we have SOME insulation and it's not all tile floors, and sound bouncing all over. But we were pretty tight, moving ahead without worrying about how it might sound and concentrating on how it felt.

By the time we closed with "Thermos Full of Hemlock" it was dizzying. Literally. Between Buck's and Mike's amps, I was playing with distortion and it was so loud it was making my ears vibrate and making me dizzy. (This has happened before. A friend took a video of the song [it's on Facebook] and I'm jumping around like Ray Bolger in The Wizard of Oz to keep from getting afflicted by the vibrations.Before you ask, it was too late to turn down. After our set, a few strangers complimented me on the set, including a middle-aged gent who had been sitting at the bar most of the night. Later in the evening, we even sold a record. (One record sale sounds pathetic, but at an event like this with everyone being pulled in all directions, any sales are welcome.)

I wanted to be sure to see Weird Paul, so we loaded up all the equipment immediately, dropped it off at the practice space and doubled back. I was able to catch about 10 minutes of Byron Nash and Plan B too, which sounded really great - a blend of solid rock, R&B, soul and maybe some jazz.

At last year's Deutschtown, Weird Paul had gotten the shaft more than anyone else I knew. From what I was told the venue told him to turn down and they also made him cut his set short. I could only wonder how this year would go for him.

The answer is that I need to have a little more faith.

Not only did he get a warm reception, he had a virtual throng of admirers cheering him and singing along. And throwing a beach ball around the room too during a song named for that object. A tiny bar might not be the best place for such monkeyshines, but the crowd didn't care and, thankfully, the bartenders were good sports about it too.

While talking to a friend later in the evening, I heard there was a second barfight during the evening. This one seemed a little more docile because the two guys went outside, had it out and then came in and bought each other another round.

So all my paranoid feelings were unfounded. Everything was great. Thanks, Deutschtown. There were some tireless folks putting this thing all together and from my perspective they did a great job. Glad I was part of it.

CD Review: Jack DeJohnette/ Ravi Coltrane/ Matthew Garrison - In Movement

Jack DeJohnette/ Ravi Coltrane/ Matthew Garrison
In Movement
(ECM) www.ecmrecords.com

It might seem like some cross-generational meeting of the minds that was dreamed up in a p.r. office: Jack DeJohnette - a drummer with an illustrious career that includes a guest spot with John Coltrane during his later, adventurous period - teaming up with saxophonist Ravi Coltrane and bassist Matthew Garrison, the respective sons of Coltrane and his longtime bassist Jimmy Garrison.

But drawing that conclusion would be to underestimate the methods of these three musicians. Garrison lived briefly with DeJohnette, his godfather, and the three of them played together informally at a birthday party, then at a one-off concert in 1992. Years later, as Coltrane and Garrison evolved as performers, DeJohnette decided to bring them together in this trio.

In Movement lives up to its name, with a set of music clearly living for today, but begins with a nod to the past, and big shoes to fill. It opens with John Coltrane's meditative, troubled piece "Alabama." The trio unfolds it slowly, staying in rubato mode throughout and getting aggressive towards the climax, especially DeJohnette, who gets good and loud. Any attempt to compare Ravi Coltrane's playing to his father's falls by the wayside in the next track, "In Movement." Credited to all three musicians, it begins with a bass guitar solo so fluid, it sounds like an acoustic guitar. A one-note sample (Garrison is also credited with electronics and DeJohnette with electronic percussion) and a repetitive bass line eventually bring in drums and sopranino saxophone. Coltrane's playing reveals a unique set of phrases, never beginning or ending in a predictable manner. At first he plays in a short phrases of just a few bars, but he eventually extends his lines, as Garrison's double stops generate excitement.

"In Movement" lasts nine minutes, building all the way, followed by "Two Jimmys" which gets a little funky but meanders during its eight minutes. A more interesting take on funk comes with a cover of Earth, Wind & Fire's "Serpentine Fire," a deep-cut cover choice that finds DeJohnette using a dirty groove similar to the one in "Miles Runs the Voodoo Down," before they break into a semi-free, fuzz-bass-driven improvisation towards the ending. Speaking of Miles, DeJohnette switches to piano and joins Coltrane (on soprano) for a duo reading of the Davis/Bill Evans ballad "Blue In Green," which also gets opened up and explored. DeJohnette's opening droplets of notes are riveting.

The album isn't limited to group-credited pieces and interpretations either. "Rashied" pays tribute to drummer Rashied Ali with a clipped, fast theme. "Lydia" is a gentle ballad for DeJohnette's wife which flows loosely but with more direction than some of the earlier pieces.

A recent article about the trio recalled that party at which all three played together for the first time. Coltrane and Garrison got a little tired after a few songs. DeJohnette on the other hand was unstoppable, telling them they were just getting warmed up. Hopefully that will hold true for this group too. It sounds like they've just begun to tap their capabilities as a unit.

Wadada Leo Smith is Deep

This week, Pittsburgh City Paper is running my preview/interview with Wadada Leo Smith. He and I had a great conversation about a week ago, where it became clear that music is closely connected to everything he does in his life. We probably talked for about five minutes before we even started talking about playing and writing music because he was telling me the inspiration behind his latest suite, which salutes some of our country's national parks.

Not only can you read the feature article here, I also assembled a Q&A section from parts of our conversation that weren't used in the context of the article. They appear on City Paper's music blog, which can be found here.  Together, they're a lengthy read, but I think what he has to say is worth the effort. Hopefully it makes sense to readers who weren't on the phone with him, like I was. And don't forget, he's appearing in Pittsburgh on Saturday afternoon FOR FREE along with Vijay Iyer. For a reminder of what their latest album sounded like, you can go back to my review of it.

Show Tonight: Ben Goldberg & Michael Coleman, Ben Opie

Since the Thunderbird Cafe closed for renovations, I've really been missing Space Exchange, the Tuesday night series hosted by Ben Opie (saxophones), Dave Throckmorton (drums) and a few other musicians that have come and gone out of Pittsburgh. Each week one of the guys would present a different group (which often included one of the other SE hosts) that might not have been pure jazz but were rooted in improvisational music.

In addition to the music, it was a cool community of musicians and listeners who frequented it - a good way to catch up with everyone, and I know I got at least two ideas for articles from hanging out there on a regular basis. Plus it's always cool when the bartender sees you coming and starts making your drink without saying a word. I'm not exactly sure when the Thunderbird will reopen but hopefully Space Exchange will be part of it.

Until then, I have to catch as catch can. Tonight Ben Opie is opening for Ben Goldberg at Howler's. He's playing a solo set, which may or may not incorporate electronics and computer stuff/noise into it. So I'm going to be sure to get their on time to catch him and hopefully catch up on things.

Then there's the headlining duo of Ben Goldberg (clarinet) and Michael Coleman (keyboards). They came to town twice last year in a trio. Last March I previewed Goldberg in City Paper. Tonight they're performing Hocus Pocus (Book H of Practitioners), a series of etudes that Steve Lacy wrote for solo soprano saxophone. They've, of course, adapted it for clarinet and keyboards/electronics, which should be well worth exploring.

When they came to town last fall, along with drummer Hamir Atwal, they played a strong set that segued easily between free improvisation and written works, including a version of Thelonious Monk's "Light Blue," which can get really lugubrious if the players aren't careful. They were. Coleman did a great job of balancing keyboard work and bass duties. And Goldberg's approach to soloing was astounding.

They appear together on an album credited to Schimscheimer Family Trio. Goldberg was credited more as a guest, while Coleman, saxophonist Kasey Knudsen and drummer Jon Arkin were the main "family." Each of the three were also credited with electronics, which added a unique, somewhat vintage synth/video game effect to various tracks.

Goldberg - who always has a handful of projects going at once - also released an album on Relative Pitch a few months ago as part of a trio called the Out Louds. He, guitarist Mary Halvorson and drummer Tomas Fujiwara make up the group which engaged in some spry improvisations that were loose but still strong.

Come to the show tonight and bring a few extra bucks to pick up one of these discs, or any others they might have. For what it's worth, there's an ATM in the bar too. Howler's is located at 4509 Liberty Avenue in Bloomfield. Cover is $10. Doors open at 8 p.m.

CD Review: Lesley Flanigan-Hedera

Lesley Flanagan
Hedera
(Physical Editions) www.physicaleditions.com

Experimental vocal music can be a dicey medium, whether the performer works within a band context, goes it alone with no effects or expands and builds on a voice through the use of pedals. Natural echo can make long notes resonate with a warm quality. Percussive sounds, conversely, can bring back memories of the kid at the junior high lunch table that was skilled at burping the alphabet, or stereotypical imitations of Tourette's Syndrome.

Lesley Flanagan's previous recordings combined her strong voice with feedback that emanated from her hand-crafted wooden speakers. The results lead one writer to call 2009's Amplifications "a snowstorm of a record," which sounds like an ideal compliment.  Hedera features just two tracks, the twenty-minute title track and the five-minute "Can Barely Feel My Feet."

"Hedera" begins with a rapid percussive beat, generated by a malfunctioning tape deck. Despite its origin, the unceasing 16-note "riff" has a strong, visceral quality to it. Once that's established, Flanagan begins layering long vocal tones on top of it, building chordal harmonies that twist and wrap around one another. After seven minutes, she starts pulling them back and soon the music takes an Eno-esque break for some tranquility. The quality of the notes here fall into a strange middle ground between human voice and synthesizer. The beat is still part of it, but it sits far back in the mix, acting more like a reminder than a participant. It eventually reemerges and the music works towards something of a climax with layers of Flanagan swirling around each other. As the piece fades, the beat finally goes away, and all the variations in the voices sound clear. It also has a more human quality that was overshadowed by the relentless beat, which kept the piece more in the realm of electronica. If Flanagan had added more variations to the sound of the groove, or simply removed it for a bit, the whole piece might have felt more emotionally engaging. Nevertheless, it maintains an alluring quality.

"Can Barely Feel My Feet" does away with a beat completely, leaving the listener in the presence of ghostly voices that rise and fall, moan and coo repeatedly. Some sections have a warm, hypnotic quality while one voice adds an eerie quality in the way Flanigan moans.

To a first time listener, Hedera serves as a good introduction to Lesley Flanigan, leaving you intrigued about what will come next and how the preceding releases compare.

CD Review: Richard Poole/Marilyn Crispell/Gary Peacock - In Motion

Richard Poole/Marilyn Crispell/Gary Peacock
In Motion
(Intakt) www.intaktrec.ch

In Motion undoubtedly describes this trio's performance, but it's hard to see the names of Marilyn Crispell (piano) and Gary Peacock (bass) and not think of the title as something of a reference to their late co-conspirator, drummer Paul Motian. His musical strokes complemented Crispell's exploratory keyboard work and Peacock's probing, rich bass lines so exquisitely that their recordings should be regarded as some of the best works of modern piano trios.

Of course, drummer Richard Poole's name appears first on the album cover, so it wouldn't be fair to simply talk about him only in reference to his predecessor. While he might borrow some tips from Motian - such as knowing when a gentle cymbal is worth a dozen rolls - he reveals his own personality and works skillfully together with his compatriots. "Dichotomy" serves as the best introduction, wherein the tranquility of Peacock's measured, opening bass solo is shattered with explosive drums and a chaotic piano attack the likes of which Crispell hasn't unleashed in years. The pattern repeats itself and between the performance and track title, it evokes joie de vivre.

By contrast "Serakunda" finds the trio in a completely different setting with a bright, folky melody anchored by Peacock, whose tone and attack vibrates with authority throughout the whole album. The bassist's "Gary's Theme" is the one track not attributed to the trio, and the one that wasn't a spontaneous invention. Crispell develops on the author's lead by adding short lines, while Poole holds a pulse, and takes a brief solo.

Much of the album moves in a manner that implies time without actually stating it or abiding by it. How the trio uses it makes all the difference. "Isle of Nowhere" is a delicate ballad that sounds composed, with rolling cymbals and Peacock working like a second voice, rather than accompanist. "Ahzân" opens gently with piano notes hanging in the air before the bass takes the lead and Poole plays what sounds like hand percussion. The title track is pure freedom, with Crispell's percussive tendencies leading the way, though Poole and Peacock provide the perfect reactions and counterpoints to the piano.

Crispell, Peacock and Poole chose accurately chose an album title that reflects what they do, and whether they're cutting loose wildly or keeping things gentle, the music stays in motion. 

CD Review: Roswell Rudd/Jamie Saft/Trevor Dunn/Balazs Pandi - Strength & Power

Roswell Rudd/Jamie Saft/Trevor Dunn/Balazs Pandi
Strength & Power
(RareNoise) www.rarenoiserecords.com

Octagenarian trombonist Roswell Rudd shows no signs of slowing down. He recently released August Love Song, an album with Heather Masse, a vocalist known largely as a regular on A Prairie Home Companion. While Rudd fits comfortably in a more conventional setting like that one, he still claims ownership to a bold, brassy sound attack that excels in free settings.

That's exactly what happened when he teamed up with Jamie Saft (here on acoustic piano), Trevor Dunn (bass) and Balazs Pandi (drums). At Saft's home studio, the tapes rolled, the band cut loose and Strength and Power reveals the results. The pianist opens the session and the title track with some gentle probing lines. Rudd begins in the background, adding commentary with a wah-wah mute as Dunn and Pandi create suspense. Eventually the mute comes out, and while Rudd expounds mostly in short phrases, they come in authoritative bursts. Throughout the 18-minute track, the group investigates the space between each other, often playing in parallel lines, but the mood is still joyous.

Saft adds to the drive of "The Bedroom" by manipulating the strings of his instrument, creating some strong percussive clatter. "Luminescent" presents evidence that free improvisers can create a ballad with delicate beauty. The opening 30 seconds especially create some strong electricity between the musicians. Rudd later makes a rhythmic suggestion that could have sparked more band synapses, but Pandi - who would have been the person to follow it - doesn't take the bait. The music still delivers fire, but it again seems like the quartet is playing together but they aren't always reacting to one another.

By album closer "Struttin' for Jah Jah" they seem more in tune, mentally. Operating with more of a pronounced 4/4 pulse, Pandi toys with a free bop and a New Orleans shuffle while Dunn dances around him. Saft stabs at chords, coming off like Jazz Advance-era Cecil Taylor. Then there's Rudd - breathing fire that has a vocal quality to it, which is accentuated by the "yeah" he wails on a break between lines. It proves that a veteran player can match wits with three 30- and 40-something players. While things could be a little more pronounced, Strength & Power still has plenty of strong moments. And it appears that Rudd is hopeful for both a follow-up and some live work, so keep an eye on this conglomeration.

This album is available on CD and double-vinyl, as well as other digital formats.

CD Review: Twin Talk

Twin Talk
Twin Talk
(ears&eyes) www.earsandeyesrecords.com

The term "twin talk" comes from the phenomena of cryptophasia, and refers to a secret language that many twins develop at an early age. The Chicago group that uses that term as an identifier actually consists of three people, Andrew Green (drums), Katie Ernst (bass/vocals) and Dustin Laurenzi (tenor saxophone). Nevertheless, the concept make sense when considering the way musicians communicate through music.

Twin Talk's sophomore release features a set of originals where all three interact, often beginning with simple melodies that lead into improvisations which build alternately on straight vamps and rhythmically challenging ones. Laurenzi, who penned all but three of the tracks, likes to volley two- to three-note licks off of Ernst's bass. This happens in the opening "Colorwheel" and "One Foot in Front of the Other," though both tracks yield different results. The latter adds Ernst's voice to the mix, blending with the saxophone like a languid fourth instrument. The repetition gets a bit unnerving at first, recalling Patty Waters at her more tranquil moments, but it eventually breaks into a steady groove that merits the anticipation. "Colorwheel" by contrast is bright and staccato from the get-go.

Ernst sings two of her own songs, which provide greater contrast to the set. "Living Room" is the more unique of the two, where she bows long tones over equally languorous tenor lines and double-time brushes from Green. The one-chorus lyric sounds like a abstract poem that accentuates the melody. "Hush Hush" seems a little closer to a folk tune, perhaps, but neither piece fits easily into any expectations of jazz vocals, which makes both of them work.

For the rest of the album, the trio comes up with pieces that grab the ear either through their ease with odd grooves ("J.J.", "Eleven," the bridge of "Teddy") or strong sense of interaction ("Rupert," with its ascending bass double-stops and use of toms and climactic fills). Ernst demonstrates a particularly thick tone on her instrument, opening her "Martha" with a solo that recalls Charlie Haden's pensive voice. Laurenzi plays with a sense of economy, using a strong narrative to make points without the need to show flash. That role is filled by Green, who doesn't exactly chew up the scenery so much as adds incisive accents that boost the music in all the right places.  In some ways, Twin Talk evokes JD Allen's trio, who can take riffs and put an amazing shine on them. But it's easy to feel a greater sense of adventure just below the surface with these three, such as when they move into free territory or add vocals. Follow this band.

The Urinals Hit Pittsburgh

The past Wednesday night, the Love Letters got to play a show with first-generation LA punk rockers the Urinals. They debuted sometime in the late '70s, released a few 7"s and changed their name to 100 Flowers, as their abilities improved and their songwriting evolved. That band released an album and EP before breaking up around 1983. In that incarnation, they were one of my favorite bands during my early stages of songwriting and playing with Bone of Contention (albeit a few years after their demise), thanks to their blend of chopped-up lyrics, punk attack and a strange bit of pop sense that lingered around the edges.

As it happens, right as I was really absorbing all that music, realizing that I could never be like Mike Watt but maybe I could be like John Talley-Jones, Trotsky Icepick showed up with the album Poison Summer. Ex-100 Flowers guitarist Kjehl Johansen started that group with ex-Last organist-turned-guitarist Vitus Matare (who needs punk names when you have great names like those?). As I was wearing that that marble vinyled album out, I did what you did back then, and I wrote the band a letter. Vitus replied by sending me the first Poison Summer album, by Danny & the Doorknobs. The album title stayed the same, but the band name changed, get it? Long story....

Anyhow, to get back up to this week, in a few steps: Trotsky Icepick finally came to Pittsburgh 25 years ago and played with Bone of Contention. Friendships were established. Talley-Jones later released an EP by the Pundits, a band of which I was a member. The Urinals reunited when all old punk rock suddenly had a new audience. They've released two new albums since then, the most recent being Next Year at Marienbad. 

A mini-tour with the Love Letters didn't exactly pan out, but we were able to set something up with them this past Wednesday at Howler's, which is just around the corner from my place. I shouldn't say this was a dream come true, but it was exciting to see John Talley-Jones for the first time since 1991, meet drummer Kevin Barrett and guitarist Rob Roberge (Johansen left the fold a while back) and to hear some of these songs in person for the first time ever.

It's a thought-provoking prospect, if you ask me: when you're known for music that's over three decades old, how do you co-mingle that with the new stuff, keep people interested and not seem like a nostalgia act? The answer is you treat all things equal and just plow through all of it with abandon. That's just what the band did on Wednesday. They started with "Hologram," which consists of two chords hammered away, Wire-style. Without stopping for much of a breath, Barrett clicked off "Shut Yr Trap" from the new album, which segued right back into "Sex" (an early one that can be found on the complete comp Negative Capability...Check It Out).

It helps that the Urinals' newest material is just as solid as the early stuff too. In a way, they do Wire better than Wire does these days. Roberge didn't take leads per se but he plays more than just power chords. Covering "Little Johnny Jewel" takes guts, and these guys delivered. Plus they were loud.

The Love Letters played as a trio that night because our guitarist Buck was out of town. Normally I might pass on a gig without him, but this was a special occasion, so we played as a trio. It was Mike Prosser's first time being fully shoved into the spotlight but he's assumed a pretty firm position in the band now. We're playing a few of his songs, which I really like a lot, and hope to record someday (at least one of them). Following a show we played at Gooski's about 10 days prior (with Buck), which also went really well, I felt like we are on a pretty good roll.

Since we jumped onto a show that had already been reserved at Howlers, the opening act was a New Jersey punk-influenced rapper who went by the name J-E-double-F. He was pretty intense, looking a bit like Danzig, but kicking it old school with a sampler and breakdowns between verses. He played for about 20 minutes which was just the perfect length of time. I hope he didn't mind being on an odd bill with us, but I think it worked.

The Urinals stayed at my house, so before and after the show we got to socialize a bit. I wish I could've showed them more of the city but they were on their way to Chicago the next morning. At least we had time for breakfast and a few photos, as seen below. For those who don't know, that's me on the left and John Talley-Jones on the right. I look like I don't have a spine but I do. I was between bites of a bagel.

My next wish, to have Trotsky Icepick come to town for my 50th birthday show in October 2017. their new album should be out by that time. And Kjehl has already expressed approval online, so we'll see....

CD Review: Keefe Jackson (& friends), Peter A. Schmid (& friends too)

Keefe Jackson/Jason Adasiewicz

Rows and Rows

(Delmark) www.delmark.com

Keefe Jackson/Josh Berman/Jon Rune Strøm/ Tollef Østvang

Southern Sun

(Stone Floor) www.stonefloorrecords.com

Peter A. Schmid

Chicago Conversations

(Creative Works) www.creativeworks.ch

Tenor saxophonist/bass clarinetist Keefe Jackson never seems content with just one music project. Or two. He's released albums with the cooperative Fast Citizens (a group of Chicago-connected musicians who take turns in the leadership role), a series of quartets and the larger ensembles Project Project and Likely So, the latter an all-reed septet. There are more than I'm either forgetting or leaving out for no reason other than to turn attention towards his latest escapades: a duo session with a longtime Chicago friend; a quartet with another Chicago pal and two Norwegian players; and an album by Swiss multi-reedist Peter A. Schmid which features Jackson and several other musicians engaged in improvised duets and trios. 

Quite simply, Jackson and vibraphonist Jason Adasiewicz are deeply ensconced in the Chicago jazz scene, individually and collectively. But that doesn't mean they won't push and challenge each other, or the unsuspecting listener. Rather than rolling the tapes and just blowing, they work through seven compositions by Jackson and three by Adasiewicz which rely on freedom with bits of themes to hold it together.Rows and Rows features a mix of material, from noirish moods to free, choppy moments and even a theme or two that sound like Blue Note abstractions.

"Questioned, Understood, Possessed" begins with some wild sax blowing over vibes that create a dreamscape, before things slide into a tenor melody that Adasiewicz punctuates on the bars. Jackson plays bass clarinet appears on several tracks, which always guarantees an exciting blend of guttural eruptions and wails. It begins "Where's Mine," in a choppy unison with the vibes, which Adasiewicz uses to create some percussive clanks by clicking the frame and resonators. In "A Rose Heading" he plays chords behind the bass clarinet, followed by "Swap" which is exactly what they do: Adasiewicz takes the lead while Jackson riffs.

Switching back to tenor, Jackson reminded me of the Andrew Hill composition "McNeil Island," a brief out of tempo tune with a prominent theme that featured Joe Henderson. One of the most distinctive tracks of the whole set comes with the hypnotic "Cannon [sic] from the Nothing Suite," whose eerie, repetitive form sounds ripe for a crime scene on The Naked City.

Cornetist Josh Berman has been the brass foil to Jackson in numerous projects that both have lead or co-lead. Southern Sun puts them together with Norwegians Jon Rune Strøm (bass) and Tollef Østvang (drums), who founded the Stone Floor Records label in their home country. The group rapport is immediate. The American players both contributed three compositions while the rhythm players each wrote one. Everyone sounds right at home with the music.

Berman released "Blues" just a few months ago on his Delmark trio album A Dance and a Hop. With a saxophone foil, the Ornette feeling becomes a little more noticeable. The composer gets low and gravelly in his own solo, dispelling any notions of direct homage. His "Cold Snap" has a similar stop-start feel, though this time the whole quartet "plays" the melody, and Berman starts and the bottom register and works up to some shrill notes. 

Strøm's meditative "Melted Snow" has a rubato feel where the horns intertwine, leading to a pensive bass solo that feels understated, though it climaxes with the firm plucking. Østvang's "Blowing in From" closes the album with some of the strongest moments on the session. After the loose-limbed theme, Jackson blows unaccompanied, then the rhythm section dives into a chordless 4/4 mode, setting the scene for Berman to take off. This group should convene more often. The release might be a challenge to find, as the website redirects interested customers to a Norwegian distributor. But maybe some copies have floated into the states.

Some quick research reveals that Swiss multi-reedist Peter A. Schmid enjoys the sonorities of low-end reed instruments. of which he plays a few here: bass and contrabass clarinets and baritone sax. But he also plays sopranino saxophone, albeit very briefly and in a very percussive manner. 

The 24 tracks on Chicago Conversations feature a who's who of the Windy City's free improvisers, all joining Schmid for several tracks of sonic exploration. A few last less than a minute and only two come in around five minutes or a tad beyond. Some performances offer the most extreme examples of free improv, like when Schmid's contrabass clarinet and percussionist Michael Zerang sound like sea monsters scraping fingers nails on a chalk board. 

But at other times, Schmid, Jackson and Waclaw Zimpel (alto clarinet) present different facets of a clarinet trio, from moody long tones to quick percolations to multi-hued conversations. Schmid reveals himself to be a master of percussive slap-tonguing in several of them, sounding less like a reed than a musical PVC pipes. Jackson duets with Schmid on tenor late in the set, which often feels pointilist quality but are always intriguing. Other guests include Berman, percussionist Frank Rosaly (together with Zerang on a few tracks), trombonist Nick Broste and bassist Albert Wildman.

While all but diehard free improvisation fans might be turned off by Chicago Conversations on first blush (I felt like was revealed on the first listen until I went back to it a few times), there are qualities to this music that come out as the album is explored further. The way the various instruments are paced throughout the album helps too, presenting variations within variations to the sound. 

CD Review: Sonny Rollins - Holding the Stage: Road Shows Vol. 4

Sonny Rollins
Holding the Stage: Road Shows, Vol. 4
(Doxy/Okeh) www.okeh-records.com

The recording studio can psyche musicians out. Not necessarily because it can be a relatively sterile, dry place, as compared to the stage, where everything lives in the moment, including the reactions of the audience. The problem with recording studios (if you can call it a problem) has to do with the fact that it allows musicians to overdub and or remove anything from a whole chorus to a series of notes, creating the perfect recording through technology. Or it can trick a musicians into thinking that way. "I began to think, 'Gee, maybe it could come out better,'" Sonny Rollins says in the notes to Holding the Stage. "That had a big influence on why the studio became an inhibiting factor."

That is also why the Great Sage of the tenor saxophone has released a fourth album of live performances. The Rollins that sets foot onstage doesn't have the chance to think about redoing anything. He simply hits the ground running and does what he does best.

Holding the Stage contains a wide span of time, with one track going back to 1979 and winding up with a couple from 2012. (Six months later, health issues required Rollins to take a break from performing, and he has yet to return.) Four tracks come from a September 2001 Boston concert just four days after the World Trade Center attacks, a show which has already been documented largely on Without A Song: the 9/11 Concert. At nearly 30 minutes of the disc, this newly released material serves as the album's foundation, also proving that at a time of uncertainty and sadness, Rollins was there to guide his audience through intense times and start the healing.

The biggest surprise might be the 1979 track, "Disco Monk." The title and the time period might imply a desperate attempt at relevancy, but hold onto your hats. The rhythm section of Jerome Harris (bass guitar) and Al Foster (drums) don't come close to four-on-the-floor, going instead for an elastic groove that acknowledges the serious funk of the time, without forsaking the serious swing of jazz. The tune itself continually breaks away from the upbeat groove to let pianist Mark Soskin get a bit introspective, making it too clever for the dance floor anyway. Rollins, as he does on most of the tracks, exhibits a full-throated sound with some references to songs that he recorded with Monk.

"H.S" pays homage to another collaborator, pianist Horace Silver. The tough blues (recorded in 2006) features trombonist Clifton Anderson adding to the boss' tone, and a tenor solo that gets delightfully gruff in all the right places. "Professor Paul" salutes the late saxophonist/arranger Paul Jeffrey, and suffers from an accompaniment that sounds utilitarian. Chalk it up to a recording quality perhaps, but the seemingly solid group that includes Peter Bernstein (guitar) and Sammy Figueroa (percussion) sounds stiff and unexcited. Rollins can't be deterred though, throwing in a quote from "Old Devil Moon" and making it work.

Several quotes pop up in "Solo," essentially a five-minute cadenza between "Sweet Leilani" and "Don't Stop the Carnival" from the 2001 concert. Rollins' classic "St. Thomas" pops up, as does "The Man on the Flying Trapeze" (he also could make the ridiculous sound sublime) and a few others. Lesser musicians may throw in quotes for yucks, Rollins does it to prove the legitimacy of the material. And I'll be doggone if he doesn't pull it off.

In closing, special mention should be made of "You're Mine You," which comes from the same concert. It might be reading too much into the situation, but Rollins' solo, full of blunt accents and muscular tone, comes off like his way of pulling us out of our fears and reassuring us that, since we are his, things are not too far gone. Even if that isn't the case, he can make you believe. And that's one of many reasons that makes this disc mandatory.

Show Preview: Adam Meckler Quintet.

This space doesn't normally serve as a preview forum for upcoming Pittsburgh shows. Mainly because I don't have it together to stay on top of previews beyond what I write for the local print media. But within a week of hearing about Adam Meckler's show at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, his CD arrived in a package with a few others by Minneapolis players, so I put it on before I could think twice. Makes me wonder if the Twin Cities area is similar to Pittsburgh, with maturing talent that's not caught by the national radar.

Meckler's trumpet playing is impressive in his wide range on the horn. He easily shifts into the upper register, displaying a brawny tone when he does, sounding clear but with a roughness that adds character to his voice. And speaking of voice, Wander, his second album with his quintet, contains some strong writing, with intriguing melodic lines, rhythm twists and vamps that make an engaging tug at the ear.

Concurrent with his quintet, Meckler also leads an orchestra that received attention for the 2014 release When the Clouds Look Like This, which was inspired by the work of Maria Schneider and Darcy James Argue. The quintet get a large sound out of Meckler's trumpet and flugelhorn, along with Zacc Harris (guitar), Graydon Peterson (bass), Greg Schutte (drums) and Joe Mayo (on one track) and Nelson Devereaux (on the rest) (tenor sax/soprano).

The title track tricks the listener a couple times, beginning with a rubato melody vaguely reminiscent of Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman" before going into a brighter, in-tempo theme. But during the solos the rhythm section tautly holds down a vamp that seems to be in 7/4 with a bar of 5/4 thrown in occasionally. Mayo and Meckler handle it with ease.

The disc comes from three different live performances, which include several pieces where they really stretch out. "The Call" has a staccato melody that resurfaces between solos as Devereaux, Meckler and Harris explore ideas and take things out for 14 solid minutes. "Atomium Jules" adds some skronk and power chords to fray, along with a theme that tips its hat to the Twin Cities' punk forefathers like Husker Du et al. (Well, maybe that's a stretch but these cats can hold their own with the rock.) "Drew's Beard" begins with a folkloric melody, which jumps into a major-minor two-chord groove that makes a great hook.

Opening will be tenor saxophonist John Petrucelli (in a trio), who is one of the city's most promising tenor players.

It all happens on Friday, April 29, starting at 9 p.m. $10. Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, 4412 Liberty Avenue. The BBT is a great, intimate venue which hasn't had edgey jazz like this in ages. Come check it out.

For more info on the artist, go to www.adammeckler.com

CD Review: Henry Threadgill Ensemble Double Up - Old Locks and Irregular Verbs

Henry Threadgill Ensemble Double Up
Old Locks and Irregular Verbs
(Pi) www.pirecordings.com

Last week it was announced that multi-reedist/composer Henry Threadgill won the Pulitzer Prize for the "distinguished musical composition by an American" found on his 2015 album In for a Penny, In for a Pound. Congratulations to Mr. Threadgill, his bandmates in Zooid and to Seth Rosner and Yulan Wang of Pi Recordings, who launched their label to support the composer, and consistently release thought-provoking albums that I wish I had more time to expound upon.

However, right as the Pulitzer announcement was made, Threadgill released a brand new disc with a new ensemble. Double Up features both Jason Moran and David Virelles on piano, Roman Filiu and Curtis MacDonald on alto saxophones, Craig Weinrib on drums and Zooid members Christopher Hoffman on cello and Jose Davila on tuba. Threadgill serves as conductor, and doesn't play any instruments.

The 46-minute suite Old Locks and Irregular Verbs was premiered at the 2014 Winter JazzFest, and I attended the first of two performances at Judson Hall. Dedicated to the late Lawrence D. Butch Morris - who created the concept of "conduction," which combined improvisation and conducting - the piece had a loose abstract quality to it. But even when groups of musicians broke away into what seemed like free improvisation, they played with great deal of direction, never letting their focus wander. When Threadgill took center stage towards the end, directing them in a series of rising, roaring chords, it was an intense experience.

Recorded in a studio over a year later, this disc recreates all the excitement of the initial performance and perhaps more, since it offers the chance to revisit the music repeatedly and discover its contours. According to the press release, most of the music was written out, which can explain why the unusual instrumentation works so well. Moran and Virelles play off of each other, and when they frequently work together, things never get too busy. Both seem pretty evenly panned in the speakers, as do the saxophonists, but "soloists" aren't indicated anywhere, putting the focus back on the piece itself. The saxophones spew sharp, idiosyncratic melodies which are probably worthy of Threadgill himself. Only during "Part Three" does one of them get overly aggressive, spilling out fast lines. Drummer Weinrib adds some intriguing moments on his own, like in "Part Two" where he rests as much he plays a simplistic blend of taps and clicks. In the next section his solo has a rich quality, like a written-through break for the trap kit.

This all paves the way for the final movement (the disc divides "Old Locks" into four tracks though it's actually one continuous piece). Threadgill assembled this section to sound like a funeral dirge, the clearest reference to Morris' passing. But even though the horns gradually create a funereal feeling as it takes shape, the mood does not feel bleak or distraught. The subject is missed but the music evokes both a remembrance of happy bygone days and the desire to move on his honor. That's when those powerful chords crash in, bringing it to a climax. Moran has admitted that the ending always brings him to tears, and it's easy to see why. This is moving music.

If In for a Penny, In for a Pound earned Threadgill the Pulitzer, what will this album get him?

CD Review: Vijay Iyer & Wadada Leo Smith - a cosmic rhythm with each stroke

Vijay Iyer & Wadada Leo Smith
a cosmic rhythm with each stroke
(ECM) www.ecmrecords.com

Upon considering just a few aspect of Wadada Leo Smith's career - pre-AACM recordings with Anthony Braxton, the work of his Creative Orchestra for Moers Music and even his more recent works like The Great Lakes Suites - one project seemed like something of an aberration: Yo Miles, a band that pays tribute to Miles Davis' electric period. As a trumpeter who has gone to great lengths to create his own singular voice on the instrument, it seems like a surprise that he might take the time to look back.

But hearing this album offers a reminder of the connection between the two trumpeters. Davis could always exude a high level of lyricism from a select group of notes. Likewise, Smith is not a busy trumpeter. He likes his long tones, and he likes bending and squeezing them for all they're worth. When he does, they might not be quite as delicate as the Prince of Darkness, but they have a similar dramatic impact. This album presents many opportunities to get a greater understanding of Smith's sound.

Smith and pianist Vijay Iyer have a two-decade history together, which includes five years when they played together in Smith's Golden Quartet (click here for a review of an album). This album centers on its title track, a seven-part suite inspired by the late Indian artist Nasreen Mohamedi. Each section is named for a phrase taken from Mohamedi's diary ("All becomes alive," "The empty mind receives," among them). The music has a loose quality to it, spontaneous but not completely improvised. Some sections begin starkly while others begin like a free wheeling cat-and-mouse chase. Smith emits squirts or wails. Iyer begins with low rumbles on one track and upper register shimmers on another. One piece seems to begin with nearly a minute of absolute silence. Crank up the volume, though, and the sub-woofer sound of Iyer's electronics will be detected.

Therein lies the power of a cosmic rhythm with each stroke. There are moments of beauty to it, like the blend of Iyer's high end cascades and Smith's muted trumpet on "Uncut emeralds." The intervals that Smith takes on "Notes on water," one of several tracks that feature Iyer on Fender Rhodes, sound equally as beguiling in their frankness. This is headphone (or earbud, to be modern) music, where deep listening moves beyond the spare instrumentation that might be felt in a casual listen.

A piece by Iyer and one by Smith, respectively, precede and follow the suite. "Passage" opens the album with a rolling steady tempo from the pianist and long, passionate tones from his accomplice. "Marian Anderson" honors the late operatic contralto/civil rights activist with a warm salute.

These two are coming to town for the Pittsburgh JazzLive International festival and guess who can hardly wait.