Cecil Taylor With Tristan Honsinger and Evan Parker: The Hearth

In summer 1988, Cecil Taylor, always, as so many experimental jazz musicians have been, more highly regarded and appreciated in Europe than at home in the United States, spent an enormously productive month in Berlin, just a few years from German reunification, as part of a month-long residency which led to many concerts.  A result was an 11-disc box set, issued by FMP (Free Music Productions), called In Berlin '88, which was then reissued by Desintation: Out in 2015, with two additional CDs as The Complete Cecil Taylor in Berlin '88.  This blogger doesn't have either set, but does have several of the discs that came from them.  One of the more interesting is The Hearth, a slightly-longer-than-an-hour excursion into amazing improvisation between the titanic pianist, tenor sax giant Evan Parker, and the lesser-known, but very impressive, cellist Tristan Honsinger.

There are moments where the trio works together really well, especially during Parker's well-constructed and brilliantly laid-out solos, and there are duos between Taylor and the sax player and then between Honsinger and the maestro that are also superlative.  While Taylor was known in duos, especially, for overwhelming his partner with his dazzling display of keyboard pyrotechnics, and there is some of that here, he does interact beautifully with Parker and Honsinger in some of the most exceptional passages of this phenomenal recording.  It's hard to believe he's been gone for two-and-a-half years, but, with a prodigious output from the 1970s and for years afterward, with the Berlin residency yielding so much remarkable music, there is no shortage of material to turn to when the mood is there to hear an iconoclastic master pour out his astonishing performances.

Winged Serpents: Six Encomiums for Cecil Taylor

I was on vacation on the central California coast, blissfully tuned out from the news that, these last couple of years, have been invariably draining and maddening.  So, it was surprising and saddening to find out a while after returning that the peerless Cecil Taylor, one of my favorite musicians of all, died on 5 April, not long after his 89th birthday.

There are dozens of Taylor recordings that could be highlighted here, but the striking tribute album (and these are not always what they're intended to be) quickly assembled, produced, and released by the unfathomably productive John Zorn for his Tzadik label is an outstanding one.  As the OBI strip notes, "Cecil Taylor was a powerful and unforgettable musical force—a fearless visionary and one of the greatest musicians of the past century.  His visceral and intense performances influenced generations of musicians, artists, poets, filmmakers, and creative minds of every description."

The pieces here are definitely influenced by, but not imitative of, this astounding pianist, whose music will always be a regular part of the playlist.  They reflect respect for Taylor while expressing the "heartfelt tributes" Zorn intended for the musicians to develop.  Craig Taborn, Sylvie Courvoisier, Brian Marsella, Kris Davis, Aruán Ortiz and Anthony Coleman all bring remarkable works, beautifully played and recorded with crystalline fidelity, that are really a pleasure to listen to.

A poem, also in a Taylor influenced style, by Charles Bernstein and Zorn's impressionistic album art in ink, gold and, yes, blood are also tributes.  The poem and a portion of the artwork are shown here as indications of how carefully and creatively Zorn and the others expressed their debt to the magic produced by a musician (magus?) rightly described as "this legendary genius who created a new music that transcended all genius."

Max Roach and Cecil Taylor: Historic Concerts

Lee Jeske's liner notes to this album are titled "Percussive Pianist Meets Melodic Drummer" and it's certainly a notable way to decribe this amazing 2-disc recording from the McMillin Theatre at Columbia University in New York from December 1979 and released on the Italian label Soul Note.

After a strange, halting introduction from an unknown announcer, Max Roach comes right out and shows why he wasn't just a powerful, fast and precise drummer, but one who used all of the resources of his kit to play in unfailingly complex rhythms and, yes, strong melodic strains.  In the nearly 5-minute intro, though, he was really just warming up.

For nearly the same amount of time, just under 5 minutes, Cecil Taylor turned in a solo performance that came out highly melodic and relaxed, as if he intended to show the audience that it wasn't all about the key pounding, astounding fast runs, and complex chords for him.  It is absent of the pounding, manic playing that is so intoxicating for fans--it anticipates, perhaps, the idea that playing with Roach would be a different experience for him and the listener.  This performance, too, sounds like a warm up.

The forty-minute duet that follows is encapsulated by Roach's view that he and Taylor "co-existed" during the concert, finding, in an entirely improvised performance, where they could come to a meeting of the minds (and hands and feet).  What the drummer excelled at, especially, is his uncanny way of working within Taylor's iconoclastic style, playing with and not against the pianist's uncompromising way of performing, which may have been at its peak in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

A particularly interesting element in Roach's playing comes at about the 30 minute mark when he plays for a couple minutes on a snare tuned to make a strange high-pitched sound, almost like you might hear in some forms of Chinese drumming.  A few minutes later, a "sliding" type of cymbal work distinguishes Roach's way of accompanying Taylor.

The second duet, just a couple of minutes shorter than the first, finds Roach playing a variety of percusion instruments beyond his standard kit as Taylor works on a more melodic, richer sounding, and not quite as rapid a manner.  Here, Roach's use of a wide array of sounds isn't just a novelty, it's another way of working with Taylor's orchestral and percussive approach.  Things are relatively mellow and low-key until about eight minutes in when the playing gets incredibly dense and intense.

After some intense playing for some 25 minutes, Taylor turns things over to Roach for another solo and the drummer goes initially for melodic approaches initially, than to the display of virtuosity and percussive pyrotechnics.  It's a brief interlude and Taylor reenters somewhat quietly and more muted--well, for him--and Roach responds accordingly, executing some excellent rolls and fills along the way.  But, as the piece nears its end, the two go off in the stratosphere again, with thrilling effects.  The crowd's enthusiastic response shows the appreciation they felt for the amazing performance.

No greater contrast, probably, can be found in the way Roach works with Taylor than comparing this concert with the intriguing, but strange, 1977 show Taylor did with Mary Lou Williams and her highly orthodox rhythm section, including drummer Mickey Roker, who later said that the music was confusing, not fun, and that he simply tried to forget even playing that show.

Roach, though, took the challenge of playing with Taylor and made it work, which is just one of any number of reasons why he was one of the great drummers of all time.  He did what Roker wouldn't or couldn't do--found ways to play within and without Taylor's immense power, speed and dazzling technique.  Roach is, in a word, spectacular precisely because he knew what to do to "co-exist."

The last 17 minutes of disc 2 is comprised of a radio show, featuring interviews with the two masters, interspersed with excerpts from the concert.  There is much of interest in these segments as the two discuss how the concern came to be, their admiration for each other, the lack of a need to rehearse for the show because of their mutual understanding, and their place in modern jazz.

Roach, in particular, has some notable things to say about playing with Taylor, noting that it was work, a combination of ego and love, an intense experience that radiates to the audience as they see how the players react to each others.

These interviews are a nice way to end one of the great duet recordings of experimental and explorative music.

Cecil Taylor: Nefertiti, the Beautiful One Has Come

This is where it started.  At the Cafe Montmartre in Copenhagen, Denmark in 1962, the pianist Cecil Taylor and his compatriots, altoist Jimmy Lyons (who worked with Taylor for nearly a quarter century) and drummer Sunny Murray found the freedom to pursue a particularly creative, innovative and powerful way to play their music.

It was a revelation that was years ahead of its time and, sadly, kept Taylor from being hired for performances and signed to record deals for most of the rest of the 1960s, excepting a stint with Blue Note Records mid-decade that yielded the great Conquistador! and the remarkable Unit Structures.

But, it was Nefertiti that provided the template, the blueprint for the type of relentless emphasis on expression that drove Taylor to make some of the most challenging and technically brilliant music on piano heard anywhere.

This double-disc release on guitarist John Fahey's Revenant Records (also responsible for the fantastic Albert Ayler box, Holy Ghost, someday to be highlighted here) in 2007 provides music from both sets of the Montmartre gig.  With the exception of the standard "What's New?" the pieces are Taylor originals.

By original is meant a new direction for the pianist, who was already pushing at the boundaries of freedom in jazz from his 1956 debut Jazz Advance through the transitional recordings for the Candid label in 1960-61, featuring bassist Buell Neidlinger and budding altoist Archie Shepp.

When Taylor joined forces with Lyons, who immediately knew how to build off the leader's complicated foundations, and Murray, who sense of freedom in keeping time may have been among the greatest inspirations for the new direction, something happened that was profoundly new in jazz.

As many observers have noted, though, it wasn't just jazz that Taylor was working with.  He was classically trained at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston and seemed intent on working with the modern structures of Igor Stravinsky, Bela Bartok and others as well as developing his unique approach to jazz.  Taylor has often commented that his music is attuned to the rhythms of dance.

This recording was made during the course of a seven-week engagement and, though the fidelity is not particularly strong (Revenant's remastering, however, appears to have done as good a job with the source as could be expected), the playing is so exceptional that the deficiencies in sound can be easily overlooked.  It is, however, obvious that the piano in the club, apparently an upright, was not in the best of shape, but, as an exceptional craftsperson, Taylor makes the most of the situation.

He is relentless, probing, and searching in his use of notes, chords, runs and octaves during solos and provides comping behind Lyons that drives the altoist to some spectacular playing--at once, very bop sounding, but also very new and innovative.

The fact that Lyons spent most of his career as a quiet, but essential part of Taylor's Unit, while hardly doing any solo work or collaborations with others, has left him out of most discussions when it comes to the many great alto players since 1960.

As for Sunny Murray, it is tough to qualify the pathbreaking mark he set, not just here, but also in his remarkable work with Albert Ayler, Shepp and on his own.  His constant shifting in time and meter, heavy use of washes of cymbals and his unearthly vocalizing (moaning?) during his playing are hallmarks of a style that was entirely his own.  Murray's expansive approach to the kit and expressions of freedom in time gave Taylor the space to employ the full range of his technique on the piano (even one as badly maintained as that at the Cafe Montmartre.)

In 1962, another great innovator of the era, Ornette Coleman went into a sort of self-imposed exile, frustrated with the machinations of the music business and, perhaps, his flashpoint role in the controversy over where jazz was heading.  Whereas Coleman's silence, lasting until 1965, was largely of choice, Taylor's own period of near-silence was anything but that.  He was just considered to be too out there until Alfred Lion signed Taylor for that two-album deal mentioned above.  After that, the later sixties saw a few recorded live performances, including a great French set with the great Sam Rivers in 1969.

It was not, however, until the 70s that Taylor started to build a small, but loyal audience and some measure of critical acceptance and praise.  By the end of the 1980s, he was finally recognized as the brilliant visionary he had been for more than two decades and, while his output slowed over time, he passion, power and explorations continued undimmed.  This blogger had the pleasure of seeing Taylor and a quartet at Los Angeles' Jazz Bakery in 1999 and has been a big fan ever since buying Conquistador! and then Unit Structures, as well as some of the Candid recordings in the early 90s.

He's still with us--performing less, but still receiving accolades, including the Kyoto Prize (though his $500,000 cash award was embezzled from the 85-year old composer by someone he trusted--the case against the criminal is, apparently, pending.)  Whether Taylor will be playing much in public is unknown, but, after decades of near-neglect, the piano titan has finally been accorded some of the respect he has long deserved.

And, it really started in Copenhagen over a half-century ago with music that plunged forward in a world not ready to accept it and which is still provocative, fresh and brimming with invention.  For the ultimate in adventurous jazz, Cecil Taylor's music can be a breathtaking experience.

Cecil Taylor: 3 Phasis

It was a beautiful thing to read articles and Web pages and see photos of the great Cecil Taylor receive the Kyoto Prize in Japan in early November and heartening to know he was performing, still active at the age of 84.  The phenomenal pianist, so sadly underappreciated and little recognized for so many years, has gradually received increasing attention for his staggering technique, imagination, and innovation.  So, it was nice to see him receive the kinds of accolades he so well deserves while he was in Japan.  Hopefully, he'll be getting some further measure of this in America before it's too late.

This is because we are losing a lot of great jazz musicians quickly--just a few days ago, Yusef Lateef, who was a major figure in incorporating other sounds from musics around the world into his conception of jazz, passed on.  As mentioned here, the remarkable drummer Ronald Shannon Jackson died not long ago.  In fact, this Taylor album, 3 Phasis, features the talents of Jackson along with trumpeter Raphé Malik, violist Ramsey Ameen, bassist Sirone, and Taylor's longtime sidekick, alto sax player Jimmy Lyons.

In the informative and perceptive notes by Gary Giddins, it was pointed out that the record was "the last of the four evening sessions in April 1978" that included the Cecil Taylor Unit album and that the performance was not titled, but referred to as "the suite."  It was also the final of six takes recorded in a marathon session that stretched into overtime late into the morning hours.  That final effort was so striking that the producer, Sam Perkins, exclaimed that "this was the best yet by far."  Moreover, as the band hit its stride, some forty minutes into the take, Perkins added that, "we've got a record now!" but soon worried about what would happen if the band didn't stop and editing was needed "because I'd hate to cut it."

If anything, Cecil Taylor is always aware, so as the clock got near an hour, he moved into a finale that brought the stunning session to a powerful conclusion.  As excitement reigned in the studio after the last notes died down, the cool-as-ever leader simply remarked, "Well, you know we knew it was good, too."

Giddings included a quote from Duke Ellington about the orchestra as "an accumulation of personalities, tonal devices" and noted that Taylor's band music with its variety of instruments provides just that, an opportunity for a vast array of tonalities.  This is certainly the case with Ameen's violin, Malik's trumpet, Lyons's alto and Cecil providing both free-ranging solo work, but also striking and notable accompaniment, both to other soloists and in group work.  Sirone and Jackson make for a supple and supportive rhythm section.

For those who argue that Taylor is so strong a (tonal) personality, that he can overwhelm the other players on a recording or in a live setting, this is definitely not the case here.  This is a great ensemble work, where the trumpet rises above the din during those dense passages where everyone plays in a carefully calibrated (and, to this listener, beautiful) maelstrom, with the alto and piano punctuating frequently through the sound.

As Giddings carefully notes with reference to times, Taylor proves to be a master at feeding ideas to the other instrumentalists through his use of apt figures.  And, despite his reputation, Taylor comes up with some beautifully melodic figures (this blogger heard his gorgeous short piece "After All" just the other day from 1975's fantastic Silent Tongues, to be covered here someday) and one comes, as Giddins observes, at near 33 minutes, though there are some other moments of delicacy, such as at around 11 minutes that can quickly move into flurries of rapidly played runs interspersed with mournful bowing of the violin.

In a piece this long, running over 57 minutes, and with such a rich variety of instrumental tonalities, there are little nuggets and treasures scattered throughout.  Giddins refers to it as "a masterwork, a testament to the perfectionism and unpredictability that go hand in hand in Taylor's music."  This is definitely the case with 3 Phasis as it is so often with the music of a man who has made some of the most impressive and uncompromising music in any genre over nearly sixty years. 

Cecil Taylor: 3 Phasis (New World Records, 1979)

1.  11:10
2.  9:17
3.  11:52
4.  11:55
5.  13:06

Cecil Taylor: Air Above Mountains (Buildings Within)

The title is for the entirety of this astonishing 76-minute solo performance by Cecil Taylor, on what seems to be the 92-key (yes, 92) Bösendorfer piano that had the extra keys for Taylor to get in more of the wide-ranging orchestral sound for which he is (in)famous, appears to refer to the setting.

This mounumental performance took place on 20 August 1976 at an open-air festival at Moosham Castle in Austria (click here to see the official Web site with photos), which must have been a phenomenal setting and inspiration for the pianist.

Almost any of Taylor's music is challenging and really requires concentrated focus in listening.  For this reason, a lot of people who try listening to him are easily turned off.  His playing is complex, sometimes called atonal (though it doesn't appear that way to this listener), staggering in its technical abilities, and highly percussive and, as noted above, orchestral.  It is not a music providing obvious melodic and harmonic enjoyment.  The pleasure is in being drawn in and held captive to the all-encompassing world that is a Taylor performance, especially in these solo piano concerts.

In Taylor's somewhat cryptic poetry as liner notes, there are hints as to what is he about, or at least so it appears to YHB.  For example, he notes that "technique is weapon to do whatever / must be done/is self-determined / reflective of application / of ancient ritual within family."  It has been said that a Taylor concert or recording is a ritualistic experience. 

Elsewhere, he writes about the "ability to relate instantly, & build concomitant / sound structures: improvisation" and that the music is the "co-ordination of physique (muscles, the mind) / existing as one reasoned act thru erasure / of written note."  Taylor's phenomenal improvisational excursions are definitely the melding of the incredible responsiveness of mind and body in a "reasoned" way, not chaotic or anarchic, but built from years of practice and application.

When the pianist writes further of "Creating Music as sound within / the whole body; which must be brought / to level of total depersonalized realization . . .," it can be understood that Taylor totally devotes himself to playing in a way that has, it has often been reported, leaves him totally exhausted after an all-consuming performance.

The ritual as spiritual seems explained by his remark that "To Play what one hears is our objective Downward & inward are the forces bent to live as recognition of the invisible: spirit" as well as the idea that "sound as a language: communication / the total event being larger than the / combination of individual parts."  And, there is the matter of "trance is the unreasoning / reflection being possible / thru multi-layered / rhythmical complexes . . .

The experience of making music is "recognition of nuance, instinctive / ability relearned released, unchained / to then become forces moving as part of the Universe."  Finally, in the conclusion of these interesting liner notes-as-poetry, Taylor offers that "Improvisation is a tool of refinement / an attempt to capture 'dark' instinct / cultivation of the acculturated / to learn one's nature in response to / group (society) first hearing 'beat' / as it exists in each living organism."

If all this seems strange, abstractly mystical, and pretentious, it is, at least, Taylor's expression of feeling about this music and there is no reason to doubt his total commitment to its statements.  Knowing what Taylor has stated, whether in liner notes or interviews, and the commentary is almost never straightforward and simple, it might help to listen to the music while reading what the composer/performer writes.

One thing is for certain:  Cecil Taylor's world is a totally immersive one, both from the standpoint of his performances and what a listeners should probably be willing (maybe there's no choice?) to bring to the listening.  Branford Marsalis was once quoted as being profanely contemptible of Taylor's notion that a listener needed to prepare and practice before listening to one of the pianist's performances or recordings. 

Why would it be unreasonable for Taylor, who throws everything he has at a project, to expect a listener to come ready and able, through a concentrated effort, to be part of that experience?  At least you know his expectations and, if you're willing to accept the gauntlet, the results could be amazingly powerful.  Well, this blogger thinks so, but knows this is not music for everyone, which is not inherently bad, good or indifferent.

After hearing some thirty of Taylor's records over the years, this listeners feels that anything else than a great appreciaton or utter contempt is probably not realistic.  Can there be a middle ground with someone like Cecil Taylor?  Air Above Mountains (Buildings Within) is a tremendous record, if you are of a mind to take the all-consuming journey.  Otherwise, it would take just moments to decide not to.  This blogger is glad that, twenty or so years ago, the leap of faith was made.  It took a while, but the benefits have been manifold and welcomed.

Cecil Taylor: Conquistador!

How can Cecil Taylor be described?  He is a pianist, but also a percussionist (the piano, including his 96-key [yes, 96!] Bosendorfer, is after all, an inherently percussive instrument), and a poet, as well as a pioneer. 

From his 1956 album Jazz Advance to his famed performances in Europe six years later that were as free an expression in jazz (or any music, for that matter) as there was at the time to his mid-60s records with Blue Note to the string of solo and "unit" albums in the 70s and 80s that cemented his fame/infamy and to recent endeavors, Taylor has been a true original, totally committed to his music.

He is not an "easy listen" like so many "easy listening" pianists are and his playing is "out there" or "avant garde" or "free."  But, for those who are willing to follow the overall sound, the integrated playing in groups and the staggering range of patterns and scales he uses in solo performance, the effects can be spine-tingling.

The fact is, Taylor's technical expression is virutally unparalleled.  His speed, power, dexterity, stamina, dynamics, and complex lyricism are awesome and staggering.  Yet, even when he accompanies a soloist in a band setting, he draws attention for the inventive ways in which he uses scales and clusters of notes to help clue the soloist to any number of directions.  Taylor can be appreciated in very different ways by listening to his solo work and that with his bands or "units."  While much of the time is playing is so spectacular in its power, there are also those instances where a softer, more contemplative, but always creative, side shows.  There are even moments of sweet melodicism and a yearning lyricism.  Taylor often has stated that he thinks of dancers when he composes and plays, which is an interesting insight into his performance style.

Maybe listening to Taylor can be too much work.  But, a modicum of effort has, in this case, proven to be highly rewarding.  Certainly, the easiest of Taylor's music to listen to are the records before 1962, especially his Jazz Advance album, records like Love for Sale, or the Candid recordings like Air.  But, his commitment to a freer sound afterwards can be breathtaking.

The first album YHB heard of Taylor's some twenty years ago was the Blue Note album, Conquistador!, recorded in Fall 1966.  Here, the pianist brought in two bass players, Alan Silva and Henry Grimes, one to pluck and strum his instrument, while the other primarily used a bow to add a different sense of color and time.  Two horns were included, with longtime associate Jimmy Lyons, an alto sax player who was criminally underrecognized for his ability to work in sync with Taylor and construct solos of invention and power, and trumpeter Bill Dixon, who transcended the upper-register blowing that most players strive for and played with a calm and clarity that is a nice foil for both Taylor and Lyons (Dixon reunited with Taylor in a live trio setting about a decade ago.)  The great Andrew Cyrille on drums provides an elastic sense of rhythm and time for the soloists and he integrates very readily with the bassists.

The title track may have one Taylor's best theme statements, or heads, one that shows that his sense of melody is strong, despite all the attention he gets for his soloing, and which is played so well in harmony by Lyons and Dixon.  And, the way the pianist accompanies the horn players and works with the rhythm section shows the care with which he crafts his compositions and works with his "unit."  The other piece, "With (Exit)", features particularly strong solos from Lyons and Taylor, while the bassists perform beautifully in interplay.  The CD has an alternate take of the latter tune, as well.

There will be many Cecil Taylor albums highlighted on this blog because in the opinion of YHB, Taylor is up there with Coltrane, Coleman and Davis as one of the great masters of jazz from the mid-1950s onward.  Fortunately, I had the opportunity to see him play at the Jazz Bakery in Culver City in 1999, when he was 70, but playing with the energy and focus of someone decades younger.  He has been frequently known to literally collapse from exhaustion, physical and mental, after a performance.

Indeed, a few years ago, when Taylor was 80, he flew from Norway to Germany to perform a concert, arrived early in the morning, rested briefly, went for a very advanced soundcheck and played for four hours, rested briefly again, came back and played for three more hours, even as some of the crowd filed in early for the show, and then played his set of maybe 75-80 minutes.  This in his eighth decade of life!

He is now about 82 or 83 and still performing, while hardly recognized outside of his fans.  He deserves more attention for what he has done and still does, but it does take concentration and focus.  The results, however, are well worth the investment.

Cecil Taylor:  Conquistador!

1.  Conquistador  17:51
2.  With (Exit)  19:17
3.  With (Exit) (alternate take)  17:10

Bill Dixon:  Trumpet
Jimmy Lyons:  Alto Sax
Cecil Taylor:  Piano
Henry Grimes:  Bass
Alan Silva:  Bass
Andrew Cyrille:  Drums