Tim Berne and the Copenhagen Art Ensemble With Herb Robertson and Marc Ducret: Open, Coma

In his nearly half-century of making music, Tim Berne has been exceptionally committed to evolutionary exploration in terms of his compositions, ensembles and the presentation of the two in always unpredictable and exciting ways.  This listener was blown away in 1991 with the purchase of his Pace Yourself album with the Caos Totale collective.  The whole album was incredible, but the centerpiece to these ears was "The Legend of P-1," a 26-minute tour de force with the altoist joined by trombonist Steve Swell, Mark Dresser on bass, drummer Bobby Previte, Marc Ducret on guitar and Herb Robertson playing trumpet, cornet, flutes, flugelhorn and more.

A few years later, the next Caos Totale recording was Nice View, with the group joined by Django Bates on keys, piano and the E-flat horn and stretching, in the best way, for nearly 40 minutes is the astounding "Impacted Wisdom."  Recorded that same year, 1994, and released the following one was Memory Select, the third in a series of live albums by another phenomenal Berne group, Bloodcount, including Ducret along with Chris Speed on clarinet and tenor, bassist Michael Formanek and Jim Black on drums.  Only two tracks were on the recording, including the 51-minute "Eye Contact."

With these three mammoth works performed live for radio broadcast and the new studio-recorded "Open, Coma," the album of this latter name marked the first time Berne recorded with a larger ensemble, including ten musicians and a conductor, allowing him to work with the material and the performers in a different way because he released this stunning recording on his own Screwgun label.  What stands out to this largely untutored listener is how the complex compositions, which already sounded full-bodied with Caos Totale and Bloodcount, become richer and deeper and the sound is more expansive and enveloping.

Robertson and Ducret are part of the ensemble, which includes tenor and soprano saxes, flute, clarinet and bass clarinet, a second trumpet, a cornet, a trombone, a bass trombone, a tuba, a piano and organ and a bassist and drummer.  Berne's compositions often have a classical, orchestral feel in the arrangements and the ways the instrumentation works with harmonies, including contrasting ones, but to have this expanded lineup, they effect is even more striking.

What's great, as well, as that, with this more symphonic character, these extended pieces could each be heard as having a variety of movements, as in classical composition, as tempo, tone, and other aspects of form change, including light and shade and movement from quiet, contemplative sections to powerful, propulsive intensity.  The diversity of color in the types of instrumentation also stand out, so that, even if a listener has heard the Caos Totale and Bloodcount pieces on those three records, there are, of course, familiar aspects, namely melodic elements, but there is a freshness to the larger ensemble performance that makes them sound new, including, as just one example, the use of organ and piano with Ducret's guitar in "Impacted Wisdom" that hearkens somewhat to Miles Davis' In A Silent Way.

In 35 years of listening to Berne's amazing body of work, Open, Coma stands out because of this rare opportunity for a big band-type of ensemble and it should be noted that it took him, Robertson and Ducret traveling to Europe for it to happen.  This was more than a quarter-century ago and it seems only fair and reasonable that Berne be given an opportunity to make more music like this in our country.

Ornette Coleman: Free Jazz

Having first heard this 35 years ago (on vinyl) in the earliest explorations of jazz (along with classical and world music, to broaden listening horizons) and only having the barest of understanding of what was involved with improvisation and its relationship to harmony and rhythm, especially in that world in 1960, Ornette Coleman's 37-minute Free Jazz, recorded in one take and no editing, was really a jarring experience, but a fascinating one.  The leader stated that the goal "was for us to play together, all at the same time, without getting in each other's way, and also to have enough room for each player to ad lib alone—and to follow this idea for the duration of the album."

One of the elements of the recording that immediately stood out was the placement of four musicians on each channel, with the leader, trumpeter Don Cherry, drummer Billy Higgins and bassist Scott LaFaro on the left and bass clarinetist Eric Dolphy, trumpeter Freddie Hubbard, bassist Charlie Haden and drummer Ed Blackwell on the right.  That way, especially with headphones, you can hear the differences between the two quartets, even as the processing of the octet as an ensemble is taking place.

Coleman called Free Jazz a collective improvisation because he only wrote out the parts played by the horns prior to each solo; otherwise, the musicians had that freedom to play whatever they wanted to complement or supplement what the soloists were playing.  That meant that the excellence of the individual musicians had to be sharpened as part of this collectivity and all eight of them were masters.  

As someone who tends to focus on the rhythm sections as the underpinning of the music, it is especially fascinating to hear the differences between but commonalities among the bassists and drummers.  LaFaro had the toughest assignment, as Haden, Blackwell and Higgins were experienced participants in the leader's unusual sound world.  The soloing of these duos is also fascinating, while it's the continual driving pulse the holds all of this together.

Regarding the horn players, the varying styles are clear, but so is the ability of them to be part of that ensemble as the other support the given soloist.  Having Dolphy, moreover, play clarinet adds a richness and depth, as well as variation, in the performance, while Hubbard, a more traditional player, seems to easily adapt to this freer environment, in which, of course, Cherry and Coleman were deeply absorbed.  Also very notable are the ways in which the other wind instruments engage with the soloist.

Those having the late 1990s CD version can also hear "First Take," which is less than half the length of the originally released recording and it is very interesting to listen to it and compare and contrast it to the fuller version.  Though Free Jazz was reviled, as well as hailed, by many when released in September 1961, it encouraged to future efforts like John Coltrane's Ascension (1965) and influenced a great many jazz musicians to open themselves in terms of what was viewed as necessary or required in the music.  

With music this untethered to traditional approaches, immersion seems the only way to appreciate what this incredible album offers.  As Coleman remarked in the liner notes: "We were expressing our minds and emotions as much as could be captured by electronics."   

Muhal Richard Abrams: Levels and Degrees of Light

The music coming out of Chicago's Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM) from the mid-1960s and onward was nothing short of spectacular.  While the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Anthony Braxton and Henry Threadgill might be some of the more recognizable names of those who emerged from the AACM's big tent of creativity, no one was more vital to the Association's existence and success than co-founder and pianist/composer Muhal Richard Abrams (1930-2017.)

The Chicago native had many creative interests, including the visual arts, while his musical imagination embraced not just jazz, but modern classical, including electronic music, but he was largely self-taught, finding traditional academic study not fulfilling enough.  In June and December 1967, not long after the establishment of the AACM, Abrams recorded his first album, Levels and Degrees of Light, released on the local independent Delmark label, which issued landmarks from by future Art Ensemble members Joseph Jarman and Roscoe Mitchell.

In the liners, Abrams was hesitant to explain the music, offering only that "I think the musicians involved tried to join their thoughts to mine" and the collaboration was "a kind of prayer" in which the session was "the capturing of a moment in that constant prayer."  He then obliquely stated that "what is here is what we are and what we hope to be."  To this listener, the title seems to indicate the varying shades of sound on the recording, involving quiet, contemplative passages, those building up to an incredible level of intensity, the voices of classically-trained singer Penelope Taylor and poet David Moore, and the timbres from the instrumentation.

This includes the leader on clarinet and piano; Braxton's alto; the tenor of Maurice McIntyre; Leroy Jenkins on violin; Gordon Emanuel's vibes; Charles Clark and Leonard Jones on bass; and drummer Thurman Barker.  It does sound as if everyone was totally in tune with Abrams' compositions and aesthetics.  "The Bird Song" is an astounding piece, evoking a sort of environmental calmness at the outset, including bird-like sounds, but including a stunning mass of roaring, rumbling and coruscating ensemble work towards its end.  The title track and "My Thoughts Are My Future—Now and Forever" are, however, also very compelling and reflective of the composer's remarkable range of ideas.

Muhal Richard Abrams was not nearly recorded enough, compared to the musicians and groups mentioned above, but he is a pivotal figure in the development of jazz and Black creative music for roughly a half century and future posts will highlight more of this master's work.

Peter Brötzmann Trio : For Adolphe Sax

Having just heard of the late June death of Peter Brötzmann, the "free jazz" titan whose uncompromising and often blistering music emerged from mid-1960s Germany and blazed a fiery, formidable path for some decades. it just seemed clear that this post should feature his debut trio record, For Adolphe Sax (inventor of that instrument class), recorded in June 1967 with bassist Peter Kowald and drummer Sven Ake Johansson and released on the leader's infant label, Brö and reissued on FMP (Free Music Production) Records, which has put out much of Brötzmann's output over the years.

To say that this music is bracing, blunt and bursting with blasts of sheer intensity and power seems like an understatement because it can't really be adequately described, only experienced.  It is clear that Brötzmann was heavily influenced by the great Albert Ayler, whose incredible music has been featured on this blog before, but he also spoke of the environment of part of his childhood lived during World War II and then the postwar period and the desire for total musical freedom of expression.  This is largely unrelenting in its focus on primal energy, excepting a brief respite on "Sanity," and there is a nearly 10-minute bonus track for the CD reissue called "Everything" that includes pianist Fred Van Hove and which was recorded by Radio Bremen.

Obviously, in the absence of virtually any structure, including an introduction, statement of a theme or melody, bridges, and restatement, not to mention the almost overpowering wall of sound generated, what holds the attention of this listener is that there is strong interplay here between the three musicians with Johannson displaying a strong command of dynamics and technique in polyrhythms in working with his colleagues and Kowald employing both arco/bowed and plucking techniques very effectively as the rhythm section undergirds Brötzmann's eager explorations.  On the added piece, Van Hove adds a welcome variation in timbre, while also demonstrating his ability to use his Cecil Taylor-like accompaniment and soloing to great effect.

Understanding that this difficult music to listen to, it's always good to recall what Ayler and his brother Donald once suggested in an interview about the best way to hear what they were doing not long before For Adolph Sax was recorded and released:  try to follow the sound, not the notes.  Sometimes tracking what the rhythm section does can also be helpful in navigating the often extremely turbulent trip on which Brötzmann and his colleagues are leading the listener.

Lastly, it is recommended that anyone interested in this pivotal figure in jazz listen to some of his later work, including the Die Like a Dog Quartet, to hear how his music evolved over the decades—though this blogger is also going to go back now and sample some of the (barely) controlled chaos of Last Exit with Ronald Shannon Jackson (drums), Bill Laswell (electric bass) and Sonny Sharrock (guitar) to remember the greatness of Peter Brötzmann.

Pharoah Sanders: Tauhid

Another master musician has left us with the death of the great saxophonist Pharoah Sanders last Saturday at age 81.  He was best known for his upper register screaming when he joined John Coltrane's band in 1965 and he definitely divided listeners who either hated the "shrill tones" or were enthralled by the sheer passion he generated.

Coltrane was obviously wanting a counterpoint to his own playing, which was becoming increasingly "avant garde" as he entered the last few years of his all-too-short life.  In some ways, Sanders provided much the same role that Eric Dolphy had in his short tenure in 1961, though the groundswell of intense negative criticism that the amazing Dolphy faced was more muted because, by 1965, change was clearly coming.

Championed by Coltrane, Sanders was given a contract with Impulse! and he recorded a string of always-interesting albums in the late 1960s and early 1970s, even as they went into the far reaches of jazz at a time when the genre lost a great many listeners.  Sanders' music changed, as to be expected, over subsequent years, but one of my all-time favorite albums was when uber-producer and bassist Bill Laswell brought in Sanders to play on the phenomenal Sonny Sharrock recording, Ask the Ages (1991), with the saxophonist playing with the searing passion not heard for a long time.

I had the opportunity to see Sanders play live in the Nineties at the original Catalina Bar and Grill in Hollywood and was really grateful that I had the chance to hear him.  The featured album for this post is his first Impulse! set, Tauhid, recorded in November 1966 and released early the following year, not long before Coltrane's death.

It is, as all of Sanders' recordings were then, heavily spiritual and full of diversity in conception and playing, with the stunning "Upper Egypt & Lower Egypt," the brief but beautiful "Japan," (inspired by the 1966 tour of that nation by the Coltrane ensemble) and the remarkable three-part suite, "Aum," "Venus," and "Capricorn Rising."  The musicians include Sharrock, in one of his first recordings before he left music and then was found by Laswell and his career resurrected in spectacular fashion; the sensitive and understated Dave Burrell on piano; the underappreciated Henry Grimes on bass; drummer Roger Blank; and percussionist Nat Bettis, whose colorations really help flesh out much of this recording.

We're seeing so many great musicians departing and, while this is always saddening, the consolation, of course, is that we can revisit the amazing work they produced and with the sublime Pharoah Sanders, there is so much to enjoy and appreciate.  May he rest in peace!

For Fanatics Only— Albert Ayler: Holy Ghost

Saxophonist and composer Albert Ayler (1936-1970) was definitely a one-of-a-kind musician and certainly not easy listening.  It's understandable why it would be hard to get into what he was doing, but, if you do, you really do.  

After an initial tryout with the staggering Live in Greenwich Village, it took a while to get back into it, but acquiring the phenomenal Spiritual Unity did it and a deep dive into the remarkable music generated by Ayler in the space of just a few years from about 1964 to 1967 proved to be an exhilirating experience with the sheer joy, power and spirituality in the music a powerful pull into his singular world.

You'd have to be a dedicated Ayler fanatic to acquire Holy Ghost, but it is a staggering treasure house of riches.  Released in 2004 by Revenant Records, formed by the great musician John Fahey and a partner, this retrospective features nine discs, seven of them comprised of live recordings from 1962, when he offered a trio of idiosyncratic covers of jazz standards in a Finland concert, to 1970, when, dealing with tremendous professional and personal problems, he played a festival in France that summer, just a couple of months before his body was found in the East River in New York.

Most of the concert material is from his peak years with performances in Berlin, Copenhagen, and Rotterdam, as well as New York, Newport and two gigs in Ayler's hometown of Cleveland.  There are also some real treats here, including a 22-minute workout with the great Cecil Taylor in Denmark in 1962, when the legendary pianist recorded his vital music at the Cafe Montmartre, and three tunes Ayler and band played for the funeral of his mentor, John Coltrane (one can really hear the anguish in Ayler's playing.)

As with his later albums, the performances on the sixth and seventh discs include his eccentric girlfriend/vocalist Mary Parks and are notably different than his best work, but there is also his appearance as a sideman for Pharoah Sanders with his 23-minute opus, "Venus/Upper and Lower Egypt) and two tunes recorded in early 1969 at New York's Town Hall for the band of Ayler's brother Donald and featuring the great Sam Rivers on sax and Richard Davis on bass.  The recording quality varies considerably over these discs, but, for Ayler fan(atic)s, this is a true bonanza.

The last two discs are comprised of interviews with Ayler as well as early collaborator (and bridge to mentor Ornette Coleman) Don Cherry and there is a bonus tenth disc of two recordings made while Ayler was in a United States Army band.  The package is incredible, housed in a plastic box made from a mold of an onyx original and containing facsimiles of a Slug's Saloon handbill, a photo of Ayler as a boy, essays about the musician and others, while the discs are housed in beautiful rice-paper sleeves.

Then, there is a 200+ page hardbound book with testaments to Ayler, essays by Val Wilmer and Amiri Baraka and others, very detailed information on influences, sidemen, the set's tracklist, and a wealth of photographs.  The package is pretty remarkable and a great homage to one of the most distinctive and creative musicians of his time, who once wrote, "the music we play is a prayer, a message coming from God."  Whatever it was, the music of Albert Ayler was nothing if not absolutely sincere, totally honest and completely unfiltered and it is a powerful experience.

Marilyn Crispell: Highlights from the 1992 American Tour

This is a great album, though it is strange that the dustjacket for this Leo Records release says "Trio With Reggie Workman & Gerry Hemingway On Tour," the disc and rear tray card says "Highlights From the 1992 American Tour" and the side of the case says "Highlights from the Simmer of 1992 American Tour."  One wonders why a more creative title couldn't have been devised that would reflect the remarkable music on this disc.

Marilyn Crispell has been highlighted here before as a solo pianist and, while a lot has been made of the inspiration she derived from the late, great Cecil Taylor, she, like any creative artist, absorbs influences from a variety of sources but develops her own style.  This is also very much true in her group work, especially in later years when her playing changed, likely as a reflection of her evolution as well as to distance herself from the constant Taylor comparisons.

So, with this package of seven tunes from four performances, we really see, as Art Lange rightly points out in his notes, that there is a big diffrence in how Crispell works with the other musicians from what Taylor did.  Lange observes that "Taylor's trios feed off of a juxtaposition of rhythmic motivation" and sometimes appeared to be working exclusive of each other.  Taylor was, of course, a very percussive pianist, brilliantly so.  But, for Crispell, Lange continues, she "builds her music in layers upon the foundation of the bass and drums."

That can be clearly heard throughout these performances, Hemingway, on drums, and Workman, veteran of so many years of playing with a dizzying array of artists on bass, are totally in sync with the leader and with each other.  Hemingway was, with Crispell, a member of easily one of the most memorable ensembles led by the great Anthony Braxton and Crispell and Workman long had a series of collaborations, so the ability of these three masters to generate amazing music is hardly a surprise.

Anthony Braxton Quartet (Dortmund) 1976

For all of the amazing music, the prolific and profound Anthony Braxton has created for more than a half-century, it is hard to find any endeavor of his that was more exciting and accomplished as the quartet that lasted just a half of a year in 1976. Featuring the remarkable rhythm section of Dave Holland on bass and Barry Altschul on drums and percussion, with the leader playing his usual array of horns (alto, contrabass, and sopranino saxes, and Eb, contrabass and standard clarinet), the additional element that powered this ensemble was the introduction of the amazing George Lewis on trombone.

This Hat Hut release is from the inaugural Dortmund Jazz Festival held in Germany on Halloween and the group, which disbanded after a show in Berlin several days later, plays at a peak of precision, passion (not something usually associated with Braxton by critics), power and, fun (also not highlighted in reviews).  It helps that the group plays three versions of Composition 40, one of the most common pieces that Braxton played, and that the opener with version F is, through a Holland solo, transitioned to Composition 23J, another oft-performed work. The combined pieces take us on a stunning 26-minute journey, with a mind-blowing solo by Braxton that generates a burst of enthusisastic applause, with Lewis offering his own masterful solo after that!

Composition 40 (O) follows with some remarkable sounds, like birdcalls from Altschul and a panoply of "honks, grunts, quacks and howls" from Lewis and Braxton, "with Dave Holland tight on their tails," as expressed by Graham Lock in his thorough and enormously helpful notes.  Then there is Composition 6(C) which Braxton indicated "was composed to be a circus march type of music," though by the Dortmund concert "has provided an ideal vehicle for 'collage' improvisation."  This, Lock explains, means "a parade-ground melee" with the horns tossing off "marching riffs in glorious profusion."  Finally, there is Composition 40(B) which, Braxton observed, "was composed with respect to the implications" of such jazz giants as Fletcher Henderson, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, Lennie Tristano, Charles Mingus, Ornette Coleman and Eric Dolphy— but with Braxton's unique perspective.

It must be said that, complicated as Braxton's concepts can be, Lock does as a good a job as can be expected at explaining what's behind this whirlwind's approaches.  As complex as Braxton's work is, and it can be daunting, suspending preconceptions of what jazz is supposed to be, much less other forms of music, and just letting him and his compatriots take you on their wild and wonderful journey can be highly rewarding.

Ornette Coleman/Charlie Haden: Soapsuds, Soapsuds

While Ornette Coleman was creating some fascinating music with his electric ensemble, Prime Time, he took a detour and engaged in a side project with Charlie Haden, his long-time bass playing colleague, and recorded Soapsuds, Soapsuds, a series of absorbing and revealing duets, in January 1977, released the next year on Coleman's Artist House label and later reissued on his Harmolodic label through Verve.  In his long, remarkable career, Coleman didn't record a lot of duet albums, but they can be among the most amazing of his projects, such as when he worked with pianist Joachim Kühn or with guitarist Pat Metheny, when the interplay between the two musicians reflects that they are truly listening to each other.  This was certainly the case with Coleman and Haden, who first played together two decades before, and who would continue working together occasionally after the bassist left Ornette's band about this time.  

There is an intimacy to many duet performances that draw the listener in as if you're hearing the performers in a private concert and this is one of those examples, all the more striking given the dense and usually exciting Prime Time performances of the era.  Haden was always a master of supporting the other musicians, never feeling the need to overplay or over-impress, and he was particularly brilliant here in giving Coleman the space to play some of the most beautiful tenor work (Ornette primarily being an alto player) he'd recorded.  In his rare, but typically cryptic notes, Ornette does say simply: "this music . . . has . . . a very simple message: these performers are playing for the sake of making music for people to enjoy their own concept of hearing."  Those last few words are particularly noteworthy.  As for Haden, he observed "most of what I have learned about the art of listening can be directly attributed to playing with Ornette. In order to contribute totally to his music, one must listen to every note he plays . . . and then come the endless possibilities."  This really is an immersive experience when focused concentration is directed to what these two masters brought to this stunning recording.

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.

The Art Ensemble of Chicago: Urban Bushmen

I was very fortunate in being able to buy the massive box set, The Art Ensemble of Chicago and Associated Ensembles, released by ECM Records in 2018 and containing 21 discs from the group and side projects involving various members.  The set was missing the box and the first CD, comprising Nice Guys, the first ECM album by the group and released in 1979, but the cost was only $50 plus tax and I soon after bought a used copy of Nice Guys for $5, so this was a spectacular deal.

The music is pretty amazing, including some excellent AEC studio work, such as Full Force, the first album of theirs that I heard thirty years ago, live albums, and the wide-ranging "associated" material, including solo albums by members of the ensemble and recordings by others, like Jack DeJohnette, which featured AEC personnel.  As great as the studio albums were, the live recordings are remarkable, including 1982's double-disc Urban Bushmen.  It features all the hallmarks of the Ensemble, including dense percussion, atmospheric soundscapes, blistering horn playing, and one of the best rhythm teams around with chaos, joy, tradition, innovation, power, beauty and many other adjectives all fitting the bill at various times.

As Joseph Jarman's notes about the group preparing for this performance at the Amerikahaus in Munich, Germany on 6-7 May 1980: "They arrive, without name nor form but as the personators of GREAT BLACK MUSIC—ANCIENT TO THE FUTURE; as it flows from the then to now, the beginningless beginning to the endless end, from the center of the center to the unlimited bounds of the universe."  Listening to this phenomenal album, it really does feel that way and it is, ultimately, uplifting music, especially in the strange year of 2020.

George Russell: Electronic Sonata for Souls Loved by Nature

This is an amazing work by a remarkable theorist, composer and arranger who had a tremendous influence on many musicians, including Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy, who are big favorites of this blogger.  George Russell, however, never received the recognition he deserved and this stunning album is likely the best example of why.  It's ambitious, complex, innovative, expertly composed and arranged and well-played, but it was far afield from the commercial world, especially as jazz was becoming less popular.

Composed in 1968 with a fascinating merging of jazz, classical, electronics, field recordings and other elements, Electronic Sonata for Souls Loved by Nature, takes the attentive listener to an alternate reality that is of its time, but doesn't sound dated a half-century later.  While Miles definitely deserved plenty of kudos for his audacious leap into new directions of music with Bitches Brew, released not long after and which sold well (even leading to absurd claims that Davis "sold out" by using electric instruments and pop and rock rhythms and effects), Russell's masterpiece, released in 1969 on producer Bob Thiele's Flying Dutchman and remastered and reissued almost fifteen years later on the great Italian label Black Saint, and his work generally should be better known.  Let's hope some day it is. 

Anthony Braxton and Marilyn Crispell: Duets, Vancouver, 1989

Wednesday night was the fulfillment of a long-deferred dream—to hear Anthony Braxton live.  I bought his Antilles release Six Compositions when it was released in 1991 and, in the years since, have purchased and avidly listened to dozens of recordings in his prodigious discography since.

The setting last evening was highly unusual.  The Broad, the contemporary art museum opened four years ago by Los Angeles capitalist Eli Broad, has an exhibit on contemporary black art and a music component was introduced.  This included Braxton performing a duet with harpist Jacqueline Kerrod in the lobby of the institution.

On one hand, this was an odd and jarring setting with many museum visitors walking past, some talking very loudly, and, behind Braxton and Kerrod, pedestrians and vehicles moving past on Grand Avenue.  The usual setting of attendees sitting and having their attention (should they enjoy what they're hearing, that is) fixated on the performers was completely turned on its head.

Yet, there was something intriguing and compelling about the environment, though maybe the external elements and forces melted away simply because Braxton and Kerrod created a spellbinding performance over about an hour and ten minutes that drew the attentive listener in and kept them locked in due to the remarkable interplay and stellar playing.

I was also transported back to the early Nineties when I went frequently to the old Catalina Bar and Gill on Cahuenga Boulevard in Hollywood to hear some of my favorite musicians, including McCoy Tyner, Horace Tapscott, Elvin Jones, and many others.  After figuring out that, if I got there early enough to be in front of the line, and got to be known, at least by sight, to Catalina Popescu and her husband Bob, it was usually easy to get a bistro table and two chairs at the front and literally be inches from some of the greatest musicians in the world.  Having been to hundreds of rock concerts where the separation was notable, the intimacy of the jazz club was intoxicating.

At the Broad, I wasn't right up front, but got within several feet after slowly sliding my way forward as casual listeners wandered away.  Literally, drawn in.  Kerrod was tremendous, being very much in tune with what Braxton was doing, and playing traditional runs on the harp, but also engaging in scraping, plucking and tapping in very experimental but always supportive ways. 

In turn, Braxton gave her plenty of space, played off her ideas, and then wandered thrillingly through the registers of his alto, soprano and sopranino saxophones.  If silence was called for, he made full use of it, as well as the use of staccato notes, blistering runs (at 74, he appears to have lost none of his staggering technique), slurs and smears, and other elements. 

In fact, despite his cold and academic reputation and there was some notation (or at least, figures and drawings) on music stands, I found much of what he did very soulful and emotive.  Perhaps this was in response to the Kerrod's harp, because he did play more of the higher register saxes than the alto and it worked beautifully with her playing.

At the end, following sustained and enthusiastic applause from those of us who stood the entire time and were maybe half of who started off listening,  Braxton spoke emotionally about his return to the city after so many years and expressed hope that change would come to the country, an obvious reference to the turmoil experienced in America (Braxton has long expressed the idea that music can directly affect life in the universe).

After he walked off the small stage, I went over to Braxton, shook his hand, and merely said, "I want to thank you for this.  I've been waiting thirty years [OK, twenty-eight] to hear you.  Thanks again" and wandered out with my wife (who was a trouper for putting up with this, even though she had to sit on the floor for the last fifteen or so minutes.)

Definitely a night to remember and, again, a long-held ambition realized.

The highlighted recording here from the Music & Arts label is another fabulous duet, one of many in Braxton's long and storied career.  In this performance with the stunning pianist Marilyn Crispell, whose music has been covered here before, the telepathic interplay is just amazing to behold.  Crispell remains a largely unknown figure in modern music, which is really a shame, because, as Braxton says in the notes"I believe her music will be considered required listening by future students of exploratory creative music."

He adds, "she can execute in every area (and even more importantly, she creative contributes,)" which allows Braxton to roam freely through marches, notated music, and totally improvised work with a sense of organic harmony that is phenomenal.  For all of his talk of "my evolving music system of interconnected identity/states" or "material [which] forms the evolving architectural 'tri-state' of my vibrational model," there is a rare level of sympathetic hearing and playing between Braxton and Crispell which is found in his best duo works, as well as other larger ensembles, including the quartet with the pair and Gerry Hemingway and Mark Dresser, best known through the quartet work of the Eighties.

This is a longer post than usual, but the experience of hearing Braxton, who said he hadn't been to Los Angeles in twenty years, with Kerrod as an excellent collaborator, brought to mind this wonderful recording from just before I started listening to this modern musical master.

Peter Brötzmann/Die Like a Dog Quartet: Little Birds Have Fast Hearts, Nos 1-2

Though it appears neither was aware of the other's work at the time, the parallels between the "free jazz" saxophonists American Albert Ayler and German Peter Brötzmann, are striking.  Both gloried in the sheer joy of expression in ecstatic sound when they emerged in the mid-1960s as "free jazz" exploded.  Not that their music sounded exactly the same and Ayler definitely had a heavily spiritual motivation that Brötzmann did not seem to have, but the unbridled energy that blared from their instruments definitely had some sort of kinship in the exploration of pure sound.

Ayler blazed trails and infuriated purists during his brief, but bracing peak blasts of powerful live and studio recordings from 1964 to 1967 before ill-advised attempts to reach a more popular audience through albums on Impulse Records failed badly.  There was a late attempt to regain his footing with some recorded live performances in Europe in summer 1970.  Then, in November, the great saxophonist disappeared after an argument with his girlfriend and his body was found floating in the East River near a pier in Brooklyn.  His drowning death remains a mystery and adds to the legend of the man called "Little Bird," in homage to his skills and comparisons to Charlie Parker.

Brötzmann, when he learned of Ayler's music became a devoted fan, and nearly thirty years after Ayler's death, formed a quartet called Die Like a Dog, an apparent reference to Ayler's passing.  A series of performances in November 1997 at a festival in Berlin yielded two volumes of stunning improvised music released first by FMP (Free Music Productions) and then by Jazzwerkstatt in a Die Like a Dog box set as Little Birds Have Fast Hearts, an encomium to Ayler.

From his ragged, wild and utterly intense early recordings like Machine Gun, For Adolphe Sax, and Nipples, among others, Brötzmann's career is still defined by his refusal to record much in the studio and his preference for the total spontaneity and freedom of live performance, though some of that sheer power has morphed into some reflective and introspective music.

Little Birds Have Fast Hearts has plenty of wild, careening and bracing moments over its 126 minutes in six parts, but there are also lots of moments where the music slows and thoughtful passages break up the intensity.  Fortunately, Brötzmann assembled an ensemble that could provide him the sensitive and near-telepathic accompaniment that make these recording so spectacular.

Toshinori Kondo is a perfect complement and foil, being known for his electronic treatments of his trimpet as well as his medium and slower tempo ruminations on this most emotive of wind instruments.  Kondo, a frequent collaborator like Brötzmann of Bill Laswell, makes the most of his style here, tempering the intensity of Brötamann's tenor, clairnet, and taogato with a consistent flow of bubbling and moderated energy.

The rhythm section is vital, because bassist William Parker and drummer Hamid Drake, know how to hold down the bottom and yet work fluidly and with lightning quick reactions to the playing of the lead horns.  Their superb accompaniment never seeks to take the forefront, but keeps everything together perfectly, so that Brötzmann and Kondo can give flight to their fancies.  This makes Little Birds Have Fast Hearts a classic of free improvisation and worth repeated listenings, guaranteed to reveal more depth, nuance and excitement each time.

Henry Threadgill Zooid: In for a Penny, In for a Pound

It was great to see a few years back the great composer and multi-instrumentalist Henry Threadgill receive the Pulitzer Prize in music for the double-disc In for a Penny, In for a Pound, released on Liberty Ellman's Pi Records, an honor very rarely bestowed on a jazz musician.

Ever since I walked into a record store (remember those?) just over twenty-five years ago and heard the amazing Too Much Sugar for a Dime and bought the store's playing copy because they didn't have any in stock, I've been a great admirer of this remarkable creative force.

Threadgill's concept for Zooid can be discerned in this dictionary definition of that term: any organic body or cell capable of spontaneous movement and of an existence more or less apart from or independent of the parent organism. So this looks to mean that spontaneous movement translates into improvisation and elements of an ensemble, soloists, rhythm section, etc. can operate "more or less apart" while staying within the group during a performance.

As he puts it in his notes, the album was conceived as "a stream of phases" for one long "epic" piece where the group "could revisit and find a new perspective and arrangement with each performance."  Moreover, the each of the four pieces in quintets "focuses on a different instrument," though a listener would take in all of the pieces "to get the complete picture of any one instrument in the mix."

What's remarkable is how the ensemble works organically, while allowing for free expression within the long work and its component parts.  The mix of winds through the work of Threadgill's alto sax and flutes and José Davila's tuba (in lieu of bass) and trombone are complemented by the strings in Christopher Hoffman's violoncello and Ellman's guitar.  Keeping everything moving along is Elliot Humberto Kavee's drums and percussion.

It can't be said that In for a Penny, In for a Pound, being a Pulitzer Prize-winning album, is better than any other Threadgill work, but it is a fantastic excursion into how music can be structured and played with both exquisite care for the arrangement of instruments, component groups and parts, and the development of sound structures that are both challenging and, in their own way, accessible with open ears and minds.

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."

Sam Rivers: Fuchsia Swing Song

For this listener, Sam Rivers' many great albums from the early 1970s onward represent the best of his most daring, diverse and interesting compositions, but there is no denying the superb qualities of his debut, 1964's Fuchsia Swing Song.

It's amazing that Rivers was 41 before he cut this album at the end of that year, but at least he lived long enough to generate some really remarkable recordings.  He'd toured with Miles Davis in Japan during the summer, with young drummer Tony Williams encouraging Davis to hire Rivers, though it did not, apparently, go well with the mercurial trumpeter and leader.  The resulting album, Miles in Tokyo, is intriguing because of how different Rivers sounded compared to George Coleman, whom he replaced, and Wayne Shorter, who replaced him.

That difference is mostly in Rivers' grainy sound, his powerful sense of dynamics, crackling runs, stunning fluidity and unusual approach to melody and rhythm.  When it came to making his first recording, Rivers brought in the Davis rhythm section of Williams (who'd first played professionally at 13 with Rivers in Boston) and the great Ron Carter on bass.  Rounding out the lineup is the fine pianist Jaki Byard, who'd been in a band with Rivers years before and also was an important contributor to the bands of Charles Mingus and Eric Dolphy.  It is notable that Rivers rarely recorded with a pianist, but Byard's history with the leader and his sympathetic playing makes it work well.

Fuchsia Swing Song definitely has the bop touch to it, with a strong dose of blues, especially in Byard's comping and light touch while soloing ("Luminous Monolith" even features a brief snippet that sounds like barrelhouse-style playing). Williams makes tremendous use of his amazing cymbal along with fantastic polyrhythmic work, while Carter is typically stellar in his highly supportive playing.  Given his first opportunity to showcase his playing, Rivers takes full advantage and makes full use of his abilities.  "Beatrice," named for the leader's wife, is a rare and pretty ballad, showing Rivers' ability to yield warm and still challenging solos.

Rivers went on to record a few more sides for Blue Note, which embraced the so-called "avant garde" in the mid-Sixties, signing Dolphy, Andrew Hill, Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor and others, but the label was sold and most of these musicians stopped recording for Blue Note by 1968.  He had a fruitful and notably freer period with Impulse in the first part of the Seventies and then recorded for many smaller labels over the years, including his own Rivbea Sound. 

Rivers died at the end of 2011 at age 88, still nowhere near as recognized as he should have been because he was one of the greatest and most distinctive composers and players in jazz for some 45 years.  Fuchsia Swing Song is where it all started and is a great introduction to the work of this unsung master.

Ornette Coleman Quartet: This Is Our Music

After the controversial splash (or tidal wave, maybe) that the Ornette Coleman Quartet made when it played its legendary run at the Five Spot in New York in 1959, the group was signed to a major label deal with Atlantic Records.

What resulted was an amazing run of phenomenal recordings that raised a ruckus among those who thought Coleman was a fraud, in his playing and compositional and conceptual methods, but also was inspiring to a new generation of creative artists and adventurous listeners drawn to his freer ideas of performance.

The third Atlantic release, and Coleman's fifth album overall, This Is Our Music, was recorded in summer 1960 and released early the following year.  It included pocket trumpeter Don Cherry and bassist Charlie Haden from his previous work, but also featured drummer Ed Blackwell, replacing Billy Higgins.  The latter was an important part of the success of The Shape of Jazz to Come and Change of the Century, but Blackwell proved to be more than a worthy successor, with his particular way of accompanying the soloists and, as Coleman wrote in the liners, his ability to "play rhythm so close to the tempered notes that one seems to hear them take each other's places."

This Is Our Music starts off with the hard-hitting and propulsive "Blues Connotation," which easily has one of the most memorable melodies in all of Coleman's work.  This high-energy masterpiece is followed by one of the most haunting and off-kilter ballads in the composer's palette, the stunning "Beauty is a Rare Thing" (which became the title of the 1990s box set of Coleman's complete recordings for Atlantic.)

All the tunes on this album are excellent and showcase not only the fine solo work, including some of the more interesting playing by the leader in his long career, but also the staggering interplay among the four musicians as an integrated ensemble--a core component of Coleman's hard-to-articulate concept of "harmolodics."  Notably, for a composer who almost never performed covers, there is a pretty straight-ahead version of the Gershwin brothers' chestnut "Embraceable You" that stands out amid the originals.  Part of the immense appeal (or the big turnoff) of Coleman's work in those early years was his unpredictability and willingness to explore wherever the music took the players and the listeners.

Marilyn Crispell: Live in San Francisco

With John Coltrane's A Love Supreme as the spiritual inspiration and Cecil Taylor as a aesthetic catalyst, among other influences, Marilyn Crispell took her supremely gifted playing from the formalism of her training at the New England Conservatory to the improvisatory heart and soul of the pinnacle of jazz piano.

This Music and Arts Programs of America release is largely from a concert in San Francisco in October 1989 and demonstrated Crispell's talent for creative explorations of the instrument through her originals, as well as a highly personal interpretation of classic standards.  As a great bonus, excerpts from Crispell's duet performance with the great Anthony Braxton, with whom she played for several years, at a live performance at Vancouver, and a Knitting Factory in New York concert with Reggie Workman (featuring a young Don Byron on clarinet) are also included.

The first two numbers, "Penumbra" and "Zipporah" are excellent examples of how Crispell plays with spiritual and rhythmic emphasis in her original pieces.  She is not just a clone of Taylor, though the influence is very clear.  Crispell speed, intensity and precision are also tied in to a heightened sense of off-kilter melodic feeling with a nod to Thelonious Monk, whose "Ruby, My Dear" is covered beautifully and distinctively, as is a great rendition of Coltrane's "Dear Lord."  In the notes, Crispell pays homage to Braxton and his ideas of "using space and silence as much as sound, and using different textures."  Her take of the old chestnut, "When I Fall in Love" is breathtaking as she adds so much to the standard with her sense of rhythm and juxtaposition of complex chordal voicings.

And, the additional 15 or so minutes of her work with Braxton and Workman show just how sensitive and distinctiveness an accompanist she can be, whether in the duet form with the former or the sextet, including the remarkable vocalist Jeanne Lee (check her on Archie Shepp's Blase album from 1969 on BYG Actuel).  Live in San Francisco is a tremendous showcase of Crispell's artistry in all of its multidimensional aspects.

Anthony Braxton Live

With only fourteen posts last year and none so far this year, due mainly to less available time, the format here is switching to fewer words, but still promoting and highlighting inspiring music that others may enjoy.  So, we'll see how this goes.

This live recording from a 1970s stint on Bluebird Records, an imprint of the major Arista label, and produced by Michael Cuscuna with Steve Backer as executive producer, is a phenomenal effort.

It hightlights some of Braxton's finest early compositions, including combinations (Braxton often does this--mingles elements of compositions) of numbers 6, 23 and 40, performed by his quartet at the Montreux Jazz Festival in July 1975 and at the Berlin Jazz Days festival in September 1976.  The tour de force rhythm section at both concerts are the formidable Dave Holland on bass and Barry Altschul on drums.  Trumpeter Kenny Wheeler is the other horn player at Montreux with trombonist George Lewis at Berlin.  Braxton wields his alto, as well as soprano, clarinet and contrabass clarinet at both shows and the flute at the latter.

As Cuscuna observed in his brief liners, Braxton, Holland and Altschul were part of the brilliant, though short-lived group Circle, led by Chick Corea, and then Wheeler joined with the other three for some recordings in 1971 and future dates over the following years.  Montreux was a highlight of the band before it disbanded because, Cuscuna says, Braxton was looking for a change.

For his amazing Creative Orchestra Music from 1976, Braxton brought in Lewis and resulting performances constituted, for Cuscuna, pure magic including the last piece on this disc, which the producer reckoned  as "one of the pinnacles of collective jazz playing."

This disc is full of fantastic ensemble and solo work, as well as some of Braxton's most interesting compositions.  He's had a long career filled with many highlights, but these live performances are among the greatest this admirer has heard.